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L
EARNING IN
A
DULTHOOD
L
EARNING IN
A
DULTHOOD
A Comprehensive Guide
Third Edition
Sharan B. Merriam
Rosemary S. Caffarella
Lisa M. Baumgartner
John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
Copyright © 2007 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc. All rights reserved.
Published by Jossey-Bass
A Wiley Imprint
989 Market Street, San Francisco, CA 94103-1741 www.josseybass.com
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form
or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as
permitted under Section 107 or 108 of the 1976 United States Copyright Act, without either the prior
written permission of the publisher, or authorization through payment of the appropriate per-copy fee
to the Copyright Clearance Center, Inc., 222 Rosewood Drive, Danvers, MA 01923, 978-750-8400, fax
978-646-8600, or on the Web at www.copyright.com. Requests to the publisher for permission should be
addressed to the Permissions Department, John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 111 River Street, Hoboken, NJ
07030, 201-748-6011, fax 201-748-6008, or online at http://www.wiley.com/go/permissions.
Limit of Liability/Disclaimer of Warranty: While the publisher and author have used their best efforts
in preparing this book, they make no representations or warranties with respect to the accuracy or
completeness of the contents of this book and specifically disclaim any implied warranties of
merchantability or fitness for a particular purpose. No warranty may be created or extended by sales
representatives or written sales materials. The advice and strategies contained herein may not be
suitable for your situation. You should consult with a professional where appropriate. Neither the
publisher nor author shall be liable for any loss of profit or any other commercial damages, including
but not limited to special, incidental, consequential, or other damages.
Readers should be aware that Internet Web sites offered as citations and/or sources for further
information may have changed or disappeared between the time this was written and when it is read.
Jossey-Bass books and products are available through most bookstores. To contact Jossey-Bass directly
call our Customer Care Department within the U.S. at 800-956-7739, outside the U.S. at 317-572-3986,
or fax 317-572-4002.
Jossey-Bass also publishes its books in a variety of electronic formats. Some content that appears in
print may not be available in electronic books.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Merriam, Sharan B.
Learning in adulthood : a comprehensive guide / Sharan B. Merriam, Rosemary S. Caffarella,
Lisa M. Baumgartner. — 3rd ed.
p. cm. — (Jossey-bass higher and adult education series)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN-13: 978-0-7879-7588-3 (cloth)
ISBN-10: 0-7879-7588-5 (cloth)
1. Adult learning. I. Caffarella, Rosemary S. (Rosemary Shelly), 1946- II. Baumgartner, Lisa, 1964-
III. Title.
LC5225.L42M47 2006
374—dc22
2006019145
Printed in the United States of America
THIRD EDITION
HB Printing 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Copyright © 2007 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc. All rights reserved.
Published by Jossey-Bass
A Wiley Imprint
989 Market Street, San Francisco, CA 94103-1741 www.josseybass.com
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form
or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as
permitted under Section 107 or 108 of the 1976 United States Copyright Act, without either the prior
written permission of the publisher, or authorization through payment of the appropriate per-copy fee
to the Copyright Clearance Center, Inc., 222 Rosewood Drive, Danvers, MA 01923, 978-750-8400, fax
978-646-8600, or on the Web at www.copyright.com. Requests to the publisher for permission should be
addressed to the Permissions Department, John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 111 River Street, Hoboken, NJ
07030, 201-748-6011, fax 201-748-6008, or online at http://www.wiley.com/go/permissions.
Limit of Liability/Disclaimer of Warranty: While the publisher and author have used their best efforts
in preparing this book, they make no representations or warranties with respect to the accuracy or
completeness of the contents of this book and specifically disclaim any implied warranties of
merchantability or fitness for a particular purpose. No warranty may be created or extended by sales
representatives or written sales materials. The advice and strategies contained herein may not be
suitable for your situation. You should consult with a professional where appropriate. Neither the
publisher nor author shall be liable for any loss of profit or any other commercial damages, including
but not limited to special, incidental, consequential, or other damages.
Readers should be aware that Internet Web sites offered as citations and/or sources for further
information may have changed or disappeared between the time this was written and when it is read.
Jossey-Bass books and products are available through most bookstores. To contact Jossey-Bass directly
call our Customer Care Department within the U.S. at 800-956-7739, outside the U.S. at 317-572-3986,
or fax 317-572-4002.
Jossey-Bass also publishes its books in a variety of electronic formats. Some content that appears in
print may not be available in electronic books.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Merriam, Sharan B.
Learning in adulthood : a comprehensive guide / Sharan B. Merriam, Rosemary S. Caffarella,
Lisa M. Baumgartner. — 3rd ed.
p. cm. — (Jossey-bass higher and adult education series)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN-13: 978-0-7879-7588-3 (cloth)
ISBN-10: 0-7879-7588-5 (cloth)
1. Adult learning. I. Caffarella, Rosemary S. (Rosemary Shelly), 1946- II. Baumgartner, Lisa, 1964-
III. Title.
LC5225.L42M47 2006
374—dc22
2006019145
Printed in the United States of America
THIRD EDITION
HB Printing 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
01_975885 ffirs.qxp 9/8/06 6:26 PM Page iv
v
C
ONTENTS
Preface ix
The Authors xv
P
ART
O
NE
:A
DULT
L
EARNING IN
C
ONTEMPORARY
S
OCIETY
1
1 The Social Context of Adult Learning 5
2 Learning Environments and Learning Concepts 27
3 Adult Learners: Who Participates and Why 53
P
ART
T
WO
:A
DULT
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EARN ING
T
HEORY AN D
M
ODELS
79
4 Knowles’s Andragogy, and Models of Adult Learning
by McClusky, Illeris, and Jarvis 83
5 Self-Directed Learning 105
6 Transformational Learning 130
7 Experience and Learning 159
P
ART
T
HREE
:N
EWER
A
PPROA C H E S T O
A
DULT
L
EARNING
187
8 Embodied, Spiritual, and Narrative Learning 189
9 Learning and Knowing: Non-Western Perspectives 217
10 Critical Theory, Postmodern, and
Feminist Perspectives 241
P
ART
F
OUR
:L
EARNIN G AN D
D
EVE LO PM EN T
271
11 Traditional Learning Theories 275
12 Adult Development 298
13 Cognitive Development in Adulthood 325
VI
C
ONTENTS
14 Intelligence and Aging 359
15 Memory, Cognition, and the Brain 391
16 Reflections on Learning in Adulthood 421
References 439
Name Index 504
Subject Index 517
The Jossey-Bass Higher
and Adult Education Series
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P
REFACE
Learning in adulthood is an intensely personal activity. Yet at the
same time, a multibillion-dollar enterprise has arisen in response
to adult learning interests—an enterprise that spends more dollars
than elementary schools, high schools, and postsecondary schools
combined. Indeed, the field of adult and continuing education is
characterized by a bewildering array of programs, agencies, and
personnel working to assist adults in their learning. It is pr ecisely
the focus on adults as learners, ho weve r, that unites an otherwise
extraordinarily diverse field. It is also the life context of adults and
some of the distinguishing characteristics of the adult learning
process that differentiate adult education from other kinds of edu-
cation. To facilitate the process of learning, it is especially impor-
tant to know who the adult learner is, how the social context
shapes the learning that adults are engaged in, why adults are
involved in learning activi ties, how adults learn, and how aging
affects learning ability. Learning in Adulthoo d addresses these top-
ics, among others.
There is a voluminous literature on adult learning, ranging
from technical articles on various aspects of adult learning to hand-
books, guides, and pamphlets summarizing material for the new
instructor of adult students. If one goes to a database such as the
Educational Resources Information Center (ERIC), which cata-
logues journal articles, monographs, conference proceedings,
papers, and so on, or does some random exploring on the World
Wide Web, one encounters thousands of citations under the topic
“adult learning.” Further, there are doze ns of books with either a
central or secondary focus on adult learning.
For this third edition of Learning in Adulthood we have paid par-
ticular attention to work published since the last edition of the
book. This third edition of Learning in Adulthood builds on material
in the 1999 edition, bringing together the important contributions
ix
of the past decade to our understanding of adult learning. While
we have preserved important foundational material (such as a dis-
cussion of andragogy), we have also brought to bear the most
recent thinking and research. We have strived to put together a
comprehensive over view and synthesis of what we know about
adult learning: the context in which it takes place, who the partic-
ipants are, what they learn and w hy, the nature of the learning
process itself, new approaches to adult learning, the development
of theor y in adult learning, and other issues relevant to under-
standing adult learning.
The book also takes into account recent work in sociology, phi-
losophy, critical social theory, and psychology. In most writing on
adult learning, the sociocultural perspective has been widely
neglected in favor of the predominant orientation to the individ-
ual learner and how to facilitate her or his learning. In addition to
the focus on the learner, we attend to the context in which learn-
ing takes place and to learners’ interac tive relationship with that
context and with the learning activity itse lf. We look at how the
social structure influences what is offered and who participates,
how the sociocultural context creates particular developmental
needs and interests, and how social factors such as race, class, and
gender shape learning.
This book is intended primarily for educators of adults. We
have organized the material so that it will make sense to readers
who are new to adult education and at the same time will challenge
those who are already familiar with the knowledge base of the field.
The organization and presentation of this material reflect our
efforts over the years to find the best way to organize courses, work-
shops, and seminars in adult learning and development for audi-
ences with varying levels of expertise. We have endeavored to put
together a book that is at once readable, thorough, and up-to-date
in its coverage. In particular, the book is designed for use in
courses in adult learning. In addition to those associated with the
field of adult education itself, however, those in counseling, health,
social work, human resource development, administration, and
instructional technology and in such institutions as libraries,
churches, business and industry, and higher education often deal
on a daily basis with adult learners. We also intend this book to be
aresourceforpractitionersinthesefieldswhowouldliketoknow
more about adult learners and the learning process.
X
P
REFACE
O
VERVIEW OF THE
C
ONTENTS
This third edition of Learning in Adulthood is substantially reorga-
nized from the previous edition. We realized that in most courses
using this text, the chapters specific to adult learning theory and
models were read before chapters on traditional learning theory,
cognition, and psychosocial developmental frameworks. We have
organized accordingly. This edition is divided into four parts. Part
One describes the context of adult learning. Part Two focuses on
theories and models of adult learning. The chapters in Part Three
address newer approaches to adult learning, and those in Part Four
present material on topics that intersect with adult learning, such
as memory and cognition, adult development, and so on.
The chapters in Part One, “Adult Learning in Contemporary
Society,” focus on the context of adult learning. Chapter One sets
the sociocult u r a l context for adult lear n i ng in North Am e r i c a . In
it, we discuss three forces—demographics, globalization, and tech-
nology—that have shaped adult learning today. It is important to
understand how the inter action of those three factors has led to
changes in both what adults want to learn and the learning oppor-
tunities provided for them. Directly related to the sociocultural
context of adult learning are the environments where learning
takes place, the subject of Chapter Two. These range from educa-
tional and noneducational institutions, such as hospitals and gov-
ernment agencies, to nonformal and communit y-based agencies,
to incidental and informal learning that is more self-directed than
structured by others. New in this edition is the online environment,
which interfaces with formal, nonformal, and informal modes of
learning. Also in this chapter we explore the concepts of organi-
zational learning and the learning organization, and lifelong learn-
ing and the learning society. Chapter Three summarizes the
literature on who participates in primarily formal adult learning
activities, why people participate, and what they choose to learn.
We also take a critical look at key questions of access and oppor-
tunity, and examine the gaps between the rhetoric and the reality
in the provision of formal and nonformal learning activities in our
society.
Part Two, “Adult Learning Theor y and Models,” builds on
foundational material in adult learning, material that is at the
heart of our field of adult education. T h e topics covered in these
P
REFACE XI
chapters represent the field’s efforts in distinguishing itself from
the education of children. We begin Chapter Four with a descrip-
tion and critique of the best known of these theories: Knowles’s
(1980) concept of andragogy. Based on five characteristics of adult
learners, andrag o g y focuses on t h e adult learner as distingui s h e d
from preadult learners. In this chapter we also cover three other
models of learning, two of which are fairly recent additions to our
literature. McClusky’s (1970) theor y of margin, which has great
intuitive appeal to adult learners introduced to it, is explained first.
This is followed by Illeris’s (2004a) three dimensions of learning
model, and the most recent iteration of Jar vis’s (2006) learn-
ing model. In Chapter Five we explore the rich array of work that
has been completed on self-directed learning. Addressed are the
goals and processes of self-directe d learning, the concept of se lf-
directedness as a personal attribute of the learner, recent
approaches to self-directed learning, and some suggestions for
building research and theor y in this area. Currently, transforma-
tional learning has taken center stage in research and writing.
Chapter Six summarizes the development of transformational
learning, reviews the recent research in this area, and examines
unresolved issues inherent in this approach to adult learning. In
Chapter Seven, the last chapter of Part Two, we look closely at the
role of experience in learning: both how adult learning builds on
prior experience and how experience shapes learning. The con-
cepts of experiential learning, reflective practice, and situated cog-
nition are also examined in this chapter.
Part Three, “Newer Ap proaches to Adult Learning,” contains
two totally new chapters. We felt that the burgeoning interest in
embodied or somatic le arning, spirituality and le arning, and nar-
rative approaches to learning warranted a chapter (Chapter Eight)
in this edition of Learning in Adulthood. We uncovered so much
recent material in these areas that, had space allowed, we could
have devoted more than one chapter to these topics. Chapter Nine
on non-Western approaches to adult learning is also new. Although
the great majority of the knowledge base represented in Learning
in Adulthood is from a Western perspective, representing cultural
values of privileging the individual learner and cognitive processes
over more holistic approaches, we wanted to introduce readers to
XII
P
REFACE
other epistemologies, other ways of thinking about learning and
knowing. We hope we have done that through brief introductions
to five non-Western perspe c tives. The final chapter in Part Three
is an update of critical theory, postmodernism, and feminist peda-
gogy. These three perspectives draw from literature outside the
field of adult education. Scholars have applied these perspectives
to our field, enlarging our understanding by inviting us to ques-
tion how the structural inequities based on race, gender, class, sex-
ual orientation, able-bodiedness, and so on affect learning.
Part Four, which we have titled “Learning and Development,”
brings together material from philosophy, psychology, sociology,
biology, and so on, that has a bearing on adult learning. In Chap-
ter Eleven, on traditional learning theory, we review five traditional
theories about learning—behaviorism, humanism, cognitivism,
social learning theory, and constructivism—along with their impli-
cations for adult learning. Where one aligns oneself with these the-
ories manifests itself in the view of the adult learner, the role of
instructor -facilitator, and the goals of the learning transaction itself.
Chapter Twelve focuses on adults’ developmental characteristics.
Beginning with biological and psychological perspectives on adult
development, we move to sociocultural and integrated perspectives.
The work on adult development in recent years places less empha-
sis on age and stage models and more on the effect of such factors
as race, gender, class, and ethnicity. Much has been written lately
about cognitive development in adulthood, and so this is treated
separately in Chapter Thirteen. Here we review several theoretical
models of cognitive development as well as present the concept of
dialectical thinking. Chapter Fourteen reviews the work on intelli-
gence, especially as it has been studied from a developmental or
aging perspective. Drawing on several disciplines and summarizing
recent work on memory and aging, expertise, cognitive and learn-
ing styles, and brain-based research, Chapter Fifteen is one of the
few compilations of its kind in an adult learning textbook.
Finally, in the last chapter we step back from the accumulated
knowledge base to summarize and integrate the material on adult
learning presented in earlier chapters. Chapter Sixteen also
reflects how we ourselves have come to think about learning in
adulthood.
P
REFACE XIII
A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS
This third edition of Learning in Adulthood is a direct response to
the field’s bur geoning literature base on research a nd theor y in
adult learning and the need for a single, comprehensive, up-to-
date textbook to use in our adult learning classes. In a ver y real
sense, it has been the students in our programs and the partici-
pants in our workshops and seminars who h ave challenged us to
revise and update the previous edition of the book. We were
pleased that Lisa Baumgartner agreed to join our team for this edi-
tion. Her fresh perspective has undoubtedly made this edition of
Learning in Adulthood the best yet! Others, of course, have been of
invaluable assistance at various stages of the project. David Bright-
man, our editor at Jossey-Bass, was enormously supportive in assist-
ing us through the process. Colleagues Ralph Brockett, Carolyn
Clark, Bradley Courtenay, Ed Taylor, and Libby Tisdell unselfishly
provided us with updated materials and took time out from their
own work to read and critique draft chapters. Their comments,
insights, and suggestions conside rably strengthened this book. A
special thanks goes to Young Sek Kim, Ph.D. student and graduate
research assistant at the University of Georgia, for tracking down
references, assisting in editing, and seeing to the technical matter
of getting the book ready for the publisher. To all of you we offer
our heartfelt thanks. Finally, we thank our fami ly members and
friends for their support and patience over the last year.
Athens, Georgia S
HARAN
B. M
ERRIAM
Ithaca, New York R
OSEMARY
S. C
AFFARELLA
DeKalb, Illinois L
ISA
M. B
AUMGARTNER
June 2006
XIV
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REFACE
T
HE
A
UTHORS
Sharan B. Merriam is professor of adult education at the University
of Georgia. Merriam’s research and writing activities have focused
on the foundations of adult education, adult development, adult
learning, and qualitative research methods. She has published
more than twenty books and dozens of chapters and articles and
held major editorship roles over the past twenty-five years. For five
years she was coeditor of Adult Education Quarterly, the major
research and theor y journal in adult educatio n. Currently she is
coeditor for the book series Professional Practices in Adult Edu-
cation and Lifelong Learning. She has won the Cyril O. Houle
World Award for Literature in Adult Education for three different
books. Various of her books have been translated into Chinese,
Korean, Japanese, and French. Based on her widespread contri-
butions to the field of adult education, Merriam has been inducted
into the International Adult and Continuing Education Hall of
Fame and was the first to receive the American Association of Adult
and Continuing Education’s Career Achievement award. She has
ser ved on steering committees for the annual North American
Adult Education Research Conference, the Qualitative Research
in Education Conference held annually at the University of Geor-
gia, and the Commission of Professors of Adult Education. She has
conducted workshops and seminars on adult learning and quali-
tative research throughout North America and overseas, including
countries in southern Africa, Southeast Asia, the Middle East, and
Europe. In 1998 she was a senior Fulbright scholar to Malaysia, and
in 2006 a visiting scholar to South Korea.
xv
Rosemary S. Caffarella is professor and chair of the Department of
Education in the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences at Cor-
nell University. Her research and writing activities have focused on
adult learning, program planning, and designing culturally appro-
priate programs for adults. Caffarella has authored or coauthored
seven books—two of which have been translated into Chinese and
one into Japanese—and numerous book chapters and articles. She
received the prestigious Cyril O. Houle World Award for Literature
in Adult Education for Learning in Adulthood: A Comprehensive Guide
(2nd ed., 1999), coauthored with Sharan Merriam. Her most
recent book, Planning Programs for Adult Lea rners (2nd ed., 2002),
is a detailed guide for adult educators and trainers working in a
variety of settings. In addition, in 2003 she was awarded an hon-
orary degree of Doctor of Humane Letters from the College of
Lifelong Learning in the University of New Hampshire system. She
has conducted workshops and presented papers and lectures
throughout the United States, Canada, Malaysia, Taiwan, and Aus-
tralia. Her current project, in partnership with the Universiti Putra
Malaysia and a number of other Malaysian organizations and indi-
viduals, is educating Malaysian women, their families, and health
care professionals about breast cancer treatment and prevention.
The project highlights working in a culturally and linguistically sen-
sitive manner in a multicultural nation.
Lisa M. Baumgartner is an associate professor of adult education at
Northern Illinois University, DeKalb. Her research and writing focus
on adult learning and development and women’s contributions to
the field of adult education. A recipient of the W. K. Kellogg Foun-
dation Cyril O. Houle Scholars Research Grant for Emerging Schol-
ars in Adult Education, she completed a study on civil rights activist
Septima P. Clark’s lifelong contributions to social justice adult edu-
cation. In addition, she coedited Adult Learning and Development:
Multicultural Stories with Sharan Merriam (1999). She has served on
the steering committee for the annual North American Adult Edu-
cation Research Conference. She is a consulting editor for the Inter-
national Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education and the Qualitative
Report. In 2004, she received the Commission of Professors of Adult
Education Early Career Award, which honors individuals in the
early stages of their academic career who have made significant con-
tributions in scholarship and service to the field.
XVI
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PART ONE
ADULT LEARNING
IN
CONTEMPORARY
SOCIETY
It is ver y much the perspective of this book that learning is a per-
sonal process—but a process that is shaped by the context of adult
life and the society in which one lives. Compare how industrial-
ization of the early years of the twentieth century affected what an
adult needed and wanted to learn with the knowledge economy of
the early twenty-first century. This learning in turn affects the social
context. For example, as we become more technologically savvy,
businesses respond by developing more sophisticated systems and
gadgets that then require us to keep learning. It is indeed an inter-
active process between the learner and the social context. The
three chapters in Part One explore the sociocultural context of the
United States, the range of learning opportunities available to
adults in this context, and who takes advantage of these opportu-
nities and why.
Chapter One describes three factors characteristic of Ameri-
can society today that affect what adults want to learn. First, dra-
matic changes are occurring in the demographic base of our
society. Adults outnumber those under eighteen years old for the
first time ever. Moreover, the percentage of the population over
age sixty-five continues to grow, commanding the attention of
policymakers, businesspeople, and educators alike. Our popula-
tion as a whole is also better educated than ever before, and there
is more cultural and ethnic diversity. Therefore, there are simply
more adults seeking learning opportunities, as well as more groups
of adults with particular learning needs.
The second and third fac t o r s shaping the learning en t e r p r i s e
are globalization and technology. These are very much interre-
lated, of course; technology has had an enormous impact on the
economy. Robotics and automation displace production workers
but create other jobs; technology has fostered whole new work
structures, such as job-sharing and telecommuting. The effect of
the global economy and technological advances on the nature of
adult learning is staggering. Adults find that they must continue
their learning past formal schooling in order to function at work,
at home, and in their communities. The need for new knowledge,
for updating old information, for retraining, has resulted in a
multibillion-dollar educational enterprise.
Some of this learning takes place in formal settings sponsored
by myriad institutions and agencies. As might be expected, busi-
ness and industr y and educational institutions offer a large num-
ber of adult learning opportunities, but so do the military,
cooperative extensions, churches, hospitals, and other institutions.
Chapter Two explores how the context of formal institutional set-
tings influences the learner and the learning process. Also
reviewed are learning opportunities that are nonformal, such as
those offered by community- based agencies, and informal, inci-
dental, and self-directed opportunities, a s might happen in the
course of the workday or by watching a television program. In addi-
tion, we discuss online learning, a fourth environment for learn-
ing that overlays formal, nonformal, and informal modes of
learning. In the second half of this chapter, we explore the inter-
related concepts, first, of organizational learning and the learn-
ing organization, and second, of lifelong learning and the learning
society.
Chapter Three profiles who participates in adult learning, why
adults participate, and what an adult chooses to learn. Most of this
information on participation and motivation is in reference to for-
mal learning, such as that provided by educational institutions and
employers. Estimates of the percentage of the adult population
that participates in learning have steadily risen over the past forty
years, with the most current study suggesting that approximately
46 percent of all adult Americans participate. Studies of self-
directed learning and other nonformal types of education put the
2 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
percentage even higher. Clearly, adult learning is an important
activity for today’s adults. What motivates adults to participate and
what deters participation is important information, especially for
program developers. This chapter also reviews motivational studies.
The final section of Chapter Three “problematizes” the con-
cept of participation. By examining the assumptions that underlie
participation we squarely confront the issues of access and oppor-
tunity in adult education. The gap between the better educated
who seek out continuing education and those who do not contin-
ues to widen. Adult learning seems to have become a vehicle for
solidifying a socioeconomic structure that limits access and oppor-
tunity, contrary to the stated goal of equal access to education in
our society. We examine the rhetoric, which espouses one set of
values, and the rea lity, which demonstrates another, in the provi-
sion of adult learning opportunities.
ADULT LEARNING IN CONTEMPORARY SOCIETY 3
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CHAPTER ONE
THE SOCIAL CONTEXT OF
ADULT LEARNING
Learning, even self-directed learning, rarely occurs “in splendid
isolation from the world in which the learner lives; . . . it is inti-
mately related to that world and affected by it” (Jarvis, 1987, p. 11).
What one wants to learn, what is offered, and the ways in which
one learns are determine d to a large extent by the na ture of the
society at any particular time. Contrast the young male apprentice
of colonial times learning to be a blacksmith with today’s middle-
aged woman learning a new software program, or the preparation
needed to become a medical doctor at the turn of the twentieth
century— le ss than a high school diploma—with today’s long and
specialized training.
It can also be argued that the nature of society at any particu-
lar point in time determines the relative emphasis placed on adult
learning. In preindustrial societies, the rate of change was such that
what a person needed to know to function as an adult could be
learned in childhood. In societies hurrying to catch up, however,
and in our own society with its accelerated rate of change, the
urgency of dealing with social realities is felt by adults. Society no
longer has the luxury of waiting for its youth. As Belanger (1996)
notes, “The question is no longer whether adult learning is
needed, and how important it is. The issue today is how to respond
to this increasing and diversified demand, how to manage this
explosion” (p. 21). Youth, in fact, “who are sent out into life with
adwindlingsackfulofvalues,...faceasituationinwhichtheyhave
to keep filling up their sack. This leads adult education to take ‘life-
long learning’ as its motto.” Further, “the hole in the ozone layer
5
provides the stimulus for courses to which people turn for advice,
mad cow disease pushes up the numbers attending vegetarian
cooking courses, and backache creates a need for posture classes”
(Geissler, 1996, pp. 35–36).
While adult education is responsive to the context in which it
takes place, it also in turn affects that same context. Take, for exam-
ple, enormous changes in our society brought on by computer
technology. Auto mechanics must now be trained to diagnose
engine problems using computers; you can save time at the local
grocery by doing your own scanning, bagging, and checkout all by
computer; airline boarding passes can be accessed at home; and
so on. Adult education has resp onded to this computerization of
our world by offering courses—courses where we can learn this
technology so that we can better function in our digital environ-
ment. But the fact that millions of adults have become computer
literate interacts with our environment in that we now expect to use
our skills in an ever-widening range of applications—forcing insti-
tutions and agencies to adopt and expand these technologies.
Although the preceding are particu l a r l y contemporary exam-
ples, historically there has always been an interlocking of adult
learning needs with the social context in which they occur. The
skills needed in colonial America reflected the agrarian co ntext;
further, since early settlers were fleeing religious persecution in
Europe, there was a moral and religious imperative in learning to
read so that one could study the Bible. After the revolutionary war,
the newly independent nation needed leaders and informed citi-
zens to build the democratic society. Eclipsing religious education,
civic education, which included learning about philosophy, sci-
ence, and politics, became paramount in the education of adults.
With the Industrial Revolution of the late nineteenth and early
twentieth centuries, industry-based skills training became a neces-
sity. Also, because of the massive influx of immigrants to the
United States at this time, “Americanization” and citizenship pro-
grams became a prominent form of adult education. It was felt that
these immigrants needed to learn the ways of their adopted coun-
try so that they would “melt” into society. Interestingly, immigrants
themselves organized their own schools to maintain their culture,
but these were largely invisible to society at large.
Although a major thrust of adult education at any particular time
reflects the sociohistorical context, varied purposes and learning
6 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
interests coexist. We might argue that technology is a major thrust of
learning today, but there is still job-training, literacy, civic education,
liberal (such as Great Books clubs) and leisure learning, along with
community-based social-action initiatives. As Stubblefield and Keane
(1994, p. 312) observed from their survey of adult education from
colonial times until the present, regardless of the historical era,
“Americans learned because there was knowledge to master, tech-
nology to adapt, and life’ s uncertainties to be resolved.”
Thus, to a large extent, the learning that goes on in adulthood
can be understood through an examination of the social context
in which it occurs. How is learning in adulthood shaped by the
society in which it takes place? How does the sociocultural context
determine what is learned and by whom?
This chapter explores three conditions characteristic of the
current sociocultural context that are shaping the learning needs
of adults in today’s world: changing demographics, the global
economy, and information and technology. Although we present
each of these separately at first, these three factors are very much
interrelated, and thus their convergence and subsequent impact
on learning in adulthood are discussed in the final section of this
chapter.
CHANGING DEMOGRAPHICS
Changing demographics is a social reality shaping the provision of
learning in contemporar y American society. Demographics is
about people, groups of people, and their respective characteris-
tics. For the first time in our society, adults outnumber youth, there
are more older adults, the population is better educated than ever
before, and there is more cultural and ethnic diversity. For various
reasons, individuals and groups of people seek out learning expe-
riences; for other reasons, society targets learning activities for cer-
tain segments of the population. Thus, certain learning acti vities
are learner-initiated and others are society-initiated in response to
the changing demographics. The field is concerned with the
growth and development of adult learners, while at the same time,
there are emerging groups of learners with special needs.
To begin, there are simply more adults in our society than ever
before, and the population will continue to age. In comparison to
colonial times when half the population was under age 16, in 1990,
THE SOCIAL CONTEXT OF ADULT LEARNING 7
fewer than one in four Americans were under age 16 and half were
age 33 or older. The median age of the American population of
36.0 years in 2004 is expected to increase to 39.1 in 2035 (U.S.
Bureau of the Census, 2004b). The so-called baby boomers—the
seventy million people born between 1946 and 1964—are a con -
tributing factor to this change in the population. Bills (2004,
p. 122) notes that “the baby boom has influenced all American
social institutions—health care, housing, consumerism, retirement,
even death and the projected ‘tomb boom’—but none more than
education and work.” Although we might hear more about youth,
they have less of an impact on the economy than the boomers. “In
America, they [over-50s] control four-fifths of the money invested
in savings-and-loan associations and own two-thirds of all the shares
on the stock market” (“Over 60 and Overlooked,” 2002).
The shift from a youth-oriented to an adult-oriented society is
solidified by the inc reasing numbers of older adults in the popu-
lation. In 1987, for the first time ever, Americans ove r the age of
sixty-five outnumbered those under twenty-five. Furthermore, the
oldest old, those over eighty-five-years old, are the fastest-growing
segment of the older population. As of July 1, 2004, there were
more than four million eight hundred thousand adults over eighty-
five-years old, an increase of 13.4 percent from the 2000 census
(U.S. Bureau of the Census, 2005). The number of adults over age
eighty-five is expected to increase to about seven million in 2020
and to twenty million in 2050 (U.S. Bureau of the Census, 2004b).
Today’s older adults are also increasingly better educated, in
better health, and economically b ette r off than previous cohorts.
Society is already hee ding their learnin g needs with policies like
tuition waivers for higher and continuing education programs and
specially designed programs, such as the popular Elderhostel pro-
gram and learning-in-retirement institutes. There has also been a
subtle change in the philosophical rationale—at least among those
working in the fields of gerontology and educational gerontology—
underlying the provision of education for this group. Along with
an economic rationale (the better educated need fewer social ser-
vices) and a social stability rationale (millions of healthy retired
people need something to do) is an awareness that older adults as
well as younger ones have an unending potential for development.
Williamson (1997, p. 175) suggests that our culturally endorsed
notion about what represents “appropriate” learning over the
8 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
course of the life span tends to “reinforce prevai ling myths about
retirement and aging as processes of withdrawal and decline.” This
mindset ignores the exciting possibilities for personal growth and
societal contributions among older members of the population. As
Thomas (2004, p. 31) observes, “There is great power hidden with
old age, but we will remain ignorant of the depth and breadth of
that power as long as we insist on simply comparing youth to age.”
Thus, more adults and an increase in the number of older
adults are two demographic factors influencing the provision of
learning activities in our society. So, too, is the rising level of edu-
cation characteristic of our population. This is dramatically illus-
trated by the fact that 83 percent of today’s twenty-five- to
thirty-four -year-olds have completed high school compared with 65
percent of adults age sixty-five and over (U.S. Bureau of the Cen-
sus, 2000). Since previous education is the single best predictor of
participation in adult education, the rising educational level of the
adult population is a contextual factor of considerable import. Par-
ticipation data from the Center for Education Statistics show, for
example, that 22 percent of adults with fewer than four years of
high school participate in organized adult education, while 34 per-
cent of high school graduates and 66 percent of college graduates
do (Kim, Collins Hagedorn, Williamson, & Chapman, 2004).
Nevertheless, even as the educational attainment level of the
population as a whole continues to rise, an alarming number of
high school students drop out before graduating. And “as a high
school education becomes the minimum educational standard,
those who drop out are more likely to become members of an edu-
cational underclass, from which adult education (especially in the
form of adult basic and secondar y education) may be the only
hope of escape” (Rachal, 1989, pp. 10–11). Unfortunately, as men-
tioned earlier, adults with less than a high school diploma are least
likely to participate in adult educati on activities overall, with only
6percentinwork-relatedcourses,7percentinbasicskillseduca-
tion, and 1 percent in vocational or technical diploma programs
(Kim et al., 2004).
Another demographic characteristic of the social context is the
growing cultural and ethnic diversity of America’s popula tion. In
contrast to the influx of European immigrants at the end of the
nineteenth century (which continued into the middle decades of
the twentieth), today’s immigrants are more likely to come from
THE SOCIAL CONTEXT OF ADULT LEARNING 9
Asia and Latin America. In 2002, for example, 52 percent of U.S.
immigrants were from Latin America, 25 percent from Asia, and
only 14 percent from Europe (Alfred, 2004).
If current trends in immigration and birthrates persist, it is pro-
jected that between the years 2000 and 2010, the Hispanic popu-
lation will account for 34.1 percent of the total population growth,
Asians about 33.3 percent, and African Americans 12.9 percent
(U.S. Bureau of the Census, 2004b). In 2001, Hispanics became
the largest minority group in America, with African Americans the
second largest (U.S. Bureau of the Census, 2005).
Furthermore, the average age of minority populations is
decreasing, while the majority population is growing older. For
example, in 2004 the median age of Hispanics was 26.9 years
whereas that of the White population was 40.0 years (U.S. Bureau
of the Census, 2005).
Not only is the composition of the minority population chang-
ing, so too are the overall number s. In 2000, minorities made up
31 percent of the population; by 2050, minorities will account for
nearly 50 percent of the overall population (U.S. Bureau of the
Census, 2004b).
The socioeconomic and cultural diversity of today’ s immigrant
population presents special challenges to adult educators. As
Alfred (2004, p. 14) observes:
Today’s immigrant population reflects a pattern of demographics
that reveals deep polarization between the most educated and
wealthiest and the least educated and poorest. This emergent pat-
tern of immigrant adaptation seems to follow a new hourglass seg-
mentation found in the U.S. economy and society (Sparks, 2003;
Suarez-Orozco & Suarez-Orozco, 2000). Noticeably, there are those
immigrants who are quickly achieving upward mobility, primarily
through education and high-tech jobs, while on the opposite end
of the hourglass, large numbers of low-skilled workers find them-
selves locked in low-wage service jobs. Those in between approxi-
mate norms of the majority culture and disappear into U.S. cultural
institutions without much notice (Sparks, 2003). This polarization
in the composition of the immigrant population suggests that plan-
ners of adult and higher education programs face a challenging
task as they attempt to meet the variety of needs and expectations
that immigrants bring to the new country.
10 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
The growing ethnic and cultural diversity of our population
was identified over fifteen years ago by Naisbitt and Aburdene
(1990) as one of the megatrends of the twenty-first century. They
obser ved that “even as our lifestyles grow more similar, there are
unmistakable signs of a powerful countertrend: a backlash against
uniformity, a desire to assert the uniqueness of one’s culture and
language. . . . Outbreaks of cultural nationalism are happening in
every corner of the globe” (p. 119). Adult educators are slowly
becoming aware of the instructional implications of the fact that
“as our outer worlds grow more similar, we will increasingly trea-
sure the traditions that spring from within” (Naisbitt & Aburdene,
1990, p. 120).
In summary, the composition of society is an important factor
in the provision of learning opportunities for citizens of all ages.
In the United States, there are more adults than youth, the num-
ber of older ad u lt s is growing, the population as a whole is better
educated than ever before, and the population is more diverse—
racially, ethnically, and culturally—than ever before.
GLOBALIZATION
Globalization is an overarching concept encompassing changes
taking place worldwide. But globalization is not a new concept
because it can be argued that the world has always sought to con-
nect through travel, trade, and cultural exchange. “Although it
builds on a history of international relations between nation-states,
it is new in the sense of the growing extensiveness of social net-
works involved, the intensity and speed of flows and interconnec-
tions within these networks, and the reach of its impact” (Glastra,
Hake, & Schedler, 2004, p. 292). Since the 1980s, the term has
been used to reflect the increasing integration of economies
around the world, particularly through trade and the flow of
finances. In addition to finances, this “flow” also includes the move-
ment of people and information. One definition of globalization
is “a movement of economic integration, of cultural homogeniza-
tion, and of technological uniformization” (Finger, 2005b, p. 269).
An incredibly complex and controversial phenomenon, we can
only try to convey some of its essential characteristics and some of
THE SOCIAL CONTEXT OF ADULT LEARNING 11
the issues and spe culate as to how it is shaping adult learning in
our context.
Images most associated with globalization are economic, hav-
ing to do with the loss of low-wage manufacturing jobs to less devel-
oped corners of the world, with transnational companies operating
in a space outside national boundaries and control, with con-
sumerism and commercialism supplanting all other interests. As
one writer observed, globalization is resulting in the world becom-
ing “one big shopping mall” (Cowen, 2003, p. 17). Although the
market economy is clearly a driving force in globalization, so too
is information technology. Changes in information technology
“almost make state boundaries redundant in respect to the flow of
information across the globe” (Jarvis, 2004, p. 3).
But globalization is not only about economics. Br ysk (2003,
p. 22) contends that it is combination of four elements:
• Connection means greater traffic in bodies, goods, services, and
information across borders.
• Cosmopolitanism describes the growth of multiple centers of
power and influence above, below, and across national govern-
ments: international organizations, grassroots groups, and
transnational bodies from Microsoft to Greenpeace.
• Communication is an increase in technological capacity that
strengthens transnational networks of all kinds (from multi-
national corporations to nongovernmental organizations
[NGOs] to terrorists) and diffuses ideas and values more
quickly and broadly.
• Commodification is the expansion of world markets, and the
extension of market-like behavior across more states and social
realms. Increases in global capital flows, privatization of for-
merly state-owned enterprises, and increasing employment of
children are all examples of commodification.
Brysk goes on to show how these elements of globalization are
both a plus and a minus for human rights issues: “Connection brings
human rights monitors to Chiapas, but it also brings sex tourists to
Thailand. Cosmopolitanism creates a U.N. Human Rights Commis-
sion and countless NGOs to condemn China’s abuse of political dis-
sidents and religious minorities; yet commodification makes China
the United States’ s second-leading trade partner” (p. 22).
12 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Part of the contro versy surr ounding globaliz ation has to do
with economics. Those countries that can be competitive are
already better off and become even richer through globalization,
while others “like Zambia are virtually excluded from the market.
Similarly, those people who are employable can—if they wish—play
an active part (to greater or lesser extent) in being citizens, but
those who have no job are socially excluded” (Jarvis, 2004, p. 5).
That globalization is exacerbating the differences between rich and
poor is creating ethnic hatred and global instability, a rgues Chua
(2003). The United States, for example, is home to only 4 percent
of the world’s population but is “seen everywhere as the principal
engine and principal beneficiary of global capitalism. We are
also seen as ‘almighty,’ ‘exploitative,’ and ‘able to control the
world,’ whether through our militar y power or through the IMF-
implemented auster ity measures we have heartlessly forced on
developing populations” (p. 16). Is it no wonder, she asks, that we
are the object of mass resentment?
Finger (2005b) echoes this same sentiment in his observations
of cultural globalization underlying global consumption. With the
movement of goods, people, ideas, and cultural artifacts across bor-
ders, the global culture is characterized not by diversity but “by the
spread of individualism, Western values, and homogenization in
general. Yet, simultaneously, cultural globalization is triggering
numerous cultural reactions against this ver y process, leading,
among others, to fundamentalism” (p. 270). September 11, 2001,
and other terrorist attacks are the deadly consequences of ignor-
ing this resentment.
What does all this mean for adult learning? For one thing, “it
does a worker ver y little good to train specifically for a job with a
company that outsources the position, downsizes, or sells to a for-
eign owner who reorganizes or ‘reengineers’ the company, selling
off piec es, leaving the worker trained and unemployed” (Tomlin,
1997, p. 20). Global economics has led to changing work prac-
tices, which require different kinds of preparation and training.
This has resulted in the control of educ ation shifting to business.
The emphasis now is on improved product and ser vice quality,
greater worker responsibility, and teamwork approaches. Adult
education and human resource development, in particular, have
responded with broad-based workplace literacy programs and
training and development packages designed to address a wide
THE SOCIAL CONTEXT OF ADULT LEARNING 13
range of economy-driven needs. Globalization’s effect on adult
education has even reached “the professional and executive train-
ing area, by either helping individuals and firms take advantage of
commercialization and industrial development, or by supporting
individuals in coping with the negative consequences of the same
commercial developments” (Finger, 2005b, p. 272). Indeed,
human resource development (HRD) and corollary concepts such
as organizational learning have become a parallel adult education
system, one lodged in the workplace where responsiveness to glob-
alization is paramount.
The global economy is having an impact on learning in
broader ways too. We have become, in the words of Usher, Bryant,
and Johnston (1997, p. 4), “a culture of consumption. . . . The fac-
tory, the assembly line, large-scale manufacturing—are being
increasingly displaced by centres of consumption—financial ser-
vices, small-scale specialised enterprises, shopping malls and super-
stores, entertainment complexes, heritage and theme parks.” This
shift is evidenced in a changing relationship between educator and
learner to one of a “market relationship between producer and
consumer. Knowledge is exchanged on the basis of the performa-
tive value it has for the consumer” (p. 14). Educational institutions
themselves “become part of the market, selling knowledge as a
commodity and increasingly reconstructing themselves as enter-
prises dedicated to marketing their commodities and to compet-
ing in the knowledge ‘business’” (p. 14). As Hadfield (2003, p. 19)
obser ves, “Customer is exactly how adult learners think of them-
selves, and they hold our institutions of higher education account-
able for providing paid-for results and educational experiences that
make a difference in their lives. They pay for these experiences
with precious resources, not the least of which is their time. They
are savvy, demanding customers who know how to shop. When
they do not find what they want at one school, they transfer to
another.”
This shift to the marketplace as the primary site of adult learn-
ing has divided adult educators into deciding “whether to locate
their practice in c ivil society or the economic sector” (Cunning-
ham, 2000, p. 577). Others are concerned that adult education has
lost its social action perspective; rather, “adult education practice
in the age of globalization increasingly becomes a toolkit for quick
14 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
fixes by means of tailor-made and individualized short-term, yet
lucrative, trainings” (Finger, 2005b, p. 272). Schied, Mulenga, and
Baptiste (2005) suggest educators should confront “the totalizing
gaze of the ideology of globalization as an inevitable force of
nature because it negates the centrality of human agency” (p. 397).
Adult educators need to become involved in “building capacities
for local groups to engage and confront globalization and its
effects” at all levels—local, national, and international (p. 397).
Intertwined in globalization is a shift from a society employed
in producing goods to one employed in providing services. The
decline in industrial labor stems from automation and competi-
tion from other countries with low labor costs. Dislocated workers
from both the industrial and agricultural sectors, with few if any
transferable skills, find themselves in low-skill, low-paying service
jobs. Ironically, the availability of displaced workers with limited
employable skills leads to equally low wages in the service sector,
thus promoting the general growth of the service sector. Referring
to a report by Hecker (2001), Bills (2004) obser ves that the fast
growth of the service sector is paralleled by fast growth in profes-
sional and related occupations. “The important thing about these
projections is that these two occupations are at the opposite ends
of the education and earnings distribution. That is, professional
occupations require extensive educational preparation and are
generally well-rewarded. Service jobs require lower educational cre-
dentials, with corresponding lower job rewards” (p. 97).
Concurrent with the shift to a service economy is the shift to
what has been called the information society—a shift that has had
amajorimpactonworkersaseconomicunits.“Inanindustrialage,
workers are expendable cogs in the machine; in an information
age (and to a lesser extent, in a service age), human capital is the
most valuable capital an organization has” (Bills, 2004, p. 20). The
implications for learning—and in particular for work-related train-
ing—are enormous. Already the amount spent annually by busi-
ness, industry, and government agencies on job-related training is
in the billions of dollars and exceeds that spent on public higher
education. Furthermore, because skills learned in preparation for
ajoborcareercannotkeeppacewiththedemandsoftheworld
of work, the ability to learn becomes a valuable skill in and of itself.
This factor is underscored by the fact that 50 percent of all
THE SOCIAL CONTEXT OF ADULT LEARNING 15
employee skills become outdated in three to five years (Shank &
Sitze, 2004); in high-tech areas workers may need to learn to oper-
ate a new machine, or a new software program, or a new hardware
configuration ever y eighteen months or less (Desimone, Werner,
& Harris, 2002).
Developing simultaneously with the emphasis on learning to
learn is the notion of the learning organization (see Chapter Two).
To survive in the global economy, an “organization needs to evolve
into ‘a learning organization’ whereby new and expansive patterns
are permitted, allowing employees to learn individually and col-
lectively (continually learning how to learn)” (Gardner, 1996, p.
43). Th e growi ng body of literature on the l earning organ ization
positions learning, information processing, and problem-solving
skills as central to the survival of both the individual worker and
the organization. Ulrich (1998) underscores how globalization
necessitates the creation of learning organizations. Globaliza-
tion requires companies “to move people, ideas, products, and
information around the world to meet local needs. They [compa-
nies] must add new and important ingredients to the mix when
making strategy: volatile political situations, contentious global
trade issues, fluctuating exchange rate s, and unfamiliar cultures.
They must be more literate in the ways of international customers,
commerce, and competition than ever before. In short, globalization
requires that organizations increase their ability to learn and collab-
orate and to manage diversity, complexity, and ambiguity” (p. 126).
Closely related to shifts to a service and information economy
are changes in America’s labor force. The largest job-growth cate-
gories are jobs in health and service (such as foodservice) followed
by jobs in education, training, and sales and related occupations
(Hecker, 2004).
Not surprisingly, women, minorities, and the elderly are over-
represented in the lower-paying service jobs. Since the middle of
this century, however, the labor force has changed from one dom-
inated by blue-collar occupations to one where the majority of jobs
are considered white collar. Significant changes in the composi-
tion of the workforce are also occurring along racial and ethnic
lines. Although White non-Hispanic workers account for the great
majority of workers (81 percent in 2005; U.S. Bureau of Labor Sta-
tistics, 2005), their rate of growth is much lower than the rate of
16 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
growth for the Black, Asian, and Hispanic groups. According to
the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics (2005), in 2005 Hispanics were
the second-larg e st ethnic worker group (13 percent) and A f r i c an
Americans the third group at 11 percent.
Per haps the greatest change of all has been the steady increase
of women in the workforce. In 1960, 37.7 percent of women in the
population were members of the workforce, compared with 59.2
percent in 2004. Currently, women represent 46 percent of the
total United States labor force (U.S. Department of Labor, n.d.).
Economic necessity and the freeing of occupations traditionally
assigned to men have contributed to this change.
In summary, economic factors are shaping the nature of our
society, and by extension, the nature of learning that adults are
most likely to undertake. A global economy, the shift to a service
and information society, and consequent changes in the configu-
ration of the labor force are determining to a large extent where
learning takes place, what is offered, and who participates.
TECHNOLOGY
There is no more apt metaphor for reflecting the rate of techno-
logical change than the computer. Itself a major component of our
highly technological age, computer language has invaded the ways
in which we talk of adult learning. We process students and infor-
mation; we plan learning activities with an eye to inputs, flow, and
outputs; we provide feedback to individual learners and to pro-
grams. Indeed, we program learning experiences and ourselves.
Technology has had an enormous impact on society and adult
learning. It has been instrumental in bringing about the informa-
tion society, which has created new jobs and eliminated others.
And as we have seen, globalization is technology driven.
The move to an information society has been a function of
technological developments associated with an information explo-
sion. Within a short span of time, electronic, communication, and
information technologies have changed society as a whole and
affected how people go about their daily lives. From ordering pizza
by computer, to instant communication via the cell phone, to fax-
ing a request to the local radio station, everyday life has been irrev-
ocably influenced by technology.
THE SOCIAL CONTEXT OF ADULT LEARNING 17
Concurrent with these technological advances has been an
information explosion. Lyman and Varian (n.d.) estimated that in
2002 about five exabytes (one exabyte equals over one billion giga-
bytes) of new information were produced: “Five exabytes of infor-
mation [are] equivalent in size to the information contained in
37,000 new libraries the size of the Library of Congress book col-
lections” (¶ 2). They also estimated that “the amount of new infor-
mation stored on paper, film, magnetic, and optical media has
about doubled in the last three years” (¶ 3). Others have specu-
lated that half of what most professionals know when they finish
their formal training will be outdated in less than five years, per-
haps even in months for those in technology-related careers. Thus,
the need for continuing education has dramatically escalated with
the increase in knowledge production. There is not only consid-
erably more information than ever before, but its storage, trans-
mission, and access have been made more feasible than ever before
through links with technology.
Laser technology, in particular, is revolutionizing the dissemi-
nation of information, as well as its storage and retrieval. A com-
pact disk using laser technology makes it possible to store huge
amounts of information in a very small space, and the Internet and
World Wide Web have become repositories for more information
than any one person could access in a lifetime. Also promoting the
explosion of information is the decreasing price of magnetic
media. According to Lyman and Varian (n.d.), in 2002, magnetic
media, primarily hard disks, stored 92 percent of new information.
Film stored 7 percent of the total new information, paper 0.01 per-
cent, and optical media 0.002 percent. Huge amounts of informa-
tion and the development of technology that finds and easily
retrieves this information have had a significant impac t on teach-
ing and learning from public school through graduate and adult
education.
Amajorsocietalshift,suchasmovingfromanindustrialtoan
information society, results in profound changes in the society’s
structure. In an industrial society, machine technology extended
physical ability; in an information society, computer technology
extends mental ability. Material wealth has great value in an indus-
trial society; knowledge and information are key assets in an infor-
mation society. The social structure changes from hierarchies and
18 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
bureaucracies to multicentered and horizontal networks. These
changes in society’s underlying structure can be seen most dra-
matically in changes in the workforce. As noted earlier, the shift is
eliminating certain classifications of work while creating others not
previously dreamed of.
In addition to the creation and elimination of jobs, technolog-
ical changes are affecting workers in other ways, such as where work
is done. As Gardner (1996, p. 48) observes, “Computer technology
frees labor from a particular location. . . . Knowledge workers can
work anywhere; they simply have to have access to a computer con-
nection. Even within the team framework, workers can stay engaged
in their mutual tasks even if not in close proximity to each other.
Delocalizing work has been touted as one of the more appealing
aspects of technological advances in the workplace.” Telecommut-
ing, or home work, some assert, has increased because of the new
technologies, and it is considered desirable because it fits in with
alternative family patterns (such as more single-parent families),
worker concerns for control of time and work site, and organiza-
tional efforts to cut costs and remain flexible by contracting out for
services rather than hiring more workers. Estimates of the number
of people who currently telec ommute var y because of different
interpretations of this new work structure. However, estimates from
a2001nationalsurveyfoundthatnearlytwenty-ninemillion,orone
in five U.S. workers, participated in some form of telecommuting,
and this number was expected to increase to more than forty
million by 2010 (Potter, 2003).
Yet others have cautioned against the unquestioning adoption
of technology in the workplace, for information technologies have
created something of a paradox. Designed to get more work done
more efficiently by fewer employees, information technologies
have instead offered more ways to communicate, increased the
demand for information, and raised the level of expectations with
regard to the print and graphic presentation of material. Think of
the volume of mail one now handles through e-mail; this technol-
ogy seems to have increased our workload and expectations of
timely responses.
Clearly, technology and the information age that it spawned
are changing the nature of adult learning. Professionals whose
knowledge becomes outdated in a few years, auto mechanics who
THE SOCIAL CONTEXT OF ADULT LEARNING 19
must now master sophisticated electronic diagnostic systems, adults
who must learn new ways to bank or shop from home computers:
all must be able to function in a fast-changing society, and this
necessitates continued learning. Technology is not only making
learning mandatory, it is providing many of the mechanisms for it
to occur. Computer-assisted instruction, teleconferencing, inter-
active videodisk, the Internet, and the World Wide Web are
expanding the possibilities of meeting the growing learning needs
of adults.
Simultaneous with the development of technologically sophis-
ticated delivery syste ms is the development of new roles for edu-
cators and trainers. Having access to unlimited information is not
the same as being able to search efficiently for the most significant
information, or even to know what is most significant. Heclo (1994,
p. B2) states that “in the long run, excesses of technology mean
that the comparative advantage shifts from those with information
glut to those with ordered knowledge, from those who can process
vast amounts of blab to those who can explain what is worth know-
ing and why.” Ratinoff (1995, p. 163) points out that the informa-
tion explosion has had both positive and negative effects: “On the
positive side, the myths and riddles of power are more exposed to
public scrutiny. To fool all people is ver y difficult under the pre-
sent circumstances.” On the downside, “information has been
growing faster than the individual and institutional capacities
required to make sense of the new diversity of signals and mes-
sages” (p. 164).
Whitson and Amstutz (1997) suggest a number of strategies for
dealing with the information and technology overload. First, adult
educators should “build more and better connections with those
who directly teach information access skills,” especially librarians,
but also computer specialists (p. 133). Educators can also focus on
developing students’ “higher-level thinking skills” so that judgments
can be made about the credibility and usefulness of information (p.
137). Since muc h information is available electronica lly through
the Internet and the World Wide Web, the authors underscore the
need for educators themselves to become comfortable in this envi-
ronment, to the point that they can help learners take advantage of
technology. Finally, “we have an obligation to consider the ethical
implications of our information access processes. . . . The rights of
poor people to have access to information and the ways in which
20 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
information should be made accessible to them are important con-
cerns. We need to resist the growing tendency for business, indus-
try, and government to control access to information” (p. 141).
The more affluent and better-educated adults with home com-
puters have access to information and instructional packages that
make them even more informed. On a global level, the “have”
nations can communicate and exchange information in ways that
will never be a reality for the majority of the world’s people. Even
job training necessitated by technological change tends to favor
the haves.
Nevertheless, technology’s potential for increasing access to
learning for people of all ages and possibly all economic levels is
unlimited. In more and more communities, computers can be
found in libraries, restaurants, Laundromats, and other public
places. Naisbitt and Aburdene (1990) argue that technology is
“empowering.” In their opinion, “there are fewer dictators on the
planet today because they can no longer control information. . . .
Computers, cellular phones, and fax machines empower individ-
uals, rather than oppress them, as previously feared” (pp.
303–304). Finally, “the proliferation of information technologies
and exponential increases in the production of information have
created greater opportunities for informal learning . . . for people
in all walks of life” (Livingstone, 2001, p. 20).
THE CONVERGENCE OF DEMOGRAPHICS,
G
LOBALIZATION, AND TECHNOLOGY
Demographics, globalization, and technology are closely entwined
with each other. Advances in technology, for example, are interre-
lated with changes in the economic structure. Automation and
robotics displace production workers but create other jobs. Tech-
nology creates alternative work structures. The need to be com-
petitive in the world market leads to further technological
sophistication. Demographics and economics are clearly related.
The baby boom cohort that is now in the labor force, for example,
is saturating middle- and upper-management career levels, forcing
younger people to consid e r career alternatives. In another exam-
ple, the growing number of older adults in our society is ha ving
several effects on the economy. Some older adults are being asked
THE SOCIAL CONTEXT OF ADULT LEARNING 21
to retire early to make room for younger workers; with increased
longevity and good health, others are pursuing second or third
careers; and some employers, especially those in the service sector,
are recognizing the human resource potential of this group and
are actively recruiting older workers.
Embedded in this convergence of demographics, economics,
and technology is a value system based on the political and eco-
nomic structure of capitalism. Nearly two decades ago, Beder
(1987, p. 107) explained how these three forces are linked in the
value system: “The beliefs undergirding the capitalist system
emphasize material values. The health of the system is gauged in
terms of national wealth as embodied in the gross national prod-
uct, and social equali ty is assessed in terms of economic opportu-
nity—the potential of members of the underclasses to amass more
income. Hence, the political and social systems become directed
toward . . . economic productivity, and economic productivity
under the rationale of human capital theory becomes the pre-
dominant rationale for all publicly funded social inter ventions
including adult education.” This value system directly shapes adult
education in the United States in several ways. First, economic pro-
ductivity becomes “the dominant rationale for all public subsidy of
adult education” (p. 109). Second, social justice becomes equated
with economic opportunity in that “the just society is a society that
provides opportunity for members of the underc lasses to amass
more income and material goods” and adult education “helps
learners acquire the skills and knowledge” to do s o (p. 109). The
emphasis is on productivity and efficiency, both of which benefit
from advances in technology. Thus technology, in the service of
economic productivity, converges with changing demographics in
shaping the adult learning enterprise.
Nowhere is this more visible than in higher education. Before
globalization and the market economy, higher education was a
local enterprise ser ving a predominately local or national con-
stituency. Academic foci shaped the nature of the student body and
concerns of the institution. With the shift to a consumer approach
to higher education, the institution worries about its “brand”
appeal, its profitability, its “share” of the market. Globalization in
conjunction with communication technology is reshaping higher
education in terms of:
22 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
• International communications-based telecommunications,
information, and media technologies, which facilitate trans-
national circulation of text, images, and artifacts,
• International movement of students to study in other coun-
tries as well as a demand for online courses without a residency
requirement in another country,
• Increasing multicultural learning environment whether online
or on campus,
• Increasing global circulation of ideas and particularly Western
pedagogical systems and values,
• Rise of international and virtual organizations offering Web-
based education and training. [Mason, 2003, p. 744]
There are problems with the globalization of higher education,
however, not the least of which is its lag behind economic deregu-
lation; that is, credit transfer is a serious barrier even inside a coun-
try, let alone across borders. Further, those countries without the
technological infrastructure will be “disenfranchised.” And assum-
ing there are those who have access, how ready “are the potential
students of global education . . . to be self-directed, self-motivated,
and resourceful e-learners?” (Mason, 2003, pp. 744–745).
As already pointed out, a number of writers would like to see
the values and purposes of adult education reexamined in the
wake of the wide-scale social and economic changes taking place.
In a postmodern world characterized by large-scale changes in
global activity resulting in economic, social, and political uncer-
tainty, adult education tends to be an entrepreneurial instrument
of the so-called new world order. Adult education is partic ularly
sensitive to a restructured workplace, reliance on technology to
produce knowledge, and a market demand for multiskilled work-
ers. Petrella (1997) emphasizes the decreased importance placed
on individuals in the new market economy in obser ving that
humans as “resources” take precedence over humans as human
beings. As well, knowledge has become an important business com-
modity that is readily marketed, due, in part, to the explosion of
the Internet and other information technologies. Finger (2005b)
and others (Cunningham, 2000; Schied, Mulenga, & Baptiste,
2005) believe that a dult education is in danger of losing its social
action orientation as it focuses on helping individuals cope with
THE SOCIAL CONTEXT OF ADULT LEARNING 23
the overwhelming economic and other challenges that threaten
their identities and survival. Learning in a global community can
be empowering but it “can also serve as a mechanism for exclusion
and control. The move to a knowledge-based economy means that
those who have the lowest level of skills and the weakest capacity
for constant updating are less likely to find sustainable employ-
ment” (Schied, Mulenga, & Baptiste, 2005, p. 396).
While globalization has extended economic and cultural
boundaries, it has also served to fragment society in many ways. For
example, although minorities and other ethnic groups may be per-
ceived as valuable contributors in a society, conflict results when
scarce educational and other resources are allocated. Minority
groups may become more isolated from mains tream society. In
other ways, too, individuals in a society may experience fragmen-
tation as they struggle to make sense of their disordered and some-
times disrupted lives. In a time when nations, companies, and
families are splintering, there is little sense of security. Job security
in particular no longer exists: “A new bargain replaces the old
social contract between employers and workers that ensures secu-
rity of employment in return for good and loyal work effort. Some
employers now agree to maintain the future employability of work-
ers through education and training in return for good per for-
mance” (Maehl, 2000, p. 20).
If the postmodern world is characterized by fragmentation and
diversity, it is also characterized by new alliances and interactions.
Demographics, the global economy, and technology have come
together in adult education in the blurring of the field’s content
and delivery mechanisms. For example, adult education has been
variously divided into formal, nonformal, and informal learning
activities (see Chapter Two). Formal learning takes place in edu-
cational institutions and often leads to degrees or some sort of
credit. Nonformal learning refers to organized activities outside
educational institutions, such as those found in community orga-
nizations, cultural institutions such as museums and libraries, and
voluntary associations. Informal learning refers to the experiences
of everyday living from which we learn something. Today, many for-
mal providers offer learning experiences that are noncredit, leisure
oriented, and short-term. Similarly, nonformal learning and infor-
mal life experiences can be turned into formal, credit-earning
activities.
24 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Another blurring can be noted in higher education. Once
composed of learners eighteen to twenty-two-years old, the student
body has grayed along with the population. In fact, students twenty-
five years of age and older now make up close to 50 percent of all
college enrollments in the United States (Kasworm, Sandmann, &
Sissel, 2000). Similar subjects may be taught at the local commu-
nity college for credit and at the public adult school for noncredit.
The part-time adult student taking a course during the day at a col-
lege is an adult learner as much as the sixteen-year-old studying for
ahighschooldiplomainalocaleveningclass.Thereisalsoablur-
ring between higher education and business and industr y. Many
postsecondar y institutions have business institute s that provide
training and development services to business. Conversely, a grow-
ing number of private companies, such as McDonald’s Hamburger
University and the Rand Graduate Institute, are offering accred-
ited degrees (Eurich, 1990).
Finally, a blurring of content and delivery is found in such pop-
ular slogans as “w orkplace literacy,” “learning to learn,” “critical
thinking,” and “media literacy.” Educators, employers, and society
at large are focusing attention on developing the skills needed to
be productive and informed members of a fast-changing and
highly technical society. With the erosion of boundaries in the con-
tent and provision of adult learning, we may be witnessing the
emergence of what has been called the lear ning society. Taking
human beings rather than educational institutions as its beginning
point, the learning society is a response to the social context.
SUMMARY
Adult learning does not occur in a vacuum. What one needs or
wants to learn, what opportunities are available, the manner in
which one learns—all are to a large extent determined by the soci-
ety in which one lives. This chapter has discussed several charac-
teristics of American society today that are shaping the nature of
learning in adulthood.
Demographics, globalization, and technology are three forces
affecting all of society’s endeavors, including adult learning. With
regard to the American population, adults outnumber youth, there
are more older adults, adults are better educated, and there is more
cultural and ethnic diversity among the population than ever before.
THE SOCIAL CONTEXT OF ADULT LEARNING 25
Globalization is linking the world through economics and con-
sumerism, but there is also a cultural dimension to globalization.
Unfortunately, even the cultural aspects of globalization are West-
ern dominated (Finger, 2005b), a factor leading to resentment and
terrorist activity.
Technology is integral to the global economy and has con-
tributed to, if not caused, the shift to an information society, which
is creating dramatic changes in the workforce. Although we have
treated them separately, these three forces are interactive and
firmly embedded in the American capitalist value system. Adult
education both reflects and responds to the forces prevalent in the
sociocultural context. Among the implications discussed in the
chapter are the field’s responsiveness to special groups of people,
the economic productivity rationale behind much of adult educa-
tion, the potential of technology for enhancing or impeding learn-
ing, and the blurring of content and delivery in current adult
education.
26 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
CHAPTER TWO
LEARNING ENVIRONMENTS
AND
LEARNING CONCEPTS
Whenever we ask adults about their learning, they most often men-
tion education and training programs sponsored by the workplace,
colleges and universities, public schools, and other formal organi-
zations. They first picture classrooms with “students” learning and
“teachers” teaching in a highly structured format. Yet when we ask
these same adults about what they have learned informally over the
last year, they typically respond with descriptions of learning activi-
ties outside these formal settings. They discuss, for example, remod-
eling a house, which has involved ever ything from reading and
talking with friends to conversations with carpenters, plumbers,
and electricians. Or they may focus on an important change in their
life, such as an illness, parenthood, or divorce, which has precipi-
tated numerous learning events, sometimes over an extended
period of time. In considering the spectrum of learning opportu-
nities available to adults, it is important to acknowledge all of these
arenas of learning, from the highly structured to the more informal
ways adults go about learning.
Why is it important that educators of adults recognize that
learning happens in so many and varied places in the lives of adults?
First, appreciating and taking into consideration the prior knowl-
edge and experience of learners has become a basic assumption of
our practice as educators of adults, wherever this knowledge was
learned. In wor king with welfare recipients, for example, instruc-
tors might recognize that parents on welfare have had to learn
how to take care of their children on ver y constrained budgets,
keep their families safe and healthy under difficult living conditions,
27
and in general make do with very little. Rather than asking ques-
tions about how they have learned to do this successfully, what is
focused on most often is their lack of formal education and skills
training. Formal schooling and skills training are important, but
so are the ways they have informally learned about life skills that
have kept them and their families fed and clothed. Likewise, work-
shop leaders putting on staff development programs in schools
might learn as much as possible about the background and expe-
rience of the teachers in that school and what their knowledge base
is with respect to the content of the workshop. There is nothing that
turns off teachers more in these programs than being treated as if
they know very little about the subject matter, especially if they have
been dealing with it on a daily basis.
Second, if educators helped learners recognize the many
places and ways they have gone about learning in adulthood, more
adults might see themselves as active learners. As a result, they
might be less cautious about learning new things and even be more
willing to enter form al programs of learning. One of our favorite
stories is about a duck carver who was interviewed as part of a study
on self-directed learning (Berger, 1990). This man, who consid-
ered himself both a nonreader and “definitely not a very good stu-
dent,” taught himself how to ca rve ducks. He started this process
by carving some ducks by himself and then taking them to duck
carving shows, where he could talk with other artists about his ini-
tial attempts. In addition, he read ever y book he could get his
hands on related to duck carving (and remember, he thought of
himself as a nonreader). He now raises ducks so he can have live
models, in itself another learning project. As a result of the inter-
view process, this man saw himself as much more of a learner than
he had before. Our hope is that as more individuals view them-
selves as active and competent learners, at least in some areas, they
might be better able to address the many life challenges that come
in adulthood, through both formal and informal learning modes.
In exploring the spectrum of learning opportunit i es in adult-
hood, we first discuss each of the primar y arenas in which
adult learning occurs: those sponsored by formal institutions,
nonformal community-based learning activities, and learning
that is more informal or sel f-directed in nature. We then explore
online learning as a fourth site for learning, one that overlays
28 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
formal, nonformal, and infor mal modes of learning. While there
are other terms in use, we have chosen to use the term online learn-
ing because it is the most common term used to refer to learning
through the use of computers anchored to communication net-
works. A second section of the chapter presents two related
concepts—organizational learning and the learning organization.
Finally, we end the chapter with a discussion of lifelong learning
and the learning society.
W HERE L EARNING O CCURS
In this section we first present a framework for three types of settings
in which learning occurs for adults: formal institutional settings, non-
formal settings, and informal contexts. This framework is an adap-
tation of one proposed by Coombs (1985, 1989; Coombs, Prosser, &
Ahmed, 1973), in which he classified lifelong learning according to
these three broad categories. The biggest difference between their
conceptualization and our framework is that we have added the con-
cepts of self-directed learning (which is synonymous with Coombs’s
definition of informal learning) and indigenous forms of learning.
Although we are aware of the problems of trying to divide the land-
scape of learning opportunities into three separate categories, we
are assuming that all three categories are of equal importance in the
adult learning enterprise. There will always be overlaps among
the three, something that educators of adults can capitalize on when
designing educational activities. Online learning is a fourth site of
learning, one that spans formal, nonformal, and informal learning.
F ORMAL AND N ONFORMAL S ETTINGS
For most people, learning in adulthood brings to mind classroom set-
tings and this is indeed what Coombs (1985) and Coombs, Prosser,
and Ahmed (1973) had in mind with their classification of formal
education. Formal education is highly institutionalized, bureaucratic,
curriculum driven, and formally recognized with grades, diplomas,
or certificates. It is “the institutional ladder that goes from preschool
to graduate studies” (Schugurensky, 2000, ¶ 2) and thus can include
“adult basic education programs that follow the prescribed curricu-
lum and employ certified teachers” (Schugurensky, 2000, ¶ 3).
LEARNING ENVIRONMENTS AND LEARNING CONCEPTS 29
Historically, formal education, whether it be in public schools
or postsecondar y institutions, has had as its primar y mission
to serve yo uth. In more recent years the populations of some of
these institu ti o n s— s u c h as many co mm u n i t y colleges, vocational-
technical institutes, and colleges and universities—have changed
so dramatically that the y are now re aching more adult learners
than traditional-age students. In fact, nearly half of the students
in postsecondar y institutions are over the age of twenty-four
(Kasworm, Sandmann, & Sissel, 2000). For formal settings, we envi-
sion adults sitting in a classroom, with an instructor, learning in a
variety of ways, from formal lectures to small-group interactions.
When we ask participants what they remember as positive about
learning in formal settings, they often cite well-organized, knowl-
edgeable, and caring instructors; participatory instructional meth-
ods and well-crafted lectures; releva nt and useful materials; and
respect for them as adults and learners. And, conversely, when we
ask participants to recall some of their worst experiences, they talk
about arrogant instructors who have no sense of them as people
or learners, poorly delivered content whatever the method used,
and poorly organized and irrelevant materials.
The term nonfor mal education has been used most often to
describe organized learning opportunities outside the formal edu-
cational system. These offerings tend to be short-term, voluntary,
and have few if any prerequisites. However, they typically have a
curriculum and often a facilitator. Nonformal educational oppor-
tunities are usually local and community-based, such as those pro-
grams offered by museums, libraries, service clubs, religious and
civic organizations; mass medi a is also classified as a nonformal
delivery system. Some insights into these nonformal settings are
revealed in Taylor’s studies of educators working in the nonformal
settings of state and local parks (Taylor & Ca ldarelli, 20 04) and
home improvement stores (Taylor, 2005b). Instructors in both set-
tings emphasized the informality, compressed time, and hands-on,
interactive nature of the learning in which the needs and interests
of the participants are paramount in the encounter.
While nonformal adult education is outside the formal school-
ing or education system, three subtypes can be discerned, all
of which are “reactions to the limitations or failures of formal
education” (Brennan, 1997, p. 187). The first subtype proposed by
30 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Brennan (1997) is nonformal education as a complement to the for-
mal system. Targeted are those who have dropped out of the
formal system, or who, for whatever reason, failed to obtain basic
skills such as literacy while in the system. Adult literacy classes
offered by the local public library or community college would be
an example of this type of nonformal education.
AsecondtypeofnonformaleducationBrennantermsalternative
to the formal system. This includes traditional and indigenous edu-
cation, which we discuss in more detail in the following section. Non-
formal education can also be seen as a supplement to formal
education. Supplemental nonformal education he sees as related to
aresponsetonationalandglobalimperatives:“ThistypeofNFEis
required as a quick reaction to educational, social and economic
needs because formal education is too slow in its response (if it does
in fact decide to respond) to these needs” (p. 187). An example of
nonformal education as supplemental might be National Issues
Forums sponsored by the Kettering Foundation. These forums are
held in local communities and focus on civic issues such as the health
care crisis, immigration, terrorism, and so on (see www.nifi.org).
Nonformal education is also associated with international
development programs designed to improve the living conditions
of people in deve loping c ountries th rough commu nity proje cts
and training programs. These programs are typically sponsored by
nongovernmental agencies (NGOs) and private voluntar y agen-
cies. Nonformal educational programs in developing countries (as
well as some nonformal programs in the United States) are
“expressly concerned with social inequities and often seek to raise
the consciousness of participants towards social action” (Merriam &
Brockett, 1997, p. 170).
Despite efforts to distinguish between formal and nonformal
education, some adult learning opportunities that could be placed
in this nonformal category often more closely resemble programs
in formal educational institutions. Coombs (1989) himself identi-
fies “homegrown hybrids” of formal and nonformal, such as pro-
grams for out-of-school youth, community learning centers, and so
on. And in the United States, for example, how does one classify a
corporate training center or a proprietary school? So does using
this term nonformal have utility today? We believe that it does,
both in terms of recognizing the many educational programs in
LEARNING ENVIRONMENTS AND LEARNING CONCEPTS 31
developing nations as well as focusing on the community-based
programs of adult learning in all environments that fit the para-
meters of less structure, more flexibility, and concern with social
inequalities. In addition, another type of learning usually associ-
ated with nonformal education—indig enous learning—is again
being recognized as an important form of learning. Therefore,
in describing nonformal educational learning opportunities, we
highlight two types of these opportunities: community-based adult
learning programs and indigenous learning.
Community-Based Learning
Varied pictures come to mind when we talk about community-
based learning opportunities. We see people gathered in churches,
the community center, or the local library organizing to overcome
aspecificproblemorissuetheybelievetobeimportantinimprov-
ing life in the ir community. These problem s have ranged f rom
addressing racial hatred and inequality to ensuring adequate hous-
ing and sanitar y living cond itions. Other images of community-
based learning programs include men and women learning to read
and write while at the same time gaining marketable job skills,
adults learning CPR at the local Red Cross, farmers being intro-
duced to new methods and crops as a way to build economic
control over their lives, and spouses who batter being taught non-
violent ways of handling their anger and frustration.
One common goal of many of these programs is their focus on
social action and change for the betterment of some part of the
community. Educators who work in these programs believe that
education and training can be a powerful tool in assisting learners
to take control over their own lives. Sometimes these programs are
not welcomed by the mainstream community, especially if one of
their main purposes is to challenge the existing way of life, includ-
ing the current social and economic structures of that community.
Vivid examples include the worldwide human rights movement,
the continuing struggle to eliminate poverty and hunger, community-
based actions exposing hazardous waste dumps, and local attempts
to end discriminatory practices based on race, class, gender, sex-
ual orientation, and so on.
Working with adults in community-based learning settings has
both its blessings and its curses. Flexibility in administration and
32 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
programming is often recognized as its greatest benefit. Because
these types of organizations “start small and are typically organized
as freestanding organizations with fairly simple structures . . . ,
they can often move relatively quickly to identify problems and
develop programmatic solutions” (Hemphill, 1996, p. 21). This
can translate into quicker response times, in terms of both devel-
oping funding proposals and getting resources to where they are
needed. “New people can be brought in (or unfortunately let go
more quickly) as needed. Curricula can be rapidly developed or
revised. Teaching assignments can be quickly modified” (p. 22).
Being able to move more quickly does mean that checks and
balances must be in place to ensure both a focused program direc-
tion based on community needs and quality learning opportuni-
ties that are useful. In addition, people attracted to work in
community-based adult lea rning programs, whether paid or vol-
unteer staff, often come with a passion for a cause that gives them
the drive to stay with this work, even under the most trying con-
ditions. On the downside, the ver y nature of many community-
based organizations often puts them on the path to an unending
search for resources. This continuing search for and worry about
resources, in combination with long and often difficult working
conditions, can lead to staff burnout very quickly, even for the
most committed individuals.
Indigenous Learning
Indigenous learning is learning linked with a culture. It refers to
processes and structures people in particular societies have used
to learn about their culture throughout their history (Graveline,
2005). Conscious use of indigenous forms of learning, which are
often steeped in oral traditions and art forms, can enhance non-
formal and perhaps even formal educational programs. Storytelling,
for example, is often used by African-American women to teach
about the joys and sorrows of life. When teaching these women,
instructors could incorporate storytelling as an important method
of learning about the topic at hand, from surviving in modern-day
organizations to basic literacy skills. In another example, Hicks and
Rowel (2004) studied the nonformal indigenous learning of
six public housing community leaders who were inspirational in
helping others in their community. These women were effective
LEARNING ENVIRONMENTS AND LEARNING CONCEPTS 33
in helping others by modeling exemplar y leadership, practicing
what they preached, and communicating with diverse groups.
Descriptions of indigenous forms of learning can be found
in both scholarly and more popular literature (see Chapter
Nine). Cajete (1994) eloquently describes the tribal foundations
of American Indian education, which he sees as “shared by Indige-
nous cultures of the world” (p. 33). In tracing these foundations,
Cajete observes:
We are tracking the earliest sources of human teaching and learn-
ing. These foundations teach us that learning is a subjective experi-
ence tied to a place environmentally, socially, and spiritually. Tribal
teaching and learning were intertwined with the daily lives of
both teacher and learner. Tribal education was a natural outcome
of living in close communion with each other and the natural envi-
ronment. The living place, the learner’s extended family, the clan
and tribe provided the context and source for teaching. . . . Infor-
mality characterized the greater part of American Indian teaching
and learning. . . . However, formal learning was usually required in
the transfer of sacred knowledge.
Hahoh is a Tewa word sometimes used to connote the process of
learning. Its closest English translation is to “breathe in.” Hahoh is
a sacred metaphor describing the perception of traditional Tribal
teaching—a process of breathing in—that was creatively and inge-
niously applied by all tribes. . . . Through these methods [such as
storytelling, dreaming, tutoring, and artistic creation], the integra-
tion of inner and outer realities of learners and teachers were fully
honored, and the complementary educational processes of both
realities were fully engaged. [Cajete, 1994, pp. 33–34]
Cajete beautifully expresses what teaching and learning mean
to him: “A pa r a b le that often fl as h e s through my m e m o ry during
times of quiet, deep relaxation, or just before I fall asleep: ‘It is an
essential, life-sharing act of each generation of a People to nurture
that which has given them Life and to preserve for future genera-
tions the guiding stories of their collective journey to find life’”
(1994, p. 187).
Brennan (1997, p. 191) has observed that “the lack of atten-
tion to the indigenous learning structure may have been initially
the work of missionaries who viewed indigenous culture as inferior
34 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
and non-Christian and therefore to be ignored or if necessar y
repressed.” He goes on to suggest a four-stage process for recog-
nizing indigenous learning as an essential part of the nonformal
system of learning for adults. In Stage 1, approaches or techniques
that may be relevant to educational or developmental activities are
identified—for exam ple, the role of traditional dance and music
and the use of legends, myths, tales, and proverbs. Stage 2 involves
classifying these approaches and techniques into a system that edu-
cators in more formal settings can understand and integrate into
their own ways of thinking. “The third stage,” he writes, “is associ-
ated with advocacy for the exploration of a broader indigenous
learning ‘system’ . . . [and] the fourth stage is represented by the
development of more detailed and comprehensive learning ‘systems’
for a particular cultural group” (pp. 192–193). Indigenous forms of
learning could also be seen as informal or self-directed learning, as
was described by Cajete and is examined in the next section.
I NFORMAL L EARNING
Informal learning is the third form of learning in Coombs’s typol-
ogy. Defined by him as “the spontaneous, unstructured le arning
that goes on daily in the home and neighborhood, behind the
school and on the playing fiel d, in the workplace, marketplace,
library and museum, and through the various mass media” infor-
mal learning is by far the most prevalent form of adult learning
(Coombs, 1985, p. 92). Illeris (2004a) calls this type of learn-
ing “ever yda y lea rning” because it “takes place in all the private
and non-organised contexts of ever yday life” (p. 151). It is, as Liv-
ingstone (2001) points out, learning that takes place without the
externally imposed curriculum of either formal or nonformal
educative programs.
The very nature of informal learning is what makes it so diffi-
cult for adults to recognize. Embedded as it is in our everyday activ-
ities, whether we are at work, at home, or in the community, and
lacking institutional sponsorship, adults rarely label these activities
as learning. However, studies of informal learning, especially
those asking about adults’ self-directed learning projects, reveal
that upwards of 90 percent of adults are engaged in hundreds
of hours of informal learning (see Chapter Five). It has also been
LEARNING ENVIRONMENTS AND LEARNING CONCEPTS 35
estimated that the great majority (upwards of 70 percent) of
learning in the workplace is informal (Kim, Collins Hagedorn,
Williamson, & Chapman, 2004), although billions of dollars each
year are spent by business and industry on formal training programs.
Informal learn i n g , Schugurensky (2000) suggests, has its own
internal forms that are important to distinguish in studying the
phenomenon. He proposes three forms: self-directed learning,
incidental learning, and socialization, or tacit learning. These dif-
fer among themselves in terms of intentionality and awareness at
the time of the learning experience. Self-directed learning, for
example, is intentional and conscious; incidental learning, which
Marsick and Watkins (1990) describe as an accidental by-product
of doing something else, is unintentional but “after the experience
she or he becomes aware that some learning has taken place”
(p. 4); and finally, socialization or tacit learning is neither inten-
tional nor conscious (although we can become aware of this learn-
ing later through “retrospective recognition”) (Marsick & Watkins,
1990, p. 6).
Of the three forms of informal learning, self-directed learning
is the most visible and the most studied (see Chapter Five). The
following two scenarios illustrate the informal nature of self-
directed learning:
Scenario 1: Charlie has a passion for model railroading. He
spends hours in his basement planning his layout, tinkering with
his equipment, and laying track. He subscribes to every railroad
magazine published and talks shop with acquaintances who also
have model trains. Every once in a while, he attends a model rail-
road show, but for the most part, this is a hobby he enjoys pursu-
ing on his own. Over the years he has learned a great deal about
model railroading and is proud of his layout, though as he says,
“I’ll never be totally satisfied. There are always new things coming
out which I like to fiddle with.”
Scenario 2: Trudy has just learned that she has breast cancer.
Once over the initial shock, she decides to take an active role in
planning her treatment. So that she can speak intelligently with
the myriad medical personnel she knows she must face, she gath-
ers as much information as she can about the disease from a num-
ber of sources, including the American Cancer Society, her local
Reach for Recovery Program, the Internet, and an oncology nurse
36 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
who is a friend of a friend. Moreover, she learns of a local support
group for cancer patients and decides to join for both information
and emotional solace, thereby choosing a nonformal learning
opportunity as part of her own self-directed efforts. Her husband
and best friend have joined her in her fight, and both are reach-
ing out to a number of different sources for advice and counsel.
These scenarios, representing the independent pursuit of
learning in natural settings, with or without the support of institu-
tional resources, are very common in adult life. Yet even with the
many verification studies that have been completed, self-directed
learning in this form is not recognized by many adults, or even by
some educators of adults, as “real learning.” There are a lot of
Charlies out there, learning all kinds of things on their own, from
model railroading to making quilts and crafting clay pots. Some
find friends or independent mentors to assist them in their learn-
ing, and some deliberately choose institutional resources that
might be helpful to them as part of their self-directed activities.
There are also numerous Trudys whose self-directed learning activ-
ities “arise from and seek to resolve a problem or situation” (Candy,
1991, p. 199). These learners often combine resources in their nat-
ural environments with those supplied by institutions, from edu-
cational materials to people who can assist them with their
learning. What becomes evident is that this type of informal learn-
ing does not necessarily mean learning alone, a major myth about
self-directed learning (Brockett, 1994). Rather, adults often use
other people, and even groups, whether they are institutionally
based or not, in their self-directed learning pursuits.
Schugurensky (2000) makes just this point in summarizing the
three forms of informal learning—that is, informal learning can
occur individually or in groups and “learners can use a variety of
sources for their learning, including books, newspapers, TV, the
Internet, museums, schools, universities, friends, relatives, their
own experience, etc.” (¶ 20). He also notes that informal learning
can complement and reinforce or contradict learning acquired in
formal and nonformal settings:
For instance, one can learn in school curriculum that the capitalist
system is a great contribution to humanity, and learn through infor-
mal ways that such a system is detrimental to humanity. Likewise,
LEARNING ENVIRONMENTS AND LEARNING CONCEPTS 37
one can be socialized by the surrounding community into a bigot,
and learn virtues of tolerance in the public school. Moreover, one
can go to a school and be aware that through the formal curricu-
lum she or he is learning A (e.g. math), without being aware that
through the hidden curriculum she or he is learning B (e.g. homo-
phobia). [¶ 23]
Schugurensky also makes the point that informal learning can
be additive, in the sense of acquiring more knowledge or skills, and
it can be transformative (see Chapter Six).
In summary, we have presented a framework that encompasses
three types of settings or contexts in which learning in adulthood
occurs. The first two settings, formal and nonformal, involve some
form of organizational or community sponsorship. The third
opportunity, informal learning, is more of a hybrid. Although the
majority of learning opportunities in this last category are planned
and initiated primarily by learners in natural settings (such as the
home, on the job, or through recreational pursuits), the learning
processes and methods used in self-directed and informal learn-
ing have been i ncorporated by some formal and nonf ormal set-
tings in the way they carry through their instructional programs.
O NLINE L EARNING
In more recent years, as the use of technology has increased in the
delivery of learning programs, our picture of learning in formal
settings has expanded dramatically. We now see learners doing
individualized or group learning in computer labs, participating
in interactive teleconferences, and interacting from their homes
with fellow participants and instructors via the Internet.
And while most of the research and theorizing about online
learning is occurring in the formal education sector, online learn-
ing is also going on in nonformal settings. Many businesses have
their own intranet, where employees have access to company poli-
cies, events, and activities as well as learning that can be shared
through chat rooms and e-mail. Local communities often use the
Internet to st imulate citizen participation, and nonformal educa-
tional institutions such as museums facilitate learning through
online activities. After getting a traffic ticket, one can even take a
38 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
traffic school course online, endorsed by traffic court, to avoid get-
ting “points” on one’s driving record! And in a fascinating study of
online social action, Hollenbeck (2005) explored how three online
communities organized and educated their members worldwide
in the art of social protest. She studied anti-McDonald’s, anti–
Wal-Mart, and anti-Starbucks communities, which she labeled
antibrand communities. All three had formed for the purpos e of
educating others “by providing resources for getting involved and
taking action” against capitalist corporate giants (p. 207). These
antibrand online groups organized e-mail campaigns protesting
corporate policies, publicized and supported local protests, and
offered a space for employees who were overworked and under-
paid to “vent” (a number of people in these online communities
were disgruntled employees of the organization in question).
Informal learning has also been affected by this technology.
How many of us have been curious about something and done a
Web search to learn more about it? Even older adults are accessing
the Web for up-to-date information on many aspects of their lives—
from travel, to the “best places to live,” to their health condition
(Valente, 2005). Hayes (2005) has also demonstrated how sophisti-
cated one’s learning can become through participating in the vir-
tual world of video and role-playing games. She obser ved, for
example, that since some of these virtual worlds are “not solely text-
based, these worlds offer opportunities for learning through a wider
range of modalities, including visual, auditory, and even kinesthetic
modes, and rely less on verbal (i.e., reading and writing) skills for
participation. These varied modalities may encourage or requi re
different forms of identity construction, meaning-making, and
social interaction” (p. 194).
As we noted earlier, it is from the formal education sector that
we have learned the most about online learning, and it is to devel-
opments in this arena that we now turn. Online learning is a form
of distance education, which has a long history of ser ving adults
who other wise would not have access to continuing and higher
education. The defining characteristic of all forms and generations
of distance education is the separation of student and teacher in
time or space. What in the literature is often termed first-generation
distance education consisted of print-based correspondence courses,
aformstillinexistence.Howmanygenerationsfollowdiffersby
LEARNING ENVIRONMENTS AND LEARNING CONCEPTS 39
author, but the simplest model has the second generation being
broadcast and television technologies, followed by the third
generation of information technologies of which Web-based
courses are a part (Moore & Kearsley, 1996). This generation is dis-
tinguished by “an increased degree of learner control and flexi-
bility, interactive communication and group-oriented processes”
(Conrad, 2005, p. 445).
The phenomenal growth of online learning is reflected in some
statistics that will be outdated before this book is published. Internet
World Stats (2005) has estimated that there are more than 223 mil-
lion Internet users in North America, or 68 percent of the popula-
tion. Furthermore, 81 percent of higher education institutions in the
United States offered at least one fully online or blended course
in 2002–03, and over 1.9 million students were studying online in
fall 2003 (Allen & Seaman, 2004). According to Moore (2001), those
who are enrolled in online courses tend to be women, older rather
than young adults, and people employed outside the home.
As online learning has become almost commonplace in higher
education, research has shifted from its technical aspects and its
staying power to more pedagogical concerns encompassing “all
aspects of the learning transaction, including its ver y important
social dimension and its sub-parts, community and social presence;
culture and facilitation styles; and theory-building” (Conrad, 2005,
p. 445). At the same time, there are overarching concerns about
this forum for learning. One big concern is with access, what some
are characterizing as the digital divide. Distance education began
in the nineteenth century to serve those who had little or no access
to the traditional education system. While online learning is also
designed to open up access, and does so for thousands of adults
who need the flexibility of time and space for their learning, it may
also be widening the gap between the haves and the have-nots:
To access the new forms of distance education, obviously you have to
have access to the new technology, and richer people have that and
poorer people do not have that. In the United States, high-income
households are twenty times more likely to have access to the Inter-
net than low-income families. In the United States, two-thirds of
college-educated people have access to the Internet and only 6%
of those with primary or elementary education. [Moore, 2001, ¶ 25]
40 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
From a global perspective, it is estimated that of the world’s 6.4
billion people, only 14.6 percent are Internet users (Internet
World Stats, 2005). But the digital divide is not a matter of access
alone. In a study of rural learners who had access to computers in
community settings, Page (2005) found that other sociocultural
and psychological factors impeded their use. Factors such as
“uncertainty about change, fear of technology, need for guidance,
inexperience, relevance, the social context of the persistently
impoverished county, and the perceived need” revealed the com-
plexity of the digital divide (p. 334).
There are other issues of concern to adult educators when con-
sidering the growth of online lear n in g . Moore (2001) and other s
talk about the commercialization of Internet education. A number
of private, for-profit institutions have sprung up promising learn-
ing anytime, anywhere, for anyone. But the promise of conve-
nience and ease (for a price) may fool some students in terms of
the commitment involved and the independent learning skills
needed. Or, these institutions may have poor quality courses if
instructors at the institution do not live up to its advertising.
Private, for-profit Phoenix University, which is a largely online uni-
versity, now has two hundred thousand students and expects
to serve five hundred thousand by 2010 ( Selingo, 2005), yet little
is known about student success or lack of success in such a fast-
growing institution.
In an analysis of the rhetoric of online learning, Kelland
(2005) critiques three themes that characterize the promotion of
online learning. The first theme, which she calls a myth, is
that online learning is inclusive and democratic. In promoting
online learning to disadvantaged groups (who, as we saw earlier,
do not have the cultural capital to take advantage of it), govern-
ments and institutions “continue to ignore barriers that discour-
age, and even prevent, disadvantaged learners from participating
in on-campus programs” (p. 254). The second theme, that online
learning is accessible and flexible, is countered by the digital divide
that characterizes even Western countries such as the United
States. The third theme, that online learning is cost-effective, does
not necessarily mean that lower institutional costs are passed on to
students; further, students in industrial countries have trouble get-
ting financial aid for their distance learning.
LEARNING ENVIRONMENTS AND LEARNING CONCEPTS 41
In summary, online learning presents both opportunities and
challenges to adult educators. As we have seen, online learning
occurs in formal, nonformal, and informal settings. What we as
adult educators need to think about is how the Internet is facili-
tating adult learning in all three settings and how we can maximize
its potential. At the same time, online learning presents challenges
particularly with regard to access, even in the information-rich,
technologically adva nced United State s. Access issues, which are
discussed more fully in the next chapter on participation, ha ve
haunted the field of adult education since its inception. It appears
that online learning is yet another manifestation of this worrisome
social issue at the heart of our adult education practice.
O RGANIZATIONAL L EARNING AND
THE
L EARNING O RGANIZATION
The concepts of organizational learning and the learning organi-
zation are so interrelated that it is difficult to speak of one without
reference to the other. Illeris (2004a, p. 88) concurs, stating that
“there is no clear distinction” between the two “except for the dis-
cussion on what exactly it means that an organization learns.”
Indeed, sections on the learning organization and organizational
learning in the recent International Encyclopedia of Adult Education
(English, 2005b) position each term with reference to the other.
Recognizing the embeddedness of one concept in the other, we
begin with a discussion of organizational learning, a concept that
preceded that of the learning organization.
Learning has always gone on in organizations. At least since the
industrial revolution, employees have had to be trained in the tech-
nical skills needed for their jobs. This learning, or more precisely,
training, was “removed from the immediate work environment on
which it [was] expected to have an impact” through the “‘transfer’
of skills and understanding back to the milieu” (Laiken, 2001,
p. 6). As much of this training failed to transfer, and as organiza-
tions entered a more competitive environment, broader thinking
about learning in organizations emerged. Argyris and Schön’s 1978
book, Organizational Learning: A Theory of Action Perspective, defined
the concept of organizational learning. As described by them,
“Organizational learning occurs when members of the organization
42 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
act as learning agents of the organization, responding to changes
in the internal and external environments of the organization
by detecting and correcting errors in organizational theory-in-use,
and embedding the results of their enquir y in private images and
shared maps of organization” (p. 16). A number of key points about
organizational learning are present in this definition. First, it is indi-
viduals who do the learning, but in service to the organization, so
that the organization can adapt and develop in response to the envi-
ronment. Second, theories-in-use versus “espoused theories” (what
people do versus what they say they do) form the basis for practice.
Finally, this learning must become “embedded in the images of
organization held in its members’ minds and/or in the . . . artifacts
(the maps, memories, and programs) embedd e d in the organiza-
tional environment” (Argyris & Schön, 1996, p. 16).
As it has evolved, organizational learning is a flexible concept
spanning a number of disciplines and perspectives so that it is now
“impossible to capture with a single definition” (Fenwick, 2005b,
p. 446). Further, the field of organizational development (OD) and
the idea of knowledge management (KM) intersect with organi-
zational learning in terms of how to incorporate learning into
changing an organization’s practices and culture, and how to
employ the knowledge generated through individual and group
learning. Today, all organizations are grappling with issues that
include “generating innovation, integrating new technologies,
improving existing processes, predicting and adapting to turbulent
conditions, restructuring staff, improving performance, ensuring
equitable opportunity, and fostering quality of work” (Fenwick,
2005b, p. 448).
Although learning has always gone on in organizations, it was
not until the publication in 1990 of Peter Senge’s book The Fifth
Discipline: The Ar t and Practice of the Learning Organization that the
notion of the learning organization became a popular con cept
capturing the imagination of organizations worldwide. Senge
defined it as “a plac e where people continually expand their
capacity to create the results they truly desire, where new and
expansive patterns of thinking are nurtured, where collective
aspiration is set free, and where people are continually learning
how to act together” (p. 3). Implicit in this definition is the recog-
nition that the learning organization is a vibrant, social entity;
LEARNING ENVIRONMENTS AND LEARNING CONCEPTS 43
further, individuals learning in conjunction with each other has a
synergistic effect—the overall learning is greater tha n a single
individual’s.
It is Senge’s contention that “organizations learn only through
individuals who learn” (p. 140). This is a necessary but not suffi-
cient condition for creating a learning organization. There are also
five core disciplines, or “compone n t technologies,” that individu-
als must adopt for the learning organization to become a reality.
Senge views systems thinking as the cornerstone of the learning orga-
nization. He believes that it is critical for people to shift their think-
ing from “seeing parts to seeing wholes, from seeing people as
helpless reactors to seeing them as active participants in their real-
ity, from reacting to the present to creating the future” (p. 69).
Without this shift in thinking, he views the other four disciplines
(developing personal mastery, changing mental models, building
shared vision, and participating in team learning) as useless.
Watkins and Marsick’s (1993) view of the learning organization
is a bit broader. They see the learning not just with individuals but
also taking place in “teams, the organization, and even in the com-
munities with which the organizations interact. Learning is a
continuous, strategically used process—integrated with, and running
parallel to [the] work [of the orga nization]” (p. 8). Watkins and
Marsick have outlined six action imperatives needed to create and sus-
tain learning organizations. The first imperative is to create contin-
uous learning opportunities at all levels of the organization. These
opportunities range from on-the-job learning experiences to host-
ing global dialogue teams, with the goal that learning be comes
an integral part of the everyday work life. To promote this continu-
ous lear ning, two other action impe ratives are brought into
play: inquir y and dialogue, and collaboration and team learning.
These learning strategies seem to form the heart of most organiza-
tional learning efforts, with the emphasis on the collective and inter-
dependent nature of these processes. The fourth imperative,
establishing systems to capture and share learning, involves “build-
ing organizational capacity for new thinking that is then embedded
and shared with others” (Watkins & Marsick, 1993, p. 15). This
fourth imperative, along with the fifth—empowering people toward
acollectivevision—mirrorsSenge’sdisciplinesofchangingone’s
mental models and building shared vision. The final imperative,
44 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
connecting the organization to its environment, acknowledges
the connections between the organization and its external con-
stituents, including its customers and the various local, national, and
international communities that affect the work of the organization.
These connections are symbiotic. It is not only the external con-
stituents that affect the organization; the organization also affects
these external groups.
This learning capability improves an organization’ s capacity to
respond quickly and in novel ways, thus increasing its ability to fos-
ter innovation and change. Organizations with this ability to make
rapid changes may have a competitive advantage in the marketplace,
although there is little research that actually confirms this claim. In
one of the few research studies to test this assumption, Ellinger,
Ellinger, Yang, and Howton (2002) correlated results of a learning
organizational questionnaire with obje ctive measures of 208 U.S.
manufacturing firms’ financial performance. While they caution that
this study was exploratory, they did find positive associations between
the learning organization concept and firm performance.
Today the learning organization goes by a number of names
including adaptive, resilient, and innovative organizations (Marsick &
Watkins, 2005). However it is conceptualized, there are some con-
sistent features of a “healthy” learning organization. These include:
“(a) openness across boundaries, including an emphasis on envi-
ronmental scanning, collaboration, and competitor benchmark-
ing; (b) resilience or the adapta bility of people and systems to
respond to change; (c) knowledge/expertise creation and sharing;
and (d) a culture, systems and structures that capture learning and
reward innovation” (p. 357).
In thinking about the process of building and sustaining learn-
ing organizations, Dixon (1997) offers the metaphor of the hall-
way as a useful analogy. She defines hallways as “places where
collective meaning is made—in other words, meaning is not just
exchanged, it is constructed in the dialogue between organiza-
tional members” (p. 25). Although the dissemination of complete
and accurate information is needed to enable this process to work,
it is not sufficient to promote shared meanings among people.
Dixon contrasts this accessible meaning of the hallways to that of
private meaning, which is knowledge known only to individuals
and not accessible to others. Collective meanings of organizational
LEARNING ENVIRONMENTS AND LEARNING CONCEPTS 45
members are held in what she terms the organization’ s storeroom.
This collective meaning, which includes norms, strategies, and
assumptions about how the organization functions, is the glue that
holds the organization together. She acknowledges that this col-
lective meaning, if not allowed to be questioned, can have a nega-
tive impact on organizations’ being able to learn and change.
Finally, Dixon outlines seven critical elements that characterize
hallway learning: (1) reliance on discussion, not speeches; (2) egal-
itarian participation; (3) encouragement of multiple perspectives;
(4) nonexpert-based dialogue; (5) use of a participant-generated
database; (6) the creating of shared experiences; and (7) the cre-
ation of unpredictable outcomes. We find the last element especially
intriguing; it asks those of us who choose to create learning organi-
zations to move away from the predictable aspects of learning
and into the realm of reframing problems in unexpected ways and
finding possibilities never thought of before.
There are, of course, numerous barriers or inhibitors to creat-
ing learning organizations. Among the most critical are the inabil-
ity of organizational members to recognize and change their
existing mental models, the lingering power of individualism in
organizations versus the spirit of collaboration and team learning,
the lack of skills and developmental readiness by people to under-
take “systemwide learning,” and “truncated learning or the ghosts
of learning efforts that took root because they were interrupted or
only partially implemented” (Watkins & Marsick, 1993, p. 240).
Another major barrier to creating learning organizations is that
power is often in the hands of a few who may or may not buy into
these ways of working and thinking (Cervero & Wilson, 2005).
As we have just seen, it is not possible to talk of the learning
organization without reference to organizational learning.
We believe that the concepts of organizational learning and the
learning organization offer a way of working and thinking for edu-
cators in both formal and nonformal settings. It allows us to move
beyond planning just for individuals and groups of learners in
terms of affecting both learning processes and outcomes. Creating
learning organizations, whether we are associated with educational,
quasi-educational, or noneducational institutions, provides a way
to foster learning communities that are open to change and inno-
vative practices.
46 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
L IFELONG L EARNING AND
THE
L EARNING S OCIETY
In recent years nearly all people, and especially those of us in edu-
cation, have heard the terms lifelong learning and learning society. But
what do we mean by these terms and what do they mean for the
field of adult education and adult learners in particular? Are they
a convenient slogan to promote our field? Will their use result in
more adults having access to learning opportunities? There are, of
course, no simple answers to these questions. What we can do in
this section is explore these concepts and in particular the issues
they raise with regard to practice.
Before lifelong learning there was lifelong education, pro-
moted chiefly by UNESCO in the 1960s and 1970s. The now-
famous UNESCO report, Learning to Be (Faure et al., 1972), was
seen as a blueprint for reforming the entire educational system.
Both idealistic in its goals and humanistic in its concern with indi-
vidual growth through learning, lifelong education, it was hoped,
“would result in the creation of a learning society where access to
and learning in education would be taken for granted—an inalien-
able human right like clean water or a roof over one’s head”
(Boshier, 2005, p. 373).
However, as societies became more conscious of the need to
develop a skilled workforce to be competitive in the marketplace,
the humanistic focus of lifelong education gave way to more of an
economic framing of lifelong learning. By the early 1990s the term
learning had supplanted education. This shift was also marked by a sig-
nificant publication, this time from the Organization for Economic
Cooperation and Development (OECD) in 1996, titled Learning for
All. It is significant that the OECD represents the economic inter-
ests of mostly affluent countries, for this report established “the
political-economic ideology of lifelong learning (Illeris, 2004a, p. 29).
Secondary to the economic focus, this report also acknowledged the
importance of lifelong learning for personal development and social
unity: “We are all convinced of the crucial importance of learning
throughout life for enriching personal lives, fostering economic
growth and maintaining social cohesion” (OECD, 1996, p. 21).
Most recently the OECD conceptualization of lifelong learn-
ing has been augmented by reports from the European Union and
LEARNING ENVIRONMENTS AND LEARNING CONCEPTS 47
the World Bank. The 2000 report of the Commission of the Euro-
pean Communities acknowledges that learning need not be so
highly institutionalized, highlighting the importance of nonformal
and informal learning contexts. The report maintains the eco-
nomic aim of lifelong learning, but also says an “equally important
aim” is promoting active citizenship. The World Bank’s report on
lifelong learning, while including Third World and transitional
economies, states the aim of lifelong learning to be the creation of
aworkforce“abletocompeteintheglobaleconomy”(WorldBank,
2003, p. xviii).
Although in the United States use of the concept of lifelong
learning has lagged behind other countries, we have our own report
urging the nation to make adoption of a system of lifelong learning
anationalpriority(CommissionforaNationofLifelongLearners,
1997). The five recommendations of this report are to “acknowledge
the link between lifelong learning and global economic success,
establish equity of access, incorporate new technologies in lifelong
learning, rethink and reorganize educational delivery, and make
resource commitments commensurate with lifelong learning’s
importance” (Maehl, 2000, p. 7)
Lifelong learning, at least in the United States today, is more a
“principle or organizing concept than a functioning system”
(Maehl, 2000, p. 4). This is partly because of the decentralization
of our educational system and the myriad institutions, agencies,
and programs that offer learning opportunities. There is no pub-
lic policy on lifelong learning and certainly no unified funding
source. The result is that the concept is shaped by whatever enti-
ties take it up. Postsecondary education, for example, seems to be
in the forefront in shaping lifelong learning as access to higher
education for adults of any age and stage in life. The Department
of Labor, in contrast, sees lifelong learning as access to training to
develop skills needed in the workforce.
The proliferation of interpretations of lifelong learning has led
to some vigorous debate and discussion about its merits and limi-
tations. The most vociferous critique of lifelong learning is that it
is a tool for restricting its application to “labor market expectations
that enable governments and corporations to exploit the idea of
human capital” (Dale, Glowacki-Dudka, & Hyslop-Margison, 2005,
p. 113). Or, because lifelong learning is so pervasive throughout
48 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
society, knowledge becomes a commodity that is produced, pack-
aged, and sold to the consumer. Crass commercialization begins
to define lifelong learning. Yet, the notion of lifelong learning has
also opened up our thinking of learning as broader than what goes
on in school. Nonformal, informal, and self-directed learning are
much more visible as legitimate sites for learning.
The most vexing issue, one raised earlier with regard to online
learning, is the question of access. As Boshier (2005, p. 376) points
out, “[L]ifelong learning is used as a rationale for inflicting (often
oppressive and authoritarian) forms of mandatory continuing edu-
cation on citizens already marginalized and experiencing social dif-
ficulties.” Illeris (2004a) notes that while all the international
reports “are quite explicit about the necessity of giving priority to
those who are poorest in economic, social, and educational terms,”
he wonders if in reality this is happening “in a way that is relevant
seen from the life situation and perspectives of these participants”
(p. 34). Finally, Holford and Jarvis (2000) raise the fundamental
question of who benefits in the learning society, pointing out that
the rhetoric and the reality do not match. For example, life-
long learning with regard to the workplace “will emphasize types
of learning and knowledge that make sense in concrete contexts
and will be widely available. Unfortunately—whatever the poten-
tial benefits to all of privileging practical knowledge—access to
learning opportunities at work remains highly unequal” (p. 655).
Despite the issues involved in a society such as ours promoting
the notion of lifelong learning, the concept does seem to have
some usefulness in conveying the wide variety of learning activities
and sites where it can occur. It also reflects what some see as the
“postmodern” condition, full of change and opportunity. As
Edwards and Usher (2000) write, “[C]hange and uncertainty
require lifelong learning and ‘lifelong learning’ is itself a signifier
of the uncertainty and change of the contemporary” (p. 99).
This notion of change and uncertainty also underlies the con-
cept of the learning society. Just as the learning organization is
designed to respond to environmental and economic develop-
ments, the learning society acts in response to social change: “The
more prevalent or profound the changes that occur in a society,
the greater the likelihood that it will be regarded as a learning soci-
ety” (Jarvis, 2004, p. 15). China is a prime example. Undergoing
LEARNING ENVIRONMENTS AND LEARNING CONCEPTS 49
enormous change, the Sixteenth Congress of the Chinese Com-
munist Party in 2002 declared China’s intention to promote life-
long learning and create a learning society. To bring about this
learning society, the government has set up and is supporting sixty-
one experimental learning communities throughout the nation.
Using the present administrative infrastructure, which links
provinces, municipalitie s, districts , streets, and neighborhoods,
these communities are engaging people of all ages in nonformal
and informal learning activities designed to bring learning to the
fore as a priority in their lives and in their communities. Local gov-
ernments in the experi ment areas have integrated the work of
building the learning community into their administrative respon-
sibilities; learning streets and learning families in these local learn-
ing communities attest to the scope of these efforts (Bo Chang,
personal communication, September 7, 2005).
The magnitude of China’s efforts to create a learning society
makes the concept difficult to grasp. It is perhaps easier to think in
terms of learning “regions” or learning communities, cities, towns,
or villages. Learning regions, according to Walters (2005), refer to
ageographicareaofanysizethathasmadeacommitmenttolink-
ing “lifelong learning with economic development to compete glob-
ally” (p. 360). The important characteristics of learning regions such
as a city, state, or province is that all forms of learning—informal,
nonformal, and formal—are promoted for all ages. As Boshier
(2005) explains:
In a learning city (town or village) there are attempts to foster all
forms of learning for citizens old and young in many contexts. . . .
Learning cities are committed to learning as a core aspect of devel-
opment. As well as catching dogs and servicing sewers, the city
fosters learning. They seek to sustain economic activity by building
social capital. . . . A learning city (town or village) is: a form of com-
munity development in which local people from every community
sector act together to enhance the social, economic, cultural and
environmental conditions of their community. [pp. 376–377]
Boshier also includes learning festivals as part of the learning
society. Such learning festivals are part learning, part cultural
expression, and part entertainment. What is key to learning
50 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
regions, cities, or festivals is not technology, which “helps but is not
essential. What matters most are local places and spaces” (Boshier,
2005, p. 376).
The learning society then can be considered as an expression
of lifelong learning, one that is place-bound. What it means to be
alearningsociety(orlearningcity,community,orregion)willdif-
fer according to the particular society. What does the learning soci-
ety look like, for example, in “middle-income countries like Brazil,
India and South Africa’ or “in contexts of widespread poverty and
social polarization” (Walters, 2005, p. 360)? Certainly, this concept
of the learning society, along with the concept of lifelong learning,
will undergo change as societies grapple with implementing learn-
ing for all across all segments of society.
S UMMARY
Learning opportunities for adults are found in a variety of settings,
from formal institutions to one’s home or place of employment.
The importance of understanding this vast array of learning oppor-
tunities for adults is twofold. First, acknowledging prior knowledge
and experiences of learners, wherever gained, is important to the
practice of adult educators. Second, if more than just formal types
of adult education are made visible, individual learners, even those
without formal schooling, may be better able to recognize their
abilities and skills as lifelong learners.
There are three primary types of opportunities or sites in which
learning occurs for adults: formal settings, nonformal settings, and
informal or self-directed contexts. A fourth site explored in this
chapter is online learning, which spans formal, nonformal, and
informal settings. Although the categorization of these learning
opportunities and the language used within these categories helps
us think about learning, what is more crucial is the recognition that
learning opportunities come in many sizes, shapes, forms, and
places. The most critical actio ns that educators of adults can take
is to recognize the equal importance of the various types of adult
learning and advocate that people use them in whatever situation
or setting they find themselves.
Asecondsectionofthischapterexploredtheconceptof
organizational learning and its manifestation in the learning
LEARNING ENVIRONMENTS AND LEARNING CONCEPTS 51
organization. In learning organizations, learning—whether done
by individuals, groups, or the organization as a whole—is a central,
valued, and integral part of organizational life. The heart of the
learning organization is the willingness of organizations to allow
their employees and other stakeholders related to the organization
to suspend and question the assumptions by which they operate,
then create and examine new ways of solving organizational prob-
lems and means of operating. This process requires that people at
all levels of the organization be willing to think in a systems frame-
work, with the emphasis on collective inquiry, dialogue, and action.
Creating learning organizations could allow educators of adults,
whether they are associated with formal or nonformal settings, to
develop learning communities in which change is accepted as the
norm and innovative practices are embraced.
Finally, we reviewed the evolution of the concept of lifelong
learning, which has replaced lifelong education. Lifelong learning
is a broader term than lifelong education because it incorporates
all forms of learning, not just the formal educational system. Life-
long learning recognizes the prevalence and value of nonformal
and informal learning along with the traditional formal system.
This broader perspective can be seen in practice in some societies’
efforts to implement lifelong learning in their societies, commu-
nities, and learning cities and regions. The term learning society is
an attempt to capture these efforts.
52 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
CHAPTER THREE
ADULT LEARNERS:WHO
PARTICIPATES AND WHY
Adult education is a large and amorphous field of practice, with no
neat bo undaries such as age, as in the case of eleme ntar y and
secondary education, or mission, as in higher education. Adult edu-
cation with its myriad content areas, deli ver y systems, goals, and
learners defies simple categorization. In the previous chapter, we
looked at the spectrum of settings where adult learning takes place,
ranging from formal institutional settings, to nonformal community-
based sites, to one’s home, and more recently, to a computer. One
way to grasp something of the field is to find out who is involved
in the activity itself—hence, studies of participation.
Knowing who participates in adult education activities and why
adults are participating (or not) is necessary information for both
providers and policymakers. Since participation in adult education
is largely a voluntary activity, knowing who is participating, reasons
for participating, and what conditions are likely to promote greater
participation can help pr oviders be tter serve adult learners. An
understanding of participation patterns can also raise important
questions about assumptions underlying what is offered, who is
benefiting from participating, and whose needs are not being met.
Knowledge about participation is useful to policymakers, par-
ticularly in terms of funding. At the federal level, for example, fund-
ing for literacy and other programs is a function of who is now
participating, in conjunction with the perceived needs of nonpar-
ticipants. Along with current numbers and rates of participation of
various segments of the adult population, other sociopolitical and
economic factors play important parts in federal policy formation,
53
not the least of which is the desire to maintain a stable, democratic
society and a globally competitive workforce. For those who plan
learning activities and instruct adults, it is certainly helpful to know
as much as possible about the clientele being served.
This chapter first offers a descriptive profile of who participates
in adult learning activities, and the reasons why adults engage in
learning. The second half of the chapter problematizes the concept
of participation, asking who really has access to learning and who
benefits from participating.
WHO PARTICIPATES?
Almost all studies of participants in adult education focus on for-
mal, institutionally base d programs. This, of course, is due to the
ease of gathering this information from learners and institutions
that sponsor programs. It is much more difficult to assess partici-
pation in nonformal, community-based activities or in informal self-
directed learning. We first review participation of adults in formal
adult education—that is, institutionally sponsored courses or classes.
What little we do know about who participates in nonformal and
informal learning will be reviewed at the end of this section.
JOHNSTONE AND RIVERA’S LANDMARK STUDY
In 1962 an “inquiry into the nature of adult education in America”
was funded by the Carnegie Corporation and carried out by
researchers Johnstone and Rivera (1965) at the National Opinion
Research Center (NORC) in Chicago. The study sought to
describe participation in formal and informal educational activi-
ties, assess attitudes an d opinions held by adults concerni ng edu-
cation, describe the organizations delivering adult education in a
typical urban community, and focus on the educational and work
experiences of young adults ages seventeen to twenty-four. The
findings of this first national study have provided a baseline against
which the findings of subsequent studies have been compared.
Since comparisons are made, it is important to know how adult
education and adult are defined in this study. Realizing the import
of this function, Johnstone and Rivera (1965, p. 26) struggled to
come up with a definition of an adult educational activity that was
54 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
broad enough to capture systematic efforts at learning but not
so broad as to include “a host of activities . . . which would fall
beyond the range of any reasonable or workable definition of adult
education.” They decided that an adult education activity would
have as its main purpose the desire to acquire some type of knowl-
edge, information, or skill and that it would include some form
of instruction ( including self-instr uction). They thus measured
involvement as a full-time adult student, as a part-time participant
in adult education activities, and as a participant in independent
self-education. An adult was defined as anyone either age twenty-
one or over, married, or the head of a household. Interviews with
arandomnationalsampleofnearlytwelvethousandhouseholds
formed the data set.
Using the preceding definitions, Johnstone and Rivera (1965)
estimated that 22 percent of American adults participated in
“one or more forms of learning” between June 1961 and June 1962
(p. 1). They also discovered that what adults were learning was
largely practical and skill oriented rather than academic: “Subject
matter directly useful in the performance of everyday tasks and
obligations accounted for the most significant block of the total
activities recorded. Together, the vocational and home and family
life categori e s alone represented 44 pe r c e n t of all form a l courses
studied and 47 percent of the subjects people studied on their
own” (p. 3).
This landmark study also identified the major demographic
and socioeconomic characteristics of participants. Age and formal
schooling were delineated as the primar y correlates of pa rticipa-
tion in adult education. Johnstone and Rivera’s often-quoted pro-
file of the typical adult learner has held up, with minor deviations,
in all subsequent national studies of participation. Their profile is
as follows: “The adult education participant is just as often a
woman as a man, is typically under forty, has completed high
school or more, enjoys an above-average income, works full-time
and most often in a white- collar occupation, is married and has
children, lives in an urbanized area but more likely in a suburb
than large city, and is found in all par ts of the countr y, but more
frequently in the West than in other regions” (p. 8).
One of the strengths of Johnstone and Rivera’s study is that they
included “independent self-education” along with participation in
ADULT LEARNERS:WHO PARTICIPATES AND WHY 55
formal courses and community-based activities. Unfortunately, with
one exception, subsequent national studies have limited participa-
tion to organized instruction offered by educational institutions,
business or industry, and community organizations.
NATIONAL STUDIES OF FORMAL PARTICIPATION
Beginning in 1969, the National Center for Education Statistics
(NCES) in the U.S. Department of Education undertook a set of tri-
ennial surveys of participation of adults in education. The results of
the first six surveys (1969, 1972, 1975, 1978, 1981, and 1984) and
three studies in 1991, 1995, and 1999 can be loosely compared with
each other to reveal participation trends. In these surveys, adult edu-
cation is equated with organized instruction: “Adult education is
defined as any course or educational activity taken part-time and
reported as adult education by r espondents seventeen years old
and over” (U.S. Department of Education, 1986). These courses or
activities are considered “formal” because they are sponsored by edu-
cational institutions or employers. Changes in methodology and
sample design over the years warrant caution in making comparisons
(Collins, Brick, & Kim, 1997). Nevertheless, certain trends emerge.
One clear trend is that the number of adults participating part-
time in organiz e d instr uction has increased from a low of 10 per-
cent in the 1969 survey to 14 percent in 1984, 38 percent in 1991,
40 percent in 1995, and 46 percent in 1999 (Kim & Creighton,
2000). In a comparison of the 1991 and 1999 NCES studies,
Creighton and Hudson (2002) note an overall increase in partici-
pation “among virtually every group of adults” surveyed (p. ix).
The most recent NCES survey of adult education participation
was conducted in 2001. As in previous studies, NCES employed a
random, national digit dial (RDD) telephone sur vey of civilian,
noninstitutionalized pe rsons ages sixteen and older not enrolled
in secondary school at the time of the interview. In this survey, “for-
mal” coursework or training was defined as those activities having
an instructor. For the first time, informal educational activities
(those that do not involve an instructor) were also surveyed. The
results of this study with regard to formal participation are quite
congruent with previous national studies (Kim, Collins Hagedorn,
Williamson, & Chapman, 2004). As can be seen in Table 3.1, the
overall rate of participation in formal educational activities was
56 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
ADULT LEARNERS:WHO PARTICIPATES AND WHY 57
TABLE 3.1. NUMBER OF ADULTS AND RATES OF PARTICIPATION IN
SELECTED ADULT EDUCA TION ACTIVITIES, BY SELECTED DEMOGRAPHIC,
EDUCA TIONAL, AND OCCUPATIONAL CHARA CTERISTICS,2000–01.
Overall Par ticipation
Total Adults Standard
Characteristics (in Thousands) Percentage Error
Total 198,803 46 0.5
Age
16–30 46,905 53 1.5
31–40 41,778 53 1.4
41–50 41,255 55 1.5
51–65 39,523 41 1.2
66 29,342 22 1.1
Sex
Male 94,955 43 0.8
Female 103,848 49 0.8
Race/ethnicity
White, non-Hispanic 144,147 47 0.6
Black, non-Hispanic 22,186 43 1.5
Hispanic 21,537 42 2.3
Other 10,932 49 2.5
Educational attainment
Less than high school 31,343 22 1.5
High school diploma
or its equivalent 64,606 34 0.9
Some college 52,559 58 1.1
Bachelor’s degree
or higher 50,295 66 1.1
Marital status
Married 121,455 47 0.7
Living with a partner,
unmarried 14,009 43 2.5
Separated/divorced/
widowed 30,503 38 1.3
Never married 32,836 52 1.5
58 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
TABLE 3.1. NUMBER OF ADUL TS AND RATES OF PARTICIP ATION IN SELECTED
ADULT EDUCA TION ACTIVITIES, BY SELECTED DEMOGRAPHIC ,EDUCA TIONAL,
AND OCCUPATIONAL CHARA CTERIS TICS,2000–01,CONTINUED .
Overall Par ticipation
Total Adults Standard
Characteristics (in Thousands) Percentage Error
Employment/occupation
Employed in the
past 12 months 145,249 54 0.7
Professional and
managerial 42,230 71 1.1
Service, sales, or support 65,298 55 1.0
Trades 37,722 34 1.3
Not employed in the
past 12 months 53,553 25 0.9
Continuing education requirements
Yes 50,549 64 1.1
No 148,253 40 0.6
Household income
$20,000 or less 40,246 28 1.3
$20,001–$35,000 38,876 39 1.2
$35,001–$50,000 33,035 48 1.5
$50,001–$75,000 40,725 56 1.5
$75,001 or more 45,922 59 1.3
Children under 10 years old in household
Yes 55,333 52 1.3
No 143,469 44 0.6
Source: Kim, Collins Hagedorn, Williamson, & Chapman, 2004, pp. 9–10.
46 percent. Prior educational attainment, professional or man-
agerial employment status, and household income were all posi-
tively related to participation. While in the 1990s surveys there was
no significant difference in men and women’s participation rates
(Valentine, 1997), in this most recent survey, women had a slightly
higher participation rate than men (49 versus 43 percent). For
overall participation, there were no significant differences among
White, Black, or Hispanic learners.
Johnstone and Rivera’s profile of the typical adult learner
remains apt forty years later. Compared to those who do not par-
ticipate, participants in adult education are better educated,
younger, and employed full-time and have higher incomes. But as
Creighton and Hudson (2002, p. ix) point out, “[A] closer look at
participation in specific activities reveals some troubling signs of
groups being left behind—especially Hispanics, those with lower
levels of education, those with lower status jobs, and those who are
employed part-time. . . . Thus, although the widespread increase
in participation in adult education has been accompanied by an
elimination of some inequities, in many cases the highly educated
and high status groups that have been the traditional beneficiaries
of adult education remain the main beneficiaries today.”
NONFORMAL AND I NFORMAL PARTICIPATION
As noted earlier, studies of participation most often focus on for-
mal educational institutions or employer-sponsored programs.
Partly because of definitional problems, it has been more difficult
to assess participation in nonformal or informal learning activities.
Hamil-Luker and Uhlenberg (2002) studied participation in
what they termed nonformal adult education activities—those
sponsored by community organizations (libraries, neighborhood
centers, community groups, religious organizations). Using the
NCES databases from 1991 and 1999, they compared participation
rates in three categories of provider—credential program (mean-
ing educational institutions), business or industry, and community
organizations. With one minor exception, participation increased
for all age groups across the three providers. However, “by far the
largest increase in adult education occurred in programs provided
ADULT LEARNERS:WHO PARTICIPATES AND WHY 59
by community organizations, where participation rates more than
doubled. Increases in these nonformal educational programs were
fairly uniform across the age categories” (p. S327).
The first statistics that we have on informal learning are again
from the Johnstone and Rivera (1965) study in which they
included “self-taught” or independent learning activities. Included
almost as an afterthought, the authors admit that the “most sur-
prising” estimate in their study is the “close to nine million persons
who were active in independent studies.” Further, “the incidence
of self-education throughout the adult population is much greater
than we had anticipated” (p. 37).
The 2001 NCES study of participation has been the first NCES
study to include informal learning in the workplace as one form of
participation. “Work-related informal learning activities included
supervised training or mentoring, self-paced study using books or
videotapes, self-paced study using computers, attending ‘brown-bag’
or informal presentations, attending conferences or conventions,
and reading professional journals or magazines” (Kim et al., 2004,
p. vi). An astounding 63 percent of adults reported participating in
informal workplace learning. However, as with the overall partici-
pation profile, “those adults with some college or more education,
those in professional or managerial occupations, and those with
higher household incomes were generally more likely to participate
in work-related informal learning activities” (p. xii). But unlike par-
ticipation in formal education, males participated more than
females (67 versus 59 percent) and Whites more than Hispanics (no
significant differences were observed when comparing Black adults
with White or Hispanic adults).
Although most adult educators suspect that the majority of
adult learning is informal—that is, embedded in everyday life—it is
particularly difficult to measur e because most adults themselv es
have trouble identifying these episodes. One mechanism for assess-
ing participation in informal learning has been through studies of
self-directed learning. For example, Penland (1979) was interested
in corroborating Tough’s (1971) findings that more than 90 per-
cent of adults are engag e d in independent learning projects (s e e
Chapter Five). Briefly, Tough felt that adults were engaged in learn-
ing as part of their everyday lives—learning that was not necessar-
ily institutionally based and not easily recognized by the learners
60 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
themselves because of the association of learning with formal
instruction. Consequently, Tough and Penland asked adults to
think about major learning activities that were clearly focused
efforts to gain and retain knowledge or skill. A learning project
had to have occurred over at least a two-day period, totaling at least
seven hours of learning. Respondents in both studies were given a
list of things people learn about—a foreign language, gardening,
raising children, and so on. Penland’s 1,501 respondents were
selected from the U.S. population by means of a modified proba-
bility sample. He found that “almost 80 percent (78.9) of the
population of eighteen years and over perceive themselves as con-
tinuing learners whether in self-planned or formal courses” and
“over three-quarters (76.1 perc ent) of the U.S. population had
planned one or more learning projects on their own” (p. 173). Fur-
thermore, of the nine areas of study, personal development and
home and family ranked highest in popularity, followed by hobbies
and recreation, general education, job, religion, voluntary activity,
public affairs, and agriculture or technology.
In summary, the answer to the question of who participates in
adult learning activities depends on whether we are talking about
formal, nonformal, or informal settings. For formal adult education,
participation rates have steadily increased to a high of 46 percent
recorded in the recent NHES study of 2001. Further, the profile
of the typical adult learner in formal, instructor-led educational or
training activities has remained remarkably consistent across stud-
ies. We have much less data on participation in nonformal and infor-
mal adult education; however, what we do have suggests very high
rates of participation. Next we discuss why adults do or do not
choose to participate in learning activities.
WHY ADULTS DOORDO NOT PARTICIPATE
Adults are busy people. Most spend at least eight hours a day work-
ing and often as many hours attending to famil y, househ old, and
community concerns. Why do literally millions of these adults
enroll in adult education classes, seek private instruction, or
engage in independent learning projects? Teachers, counselors,
administrators, and policymakers all have a keen interest in under-
standing why people do or do not participate in learning activities.
ADULT LEARNERS:WHO PARTICIPATES AND WHY 61
One approach to answering this question is to ask people their rea-
sons for participating, and this has been done as part of the
national survey studies already cited. Another approach is to try to
determine the underlying motivational orientations or barriers
to participation of certain groups of learners. These approaches
are discussed in the following paragraphs.
SURVEY STUDIES
Hundreds of local, state, and national studies have asked adults their
reasons for engaging in educational pursuits. In most of these stud-
ies, respondents are presented with a list of reasons why people might
participate in organized learning activities and asked to indicate
which ones apply to them. Most respondents report multiple reasons.
If asked to indicate the main reason (as they were in the NCES sur-
veys), however, they most commonly cite job-related motives.
The strength of employment-related motives was first uncov-
ered by Johnstone and Rivera (1965). Thirty-six percent of respon-
dents indicated that they were “preparing for a new job or
occupation” (p. 144), and 32 percent said they participated in edu-
cation “for the job I held at that time.” The authors concluded that
“vocational goals most frequently direct adults into continuing edu-
cation” (p. 144). The nine surveys of participation condu cted by
the NCES have consistently revealed job-related reasons as the
most frequently cited.
In a study conducted by the United Nations Educational, Sci-
entific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO; Valentine, 1997),
fully 90.6 percent of those sur veyed in the United States cited
career- or job-related reasons for participation and 9.4 percent
cited “personal interest.” When asked about the goal of the learn-
ing activity, the largest percentage (58 percent) said it was profes-
sional or career upgrading, 18.3 percent “other,” 17.6 percent to
earn a college or university degree, 3.8 percent to earn a vocational
or apprenticeship certificate, and 2.3 percent to com plete sec-
ondary school (Valentine, 1997). Clearly, there is a strong linkage
between one’s work life and participation in adult education.
Approaching people’ s reasons for participating in adult educa-
tion from a somewhat different angle, Aslanian and Brickell (1980)
sought to test the hypothesis that life transitions motivate adults to
62 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
seek out learning experiences. Of the 1,519 adults over age twenty-
five randomly sampled, 744, or 49 percent, reported having learned
something formally or informally in the year prior to the study.
They found that 83 percent of the learners in their sample could
describe some past, present, or future change in their lives as rea-
sons for learning. The other 17 percent were engaged in learning
for its own sake—that is, to stay mentally alert—or for the social
aspects or because learning is a satisfying activity. Those going
through transitions, such as marriage, retirement, job changes,
birth of children, and so on, were able to identify specific events,
such as getting fired or promoted, that triggered their transition.
The authors noted seven kinds of transitions. Those relating to
career and family accounted for 56 percent and 16 percent of the
transitions, respectively. The other transitions, in descending impor-
tance, concerned leisure (13 percent), art (5 percent), health
(5 percent), religion (4 percent), and citizenship (1 percent). “To
know an adult’s life schedule,” the authors conclude, “is to know an
adult’s learning schedule” (pp. 60–61).
In a similarl y designed study, Asla nian (2001) also found that
participation in higher and continuing education is largely due to
alifetransition.Ofsevenpossibletransitions,85percentnameda
career transition as their reason for wanting to learn, and hence
participate, in higher and continuing education courses.
The survey studies have been helpful in identifying the reasons
adults give for participating in learning activities. Since the major-
ity of adult learners are empl oyed (only 25 percent of adults sur-
veyed in the 2001 NCES study had not been employed in the
twelve months prior to the survey) and derive much of their iden-
tity from their work, it is not surprising to find that at least half of
them are involved in education for job-related reasons. Other
investigations have sought to go beyond these self-reported data in
trying to understand the why of participation.
MOTIVATIONAL O RIENTATIONS OF L EARNERS
Interest in categorizing the various reasons given for participating
in adult learning has spurred a line of inquir y in addition to the
survey studies. This area of investigation was initiated with the pub-
lication by Houle of The Inquiring Mind in 1961. Choosing a small,
ADULT LEARNERS:WHO PARTICIPATES AND WHY 63
select sample of twenty-two adults “conspicuously engaged in vari-
ous forms of continuing learning” (1961/1988, p. 13), Houle con-
ducted in-depth interviews that explored his subjects’ histor y of
learning, factors that led them to be continuing learners, and their
views of themselves as learners. An analysis of the interview data
revealed three separate learning orientations held by the adults.
The now-famous typology consists of goal-oriented learners, who
use education as a means of achie ving some other goal; activity-
oriented learners, who participate for the sake of the activity itself
and the social interaction; and learning-oriented participants, who
seek knowledge for its own sake.
Houle’s research stimulated a number of studies attempting to
affirm or refine the original typology. By far the most extensive
work has been done with Boshier’s forty-eight item Education
Participation Scale (EPS), later refined to forty-two items (Boshier,
1991). Factor analysis of the forty-two items suggests the following
seven factors, each containing six items: communication improve-
ment of verbal and written skills; social contact, meaning meeting
people and making friends; educational preparation, the remedi-
ation of past educational deficiencies; professional advancement,
concerned with improving job status or moving to a better one;
family togetherness, concerned with bridging generation gaps and
improving relationships in families; social stimulation, meaning
escaping boredom; and cognitive interest, seeking knowledge for
its own sake (Boshier, 1991).
Boshier himself conducted an extensive test of Houle’s typol-
ogy using his EPS scale (Boshier & Collins, 1985). Using cluster
analysis instead of factor analysis, because the technique is more
congruent with Houle’s original conceptualization of three sepa-
rate but overlapping orientations, he analyzed the responses of
13,442 learners from Africa, Asia, New Zealand, Canada, and the
United States. Boshier and Collins were able to effect a three-
cluster solution “loosely isomorphic with Houle’ s topology” (p. 125).
They found that “Cluster I consisted of the Cognitive Interest items
and was congruent with his [Houle’s] learning orientation.” Clus-
ter II, the activity orientation, “was multifaceted and composed
of items normally labeled Social Stimulation, Social Contact,
External Expectations, and Community Service” (p. 125). Cluster
III consisted of the Professional Advancement items and thus
64 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
resembled Houle’s goal orientation. The authors note that
although their three-cluster solution is “loosely isomorphic,” the
grouping of items to make up the activity cluster that matches
Houle’s typology is “overly generous.” They conclude that “Houle’ s
intuition has been partly collaborated; two of the six clusters were
as he described them” (p. 127).
Using Boshier’s EPS, Fujita-Starck (1996) analyzed responses
from 1,142 students in programs at a large state university. Results
confirmed the seven-factor typology proposed by Boshier in 1991
(communication improvement, social contact, educational prepa-
ration, professional advancement, family togetherness, social stim-
ulation, and cognitive interest). The author also found the scale to
be reliable “in differentiating among a diverse group of students with
varying reasons for participating in continuing education” (p. 38).
Despite the limitations of this line of research (Courtney,
1992), it has become evident that learners’ motivations for partic-
ipating in adult education are many, complex, and subject to
change. The search for an underlying motivational structure
related to participation is likely to continue, however, for such
knowledge “can assist educators and administrators in identifying
and meeting the needs of a wide spectrum of learners relative to
program content, as well as the time, duration, and location of
related activities” (Fujita-Starck, 1996, p. 39).
BARRIERS TO PARTICIPATION
Knowing why adults participate in formal adult education does not
tell us why many do not. That is, we cannot assume that those who
are not participating are happily employed and satisfied with their
family, community, and leisure activities. In fact, one of the field’s
biggest mysteries is why more adults, e specially those who might
benefit the most, are not involved in adult e ducation. This que s-
tion has prompted research into why adults do not participate in
adult education.
The two most often cited reasons for nonparticipation are lack
of time and lack of money. These are socially acceptable reasons for
not doing something, of course, and probably very legitimate rea-
sons for adults who are busy people trying to become or stay eco -
nomically solvent and take care of their families and themselves.
ADULT LEARNERS:WHO PARTICIPATES AND WHY 65
Johnstone and Rivera (1965) in their national study of participa-
tion found that 43 percent cited cost as a reason for not attending
adult education courses and 39 percent said they were too busy.
These were also the two main reasons for nonparticipation cited in
the UNESCO study (Valentine, 1997). Forty-five percent of respon-
dents said lack of time was a barrier for job-related education; this
figure climbs to 60.1 percent for non-job-related education. Inter-
estingly, 33.4 percent gave cost as a barrier for job-related educa-
tion, but 25.4 percent reported cost as a barrier for non-job-related
education (Valentine, 1997). For both types of education, “family
responsibilities” was cited as the next most salient barrier.
Reasons why adults do not participate have been clustered by
several researchers into types of barriers. Johnstone and Rivera
(1965) clustered ten potential barriers into two categories: exter-
nal, or situational, and internal, or dispositional, barriers. External
barriers are “influences more or less external to the individual or at
least beyond the individual’s control” (p. 214), such as cost of the
program. Internal barriers reflect personal attitudes, such as think-
ing one is too old to learn. Older adults, for example, cited more
dispositional barriers, and younger people and women were more
constrained by situational barriers. In contrast, Valentine’s (1997)
analysis of the UNESCO data reve aled that situational barriers
affected both men and women: “Women were more likely than
men to report that family responsibilities inter fered with both
job-related and non-job-related education. Men were more likely
than women to report that work demands interfered with non-job-
related education” (p. 107).
Darkenwald and colleagues have gone beyond the three-part
or four-part barrier typologies in developing a scale of deterrents
to participation that can be factor-analyzed to reveal the structure
of reasons underlying nonparticipation (in much the same way the
EPS does for participation). A form of the Deterrents to Partici-
pation Scale (DPS) used with the general adult public revealed six
factors of nonparticipation: lack of confidence, lack of course
relevance, time constraints, low personal priority, cost, and per-
sonal problems (such as child care, family problems, and personal
health; Darkenwald & Valentine, 1985). In a later analysis of the
same data, Valentine and Darkenwald (1990) derived a typology
of adult nonparticipants. According to their analysis, the adult
66 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
nonparticipants in the general public cluster into five distinct
groups. People are deterred from participating by personal prob-
lems, lack of confidence, educational costs, lack of interest in orga-
nized education generally, or lack of interest in available courses.
ADDING A S OCIOLOGICAL L ENS TO
EXPLANATIONS OF PARTICIPATION
Viewing participation from the perspective of barriers lends
another dimension to the field’s attempt to understand why some
adults participate in adult education and others do not. But this
perspective tells only part of the story. The bulk of research in
North America on nonparticipation has been from the perspective
of the individual’s motivation, attitudes, beliefs, behaviors, position
in the life cycle, and so on. This has not always been the case, how-
ever, as Courtney (1992) points out in his historical analysis of par-
ticipation research. Prior to the 1960s, a popular topic among
researchers was social participation. General social participation
refers to the extent to which a person is an active participant in
family and community life; participating i n adult education activ-
ities was considered just one component of social participation.
Benn (1997) has revisited this notion of social participation in a
survey study of 259 adults in a range of educational programs. She
concludes that the e xtent of one’s general social activity affects
learning activity, a finding that has implications for marketing and
recruitment: “Rather than blanket publicity, a more effective
approach might be to advertise through social groups and organi-
zations. Adult education does not choose its students, they choose
(or do not choose) adult education” (p. 34).
For some, a combination of psychological and social factors act
as a barrier to participation. Rubenson (1998, p. 259) points out that
“only when we include structural factors and analyze the interaction
between them and the individual conceptual apparatus does an
interpretation become possible. Adults’ readiness to learn and bar-
riers preventing it . . . can be understood in terms of societal
processes and structure, institutiona l processes and structure and
individual consciousness and activity.” Hall and Donaldson’ s (1997)
study of why women without a high school diploma chose not to par-
ticipate provides examples of how the social and the psychological
ADULT LEARNERS:WHO PARTICIPATES AND WHY 67
interact. Preadult factors such as parents’ education, early preg-
nancies, and economic status formed part of the picture. Lack of a
support system was a second factor. Conventional barriers such as
lack of time, information, and child care were also operative. The
fourth dynamic Hall and Donaldson termed lack of voice: “At
the heart of nonparticipation lies a ‘deterrent’ so deeply embedded
in some women that no theory can fully capture its meaning. The
way a woman feels about herself, her self-esteem and self-confidence,
and the way she can express herself are significant elements in her
decision about whether to participate in adult education” (p. 98).
Since the early 1990s the field of adult education has become
much more conscious of the impact of sociocultural factors on shap-
ing participation in adult education. Rubenson (1998, p. 261) char-
acterizes this approach to participation as consisting of two
dimensions—“the long arm of the family as reflected in the rela-
tionship between social background, educational attainment and
participation . . . and the long arm of the job: the increased impor-
tance of adult education and training as investment.” Using data col-
lected in the International Adult Literacy Survey (IALS) from ten
countries, Boudard and Rubenson (2003) predicted that literacy
skills would determine participation in adult education and train-
ing. Instead, they found educ ational attainment to be “the most
important single factor predicting participation in adult education
and training” (p. 279). Further analyses revealed that “readiness to
learn is formed early in life and further developed through educa-
tional and work experiences . . . the long arm of the family and the
long arm of the job” (p. 279).
An even more recent analysis of participation in the United
Kingdom (Gorard & Selwyn, 2005) found that participation could
be predicted from variables “we could have known when each per-
son was born”; in particular, “the influence of parental background
is key” (p. 79). The authors point out that “where individuals cre-
ate, for themselves and through their early experiences, a ‘learner
identity’ inimical to further study, then the prospect of learning
can become a burden rather than an investment for them” (p. 71).
Race, class, gender, ethnic group, and so on can also act as bar-
riers to participation. Sissel’s (1997) study of parent involvement in
Head Start programs found that “power relations were expressed
in the withholding or allocation of programmatic resources, and
functioned to either impede or promote participation” (p. 123).
68 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
She recommends that more research be conducted on “specific
structural factors” (such as race and gender) that “enhance or
impede participation” (p. 135). Davis-Harrison (1996) also found
race and class to be important variables in investigating the non-
participation of blue-collar male workers.
Working from this same critical perspective, Jarvis (1985) makes
the case for a class analysis in that the middle-class bias found in all
studies of participation can be explained by the idea that adult edu-
cation is organized by the middle class, and the presentation of
knowledge is middle class in both language and content. Further-
more, previous school experiences select out “those who were
labeled as successful in education” (p. 204), and those who will
be labeled successful is pretty much predetermined by one’ s class,
age, sex, and educational background. Jar vis would concur with
McClenaghan (2000) that one’s “social capital”—how one is posi-
tioned in society in terms of “the tota lity of actual and potential
resources individuals can mobilise through membership in organi-
sations and social networks” (p. 568)—can help explain differing
levels of participation in both formal and informal adult education.
Finally, two studies examined how the social structure deter-
mines participation. Nordhaug (1990) examined participation in
Nor wegian adult education not from the individual participant’s
perspective but from macrolevel variables over which individuals
have no control, such as material resources and population den-
sity related to the structure of municipalities. He found that the
amount of educational resources (as measured by the community’ s
level of educational attainment) was “the most efficient predictor
of adult education activity . . . on a regional level” (p. 205). In a
U.S. study, Jung and Cer vero (2002) used national data sets on
postsecondary education to determine which contextual variables
in each of the fifty U.S. states would best predict the rate of par-
ticipation of adults in higher education. Out of eleven variables,
the two best predictors of adult participation in a state’s higher
education system were availability of undergraduate education
(number of seats available, public and private) and educa tional
attainment of the state’s adult population (percentage of adults
with high school or higher).
In summary, looking at social structure rather than individual
needs and interests reveals some very different explanations as to
why adults do or do not participate in adult learning activities.
ADULT LEARNERS:WHO PARTICIPATES AND WHY 69
These competing perspectives imply different strategies for increas-
ing participation. If individual interests and motivation account for
participation, then recruitment efforts would center on respond-
ing to an adult’s perceived learning needs and stimulating moti-
vation. If, in contrast, participation or nonparticipation is seen as
afunctionofthesocialstructure,thenonewouldworktoward
changing aspects of this structure in ways that would facilitate par-
ticipation. The most robust explanation of participation is likely to
be found in considering both the psychological and sociological
perspectives.
PROBLEMATIZING THE C ONCEPT
OF
PARTICIPATION
Most of what we have prese nted thus far on participation reflects
what we know about who participates and the reasons for partici-
pating (or not) in mostly formal adult education. In this section of
the chapter we stand back and question som e of the assu m p t i ons
that underlie the dominant discourse of participation. As Crowther
(2000) points out, this discourse has been narrowly conceived
around four assumptions: (1) participation is a good thing; (2) par-
ticipation equals formal learning; (3) learners are abstract, not
socialized, individuals; and (4) there are barriers to participation,
not resistance. We take each one of these assumptions in turn to
critique the concept of participation.
PARTICIPATION ISAG OOD THING
Studies of participation assume that ever yone should want to
engage in adult education because it is a good thing to do. Under-
lying many of the stated purposes of adult education in America is
the assumption that the ideal of a democratic society must be
maintained, and that education is one way to do this. Individual-
ism, independence, and a Protestant-capitalist work ethic frame
the actual provision of adult education in America. Further,
because this is a democratic society, all individuals have access and
the opportunity to benefit through education. As Lindeman
(1926/1989) proposed early in the founding of the field, adult
education had a dual purpose of improving both society and the
individual. In practice, however, a case can be made that education
70 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
is “an apparatus for social control” (Cunningham, 1988, p. 133)
rather than empowerment, and that adult education in the United
States is elitist and exclusionary. As evidence of adult education’s
elite bias, Cunningham points to middle-class participation pat-
terns, the homogeneous, technically oriented training of adult edu-
cators, the “psychology of individual deficit” that serves as a basis
for explaining social inequities, and the erosion of the voluntary
nature of adult education.
Most societies in fact use education to preserve the status quo
rather than to bring about change or address inequities. In review-
ing the common functions of adult education, Jarvis (1985) points
out how they can be used in the service of maintaining the status
quo. Adult education maintains the social system and existing social
relations because “the education of adults transmits the dominant
culture and in the process it reproduces the cultural system which,
in itself, is a force for the retention of the status quo rather than
social change” (p. 139). Individual advancement and selection, while
appearing to develop individuals, is actually a selective process care-
fully monitored by the system itself. Another function—offering a
second chance and legitimization—also promotes the dominant
culture since “second chance education actually produces an appear-
ance of greater equality of opportunity and, hence, reinforces the
existing social structures” (p. 143). Even leisure-time pursuits have
as a latent function “the retention of stability in the social system at
atimewhenmanypeopledonothaveworktooccupytheirtimeand
their minds” (p. 147). Finally, development and liberation can be
goals of adult education, although one should be aware that such
development and liberation may actually be designed to enable peo-
ple to fit more easily into the existing social system.
The problems to which adult educators respond tend to be iden-
tified by those who have a value perspective not necessarily shared
by the target population. As Cunningham (1988, p. 141) has noted,
much program planning is based on an individual deficit mo del
rather than an examination of “the oppressive structures in which
people live.” Programs are thus designed around learner deficien-
cies that may or may not be of concern to the learner. What is nec-
essary, Cunningham and others assert, is for socially responsible
adult educators to become aware of the “social as well as personal
dimensions of learning and the capacity of education to respond”
(Cunningham, 2000, p. 574). Cunningham goes on to point out that
ADULT LEARNERS:WHO PARTICIPATES AND WHY 71
“if one conceptualized any nation as compose d of the state (gov-
ernmental sector), civil society (voluntary sector), and the market
(economic sector), then how these sectors are related and how edu-
cation serves these sectors become critical questions in understand-
ing the relationships between adult education and society” (p. 574).
Nevertheless, “adult education is given public support when
the public can see the connection between education and the solu-
tion to a threatening situation” (Griffith & Fujita-Starck, 1989,
p. 172). Most “threatening” are challenges to economic stability
and social order. The emphasis may shift with changes in society’s
social, cultural, and economic structures. Literacy education in
colonial America was invested in for a greater religious purpose;
this gave way to a citizenship orientation in the wake of indepen-
dence during the mid-eighteenth centur y, which in turn was
eclipsed by vocational training and immigrant education at the
turn of the twentieth century.
In light of the social forces documented in Chapter One—
demographics, economics, and technology—the purposes of adult
education today for which there is public support cluster around
the United States sustaining a competitive edge in a global econ-
omy. This translates into preparing and then maintaining an
informed and efficient workforce. Along with this economic imper-
ative is the assumption that social stability is both a product and a
goal of adult education and training. Thousands of restless, illit-
erate, unemployed, or underemployed adults pose a threat to the
stability of the social order, not to mention a drain on social
resources. So although the rhetoric of adult educ ation suggests
some rather lofty ideals for the purpose of the endeavor, the real-
ity suggests a more conse rvative purpose: maintenance of the sta-
tus quo, which today means a capitalist economic system that values
individuality, independence, and entrepreneurialism. Thus we see
agrowingemphasisonhumanresourcedevelopmentandtrain-
ing, continued provision for basic skill acquisition, and ever-
expanding postsecondary opportunities for adults.
PARTICIPATION EQUALS F ORMAL LEARNING
In writing this chapter on participation we would have liked to
present as comprehensive a picture as possible. However, as we
stated earlier, nearly all of the studies are of participation in
72 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
formal institutionally sponsored programs. Yet we know that adults
engage in learning activities sponsored by community-based non-
formal groups. Further, adults learn informally on their own. Even
in business and industry it has been estimated that upwards of 70
percent of learning in the workplace is informal (Bruce, Aring, &
Brand, 1998).
What accounts for this bias in participation studies? It has to do
in part with the ease of collecting information from educational insti-
tutions; in part it is due to adult learners themselves not recogniz-
ing the informal learning embedded in their everyday lives. And
certainly the bias in part has to do with policy and funding. While
the field is proud of its service orientation and the voluntary nature
of participation, in reality what is offered cannot be uncoupled from
the question of who finances the various adult learning opportuni-
ties. And the answer to this question of who finances adult educa-
tion is easier to find in reference to formal adult education.
In North America, there are many providers of formal learn-
ing opportunities, including government at all levels, employe rs,
educational institutions, and community institutions such as
libraries. Because much of the expenditure for this form of learn-
ing is hidden under a variety of budgetar y labels—at one time
more than 270 federal programs alone had some adult learning
component (Griffith & Fujita-Starck, 1989)—it is difficult to mea-
sure the relative financial power of various providers.
To complicate the matter, what is offered at any particular time
“will almost inevitably relate to the pressures generated in the
social system. Social pressures act in such a manner as to create an
imbalance in the system to which institutions, other than that gen-
erating pressure, respond by seeking to restore the system to some
form of equilibrium” (Jarvis, 1986, p. 57). Institutions are currently
being pressured to respond to the issues of an increasingly diverse
workforce, technological obsolescence, and health threats such as
AIDS. This notion of mobilizing institutions in the service of main-
taining social equilibrium is but one explanation for the shifts in
curriculum emphasis.
Crowther (2000) points out that it could be argued that the
monopoly of formal adult education is being challenged “by devel-
opments in experiential learning, the growth of new educational
technologies, distance learning and procedures such as the accred-
itation of prior learning” (p. 485). He goes on to ask, “Are these not
ADULT LEARNERS:WHO PARTICIPATES AND WHY 73
examples of a more democratic, pluralistic, learning process which
both facilitates access and disperses control over the curriculum?”
(p. 485). However, these mechanisms of dealing with and recog-
nizing informal experiential learning can also be seen as “reaffirm-
ing, rather than undermining, the dominant assumptions about
control over definitions of educationally relevant knowledge”
(p. 485). In other words, when the recognition of informal learn-
ing is tied to the formal system as in accreditation of prior learning,
control still rests with the system that has predetermined what counts
as learning. That the formal system will serve its own interests is
underscored by an intere sting a rticle in Training & Development
about “free age n t learners” (Cau d ro n , 1999). Acknowledging the
rise of employees learning on their own, Caudron warns that “com-
panies have to be willing to accept the new ideas such employees
are bringing to work” and that “free agent learners threaten cor-
porate governance because the more that people learn, the more
competent and confident they become” (p. 30).
Participation equals formal learning because of ease of mea-
surement but also because the formal system controls what gets
“counted” as adult education. In a pluralistic society such as ours,
there is no single answer to the question of who decides what learn-
ing opportunities to offer. In reality, for formal learning programs
at least, decisions are made by those who pay—whether that means
the learners themselves, government, employers, or educational
institutions. And those who pay are in positions of power to deter-
mine which social pressures will be addressed and how those
responses will be structured. Those not in positions of power rarely
decide what learning oppor tu nities are offered. Their role is lim-
ited to deciding whether to participate.
LEARNERS ARE A BSTRACT,NOT SOCIALIZED,
I
NDIVIDUALS
As we have already noted in this chapter, the predominate view of
adult learner participation is through the lens of individual learn-
ers who have chosen to participate in a learn in g activity. Much of
the discourse on participation explains nonparticipation from an
individual deficit stance—that is, there is something wrong with or
deficient about nonparticipants or they would be clamoring to be
74 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
in our adult education programs. Further, these nonparticipants
are probably most in need of what adult education has to offer.
This discourse fails to take into account the sociocultural con-
text of adult learners and the structural characteristics of the adult
education enterprise itself. Although we have addressed some of
these factors in the preceding section, “Adding a Sociological Lens
to Explanations of Part icipation,” there is more that can be said
about this major misconception about participation.
The democratic ideals of equal opportunity and open access
make the current reality of uneven and unequal participation in
formal adult learning par ticularly worrisome to some policymak-
ers, educators, and researchers. Most explanations focus on a
person’s stated reasons for nonparticipation, such as cost, time,
transportation, and lack of confidence. When viewed from a social
perspective, other explanations emerge. Rubenson (1989, p. 64)
argues, for example, that “through socialization within the family,
the school, and, l ater on, in wor king life, a positive disposition
towards adult education becomes a part of some group’s habitus
but not of others.”
Those adults who have been socialized into valuing and acquir-
ing the attitudes and skills of the middle class will be the ones to take
advantage of learning opportunities. Since most providers of such
opportunities are themselves middle-class, little effort is expended
trying to understand and provide for other populations. The modus
operandi of most providers is to offer a set of activities that they
assume learners will want. A response, however, is predicated on
the assumptions that learners know about the program, can attend
at the time it is offered, and can afford it; that the subculture of the
institution is conducive to their own; and that what is offered corre-
sponds with what they need (Jarvis, 1985). Rubenson (1989, p. 65)
argues that “a system of adult education that implicitly takes for
granted that the adult is a conscious, self-directed individual in pos-
session of the instruments vital to making use of the available possi-
bilities for adult education—a system that relies on self-selection to
recruit the participants—will by necessity widen, not narrow, the edu-
cational and cultural gaps in society.”
There are other reasons why certain adults have more access
to learning opportunities than other adults. Where one happens
to live, what one’s primary language is, what color, age, or sex one
ADULT LEARNERS:WHO PARTICIPATES AND WHY 75
happens to be, what one does for a living all contribute to the par-
ticipation pattern in adult education. Cropley (1989, p. 146) calls
these factors “framework conditions,” which “are largely a function
of the circumstances in which people live, especially of factors such
as the values, attitu de s, habits, priorities and the like of the so cia l
groups to which they belong, the economic structure of their soci-
ety, even features of the education system itself.” The result is that
“some individuals are more equal than others in the choices avail-
able to them” (p. 146).
By way of illustrating how these framework conditions can
determine who is more likely to benefit from adult learning oppor-
tunities, where and how one lives make a difference. It is common
knowledge that there is less accessibility in rural areas than in
urban or suburban centers. The picture is a bit more complicated
than just a rural-urban split, however. Those in small-town rural
areas are better off than those living in isolated areas, and some
urban centers are as impoverished as the most rural areas. World-
wide, access to learning opportunities in rural areas is a problem
at all levels of education. Further, there are those who lack a geo-
graphical place altogether—migrant, transient, homeless, and
refugee populations. Migrants, for example, “are the most under-
educated major subgroup in the United States, with a high school
dropout rate larger than that of any other group. Their mobility,
their language differences, and the cultural differences experi-
enced as they move from one community to another combine with
health and nutritional problems to negatively affect school achieve-
ment. Migrant lifestyles revolve around working, moving on to find
other work, and working again” (Velazquez, 1996, p. 28). For any
of these geographically mo bile gr oups, there is little more than
sporadic access to education or social services.
Age is another condition that often determines who benefits
from learning opportunities. Older adults not only have the lowest
levels of participation in adult education generally (Creighton &
Hudson, 2002) but also receive far less training in the workplace
than younger workers. In some settings and in other parts of the
world, age in combination with gender makes for another condi -
tion affecting access. For example, in the United States, since man-
agerial and professional workers and all nonmanual workers receive
76 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
more training than manual workers—and women are underrepre-
sented in these positions—women, and older women in particular,
are much less likely to receive employer-sponsored training than
are men (Stacy & To, 1994).
THERE ARE BARRIERS,NOT R ESISTANCE
Readers will recall that there is a section of this chapter on barri-
ers to participation. In that section we reviewed the studies that
identify personal barriers such as lack of interest, personal prob-
lems, thinking one is too old to learn, and so on as well as situa-
tional barriers such as lack of time and money. We also pointed out
that the individual’s motivation, beliefs, and behaviors and life sit-
uation explain only part of the picture. Social structural factors
such as family of origin, class, race, and so on shape one’s level of
participation in formal adult education.
What Crowther (2000) is proposing from a critical theory per-
spective is that nonparticipation can be construed as an act of resis-
tance. Rather than being prevented from participating because
of some insurmountable barrier, the learner chooses not to
participate—that is, resistance is a matter of deliberate choice.
While resistance has been studied more frequently with secondary
school populations, several adult educators have written about this
phenomenon, especially in reference to literacy education (Belzer,
2004; Quigley, 1990; Sandlin, 2000).
In summarizing this notion of nonparticipation as resistance
rather than barriers, Crowther (2000, pp. 489–490) writes:
It seems reasonable to surmise that many people find adult educa-
tion unattractive and irrelevant to their daily lives. Despite many well
intentioned efforts to attract people the sense of frustration felt by
their failure to respond to what is offered is often evident. It is easy
thereafter to assume people are “apathetic” and have limited hori-
zons. Redefining non-participation as a form of resistance may,
however, open up the possibility of rethinking what adult education
is for and where it occurs. . . . If we started to think about participa-
tion in these terms then the problem of participation could be faced
the right way round—that is, that adult education is part of the prob-
lem rather than simply the solution.
ADULT LEARNERS:WHO PARTICIPATES AND WHY 77
SUMMARY
Participation is one of the more thoroughly studied areas in adult
education. We have a sense of who participates, what is studied,
and what motivates some adults and not others to enroll in a
course or undertake an independent learning project.
Although there were numerous small-scale studies of partici-
pation in the forty years between the inauguration of the field of
adult education and the 1960s, it was not until 1965 that the first
national study of participation was published. Johnstone and
Rivera’s study, with its care in defining participation and selecting
methods of data collection and analysis, remains a benchmark con-
tribution to this literature. Subsequent sur veys by the National
Center for Education Statistics (NCES) and UNESCO (Valentine,
1997) have contributed to this database. Regardless of the study,
the profile of the typical adult learner in formal educational activ-
ities remains remarkably consistent: white, middle-class, employed,
younger, and better educated than the nonparticipant. Further,
employment-related reasons account for the majority of partici-
pant interest in continuing education.
Why adults do or do not participate in adult education is an
important question, having implications for both theory and prac-
tice. Sur veys have uncovered both re asons for, and barriers to,
participation. The work on determining an underlying structure of
motivational orientations begun by Ho ule (1961/1988) has been
carried on most notably by Boshier’ s research using the Educational
Participation Scale (EPS). Furth er, explana tions of participation
have been advanced from a sociological rather than a psychological
perspective. In these analyses, people’ s decisions to participate have
less to do with their needs and motives than with their position in
society and the social experiences that have shaped their lives.
Finally, we “problematized” the current understanding of par-
ticipation by questioning and critiquing four assumptions about
participation presented by Crowther (2000). These four assump-
tions are that participation is a good thing, that participation
equals formal learning, that learners are abstract, not socialized
individuals, and that there are barriers, not resistance, to partici-
pating in formal adult learning activities.
78 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
PART TWO
ADULT LEARNING
THEORY AND MODELS
The accumulation of information and experiences grounded in
practice often leads to thinking about how the parts of what we
know might fit together to form some sort of explanator y frame-
work. In Part Two of Learning in Adulthood, we review a number of
efforts to explain adult learning. Some of these efforts, as in the
work on self-directed learning, are in fact tentative frameworks for
ordering research—frameworks suggesting future directions
for theor y. Other efforts can properly be labeled models, if we
define model as a visual representation. A theory, which may have
amodelaccompanyingit,isasetofinterrelatedconceptsthat
explain some aspect of the field in a parsimonious manner.
We begin Chapter Four with a disc ussion of Kno wles’s (1980)
concept of andragogy, which he originally termed a theory of adult
learning. Probably the best-known set of principles or assumptions
to guide adult learning practice, andragogy actually tells us more
about the characteristics of adult learners than about the nature of
learning itself. The first half of the chapter is devoted to a thorough
review and critique of andragogy. The second half of Chapter
Four reviews thre e other models of a dult learning: McClusky’s
(1970) theory of margin, Illeris’ s (2002, 2004b) three dimensions of
learning model, and Jarvis’s (2006) model of the learning process.
Since Tough’s work on adult learning projects was published
in 1971, self-directed learning and individual learning projects
have captured the imagination of researchers an d writers both
inside and outside the field of adult education. Although learning
on one’s own is the way most adults go about acquiring new ideas,
skills, and attitudes, this context has often been regarded as less
important than learning that takes place in more formal settings.
Chapter Five discusses three types of models—linear, interactive,
and instructional—developed to describe the process of learning
when that learning is primarily managed by the learners them-
selves. Most adults use more of an interactive model in that they
do not necessarily plan what, how, or when they want to learn.
Scholars have also focused on studying self-direction as a personal
attribute of the learner. Two ideas that have received the great-
est attention in this approach are the notion of readiness for self-
directed learning and the concept of autonomy. The chapter
concludes with a review of the major issues researchers need
to address in building future research agendas in self-directed
learning.
Changes in cognition and consciousness constitute the focus of
transformational learning reviewed in Chapter Six. Mezirow’s
(1991) perspective transformation and Freire’ s (1970) conscienti-
zation contend that changes in perspective or consciousness are the
defining characteristic of learning in adulthood. Mezirow’s theory
in particular has stimulated considerable debate and research dur-
ing the past ten years. Using Taylor’ s (2005b) “lenses” for organizing
the literature on transformational learning, the first half of the
chapter reviews the various theoretical bases for transformational
learning. Also examined are three concepts key to understanding
transformative learning: the centrality of life experience, the nature
of critical reflection, and the connection between transformative
learning and adult development. We then discuss the extent
to which transformative learning theory takes context into account,
whether the theory relies too heavily on rationality, the role of rela-
tionships, the place of social action, and the educator’s role in
facilitating transformative learning.
In the last chapter of Part Two we explore the role of experience
and learning, which has a long legacy in the writings on adult learn-
ing. Discussed first in the chap te r are representative theories that
offer varying conceptual views of the process of learning from expe-
rience, including the seminal work of Dewey (1938) and Kolb
(1984), and the contemporary work of such scholars as Jarvis (2001),
Boud and Walker (1991), Fenwick (2003), and Usher, Br yant,
and Johnston (1997). Although the focus of this work has been on
80 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
individual learners, in recent years there has been a shift to under-
standing how the context affects learning and how it is an integral
component of the learning process. W e then describe reflective prac-
tice, one of the primar y ways in which educators have structured
learning from experience. We conclude the chapter with an
overview of situated cognition and descriptions of two instructional
approaches—cognitive apprenticeship and anchored instruction—
that a re based in situated c ognition, stressing how “authentic
experiences” grounded in real-life situations are viewed as key com-
ponents in operationalizing this concept.
ADULT LEARNING THEORY AND MODELS 81
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CHAPTER FOUR
KNOWLES’S ANDRAGOGY,
AND MODELS OF ADULT
LEARNING BY MCCLUSKY,
ILLERIS, AND JARVIS
Do adults learn differently than children do? What distinguishe s
adult learning and adult education from other areas of education?
What particular characteristics about the learning transaction with
adults can be identified to maximize their learning? Prior to the
1970s, adult educators relied p rimarily on psychological under-
standings of learning in general to inform their practice (see the
chapters in Part Four). With the publication of Houle’s The Design
of Education (1972), Kidd’s How Adults Learn (1973), and Knowles’s
The Adult Learner: A Neglected Species (1973) and The Modern Practice
of Adult Education (1970), attention turned to research and theory-
building efforts in adult learning. Attempts at codifying differences
between adults and children as a set of principles, a model, or even
atheoryofadultlearninghavebeen,andcontinuetobe,pursued
by adult educators. However, just as there is no single theory that
explains all of human learning, there is no single theory of adult
learning. Instead, we have a number of frameworks, or models,
each of which contributes something to our understanding of
adults as learners. The best known of these efforts is andragogy,
aconceptKnowlesintroducedfromEuropeina1968article.
Andragogy focuses on the adult learner and his or her life situa-
tion, as do a number of other models presented in this chapter.
83
The first part of the chapter is devoted to describing and
critiquing andragogy. In the second half of the chapter we review
three other models of the adult learning transaction: McClusky’s
theory of margin, Illeris’s three dimensions of learning model, and
Jarvis’s learning process.
ANDRAGOGY
Nearly forty years ago Malcolm Knowles (1968, p. 351) proposed
“a new label and a new technology” of adult learning to distinguish
it from preadult schooling. The European concept of andragogy,
meaning “the art a nd scienc e of helping adults learn,” was con-
trasted with pedagogy, the art and science of helping children
learn (Knowles, 1980, p. 43). Andragogy is based on a number of
assumptions about the adult learner. Knowles originally advanced
the following four assumptions:
1. As a person matures, his or her self-concept moves from t hat
of a dependent personality toward one of a self-directing
human being.
2. An adult accumulates a growing reservoir of experience, which
is a rich resource for learning.
3. The readiness of an adult to learn is closely related to the devel-
opmental tasks of his or her social role.
4. There is a change in time perspective as people mature—from
future application of knowledge to immediacy of application.
Thus, an adult is more problem centered than subject centered
in learning. [Knowles, 1980, pp. 44–45]
In later publications, Knowles also referred to a fifth and a
sixth assumption:
5. The most potent motivations are internal rather than external
(Knowles & Associates, 1984, p. 12).
6. Adults nee d to kno w why they need to learn something
(Knowles, 1984). (For a review of which of Knowles’s writings
contain which assumptions, see Holton, Swanson, & Naquin,
2001.)
84 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Knowles clearly saw these assumptions as foundational to
designing programs for adults. From each of these assumptions,
Knowles drew numerous implications for the design, implementa-
tion, and evaluation of learning activities with adults. For example,
with regard to the first assumption that as adults mature they
become more independent and self-directing, Knowles suggested
that the classroom climate should be one of “adultness,” both phys-
ically and psychologically. The climate should cause “adults to feel
accepted, respected, and supported”; further, there should exist “a
spirit of mutuality between teachers and students as joint inquirers”
(1980, p. 47). Being self-directing also means that adult students
can participate in the diagnosis of their learning needs, the plan-
ning and implementation of the learning experiences, and the
evaluation of those experiences.
This theory, “model of assumptions” (Knowles, 1980, p. 43), or
“system of concepts” (Knowles, 1984, p. 8), as Knowles has also
called it, has given adult educators “a badge of identity” that dis-
tinguishes the field from other areas of education, especially child-
hood schooling (Brookfield, 1986, p. 90). Andragogy became a
rallying point for those tr ying to define the field of adult educa-
tion as separate from other areas of education. However, it also
stimulated controversy, philosophical debate, and critical analysis
matched only, perhaps, by the recent discussions on transforma-
tional learning (see Chapter Six).
At first the main point of contention was whether andragogy
could be considered a “theor y” of adult learning (Elias, 1979).
Davenport and Davenport (1985, p. 157) chronicled the debate,
noting that andragogy has been classified “as a theory of adult edu-
cation, theory of adult learning, theory of technology of adult learn-
ing, method of adult education, technique of adult education, and a
set of assumptions.” They are a bit more optimistic than other crit-
ics for andragogy’s chances of possessing “the explanatory and pre-
dictive functions generally associated with a fully developed theory”
(p. 158). For them, the issue can be resolved through empirical stud-
ies that test the underlying assumptions.
Hartree (1984) observed that it was not clear whether Knowles
had presented a theory of learning or a theor y of teaching,
whether adult learning was different from child learning, and
KNOWLES’S ANDRAGOGY, AND MODELS OF ADULT LEARNING 85
whether there was a theory at all—perhaps these were just princi-
ples of good practice. The assumptions, she noted, “can be read as
descriptions of the adult learner . . . or as prescriptive statements
about what the adult learner should be like” (p. 205). Because
the assumptions are “unclear and shaky” on several counts, Hartree
concludes that while “many adult educators might accept that the
principles of adult teaching and conditions of learning which
he [Knowles] evolves have much to offer, and are in a sense descrip-
tive of what is already recognized as good practice by those in the
field, conceptually Knowles has not presented a good case for
the validity of such practice. . . . Although he appears to approach
his model of teaching from the point of view of a theory of adult
learning, he does not establish a unified theory of learning in a sys-
tematic way” (pp. 206–207).
Brookfield (1986, p. 98), who also raises the question of whether
andragogy is a “proven theory,” assesses to what extent a “set of well-
grounded principles of good practice” can be derived from andra-
gogy. He argues that three of the assumptions are problematic when
drawing inferences for practice. The first assumption about self-
direction is more a desired outcome than a given condition. The
third and fourth assumptions relating learning to particular social
roles and focusing on immediate application can lead to a narrow,
reductionist view of learning. These two assumptions “could lead
practitioners to equate the sum total of adult learning with instru-
mental learning; that is, learning how to perform at an improved
level of competence in some predefined skill domain,” in essence
ignoring the complexity of learning (p. 99). Brookfield finds only the
experience assumption to be well-grounded. However, we feel that
even this assumption can be questioned. The fact that adults have
lived longer than children and thus have a quantity of experience
greater than children does not necessarily translate into quality expe-
rience that can become a resource for learning; indeed, certain life
experiences can function as barriers to learning (Merriam, Mott, &
Lee, 1996). Further, children in certain situations may have a range
of experiences qualitatively richer than some adults (Hanson, 1996).
As for the fifth assumption on motivation, although adults may
be more internally than externally motivated to learn, in much of
workplace learning and continuing professional education, not to
mention governmental or socially manda ted learning (as in the
86 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
case of driving school, job preparation, welfare programs, and
prison education, for example), participation is required. The sixth
assumption, which appears in only a couple of Knowles’s publica-
tions, that adults need to know why they need to learn something,
may be true much of the time, but some studies also suggest that
adults may learn for the sheer enjoyment of learning (see Chap-
ters Three and Five of this volume).
On the issue of whether andragogy can be considered a theory
of adult learning, perhaps Knowles himself put the issue to rest. In
his autobiographical work, The Making of an Adult Educator (1989,
p. 112), he wrote that he “prefers to think of [andragogy] as a
model o f assumptions about learning or a conceptual frame work
that serves as a basis for an emergent theory.”
AsecondpointofcriticismwasKnowles’soriginalinference
that andragogy, with all its technological implications for instruc-
tion, characterized adult learning, while pedagogy, with another
set of implications, characterized childhood learning. Close
scrutiny of the assumptions and their implications for practice by
educators in and out of adult education led Knowles to back off
his original stance that andragogy characterized only adult learn-
ing. The clearest indication of this rethinking was the change in
the subtitles of the 1970 and 1980 editions of The Modern Practice
of Adult Education. The 1970 subtitle is Andragogy Versus Pedagogy,
whereas the 1980 subtitle is From Pedagogy to Andragogy. Knowles’s
later position, as reflected in the 1980 subtitle, is that pedagogy-
andragogy represents a continuum ranging from teacher-directed
to student-directed learning and that both approaches are appro-
priate with children and adults, depending on the situation. For
example, an adult who knows little or nothing about a topic will
be more dependent on the teacher for direction; at the other
extreme, children who are naturally curious and who are “very self-
directing in their learning outside of school . . . could also be more
self-directed in school” (Knowles, 1984, p. 13). Andragogy now
appears to be situation-specific and not unique to adults.
RECENT CRITIQUES OF A NDRAGOGY
More recent critiques of andragogy have pointed out that in its
slavish focus on the individual learner, the sociohistorical context
KNOWLES’S ANDRAGOGY, AND MODELS OF ADULT LEARNING 87
in which learning takes place is virtually ignored (Grace, 1996b;
Pearson & Podeschi, 1997; Pratt, 1993). Knowles’s reliance on
humanistic psychology results in a picture of the individual learner
as one who is autonomous, free, and growth oriented. There is lit-
tle or no awareness that the person is socially situated, and to some
extent, the product of the sociohistorical and cultural context of
the times; nor is there any awareness that social institutions and
structures may be defining the learning transaction irrespective of
the individual participant.
Grace (1996b) points out how Knowles himself and his theory
of andragogy were logical products of the 1960s, “a period of rapid
change; action-oriented curricula that valued individual experi-
ence were advocated. The individual had to keep up and self-
improvement was in vogue. The andragogical model in the face of
pedagogy was welcomed by many adult educators as revolutionary”
(p. 383). But although its influence on adult learning has been
substantial ever since it was originally proposed, “Knowles never
proceeded to an in-depth consideration of the organizational and
social impediments to adult learning; he never painted the ‘big
picture.’ He chose the mechanistic over the meaningful” (Grace,
1996b, p. 386).
Lack of attention to the context in which learning takes place
is a critique emanating from a sociological perspective (Jarvis, 1987)
and more recently, from critical perspectives. Sandlin (2005)
applied critical, feminist, and Africentric theoretical orientations to
andragogy and identified five issues that cut across the three dif-
ferent perspectives. First, andragogy is criticized for assuming edu-
cation is value- ne utr a l and apolitical. Second, andragogy assumes
adult learners all look and learn the same—and this universal image
is of a White middle-class individual learner. Third, other wa ys of
learning are ignored, thus resulting in silencing other voices.
Fourth, the relationship between self and society is ignored, and—
“consequently, andragogy does not take into account structural sys-
tems of privilege and oppression, based on race, gender, and class,
that influence learning and does not consider how culture impacts
aperson’sdevelopmentandwaysoflearning”(Sandlin,2005,
p. 28). The fifth issue to cut across critical, feminist, and Africentric
perspectives is that andragogy thus reproduces society’ s inequalities
and supports the status quo.
88 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
While Sandlin summarizes the critical perspectives on andra-
gogy, Lee (2003) and Alfred (2000) examine andragogy from
specific cultural lenses. Lee considers andr agogy’s application to
foreign-born learners. In citing several studies with different immi-
grant groups ranging from Hmong refugees to Caribbean
immigrant women, Lee concludes: “These studies . . . illustrated
that andragogical assumptions do not characterize the experiences
of some adult immigrants. Moreover, . . . by overgeneralizing the
characteristics of a particular group of learners as those of all adult
learners, Knowles effectively silenced and marginalized various
social groups, including the adult immigrant learners whose val-
ues, experiences, and realities do not likely resemble the discourse
of the dominant population” (p. 15).
Using four tenets from an Africentric feminist perspective,
Alfred (2000) assessed how applicable andragogy is to African-
American learners. First, personal experience is necessary to
establish meaning and credibility. While andragogy certainly
acknowledges personal experience, it does not acknowledge “the
facilitator’s experience as a valuable part of the pedagogical
process” (p. 20). Further, “African American experience is cen-
tered in a culture of race, class, and gender oppression, which is
often managed through wisdom or intuitive knowledge,” while
andragogy values objective ways of knowing (p. 20). Second, from
an Africentric perspective, “for knowledge to be validated, it must
be made public, and that is done in relationships with individuals
or within a community,” while andragogy stresses individual learn-
ing (p. 21). Third, an ethic of care characterizes thi s perspective;
while care and a trusting environment are emphasized in andra-
gogy, the political dimensions of this environment are not consid-
ered. Finally, the Africentric tradition evaluates “not only the
knowledge that is articulated, but also the person who is making
the claim” (p. 21). Andragogy does not consider the credibility
of the learner and his or her claims of knowledge.
In reference to the workplace in particular, Kessels and Poell
(2004) argue that andragogy in conjunction with social capital the-
ory can transform the workplace into a conducive learning envi-
ronment. Social capital theory stresses social networks, mutual trust,
communities of practice, and relational forms of capital. Andragogy
and social capital theory together offer HRD “assumptions on the
KNOWLES’S ANDRAGOGY, AND MODELS OF ADULT LEARNING 89
facilitation of lea rning in the workpla ce, the strong motivat ional
aspects of self-directedness and autonomy in competence develop-
ment, and the network of meaningful relationships that helps
learning integrate in the social contexts of the day-to-day work envi-
ronment” (p. 154). Finally, St. Clair (2002, p. 2) states that adult
education and human resource development are moving closer
together: “Although adult education programs have become more
instrumental and employment focused, training and development
in the business world have increasingly emphasized the holistic
development of workers. . . . This convergence is further underlined
by the way HRD practitioners have worked to address the short-
comings of the andragogical model by remodeling it to recognize
contextual factors more fully” (Holton & Swanson, 1999).
RESEARCH ON A NDRAGOGY
Considering that andragogy has been the primary model of adult
learning for over forty years, relatively little empirica l work has
been done to test the validity of its assumptions or its usefulness in
predicting adult learning behavior. A few studies have focused
on the relationship between andragogical assumptions and instruc-
tion. Beder and Da rkenwald (1982) asked teachers who taught
both adults and preadults if their teaching behavior differed
according to the age of the students. Teachers reported viewing
adult students differently and using more andragogical techniques.
Gorham (1985), however, actually obser ved teachers who taught
both adults and preadults. She found no differences in how a par-
ticular teacher instructed adults or preadults, although teachers
claimed that they did treat the two age groups differently.
With regard to involving learners in planning their own learn-
ing, Rosenblum and Darkenwald (1983) comp ared achievement
and satisfaction measures between groups who had planned their
course and those who had it planned for them. No differences were
found in either achievement or satisfaction. Courtenay, Arnold, and
Kim (1994) reviewed all previous literature and research and con-
ducted their own quasi-experimental study of learner involvement
in planning. They found previous research results to be inconclu-
sive (indeed, “capricious”); from their own study, which attempted
to address some of the shortcomings of previous studies, they found
90 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
that “participation in planning does not appear to affect learning
gain or satisfaction, even when the amount of participant input in
planning is increased; the relationship between classroom envi-
ronment and achievement or satisfaction is inconsequential; and
classroom environment . . . may simply be a function of the satis-
faction of the learner” (p. 297). They recommended that more
thought be given to both the independent variable (that is, just
what constitutes learner participation in planning) and the depen-
dent variables (for example, perhaps unintended learning is as
important as achievement).
Most recently, Rachal (2002) reviewed eighteen studies on andra-
gogy conducted between 1984 and 2001, all of which attempted
to assess the efficacy of an andragogical versus pedagogical instruc-
tional design. Based on measures of achievement, attendance,
and/or satisfaction, studies revealed mixed results due to the var-
ied “customizations” of the studies. For example, some studies did
not segment adult undergradu ates from traditional-age students,
several studies had predetermined objectives, some used paper-
pencil tests of content acquisition, two studies involved mandated
participation, and so on. To bring more rigor and comparability
to empirical studies of andragogy, Rachal proposed seven standards
or criteria for designing future studies. Briefly, these seven are that
participation should be voluntary, participants should be clearly
adults (and not students of traditional college age), objectives
should be collaboratively determined, assessment should be
per formance-based, or where achievement is not the primar y
objective, satisfaction with the learning experience should be mea-
sured, an adult learning environment should be in place, and
research methodological issues should be attended to (like ran-
dom assignment to treatment groups where possible).
The studies reviewed by Rachal were mostly dissertations and
all were experimental or quasi-experimental in design. While cer-
tainly this is one approach to assessing the validity of andragogy, it
reinforces the psychologically driven, individually focused aspect
of andragogy. Social context was not considered, for example, nor
were any qualitative designs included.
Per haps the nature of andragogy, with its assumptions for adult
learner–focused practice, makes it particularly difficult to validate
directly. As Rachal (2002, p. 224) himself comments, “It may well
KNOWLES’S ANDRAGOGY, AND MODELS OF ADULT LEARNING 91
be that researchers e xami ni ng the effectiveness of andragogy will
perpetually be stymied by its fluidity, even its amoeba-like form-
lessness. In that view, its art will forever be paramount, and its sci-
ence forever elusive.”
Although assessing the validity of andragogy directly may prove
difficult to do, one could consider the extent to which a broader
range of research in adult learning may or may not support the
assumptions underlying andragogy. For example, the research on
self-directed learning that finds upwards of 90 percent of adults
are engaged in self-directed learning projects and that 70 percent
of projects are planned by the learner (see Chapter Five) would
tend to support the assumption that adults are self-directed and
can plan their own learning. Further, studies on participation (see
Chapter Three) indicate that participation is clearly linked to adult
roles of worker, family member, and so on, lending support to the
assumption that the readiness of an adult to learn is closely linked
to the developmental tasks of his or her social roles. That the devel-
opmental issues of adulthood lead to learning was also under-
scored in Aslanian and Brickell’s (1980) findings that 83 per cent
of adult learners were engaged in learning activities because of
some transition in their lives. Nevertheless, the growing prevalence
of mandated continuing education and training could be cited to
argue against the assumption that adults are internally motivated.
Despite some writers’ grim predictions of andragogy’s demise,
practitioners who work with adult learners continue to find
Knowles’s andragogy, with its characteristics of adult learners, to
be a helpful rubric for better understanding adults as learners. As
St. Clair (2002, p. 2) suggests, “[A]s a guide to teaching adults,
andragogy has a great deal more to offer when it is approached,
as Knowles originally suggested, as a set of assumptions.” Further,
the implic ations for practice that Knowles draws for ea ch of the
assumptions are also considered to be good instructional practice
for all ages, especially adults. Thus, we see andragogy as an endur-
ing model for understanding certain aspects of adult learning,
and as maintaining “its role as a necessar y component of the
field’s shared knowledge” (St. Clair, 2002, p. 2). It does not give
us the total picture, nor is it a pa nacea for fixing adult le arning
practices. Rather, it constitutes one piece of the rich mosaic of
adult learning.
92 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
OTHER MODELS OF ADULT LEARNING
Although andragogy remains the best-known model of adult learn-
ing, there are a number of other models that offer us some insights
into adult learning. Three have been selected for review here. First,
we have chosen to present McClusky’s theor y of margin (which
actually predates andragogy) because it continues to captivate
learners who find they can readily relate their life situation and
their learning to this model. Second, we present a recent model,
Illeris’s three dimensions of learning, because it captures major
components of the learning process in an easy-to-grasp visual of an
inverted triangle. The third model is Jarvis’s learning process. Orig-
inating in research with over two hundred adult learners more
than twenty years ago, this model has undergone several revisions
as Jar vis comes closer to understanding the learning process—
“a mirage,” he says, “since the closer you get the further away the
goal appears” (personal communication, August 15, 2005). His
model draws from a wide philosophical base as well as psychology
and sociology.
MC CLUSKY’ S THEORY OF M ARGIN
McClusky first presented his theor y of margin in a 1963 publica-
tion, followed by discussions of application in 1970 and 1971. His
theory is grounded in the notion that adulthood is a time of
growth, change, and integration in which one constantly seeks
balance between the a mount of energy needed and the amount
available. This balance is conceptualized as a ratio between the
“load” (L) of life, which dissipates energy, and the “power” (P) of
life, which allows one to deal with the load. “Margin in life” is the
ratio of load to power. More power means a greater margin to par-
ticipate in learning.
Both load and power consist of external and internal factors.
Hiemstra (1993, p. 42) explains: “The external load consists of
tasks involved in normal life requirements (such as family, work,
and community responsibilities). Internal load consists of life
expectancies developed by people (such as aspirations, desires,
and future expectations). Power consists of a combination of such
external resources . . . as family support, social abilities, and
KNOWLES’S ANDRAGOGY, AND MODELS OF ADULT LEARNING 93
economic abilities. It also includes various internally acquired or
accumulated skills and experiences contributing to effective per-
formance, such as resilience, coping skills, and personality.”
Taking both power and load into consideration, McClusky
(1970, p. 83) explains how the theory works:
Margin may be increased by reducing Load or increasing Power, or
it may be decreased by increasing Load and/or reducing Power. We
can control both by modifying either Power or Load. When Load
continually matches or exceeds Power and if both are fixed and/or
out of control, or irreversible, the situation becomes highly vulner-
able and susceptible to breakdown. If, however, Load and Power
can be controlled, and, better yet, if a person is able to lay hold of
a reser ve (Margin) of Power, he [sic] is better equipped to meet
unforeseen emergencies, is better positioned to take risks, can
engage in exploratory, creative activities, is more likely to learn, etc.
To engage in learning, then, an adult must have some margin
of power “available for application to the processes which the learn-
ing situation requires” (McClu sky, 1970, p. 84). A dult students in
particular have to be adept at juggling multiple responsibilities and
demands on their time. Take the hypothetical case of Caroline, a sin-
gle parent who wants to upgrade her skills. She enrolls in the local
community college, where she can learn to be a physician’ s assistant,
ajobshewouldlikeandthatpaysmorethanhercurrentjobonthe
housekeeping staff of a local hospital. On top of juggling her shift
work at the hospital and her class schedule , Caroline has to find
child care for her youngest and transport her older child back and
forth to school. If one of the children or Caroline herself gets sick,
she will have to miss class or work or both. Caroline has very little
margin to deal with her present situation, let alone respond to any
other demands on her time and energy. In contrast, Michele is a
high-salaried vice president of a marketing company. She is married
and has a nanny who comes to her home to care for her two chil-
dren while she is at work. Michele has always wanted to be a master
gardener and considers taking a course at the local botanical gar-
den. Michele’s skills, education, income, and support network are
sources of power that she can adjust to deal with her load, affording
her a comfortable margin wherein she can take the class.
94 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Maintaining some margin of power in order to engage in
learning is a concept adults readily relate to. As Hiemstra (1993,
p. 42) observes, adult students’ first encounter with McClusky’s the-
ory is often “an epiphany in terms of their own life circumstances.”
McClusky (1970) also saw his theor y as helpful in explaining
the developmental changes characteristic of adult life (see Chap-
ter Thirteen). Changes adults undergo as they age could be trans-
lated into adjustments of load and power. These adjustments are
made “as a person accumulates and later relinquishes adult
responsibilities and modifies the var ying roles which the succes-
sive stages of the life cycle require” (p. 84). Since learning in
adulthood is often a function of changing roles and responsibili-
ties and physical and mental development, McClusky’s theory can
be used in understanding this link between changing social roles
and learning.
Several studies have in fact investigated this link. Baum (1980)
used the theory as a framework for exploring the power and load
of one hundred randomly selected widows. Self-identified prob-
lems encountered in widowhood were viewed as load factors, and
ser vices and resources available to widows were categorized as
power factors. She found that negative attitudes toward widowhood
predicted more problems (load), but that it also led to finding
more resources (power). As load increased, power increased,
resulting in a fairly stable margin in life.
Using an instrument developed to measure margin in life,
Stevenson (1980) compared the load, power, and margin patterns
of independent older adults, nursing home residents, and young
and middle-aged adults. She found that the two groups of older
adults perceived themselves as having slightly more power (and less
load) than the young and middle-aged adults.
AnumberofstudieshaveusedMcClusky’stheorytostudy
adult student needs, performance, and participation in continu-
ing and higher education (Demko, 1982; Garrison, 1986; Hansen,
1988; James, 1986; Mikolaj, 1983; Root, 2000; Schawo, 1997;
Walker, 1996; Weiman, 1987). Findings across these studies are
mixed, so no clear-cut generalizations can be drawn about the
validity of McClusky’s theory for predicting aspects of participation
in continuing and higher education. His theory has also been used
in a study of employees’ readiness to change in the workplace
KNOWLES’S ANDRAGOGY, AND MODELS OF ADULT LEARNING 95
(Hanpachern, Morgan, & Griego, 1998). Based on 131 employees
of a manufacturing company, “overall MIL and five work subscales
had significant positive relationships with readiness for change”
(p. 339). Londoner (1993) developed a load-power matrix exer-
cise for assessing work and personal loads and the powers available
to address the load. He suggests that this matrix can be used as
a tool by HRD counselors and others in helping professions. The
matrix is a device “to help adults manage stress and crises more
effectively by developing and implementing specific change strate-
gies that create favorable margin in their lives” (p. 126).
McClusky’s theory has appeal in that it speaks to the everyday
events and life transitions that all adults encounter. It is perhaps
abettercounselingtoolthanitisanexplanationofadultlearn-
ing, however. In fact, there is a striking similarity between
McClusky’s power, load, and margin concepts and the components
of Schl o ssberg’s model for counseling adults in transition. In her
model, one determines the ability to work through a transition by
assessing the relative strength of four factors: the situation, the self
(internal strengths), external supports, and strategies one has
developed to handle stress (Schlossberg, 1984, 1987). Indeed,
McClusky’s theory has been operationalized as an assessment tool
to counsel applicants about their readiness for continuing pastoral
education (Association for Clinical Pastoral Education, n.d.).
Although life events and transitions certainly precipitate many
(and some would say the most potent) learning experiences,
McClusky’s model does not directly address learning itself but
rather when it is most likely to occur. One might also question
whether a reser ve of energy or margin of power is necessar y for
learning to arise. Learning can happen under conditions of stress,
or in McClusky’s terms, when load is greater than power. Wolfin’s
(1999) study, for example, found that “overloaded” adults were as
likely to learn as those with a surplus of power: “A surplus of power
over load is not a ‘necessar y condition’ or ‘crucial element’ for
adults to be more likely to learn. . . . Overloaded Adults will do all
they can, regardless of their inhibiting activities if those Over-
loaded Adults perceive the subject matter as essential, meaningful,
or worthwhile and perceive the learning method as convenient”
(p. 281). In addition, the fact that learning itself has the potential
to increase one’s power is not addressed by McClusky.
96 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
ILLERIS’S THREE DIMENSIONS OF LEARNING MODEL
While McClusky’s theory of margin focuses on how learning inter-
sects with an adult’s life situation, Illeris (2002) is most interested
in the learning process itself. In his model there are three dimen-
sions involved in learning—cognition, emotion, and society. As can
be seen in Figure 4.1, he pictures these dimensions as an inverted
triangle, with cognition and emotion at the top and environment
at the bottom of the inverted apex; all three aspects of learning
occur within society, represented by the circle around the triangle.
Although one dimension might be emphasized over the other two,
all three are always present in a learning activity. The cognitive
dimension involves knowledge and skills while the emotional dimen-
sion consists of feelings and motivation. Cogniti on and emotion
are internal processes that interact simultaneousl y in the acquisi-
tion of knowledge or skills. Cognition is what psychologists have
concentrated on when studying learning and refers to “both
knowledge and motor le arning, both of which are controlled by
the central nervous system” (2002, p. 18). Emotions, in contrast,
involve “psycho logical energy, transmitted by feelings, em otions,
attitudes and motivations which both mobilize and, at the same
time, are conditions that may be influenced and developed
through learning” (p. 18).
The dimension he labels “environment” or “sociality” in the tri-
angle “is the dimension of external interaction, such as participa-
tion, communication, and coop eration. It serves as the personal
integration in communities and society and thereby also builds up
the sociality of the learner” (Illeris, 2004b, p. 83). This dimension
is about interacting with other people as we learn, or it can refer
to contributions of others to our learning (Illeris, 2002). Society
wherein all three aspects of learning are encompassed is the con-
text for our learning. That is, our learning is always within the soci-
ety or social context in which we live and this context interacts with
and shapes our learning.
How the process of learning begins is with one of five stimuli,
what he calls the “raw material” of the process: (1) perception
is “where the surrounding world comes to the individual as a totally
unmediated sense impression” (Illeris, 2002, p. 120); (2) transmis-
sion, wherein someone else passes on information or transmits
KNOWLES’S ANDRAGOGY, AND MODELS OF ADULT LEARNING 97
“specific sense impressions or messages” (p. 120); (3) experience,
which while it can include both perception and transmission, we
could also “limit the use of the word so that experience presupposes
aparticularactivity,i.e.,thatthelearnerisnotsimplyreceiving,but
also acts in order to benefit from the interaction” (p. 120); (4) imi-
tation occurs when the learner attempts to imitate or model
another’s actions; and (5) activity or participation in which the
learner is engaged in a goal-directed activity sometimes participat-
ing with others as in a community of practice. Illeris cautions that
98 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
FIGURE 4.1. LEARNING PROCESSES AND DIMENSIONS.
Source: Illeris, 2004b, p. 82. Reprinted by permission.
COGNITION EMOTION
ENVIRONMENT
SOCIETY
FUNCTIONALITY
SENSIBILITY
Meaning
ability
Mental
balance
Acquisition
SOCIALITY
Integration
InteractionInteraction
these five “input[s] of the learning process . . . should not be
regarded as separate, but rather as characteristics which can
be combined in a single learning event, each of them being more
or less present or prominent in a pattern unique to the specific sit-
uation” (p. 227).
Illeris gives an example of how the three dimensions of cogni-
tion, emotion, and society might play out in a learning process. His
example is a chemistry lesson that has as its focus the cognitive con-
tent of learning a particular chemical process. But each student
experiences this lesson in a specific way, which involves emotions,
motivations, and psychological energy. The result of the le arning
“will be closely connected with how the emotional dimension
has been functioning” (p. 20). For example, depending on the
cognitive-emotional and social interaction it is possibl e the learn-
ing could be “distorted, or perhaps no learning at all will take
place, or something quite different will be learned: maybe a nega-
tive impression of the teacher, of some other students, of the sub-
ject, or of the school situation in general” (p. 21). Finally, external
societal conditions will influence the process, such as whether the
learning is to be examined, or whether the learning is needed to
function in society.
This model, of course, can be applied in the same way to any
type of adult learning activity. An adult learning to read, for exam-
ple, engages both the cognitive and emotional dimensions, and
this learning activity will be influ enced by social interaction with
instructor and fellow students. Further, society’ s expectations, inter-
nalized by the learner, that being literate is both desirable and nec-
essary to function in today’s world, interacts with the other two
components of the process.
The strength of Illeris’ s model lies in its comprehensiveness but
also its simplicity. We can all relate to how a learning activity reflects
cognitive, emotional, and social dimensions. Much of adult learn-
ing research and theor y building emphasizes the cognitive, so
Illeris’s inclusion of emotional and social dimensions is a real
strength. Further, his model can be used to understand resistance
to or rejection of learning as well as something as powerful as trans-
formational learning: “Very special and demanding situations, often
with a crisis-like character, can lead to deep and comprehensive
transformative learning processes that include simultaneous
changes in all the three learning dimensions and have to do with
KNOWLES’S ANDRAGOGY, AND MODELS OF ADULT LEARNING 99
the very identity of the learner” (2002, p. 229). And while he does
not claim it to be a model of adult learning per se, its application to
preadults seems limited due to their level of cognitive and emo-
tional development and their awareness of the societal context.
JARVIS’S L EARNING P ROCESS
Jarvis’s model begins with an adult’s life situation, or more correctly,
an adult’s experience: “Even miseducative experiences may be
regarded as learning experiences. . . . All learning begins with expe-
rience” (1987, p. 16; italics in original). Some experiences, however,
are repeated with such frequency that they are taken for granted
and do not lead to learning, such as driving a car or household rou-
tines. At the start of the learning process is a disjuncture between
biography (all that a person is at a particular point in time) and
experience—an incident that a person is unprepared to handle.
“Disjuncture occurs when our biographical repertoire is no longer
sufficient to cope automatically with our situation so that our
unthinking harmony with our world is disturbed to some degree or
other” (Jarvis, 2006, p. 9). “No longer can previous learning cope
with the prese n t situation, peop l e are consci o u s ly aware that they
do not know how to act. We have to think, to plan or to learn some-
thing new. Learning then always begins with experiencing” (Jarvis,
2004, p. 93). This “inability to cope with the situation unthinkingly,
instinctively, is at the heart of all learning” (1987, p. 35).
Jar vis theorizes that all learning begins with the five human
sensations of sound, sight, smell, taste, and touch. He believes that
“our learning is ultimately dependent on our body and biology is
asignificantfactorinthelearningprocess—notbecauseofour
genes, but because of the way that our senses function” (2006,
p. 13). In our everyday lives we meet unfamiliar situations; for
instance, we hear a new sound or we read a word whose meaning
we do not know. Through asking others or by chance or by
design we acquire the meaning of the unfamiliar sens ation. This
meaning is memorized and practiced (for example, we may try to
use a word whose meaning we have just learned) until it becomes
apartofusandweonceagaintaketheworldforgranted.“Thesig-
nificant thing is that the original sensations have been transformed
into knowledge, skills, attitudes, values, emotions, and so on” (p. 14).
100 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
For Jarvis, all experience occurs within the learner’ s world (that
individual’s world, not the world), which is ever changing—“[I]t
changes over time in relation to the changes that occur both in the
wider world, in which it exists, and to the individual’s involvement
in it, and so we cannot depict a simple relationship with it in
respect of learning. . . . [T]he person exists in a ‘flow of time’
within the lifeworld” (Jarvis, 2006, p. 7).
The learner is more than a cognitive machine. The learner is
awholepersonmadeupofthemindandthebodyandcomestoa
learning situation with a history, a biography that interacts in indi-
vidual ways with the experience that generates the nature of the
learning. As can be seen in Figure 4.2, Jarvis’s model of the learn-
ing process begins with the whole person who encounters an expe-
rience in her social context, one that cannot be automatically
accommodated or assimilated. This creates the disjuncture
KNOWLES’S ANDRAGOGY, AND MODELS OF ADULT LEARNING 101
The whole person:
body/mind/self/
life history (1)
The lifeworld
An experience
(episode)
socially constructed
(2)
Thought/
reflection
(3)
Emotion
(4)
Action
(5)
The person in the world
(body/mind/self) changed
The changes memorized
(6)
The changed whole
person: body/mind/
self/life history (1)
The lifeworld
Time
(Next
learning
cycle)
FIGURE 4.2. THE TRANSFORMATION OF THE PERSON THROUGH EXPERIENCE.
Source: Jarvis, 2006, p. 16. Reprinted by permission.
between one’ s biography and the experience, a state of unease that
can trigger learning. If, in contrast, the individual chooses to
ignore or dismiss this unease, no learning occurs (as evidenced by
the two-way arrow between Boxes 1 and 2).
The next level of the model portrays three ways of learning,
thinking, doing, and feeling (experiencing emotion). Each of these
can occur in any combination with the others, as the arrows among
the three boxes indicate. Jarvis explains that different combinations
can produce different types of learning, “critical thinking, problem-
solving learning, reflective learning, action learning, and so on.”
He speculates that “it is perhaps through the emotions that thought
can be transformed into action. However, either of these two can
dominate in the process of learning and a number of different types
of learning can occur: contemplation, rational thinking, desiring,
planning, action learning, and so on. In addition, the emotions can
have a considerable effect on the way that we think, on motivation
and on beliefs, attitudes and values” (2006, p. 11).
The result of this learning, as seen in Box 6, is a person
affected in some way by the learning. There are three possible ways
apersonischanged.Oneis“theperson’sselfischangedbothby
the acquisition of all the things we have discussed mentally,
emotionally . . . but also in terms of identity, self-confidence,
esteem, and so on” (2006, p. 17). Second, “the learner may place
a new meaning on the world and events” through both incidental
and purposeful learning. The third way a person may have
changed is he or she “is more experienced, more able to cope with
similar situations and problems because of the learning that has
occurred, that is to say that the learner is more intelligent” (p. 17).
The last section of the model, where the first box is repeated
in the bottom right corner, is Jarvis’s a ttempt to capture the con-
tinuous nature of learning. The changed person in her social
world again encounters an experience that stimulates learning.
Jar vis’s definition of human learning summarizes the model:
“I now regard human learning as the combination of processes
whereby the whole person—body (genetic, physical and biologi-
cal) and mind (knowledge, skills, attitudes, values, emotions,
beliefs and senses)—experiences a social situation the perceived
content of which is then transformed cognitively, emotively or prac-
tically (or through any combination) and integrated into the
102 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
person’s individual biography resulting in a changed (or more
experienced) person” (p. 7).
Jar vis’s model is perhaps the most comprehensive of models
reviewed in this chapter. Furthermore, his model situates learning
in a social context; learning is an interactive phenomenon, not an
isolated internal process. In his most recent book (2006) he pre-
sents each component in detail. Not just the learning process, but
also concepts of the whole person, the social context, types of learn-
ing, and the nature of experience itself are dealt with in depth,
drawing from a wide body of literature. Although his early work on
this model was constructed from research with adult learners, it is
clear that his interest is understanding and explaining human learn-
ing, not just adult learning. He does, however, imply that his model
is perhaps easier to apply when speaking of adults, because young
children do not have the cognitive skills, emotional range, or action
alternatives available to adults. Further, the child and the adult’ s life
situation or context are quite different, leading to different kinds
of experiences shaping the learning. His model has been unfold-
ing over the past twenty years, so that the most recent iteration
looks quite different from the original 1987 version. However, the
processing of experience remains fundamental to his thinking.
SUMMARY
Although there was sporadic attention given to adult learning in
the early decades of the twentieth centur y, it was not until the
1970s that adult educators themselves began to focus systematically
on some of the distinguishing characteristics of adult learning as
separate from the body of information from psychologists’ and
educational psychologists’ investigations of learning in general.
This shift in focus was part of the field’ s efforts to differentiate itself
from other areas of education. It also led to the search for a single
theory of adult learning, one that would differentiate adults from
children, include all types of learning, and was at once elegant and
simple. But just as there is no single theory that explains human
learning in general, no single theory of adult learning has emerged
to unify the field. Rather, there are a number of theories, models,
and frameworks, each of which attempts to capture some aspect
of adult learning.
KNOWLES’S ANDRAGOGY, AND MODELS OF ADULT LEARNING 103
The best-known theory of adult learning is Knowles’s andragogy.
Nevertheless, it is less a theory and more a set of assumptions about
adult learners that learners and educators alike can use to strengthen
the learning transaction. The assumptions regarding an adult’ s self-
concept, experience, readiness to learn, problem-centered focus, and
internal motivation all have some intuitive validity, making andragogy
popular with practitioners in many fields. These assumptions were
critiqued in this chapter, as was Knowles’ s isolation of the individual
learner from the learning context.
The chapter then turned to reviewing other, less well-known
models of adult learning. Like andragogy, McClusky’ s theory of mar-
gin is more about the personal life situation of adults than learning
per se. McClusky’s theory of margin emphasizes both personal char-
acteristics (internal load and power factors) and situational
characteristics (external load and power fac tors). His model has
more to say about adult development and the timing of learning,
though, than about the actual learning transaction.
Two other models do focus on the learning process itself,
although neither claims to be about adult learning only. Illeris’s
three dimensions of learning model positions learning as the con-
tinuous interaction among cognition, emotions, and social context.
Jarvis’s model of the learning process links the whole person (body,
mind, self, life history) with an experience encountered in the per-
son’s social context. The disjuncture between the person’s biogra-
phy and the experience leads to learning that involves emotion,
thought, and action. The result is some change in the person.
Each model discussed in this chapter contributes in its own way
to advancing our understanding of adult learners. However, there
has been little research testing the power of the models to explain
or predict adult learning behavior. The process of model and the-
ory building does, however, stimulate inquiry and reflection, all of
which may eventually provide some of the answers to our questions
about adult learning.
104 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
CHAPTER FIVE
SELF-DIRECTED LEARNING
Since Tough’s work on adult learning projects was published in
1971, self-directed learning has captured the imagination of
researchers and writers both inside a nd outside the field of adult
education. Many public schools and colleges and universities have
used this concept to describe one of the primar y goals of their
institutions: to enable their st udents to be lifelong, self-directed
learners. While certainly adults have always learned on their own,
serious study of this phenomenon is relatively recent in compari-
son to other aspects of learning, such as memory, cognition, and
intelligence (see the chapters in Part Four). This lag is due in part
to much of self-directed learning occurring outside of formal insti-
tutional settings, and therefore being so embedded in people’s
everyday lives as to be invisible. Tied in with this perspective is the
role of educators of adults. Should we be working with learners
outside the formal institutional environment? And might we be
cutting into our own “business” as educators if we acknowledge
that many adults can learn very effectively without our assistance?
Despite these concerns, the study of self-directed learning has
emerged as one the major thrusts of adult education research.
There is, in fact, a voluminous literature base to draw from, an
annual conference on the topic, and a recently inaugurated Web
site (www. sdlglobal.com), which houses, along with other
resources, an online journal devoted to self-directed learning.
Tough (1967, 1971), building on the work of Houle (1961/1988)
and others, provided the first comprehensive description of self-
directed learning as a form of study that he termed self-planned learn-
ing. Drawing on a study of the learning projects of sixty-six people
105
from Ontario, Canada, he found that “highly deliberate efforts to
learn take place all around you. The members of your family, your
neighbors, colleagues, and acquaintances probably initiate and com-
plete several learning efforts, though you may not be aware of it”
(Tough, 1971, p. 3). W riting about the same time as Tough, Knowles
proposed that one of the hallmark assumptions of adult learning is
that learners become increasingly self-directed as they mature
(Knowles, 1970, 1980). Knowles’s thinking about self-directed learn-
ing is grounded in his concept of andragogy, discussed in Chapter
Four. Although there have been challenges to his assumption that
adult learners strive toward greater self-direction, there are many who
treat it as fact and structure their practice accordingly.
Building on the pioneering work of Houle (1961/1988),
Tough (1978, 1979), and Knowles (1970), the earlier research in
this arena was primarily descriptive in nature (Brockett, 1985;
Caffarella & O’Donnell, 1987). The emphasis in this early work was
on verifying that adults do deliberately learn on their own and on
discovering how they go about doing this. Following these descrip-
tive studies, researchers began providing more in-depth concep-
tual models (for example, Brockett & Hiemstra, 1991; Candy, 1991;
Garrison, 1997). Scholars also initiated a debate about what the
goals of self-directed learning should be (Brockett & Hiemstra,
1991; Brookfield, 1986; Collins, 1988; Mezirow, 1985) and started
exploring the personal characteristics and attributes of those who
are self-directed in their learning (Candy, 1991; Chene, 1983;
Oddi, 1986). In addition, a number of writers sought to bring
greater clarity and precision to the term and the many related
terms that have been used to describe this phenomenon.
In reviewing this rich array of work on self-directed learning
(SDL), we have grouped the literature into three broad categories,
each outlining a major facet of self-directed learning. We report
first on literature that explores the goals of self-directed learning.
We then examine research that describes self-directed learning as
aprocessorformofstudy.Third,wereviewself-directednessasa
personal attribu t e of the learner. We conclude the chapte r with a
discussion of recent applications of SDL and the important chal-
lenges to be considered in building future research and theory in
self-directed learning.
106 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
GOALS O F SELF-DIRECTED LEARNING
Often defined by the underlying philosophical position of the
writer, the three main goals of self-directed learning can be grouped
as follows: (1) to enhance the ability of adult learners to be self-
directed in their learning, (2) to foster transformational learning
as central to self-directed learning, and (3) to promote emancipa-
tory learning and social action as an integral part of self-directed
learning.
The first goal, to enhance the ability of adults to be self-directed
in their learning, has stemmed primarily from the work of Knowles
(1980) and Tough (1979). This ability to be self-directed in one’s
learning is conceived as both a set of personal attributes and spe-
cific skills (Caffarella, 2000; Brockett & Hiemstra, 1991; Caffarella &
O’Donnell, 1989). Within this goal, the assumption is that part of
the job of educators of adults is to help learners, whether they are
learning on their own or in formal learning programs, to be able
to plan, carry out, and evaluate their own learning. For example, in
the independent pursuit of learning, educators might provide assis-
tance to individuals or groups of learners in locating resources or
mastering alternative learning strategies. The learners themselves
would seek out this assistance, perhaps in community learning cen-
ters or through learning technologies. Of course, as some writers
point out, we cannot wait until adulthood to begin developing self-
directed lifelong learners. This goal is something that needs to be
attended to at all levels of schooling from primary education
through university and professional training (Schrader-Naef, 2000;
Williams, 2001). This first goal has spawned the majority of research
in self-directed learning.
Goal One is grounded primarily in humanistic philosophy,
which posits personal growth as the goal of adult learning.
Brockett and Hiemstra (1991, pp. 26–27), for example, have stated
that their model of self-directed learning, the Persona l Responsi-
bility Orientation (PRO) model, is based on three fundamental
ideas espoused by this philosophy: “[T]hat human nature is basi-
cally good, . . . that individuals possess virtually unlimited poten-
tial for growth . . . [and] that only by accepting responsibility for
one’s own learning is it possible to take a proactive approach to the
SELF-DIRECTED LEARNING 107
learning process.” Accepting responsibility and being proactive
take into account two other tenets of humanistic philosophy: per-
sonal autonomy and free will to make individual choices.
Goal Two, to foster transformational learning as central to self-
directed learning, is found primarily in the work of Mezirow
(1985) and Brookfield (1985, 1986). Mezirow (1985, p. 27) sug-
gests that “there is probably no such thing as a self-directed learner,
except in the sense that there is a learner who can participate fully
and freely in the dialogue through which we test our interests and
perspectives against those of others and accordingly modify
them and our learning goals.” In essence, adults need to reflect
critically and have an understanding of the historical, cultural, and
biographical reasons for their needs, wants, and interests. “Such
self-knowledge is a prerequisite for autonomy in self-directed learn-
ing” (p. 27). For Mezirow, the “key” to self-directedness is “becoming
critically aware of what has been taken for granted about one’s own
learning” (p. 17). Brookfield (1985, 1986) echoes Mezirow’s ideas
by calling on adult educators to distingu ish clea rly betwee n the
techniques of self-directed learning and the internal change in
consciousness. More specifically, Brookfield (1986, p. 38) asserted
that “the most complete form of self-directed learning occurs
when process and reflection are married in the adult’s pursuit of
meaning.” The critical reflection component of the second goal is
foundational to the third goal of self-directed learning: promoting
emancipatory learning and social action.
Writers advancing Goal Three have been some of the strongest
critics of the first goal of self-directed learning: enhancing the abil-
ity of individual learners to be more self-directed in their learning.
The heart of their criticism is that this first goal is too narrow, with
the focus of that goal being primarily instrumental learning and
assisting individual learners. In contrast, authors who support the
goal of promoting emancipator y learning and social action want
included not only the examination by learners of the sociopolitical
assumptions under which they learn and function but also the
incorporation of collective action as an outcome. Unless the defi-
nition of self-directed learning is broadened to include these com-
ponents, these proponents view self-directed learning as merely a
technique “to condition the individual into taken-for-granted
108 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
acceptance of what is offered” (Collins, 1996, p. 115). Collins has
been the most persistent and eloquent in echoing these concerns
about how self-directed learning has been conceptualized and
practiced. Collins emphasizes the importance of having an “unequiv-
ocal focus of emancipation as a core concern” in the study of self-
directed learning and adult learning in general (p. 119). By this
Collins means that participatory research methods should be used
to foster democratic and open dialogue about self-directed learn-
ing, and ethical and political concerns about self-directed learning
should be a part of this dialogue. To foster the study of this critical
practice of self-directed learning, Collins suggests that researchers
use critical theor y and interpretive and participatory research
approaches. An example of this orientation is a study by Andruske
(2000) wherein she investigated the self-directed learning projects
of women on welfare. She found that the women became “politi-
cal change agents as they attempt[ed] to control and to initiate
change in their everyday worlds in response to oppressive external
structures” (p. 11).
In this same vein, Brookfield (1993, p. 227) asserts that “any
authentic exercise of self-directedness requires that certain politi-
cal conditions be in place.” More specifically, Brookfield argues
first that having learners exercise control over all educational deci-
sions needs to be a consistent element of self-directed learning. As
such, educators of adults in formal and nonformal settings need
to shift to learners as much control as possible in the learning
process. Brookfield views this shift as difficult to accomplish in set-
tings where the cult ure itself is highly controlling, such as some
higher education institutions or corporate environments. There-
fore, he asserts that educators “might decide to work collectively
at changing the political culture of institutions. . . . Control from
this perspective would be seen in our coming to understand the
origins, functioning and contradictions of the system and in our
working to change or replace it with one that honors our daily
activities as educators” (1993, p. 235). Second, Brookfield calls for
more easily accessible and adequate resources so that learners can
more readily exercise control over their learning, especially learn-
ers who have been denied access to resources because of cost or
preferential treatment for privileged groups.
SELF-DIRECTED LEARNING 109
Most of the process models reviewed in the next section reflect
Goal One, enhancing the ability of adult learners to be self-
directed in their learning, and to a lesser extent, Goal Two, fos-
tering transformational learning.
SELF-DIRECTED LEARNING AS A PROCESS
Self-directed learning as a process of learning, in which people take
the primar y initiative for planning, carr ying out, and evaluating
their own learning experiences, has received a great deal of atten-
tion in the literature. We contend, as descri bed in Chapter Two,
that this form of learning can take place both inside and outside
institutionally based learning programs. For the most part, however,
being self-directed in one’s learning is a natural part of adult life.
Within this categor y of self-directed learning as a process, three
types of models—linear, interactive, and instructional—have been
extensively discussed in the literature. In the next three subsections
we set out descriptions and critiques of the most prominent and the
most promising models of self-directed learning. These models rep-
resent a mixture of conceptual, empirical, and experientially
derived views of the process of self-directed learning.
L INEAR M ODELS
The early models of self-directed learning, those proposed by
Tough (1971) and Knowles (1975), were linear in nature. Learn-
ers moved through a series of steps to reach their learning goals in
aself-directedmanner.Theresultingframeworksofthelearning
process for these models included many elements of the traditional
teaching process.
Tough (1967, 1971, 1979) proposed the first comprehensive
description of self-directed learning, which he termed self-planned
learning. Drawing on a study of the learning projects of sixty-six
people from Ontario, Canada, he found that 70 percent of all
learning projects were planned by the learners themse lves. He
defined a learning project as “a highly deliberate effort to gain and
retain certain definite knowledge and skill, or to change in some
other way. To be inc luded, a series of related learning sessions
(episodes in which the person’s primar y intention was to learn)
110 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
must add up to at least seven hours” (Tough, 1978, p. 250). Tough
found that learners used thirteen steps in self-planned learning
projects, representing key decision-making points about choosing
what, where, and when to learn along with deciding on resources
for learning, detecting possible barriers to learning, and so on.
Tough’s research on self-directed learning became the basis for
numerous dissertations and research studies around the world. In
the 1970s and early 1980s a range of specific populations were stud-
ied using Tough’s original or modified interview schedule. These
studies confirmed the prevalence of self-directed learning in
adults’ lives . Although there is some variance across these stu d i e s
in the amount and type of self-directed learning that goes on in
the general population, we can say without reser vation that the
existence of the independent pursuit of learning in adulthood has
been established (Brookfield, 1984; Caffarella & O’Donnell, 1987;
Owen, 2002).
Knowles’s (1975) description of self-directed learning consists
of six major steps: (1) climate setting, (2) diagnosing learning
needs, (3) formulating learning goals, (4) identifying human and
material resources for learning, (5) choosing and implementing
appropriate learning strategies, and (6) evaluating learning out-
comes. His steps are somewhat similar to those proposed by Tough
(1979). Knowles includes numerous resources for both learners
and teachers for completing each of these tasks. Among the mate-
rials he describes, we have found the ones on learning contracts and
evaluation to be the most useful. Although the work of Tough
and Knowles “has provided the language, the concepts, and more
importantly the descriptive terms for key elements and processes
of self-planned learning” (Kasworm, 1992, p. 56), other scholars
have conceptualized different processes.
I NTERACTIVE M ODELS
Asecondportraitofself-directedlearningisthatthislearning
process is not so well planned or linear in nature. Rather, there is
an emphasis on two or more factors, such as opportunities people
find in their own environments, the personality characteristics of
learners, cognitive processes, and the context of learning, which
collectively interact to form episodes of self-directed learning.
SELF-DIRECTED LEARNING 111
Three such models are discussed as illustrative of the work in this
arena: the models of Spear (1988), Brockett and Hiemstra (1991),
and Garrison (1997).
Spear’s Model
Spear (1988), building on his earlier work with Mocker (Spear &
Mocker, 1984), has presented a model that rests on three elements:
the opportun i t ie s people find in their own environments, past or
new knowledge, and chance occurrences. Spear proposed that
each self-directed learning projec t is composed of sets or clusters
of those elements. For example, a move from an apartment to a
single-family residence affords an opportunity to pursue garden-
ing. This fortuitous action in conjunction with some prior knowl-
edge of gardening, perhaps in combination with a chance encounter
with an old friend who is an accomplished gardener, results in a
self-directed learning project.
Spear also concluded from his study that self-directed learning
projects do not generally occur in a linear fashion—that is, one
cluster does not necessarily bear any relation to the next cluster.
Rather, information gathered through one set of activities (one
cluster) is stored until it fits in with other ideas and resources
on the same topic gleaned from one or more additional clusters
of activities. A successful self-directed learning project is one in
which a person can engage in a sufficient number of relevant clus-
ters of learning activities and the n assemble these clusters into a
coherent whole. Spear (1988, p. 217) concludes, “The learner is
perhaps in greatest control when the assembling of the clusters
begins and decisions are made regarding what knowledge is of
most and least importance.”
Although only a few studies have been conducted using all or
parts of Spear’s framework (for example, Berger, 1990; Padberg,
1994), other researchers have come to similar conclusions in their
work. Danis and Tremblay (1987, 1988), for example, who studied
ten long-term adult learners, found that their respondents were
able to specify learning goals only when they had mastered certain
knowledge or skills, and that in general these learners went about
learning on their own using multiple approaches as opposed to
only one approach. In addition, they noted that the impact of ran-
dom events stood out in that these learners took advantage of any
112 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
opportunities offered to them. Berger (1990), in her study of
twenty white males with no formal degrees beyond high school,
found little evidence that her subjects did any preplanning in their
self-directed learning activities. Her subjects “constantly redefined
their projects, changed course, and followed new paths of interest
as they proceeded” (p. 176). In essence, the majority of her respon-
dents adopted a trial-and-error approach, with an emphasis on
hands-on experience and practice, guiding themselves by both
their successes and their mistakes as they moved on to new levels
of learning.
Brockett and Hiemstra’s Model
In their Personal Responsibility Orientation (PRO) model, Brockett
and Hiemstra (1991, p. 26) provide a new framework for what they
term self-direction in learning, which comprises “both instructional
method processes (self-directed learning) and personality charac-
teristics of the individu al learner (learner self-direction) .” In the
instructional processes dimension, learners assume primar y
responsibility for planning, implementing, a nd eva luating their
learning experiences. The authors note that “an educational agent
or resource often plays a facilitating role in this process” (p. 24).
In this facilitation role, instructors must possess skills in helping
learners do needs assessments, locate learning resources, and
choose instructional methods and evaluation strategies. Many of
these skills have been discussed in previous literature on self-
directed learning (for example, Knowles, 1975, and Tough, 1979)
and are stressed in their model, with an emphasis on the interac-
tive nature of the teaching and learning process.
Their second dimension, related to the personality character-
istics of individual learners, “centers on a learner’s desire or pref-
erence for assuming responsibility for learning” (Brockett &
Hiemstra, 1991, p. 24). The notion of personal responsibility,
which they define as “individuals assuming ownership for their own
thoughts and actions” (p. 26), is the point of departure for under-
standing their concept of self-direction in adult learning. Their
concept of personal responsibility is grounded in the concepts of
humanism and human potential. Although they agree that indi-
vidual learners are central to the idea of self-direction, they also
regard the context, or social milieu, in which that learning activity
SELF-DIRECTED LEARNING 113
transpires as important. In acknowledging these contextual factors,
they recognize the importance of situational factors in the self-
directed learning process, which mirrors others’ descriptions of
the process of self-directed learning.
Hiemstra (1992) and Hiemstra and Brockett (1994) have fur-
ther described various aspects of using self-directed learning as an
instructional method. Further, two recent dissertations were based
on the PRO model. Stockdale (2003) developed an instrument
to assess the two components (teaching-learning and learner
characteristics) of the model. Her thirty-five-item Personal
Responsibility Orientation to Self-Direction in Learning Scale
(PRO-SDLS) was found to be highly reliable with the sample of
graduate and undergraduate education students. Fogerson’s
(2005) study correlated Stockdale’s PRO-SDLS instrument with
selected satisfaction variables in an online higher education course.
While the reliability of the PRO-SDLS was confirmed, no signifi-
cant correlations were revealed between the scale and satisfaction.
Fogerson speculates that this finding might be due to the student
population, who were older and had experience with online
courses; they also reported being “satisfied” or “very satisfied” with
the course.
Garrison’s Model
Garrison (1997) is the most recent scholar to propose a multidi-
mensional and interactive model of self-directed learning. His
model (see Figure 5.1), grounded in a “collaborative constructivist”
perspective, “integrates self-management (contextual control), self-
monitoring (cognitive responsibility) and motivational (entering
and task) dimensions to reflect a meaningful and worthwhile
approach to self-directed learning” (p. 18).
The first dimension, self-management, acknowledges the social
milieu in which learners are interacting, whether they are in for-
mal or informal settings. It involves learners’ taking control of and
shaping the contextual conditions so that they can reach their
stated goals and objectives. “Control,” says Garrison, “does not
translate into social independence or freedom from influence.
Educational self-management concerns the use of learning mate-
rials within a context where there is opportunity for sustained com-
munication. Self-management of learning in an educational
114 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
context must consider the opportunity to test and confirm under-
standing collaboratively” (1997, p. 23), which translates into
increased responsibilities for the learner.
“The next two dimensions of the model—self-monitoring and
motivation—represent the cognitive dimensions of self-directed
learning” (1997, p. 24), which Garrison believes have been given
little attention in the literature on self-directed learning. Self-
monitoring describes the ability of learners to be able to monitor
both their cognitive and metacognitive processes, which includes
their being able to use a reper toire of learning s tra tegie s and the
ability to think about their thinking. “Self-monit oring is synony-
mous with responsibility to construct meaning . . . [and] is ver y
much associated with the ability to be reflective and think critically”
(pp. 24–25). The motivational dimension involves what influences
people to participate or enter into a self-directed learning activity
and what keeps them participating in the activity or task: “Motiva-
tion and responsibility are reciprocally related and both are facil-
itated by collaborative control of the educational transaction”
SELF-DIRECTED LEARNING 115
Motivation
(Entering task)
Self-directed learning
Self-monitoring
(Responsibility)
Self-management
(Control)
FIGURE 5.1. DIMENSIONS OF SELF-DIRECTED LEARNING.
Source: Garrison, 1997, p. 22. Reprinted by permission.
(p. 29). Garrison obser ves that self-monitoring and motivation
need to be explored in much greater detail by those studying self-
directed learning.
Other Models
Anumberofotherinteractivemodelsoftheself-directedlearning
process have been introduced into the literature. After conducting
acasestudyofhowtheWrightbrotherslearnedtofly,Cavaliere
(1992) identified five stages of a learning project—inquiring,
modeling, experimenting, theorizing, and actualizing. Within each
of these steps were four cognitive processes. Her model, though not
tested, is provocative in describing the stages of the process as well
as the cognitive elements that cut across the stages.
Danis’s (1992) “framework” for studying self-directed learning
incorporates research from SDL, self-instruction, and learning and
study strategies. The main components thus consist of learning
strategies, phases of the learning activity, the content of the learn-
ing, learner or collect ive learner characteristics, and the external
context of the learning activity. Unlike the other models reviewed,
Danis explicitly takes into account the context as well as the poten-
tial of self-taught groups of learners. A recent study (Rager, 2003)
of the self-directed learning of women with breast cancer, under-
scores the importance of context and seems to fit well with Danis’ s
framework. Rager’s study uncovered the emotional context as crit-
ical in shaping participants’ SDL: “As reported by the participants,
emotions interfered with their ability to begin learning and their
ability to make use of some resources, influenced their reactions
to some of the information they did find, and impaired their abil-
ity to stay focused” (2003, p. 290).
Other models of the self-directed learning process can be
found in studies of specific populations or topics. For example,
Valente (2005) studied the self-directed learning process of older
adults who managed their own health care. Her model begins with
a“healthevent.”Onceahealtheventisdiagnosed,thecycleofself-
directed learning begins. Health care professionals are consulted,
which stimulates the older adult to acquire and assess information,
followed by choosing a treatment option. The treatment is moni-
tored and reflected upon and adjustments in lifestyle or treatment
or both are made. The cycle then repeats itself as the learner
116 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
acquires and assesses more information, often in consultation with
health care professionals.
Roberson and Merriam (2005) also uncovered a process of self-
directed learning in their study of rural older adults. The process
begins with an incentive, often related to late life changes, to learn;
if the person has an interest in the topic or activity, he or she will
pursue it. Next, resources are accessed and systematic attention
and time are given to the project. Adjustments are made as the
project progresses. An interesting component of the process is that
the motivation and intensity to learn are often enhanced by a cat-
alyst, such as another person stimulating interest, or a late-life
change in family or health.
I NSTRUCTIONAL M ODELS
The third category of self-directed learning models represents frame-
works that instructors in formal settings could use to integrate self-
directed methods of learning into their programs and activities. Two
models are highlighted that were designed with formal settings in
mind: those of Grow (1991) and of Hammond and Collins (1991).
Grow’s (1991, 1994) Staged Self-Directed Learning (SSDL)
model outlines how teachers can help students become more self-
directed in their learning. Grow, who grounded his model in the
situational leadership model of Hersey and Blanchard (1988),
describes four distinct stages of learners:
Stage 1: Dependent learner: Learners of low self-direction who
need an authority figure (a teacher) to tell them what to do
Stage 2: Interested learner: Learners of moderate self-direction
who are motivated and confident but largely ignorant of the
subject matter to be learned
Stage 3: Involved learner: Learners of intermediate self-direction
who have both the skill and the basic knowledge and view
themselves as being both ready and able to explore a specific
subject area with a good guide
Stage 4: Self-directed learner: Learners of high self-direction who
are both willing and able to plan, execute, and evaluate their
own learning with or without the help of an expert
SELF-DIRECTED LEARNING 117
At each of these stages, Grow outlines possible roles for the
teacher or facilitator. Figure 5.2 shows how the four types of learn-
ers, four roles of the facilitator, and appropriate instructional meth-
ods are interrelated. Grow also explores the problems that may arise
when there is a mismatch between the role or style of the teacher
and the learning stage of the participants. Grow emphasizes that
good teachers individualize their teaching strategies to match the
learners’ stage of self-direction and allow the students to be come
more self-directed in their learning. Therefore, integrating self-
directed learning as a way to organize learning experiences is situ-
ational in nature.
118 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Independent projects.
Student-directed discussions.
Discovery learning. Instructor as
expert, consultant, and monitor.
Application of material. Facilitated discussion.
Teams working closely with instructor on real
problems. Critical thinking. Learning strategies.
Intermediate material. Lecture-discussion.
Applying the basics in a stimulating way.
Instructor as motivator.
Introductory material.
Lecture. Drill.
Immediate correction.
T4:
Delegator
T3:
Facilitator
T2:
Salesperson,
motivator
T1:
Authority,
expert
S1:
Dependent
learner
S2:
Interested
learner
S3:
Involved
learner
S4:
Self-directed
learner
FIGURE 5.2. APPLYING THE STAG ED SELF-DIRECTION MODEL TO A COURSE.
Source: Grow, 1991, p. 143. Reprinted by permission.
The instructional model proposed by Hammond and Collins
(1991) is the only model that explicitly addresses the goal of pro-
moting emancipator y learning and social action as a central tenet
of self-directed learning. Grounding their work in studies of critical
pedagogy, popular education, and participatory research, these
authors have outlined a seven-component framework for assisting
learners in formal settings to engage in the critical practice of adult
education. In their model, learners take the initiative for:
1. Building a cooperative learning climate
2. Analyzing and critically reflecting on themselves and the social,
economic, and political contexts in which they are situated
3. Generating competency profiles for themselves
4. Diagnosing their learning needs within the framework of both
the personal and social context
5. Formulating socially and personally relevant learning goals that
result in learning agreements
6. Implementing and managing their learning
7. Reflecting on and evaluating their learning
What makes their model different from Knowles’s and other
process models is the purposeful inclusion of the critical perspec-
tive through the examination of the social, political, and environ-
mental contexts that affect their learning, and the stress on
developing both personal and social learning goals.
Although greater control of the learning process is what
Hammond and Collins see as the immediate goal for learners using
their model of critical self-directed learning, their “ultimate goal is
to empower learners to use their learning to improve the conditions
under which they and those around them live and work” (1991,
p. 14). As with other models of SDL, such as Garrison’s (1997) and
Cavaliere’s (1992), we found no studies where the researchers used
Hammond and Collins’s model as their conceptual framework.
S ELF-DIRECTION AS A P ERSONAL
ATTRIBUTE OF L EARNERS
An important focus in the research literature on self-directed learn-
ing has been self-direc tedness as a personal attribute or charac-
teristic of the learner. The assumption underlying much of this
SELF-DIRECTED LEARNING 119
work is that learning in adulthood means becoming more self-
directed and autonomous. Recall that one of Knowles’s (1980,
p. 43) four major tenets of andragogy is that mature “adults have a
deep psychological need to be generally self-directing.” Brockett
and Hiemstra (1991) echo Knowles’s assumption in that they see
a link between learner self-direction, which they define as charac-
teristics of learners that predispose them toward taking primar y
responsibility for their own learning, and a positive self-concept.
Tennant and Pogson (1995) have asserted that “the idea of
autonomous or self-directed learning is firmly entrenched in con-
temporary thinking about adult education and there has been a
great deal of scholarly interest in the subject” (p. 121).
Research into the natur e of the self-directed learner ask s the
who and what questions: Are these learners introverts or extro-
verts? What is their learning style? What level of education have
they achieved, and does this affect their ability to be self-directed?
Are they more autonomous than other learners? How do we know
if learners are rea dy for self-directed ways of learning? Basically,
researchers are trying to gain an understanding of the typical self-
directed learner’s characteristics or attributes. More specifically,
researchers have tried to link a number of different variables, such
as learning style, level of education, or life satisfaction, with being
self-directed in one’s learning. Findings from these studies have
been, for the most part, inconclusive. Th e focus on SDL as a per-
sonal attribute has also been studied with the use of instruments
assessing the presence of self-direction as a trait, and of the readi-
ness to be self-directed; further discussions center on the concept
of autonomy and its relationship to self-direction.
A SSESSING S ELF-DIRECTEDNESS
Two instruments, the OCLI and the SDLRS, have been widely used
to assess aspects of self-directedness as a personality trait. The Oddi
Continuing Learning Inventory (OCLI) is a twenty-four -item Likert
scale that measures one’ s self-directedness as a personality trait (Oddi,
1986; Oddi, Ellis, & Roberson, 1990). More than twenty-five variables
have been positively correlated with self-directedness as measured by
the OCLI; some of these variables are self-efficacy, self-concept, per-
sonal responsibility, on-the-job learning, grade point average, and left
120 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
brain hemisphericity (Owen, 2002). It might be mentioned that the
OCLI was developed by a nurse educator particularly interested in
participation in continuing professional education (CPE); hence, a
number of studies with the OCLI are in areas of CPE.
Readiness, which implies an internal state of psychological
readiness to undertake self-directed learning, has received the most
attention in the study of self-directed learning in terms of data-
based studies (Guglielmino, 1997). Guglielmino (1977) has pro-
vided the most-used operational definition for self-directed
learning. She states that it consists of a complex of attitudes, values,
and abilities that create the likelihood that an individu al is capa-
ble of self-directed learning. She identifies the psychological qual-
ities involved in readiness for self-directed learning as initiative,
independence, and persistence in learning; acceptance of respon-
sibility for one’s own learning; self-discipline; a high degree of
curiosity; a strong ability to learn independently; enjoyment
of learning; a tendency to be goal oriented; and a tendency to view
problems as challenges rather than obstacles. These qualities
undergird her Self-Directed Learning Readiness Scale (SDLRS),
of which there are two versions, one of them a self-scoring version
(the Learning Preference Assessment).
The SDLRS is the most frequently used quantitative measure
in studies of self-directed learning. Examined in studies using the
SDLRS are a wide range of issues from relating readiness for self-
directed learning with job satisfaction, course grades, occupation,
self-concept, life satisfaction, job performance, and so on (Owen,
2002). Many of these studies are correlational, examining the rela-
tionship of SDLRS scores with sc ores on other instruments. For
example, in a report of three dissertations using the SDLRS, one
correlated the SDLRS with a scale measuring cross-cultural adapt-
ability, another correlated th e SDLRS with a learning style instru-
ment, and the third used a scale measuring creativity (Beswick,
Chuprina, Canipe, & Cox, 2002). All three studies found positive
relationships between self-directed learning readiness scores and
scores on the instruments measuring cross-cultural adaptability,
learning styles, and creativity.
Examples of the most far -reaching implications, based on stud-
ies using readiness as a major variable, are that “individual readi-
ness for self-directed learning could be an important factor in
SELF-DIRECTED LEARNING 121
matching certain types of jobs with applicants seeking those jobs”
(Guglielmino & Roberts, 1992, p. 271) and that “employees who
score lower in readiness for self-directed learning should be given
opportunities to become effective self-directed learners” (Durr,
Guglielmino, & Guglielmino, 1996, p. 355).
Over the years claims and counterclaims have been made
about the basic reliability and validity of the SDLRS. Without get-
ting into the intricacies of these claims, we concur with Brockett
and Hiemstra’s (1991, pp. 74–75) assessment:
We believe that despite several apparent substantive and method-
ological concerns, the SDLRS has made a most important contribu-
tion to the present understanding of the self-directed learning
phenomenon by generating considerable research, controversy
and dialogue. We think that this contribution ultimately outweighs
the limitations that seem to be inherent within the instrument. At
the same time, we believe that the criticisms raised cannot be over-
looked. There remains too many questions, particularly relative to
the validity of the scale. We are unwilling to dismiss the scale [like
Field and Straka]. However, we do recommend that the SDLRS be
used with the same discretion as any other standardized instrument.
AUTONOMY AND S ELF-DIRECTEDNESS:
I
NNATE OR S ITUATIONAL?
The relationship of autonomy and self-directedness in learning has
been discussed primarily at the conc eptual level. Chene (1983),
for example, defines three elements that describe an autonomous
learner: independence, the ability to make choice s and critical
judgments, and the capacity to articulate the norms and limits of
alearningsociety.Candy(1991)addstoChene’snotionofthe
autonomous learner by characterizing autonomous people as those
with a strong sense of personal values and beliefs. These values and
beliefs give them a solid foundation for conceiving goals and plans,
exercising free choice, using rational reflection, having the
willpower to follow through, and exercising self-restraint and self-
discipline. The same overarching concepts of independent think-
ing, self-responsibility, and control over actions of learning are also
highlighted by Brockett and Hiemstra (1991), Garrison (1992),
and Tennant and Pogson (1995).
122 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Autonomy, however, is not necessarily context-free; there is a
relationship between the personal and situational variables that
must come into play for a person to be autonomous in certain
learning situations. Knowles (1975, 1980) was the first to express
the importance of context in his descriptions of andragogy. He
qualified his assertion that adults are naturally self-directing when
he observed that people move toward self-directedness at differing
rates and not necessarily in all dimensions of life, and that in some
situations adults may need to be at least “temporarily dependent”
in learning situations. For example, when coping with a crisis, such
as a flood or an earthquake, people may need or want to rely on
the information and direction of others, both during the event
itself and at least for a time in the aftermath of the event. This
same sentiment, that even those adults who can and want to be self-
directed in their learning may choose not to exhibit or pursue this
characteristic at certain times, has been expressed by a number of
authors (Brockett & Hiemstra, 1991; Candy, 1987, 1991; Pratt,
1988; Tenant & Pogson, 1995).
Arecentstudyhasconfirmedthesituationalcharacteristicof
autonomy in SDL (Poulton, Derrick, & Carr, 2005). Using a path-
analytic model relating resourcefulness and persistence in SDL of
492 adults, the authors found that although adults might intend
to persist in valued learning activities, they often do not choose to
engage in such activities. They attribute this to the nature of adult-
hood: “Although an adult may anticipate the future rewards of pre-
sent learning and even prioritize such learning over nonlearning
activities in terms of value attribution, the lawn may need mowing,
the kids may need to be taken to soccer practice, or perhaps a
friend may need c onsoling now. . . . The exhibition of autonomy
is presently argued as domain specific. That is, one can be an
autonomous lawn mower or an autonomous learner” (p. 124).
Four major variables appear to have the most influence on
whether individual adult learners exhibit autonomous behavior in
learning situations: their technic al skills related to the learning
process, their familiarity with the subject matter, their sense of per-
sonal competence as lea rne rs, and their commitment to learning
at this point in time. “Since this combination will vary from situa-
tion to situation, a learner’s autonomy is a lso likely to var y from
one context to another, and educators must avoid the automatic
assumption that simply because a person has successfully learned
SELF-DIRECTED LEARNING 123
something in the past either in an instructional setting or outside
it, he or she will be able to succeed in a new area: Orientation,
support and guidance may all be required in the first stages of a
learning project” (Candy, 1991, p. 309). In addition, moving from
an individual to more of a collective context, Candy (1991) and
Tennant and Pogson (1995) posit that the socially constructed
nature of the self and knowledge may also limit adults’ capacity for
autonomy or self-directedness in learning. Adults, in part, are their
historical and cultural selves and often find themselves in learning
situations where others around them determine what is worth
knowing and how that knowledge should be used.
In a similar vein, Boucouvalas (1988) has challenged the exclu-
sive emphasis on the autonomous self as only a partial explanation
of what selfhood is all about. Although autonomy reflects inde-
pendence and uniqueness, homonomy is “the experience of being
part of meaningful wholes and in harmony with superindividual
units such as family, social group, culture, and cosmic order” (p. 58).
The prime motivations for the autonomous self are achievement
and conquest, whereas participation in something beyond the indi-
vidual self is the motivation for the homonomous (connected) self.
Other writers in self-directed learning agree with Boucouvalas’s
observation and call for further exploration of the social and cul-
tural aspects of self-directedness and the concept of interdepen-
dence in the learning process (Ahteenmaki-Pelkonen, 1994;
Brown, 2000; Nah, 2000; Rowland & Volet, 1996). Nah (2000), for
example, points out that for Koreans to cultivate self-directedness
and independence “without being interdependent passes for
immaturity or self-centeredness” (p. 18). Giving wider recognition
to this connected or interdependent part of the self may allow for
afullerexplanationofthecollaborativeaspectsofself-directed
learning referred to by Tough (1978, 1979), Knowles (1975), and
Caffarella (1993) in activities such as teamwork, shared resources,
and peer networks.
R ECENT A PPLICATIONS OF SDL AND
B UILDING R ESEARCH AND T HEORY
Recent research and writing in SDL demonstrates an interest in
the concept’s applicability to lifelong lear ning, human resource
development, and online learning. Schrader-Naef (2000) makes
124 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
the case that to implement lifelong learning in society, “schools of
all levels have to set the foundations for self-directed lifelong learn-
ing and adult education has to build on those foundations”
(p. 143). No longer can educational systems “hand on knowledge
to the next generations”; rather, schools from primary through uni-
versity must “develop the conditions, foundations and motivation”
for people to see learning as “their own responsibility and motiva-
tion” (p. 144).
The professions in particular are recognizing the importance
of developing practitioners to be lifelong learners. Nowadays, for-
mal training is only a beginning; knowledge is accumulating at
such a fast rate that one must continue to learn to be effective
(Williams, 2001). Indeed, most professions mandate that their
members continue learning in order to maintain their license to
practice. Self-directed learning activities, such as journal reading,
are growing in acceptance as one form of CPE (Cole & Glass,
2004). Research to better understand the nature of SDL in pro-
fessional lives is another form. Sipe (1995) studied experimentally
“open” teachers and found that they valued SDL, collaboration,
reflection, and challenge; risk taking in their learning was seen as
an opportunity, not a threat. Dunlap and Grabinger (2003) make
the case that in order to prepare students in higher education
to be lifelong learners, we must develop their capacity for self-
direction, metacognitive awareness, and a disposition toward learn-
ing. They propose three teaching strategies to facilitate these ends:
problem-based learning (PBL), intentional learning environments,
and cognitive apprenticeships. Similar to Dunlap and Grabinger’ s
work is Bolhuis’ s (2003) process-oriented teaching for self-directed
lifelong learning. He argues that since learning is a social phe-
nomenon, even in SDL we need to consider how the social con-
text, prior knowledge, and emotional aspects of learning foster
self-directed lifelong learning.
The role of SDL in human resource development (HRD) prac-
tice is also drawing attention. Some propose how SDL can be har-
nessed to address the needs of the organization. For example,
Piskurich (1993, p. 330) defined SDL as “a training design in which
trainees master pa c k a ge s of predetermined material, at their own
pace, without the aid of an instructor,” noting that there is little choice
in learning objectives on the trainees’ part, particularly in technical
and skills training. Smith (2002) also advances this utilitarian notion
SELF-DIRECTED LEARNING 125
of SDL by pointing out that “there is considerable commercial value
in encouraging employees” to be self-directed learners because they
can then “contribute to competitiveness without the need for all learn-
ing to occur when there is direct training by an instructor” (p. 111).
Guglielmino and Guglielmino (2005) have in fact explored the rela-
tionship between self-directed learning readiness, dimensions of cul-
ture, and economic indicators for seven countries. They found strong
positive relationships between self-directed learning readiness and
gross domestic product per capita and per -capita income.
Other writers consider how the self-directed part of SDL can
enhance the workplace. Bro wn (2000) examined the interaction
between social influences at work and the individual’s commitment
to being self-directed. Clardy’s (2000) study of job-related self-
directed learning projects of fifty-six employees from five organi-
zations found three types of projects—induced, voluntary, and
synergistic. Induced SDL projects are undertaken by an employee
because of some perceived imbalance between current and needed
skills, voluntary projects are those an employee undertakes because
of a personal desire to learn, and synergistic projects “arise in sit-
uations where there are new enabling organizational conditions
that ignite a latent employee readiness to act and learn” (p. 121).
Interestingly, among the five organizations studied, the one where
the most synergistic and voluntary projects were found was an orga-
nization that “used a system of organizational practices that formed
a culture of learning” (p. 118).
That SDL and the learning organization are interrelated is
explored by Cho (2002). Cho points out that although “the pri-
mary purpose of SDL has been recognized as personal growth,
interaction and collaboration with others can play very important
roles in the process. . . . Such interdependent and collective aspects
of SDL appear to be fully consistent with some essential charac-
teristics of the learning organization” (2002, pp. 468–469).
One of the most thoughtful examinations of the linkages
between SDL and HRD is by Ellinger (2004). She reviews the lit-
erature on SDL with special attention to how instructional models,
organizational characteristics, and assessment tools can all be incor-
porated into promoting SDL in an HRD context. The article con-
cludes with a number of suggestions for research and theor y
building in this area, such as assessing the prevalence of SDL in
126 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
the workplace, how it is linked with organizational learning, the
cultural and ethical issues involved, and so on.
One of Ellinger’s suggestions for research is to examine the
impact of technology on SDL. This is definitely an area of growing
interest with the prevalence of the Internet and Web-based instruc-
tional strategies. Recent studies of SDL have uncovered the fact
that the Internet is an important learning resource (Roberson,
2003; Valente , 2005). But the Internet is not only a resource in
SDL; many studies of online learning at least ackno wledge if not
foster the need for self-direction on the part of learners in this envi-
ronment. Freed (2003), for example, examined how graduate stu-
dents in an online discussion used reflection, dialogue, and
self-direction to construct knowledge. Another study attempted to
correlate self-directed learning readiness with student success as
measured by grades in Web-based courses (Pachnowski & Jurczyk,
2000). Self-directedness turned out not to be a good indicator of
success, but this may have been due to the ver y low participation
rate and the difficulties of collecting data from distance education
students. Finally, it is an interesting speculation that younger gen-
erations of students and workers “for whom the Web is becoming a
natural habitat,” may already be “adapting to change by develop-
ing a self-directed learning orientation” (Kerka, 1999, p. 2).
Research on self-directed learning continues to engage both
academics and practitioners, as noted earlier in this chapter. There
is also an active research group at the University of Tennessee
exploring the literature on SDL. This group has reviewed disser-
tations produced between 1980 and 2002 (Canipe & Fogerson,
2004) and analyzed ERIC documents that appeared between 1993
and 2003 (Canipe, Fogerson, & Duffley-Renow, 2005). Analyses of
both databases suggest a steady interest in and research on SDL.
There is a sense, however, that research and theory building in
self-directed learning is in need of fresh questions. Brockett (2000)
attributes the decline in the number of published articles (in contrast
to the dissertations and ERIC do cuments already mentioned) on
SDL since the mid-1980s with the shift away from “the individual
adult learner toward looking at the sociopolitical context of
adult education” (p. 543). This sociopolitical context is, of course,
one of the very questions that could be explored with regard to SDL.
Brockett (2000) also suggests that the field consider developing “new
SELF-DIRECTED LEARNING 127
ways to measure self-directedness” and “raise questions about the
limits of self-direction, and how self-direction interfaces with issues
of power and conflict in various practice settings” (pp. 543–544).
From Brockett’ s (2000), Ellinger’ s (2004), and our own thinking, we
suggest the following are as for investigation, all of which c ould
expand our understanding of adult learning through SDL:
• How do issues of power and control interact with the use of
SDL in formal settings?
• Does being self-directed as a learner have an impact on one’s
own instructional and planning activities?
•Aretherepublicpolicyissuesatthenational,state,orlocallevel
related to SDL? If so, what roles could adult educators play in
advocating and developing such policies?
• Should policy and procedures be formulated related to SDL
in formal settings, such as the workplace, so that SDL is recog-
nized as an integral part of education and training programs?
• What constitutes the critical practice of self-directed learning?
How can critical SDL practice be incorporated in our work as
educators?
• To what extent is SDL situational or cultural?
• How do cultural and contextual factors shape SDL?
• How is technology relating to and affecting SDL?
S UMMARY
Self-directed learning is one of the most researched topics in adult
learning. Although learning on one’s own has been the principal
model of learning throughout the ages, serious studies of this sub-
ject did not become prevalent until the 1970s and 1980s. In review-
ing this research, what became clear is that self-directed learning
is a multifaceted concept. Therefore, we grouped the work that we
reviewed into three broad categories: the goals of self-directed
learning, processes and applications of self-directed learning, and
self-direction as a personal attribute of learners.
In discussing the goals of self-directed learning, three major
ones were identified. The first goal, that of enhancing the ability of
adults to be self-directed in their learning, has generated the most
research in self-directed learning. The fostering of transformational
128 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
learning as central to self-directed learning, the second goal, is
foundational to the third goal, that of promoting emancipator y
learning and social action. Our assu mption is that each of these
goals is of equal importance in capturing the essence of self-
directed learning.
Within the broad category of self-directed learning as a process,
three types of models have been extensively discussed in the liter-
ature: linear, interactive, and instructional. The linear models often
reflect more traditional ways of thinking about teaching, although
they could be applied to learners’ informal learning as well as to
formal and nonformal settings. The interactive models more
closely resemble how learners go about learning primarily on their
own, and the instructional models are specifically designed to be
used as ways to organize instruction in formal and nonformal set-
tings. Although a rich array of models is now available, little data-
based research has been conducted using these models as
frameworks, except for studies using Tough’s (1979) work.
Assessing self-directedness and the concept of autonomy have
received the greatest attention from scholars who are studying self-
direction as a personal attribute of learners. Two popular scales,
the OCLI and the SDLRS, were reviewed. Readiness, which implies
an internal state of psychological readiness to undertake self-
directed learning, has generated the majority of the data-based
studies. The relationship of autonomy and self-directedness in
learning has been discussed primarily at the conceptual level. An
important question regarding autonomy and self-directedne ss is
the extent to which the context of the learning situation affects
learner autonomy.
The chapter concluded with a review of recent applications of
SDL to lifelong learning, human resource development, and
online settings. Finally, suggestions for building future research
agendas in self-directed learning were discussed.
SELF-DIRECTED LEARNING 129
CHAPTER SIX
TRANSFORMATIONAL
LEARNING
Geri, a mother of two, was a successful lawyer and master gardener.
She expected to be named a partner at the law firm within the next
year. At age thirty-seven, she was diagnosed with bone cancer. She
researched treatment options and joined a support group. Before
the diagnosis, Geri’s priorities included buying a larger house in
an upscale neighborhood, purchasing her “dream car,” and spend-
ing time with her family on a vacation in Europe. After her diag-
nosis, Geri reflected on her priorities and she recognized that her
relationships with family and friends were more important than
material possessions.
Geri’s story exemplifies transformative learning. Transformative
or transformational (terms used interchangeably in the literature)
learning is about change—dramatic, fundamental change in the
way we see ourselves and the world in which we live. Unlike infor-
mational learning, which refers to “extend[ing] already established
cognitive capacities into new terrain” (Kegan, 2000, p. 48), trans-
formational learning refers to “chang[ing] . . . what we know”
(p. 49; italics in original). The mental construction of experience,
inner meaning, and reflection are common components of this
approach.
This chapter examines transformational learning theor y
through seven lenses (Taylor, 2005a); we review three individual-
istic conceptualizations and four sociocultu ral perspectives on
transformative le ar n i ng . Next, three impo r t an t concepts in tra ns -
formational learning are discussed: experience, critical reflection,
and development. Last, we highlight sever al unresolved issues in
130
transformational learning theory in addition to discussing recent
trends in the transformative learning literature.
THE LENSES OF TRANSFORMATIONAL
LEARNING
Lenses simultaneously allow us to see things and limit our view. It is
the same with the lenses through which we see transformative learn-
ing. While not exhaustive, these lenses provide a reasonably holistic
view of transformative learning. Taylor (2005a) provides seven lenses
through which to view transformative learning. He divides them into
two groups based on their “locus of learning” (Taylor, 2005a, p. 459).
The first group comprises those perspectives whose locus of learn-
ing concerns the individual—namely, the psychocritical, psychode-
velopmental, and psychoanalytic perspectives. The second group is
composed of approaches where the focus of learning is sociocultural,
including the social-eman cipatory, cultu ral-spiritual, race -centric,
and planetary approaches.
The lenses that focus on the individual are represented by the
works of Jack Mezirow, Laurent Daloz, and Robert Boyd. Mezirow’s
psychocritical perspective is a fully developed theory of adult learn-
ing that has generated a plethora of articles, books, and disserta-
tions. Less well known are Daloz’s psychodevelopmental approach
and Boyd’s psy ch oa nalyti c perspective. Daloz focuses on the intu-
itive nature of transformative learning, which champions the
importance of stories in the process. Boyd’s psychoanalytic
approach explains the importance of symbols and the unconscious
in the transformative learning process.
The best-known sociocultural approach is Freire’s social-
emancipatory view of transformative learning. Freire’s orienta-
tion emerges from a context of poverty and oppression and focuses
on radical social change. The three other sociocultural perspectives
represent relatively recent developments in the transformative
learning literature. Tisdell delineates the cultural-spiritual view of
transformative learning. This approach emphasizes the connection
between individuals’ various socially constructed positionalities
(race, class, gender) and their knowledge construction through story-
telling. This perspective emphasizes fostering cultural and spiritual
awareness (Taylor, 2005a). The race-centric view concentrates on
TRANSFORMATIONAL LEARNING 131
the experiences of individuals of African descent within the “socio-
cultural, political, and historical context” in which they find them-
selves (Sheared, 1994, p. 36). Transformative learning is seen as a
daily, conscious strategy in this view (Johnson-Bailey & Alfred,
2006). Last, the planetary view, detailed by O’Sullivan, examines the
“interconnectedness between the universe, planet, natural envi-
ronment, human community, and the personal world” (Taylor,
2005a, p. 462).
MEZIROW’ S P SYCHOCRITICAL A PPROACH
Based on interviews with women who returned to college after an
extended hiatus, Mezirow’s theory, introduced in 1978, has invited
philosophical critique and a burgeoning of empirical research
since the 1990s. The first national conference on transformative
learning was held at Teachers College, Columbia University, in
April 1998 (Wiessner & Mezirow, 2000). It continues to be a bian-
nual, much anticipated event where transformative learning in
general and Mezirow’s theory in particular are discussed. In 2005,
approximately eighty-five papers were presented at the conference.
Mezirow’s theory concerns how adults make sense of their life
experience. Mezirow defines learning as “the process of using a
prior interpretation to construe a new or a revised interpretation
of the meaning of one’s experience in order to guide future action”
(2000, p. 5). He differentiates between types of meaning structures,
including frame of reference, habits of mind, and points of view.
Mezirow indicates that a “frame of refere nce is a ‘meaning perspective,’
the structure of assumptions and expectatio ns through which we
filter sense impressions. It involves cognitive, affective, and conative
dimensions. . . . It provides the context for making meaning within
which we choose what and how a sensory experience is to be con-
structed and/or appropriated” (p. 16; italics in original).
There are two dimensions to our frame of reference: a habit of
mind, and a point of view (Mezirow, 2000). A habit of mind is “a set
of assumptions—broad, generalized, orienting predispositions that
act as a filter for interpreting the meaning of experience” (p. 17).
There are several varieties of habit of mind, including moral/ethical,
philosophical, psychological, and aesthetic generalized predisposi-
tions. For example, a habit of mind may be ethnocentrism—the
belief that one’s group is superior to others (Mezirow, 1997a).
132 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Apointofviewismadeupofmeaning schemes, which are “sets of
immediate, specific beliefs, feelings, attitudes, and value judgments”
(Mezirow, 2000, p. 18). A resulting point of view of ethnocentricism
may be the specific beliefs one has regarding particular groups of
people outside one’s own group (Mezirow, 1997a). Points of view
change more easily than habits of mind because we receive feed-
back on points of view and are more aware of them than we are of
habits of mind (Mezirow, 1997a).
Transformative learning occurs when there is a transformation in
one of our beliefs or attitudes (a meaning scheme), or a transforma-
tion of our entire perspective (habit of mind) (Mezirow, 2000). Trans-
formative learning, says Mezirow, is “the process by which we
transform our taken-for-granted frames of reference (meaning
schemes, habits of mind, mindsets) to make them more inclusive, dis-
criminating, open, emotionally capable of change, and reflective so
that they may generate beliefs and opinions that will prove more true
or justifie d to guide action” (2000, p. 8). Through transformative
learning we are freed from uncritical acceptance of others’ purposes,
values, and beliefs. Transformations in our habits of mind may be sud-
den and dramatic (epochal) or they may be slower, incremental
changes in our points of view (meaning schemes), which eventually
lead to a change in our habits of mind (meaning perspective)
(Mezirow, 2000). For example, two of Andy’s friends have revealed
that they are gay over the past several years. As a result, Andy begins
to question his homophobic reaction to gays and lesbians. Over time,
Andy changes his point of view (meaning scheme) about gays and les-
bians and is no longer homophobic (change in meaning perspective).
Mezirow recognizes that not all learning is transformative. He
states, “We can learn simply by adding knowledge to our meaning
schemes or learning new meaning schemes . . . and it can be a cru-
cially important experience for the learner” (1991, p. 223). For
example, in a study that examined the stability of the perspective
transformation in HIV-positive adults over time, the authors noted
that the perspective transformation (new worldview) had not only
held over time but people continued to make new meaning
schemes, such as the “adoption of a future-oriented perspective”
(Courtenay, Merriam, Reeves, & Baumgartner, 2000, p. 110). A
subsequent study with the same participants almost two years later
noted additional changes in meaning schemes, including a more
tolerant, forgiving attitude toward others (Baumgartner, 2002).
TRANSFORMATIONAL LEARNING 133
Mezirow’ s transformative learning theory is made up of ten steps
or phases. However, there are four main components of the trans-
formative learning process: experience, critical reflection, reflective
discourse, and action. (A more in-depth discussion of experience and
critical reflection appears later in the chapter.) The process begins
with the learners’ experiences. However, just having the experience
is not enough. The learner must critically self-examine the assump-
tions and beliefs that have structured how the experience has been
interpreted. This sets in motion a revision of “specific assumptions
about oneself and others until the ver y structure of assump-
tions becomes transformed” (Mezirow, 1981, p. 8).
The new meaning created by a perspective transformation is
highly subjective and changeable. To test whether our new mean-
ings are true or authentic (Mezirow, 1995), and to arrive at the
best possible judgment, we seek out a variety of opinions, includ-
ing ones that challenge the status quo, and we engage in the
Habermasian concept of “discourse” (Mezirow, 2000, p. 10). Dis-
course is “dialogue devoted to searching for a common under-
standing and assessment of the justification of an interpretation or
belief” (Mezirow, 2000, pp. 10–11). People weigh evidence for and
against the argument and critically assess assumptions. Clearer
understanding is achieved through talking with others.
Drawing from Habermas, there are “ideal” conditions for
discourse: having complete information, being free from self-
deception, being able to evaluate arguments objectively, having
empathy, having an “equal opportunity to participate in the vari-
ous roles of discourse,” and so on (Mezirow, 2000, p. 13). Mezirow
is aware that these are ideal conditions; nevertheless, fostering this
discourse is “a long established priority of adult educators” (p. 14).
Mezirow clearly states: “Discourse is not a war or a debate; it is
aconscientiousefforttofindagreement,tobuildanewunder-
standing” (1996, p. 170). Adult educators must be aware that
helping adults learn how to move from an argumentative mind-
set to an empathic understanding of others’ views is a priority
(Mezirow, 2000).
Discourse can occur in one-to-one relationships, in groups, and
in formal educational settings. Several publications have focused
on applications, experiences, and suggestions for educators inter-
ested in facilitating this type of learning in educational settings
134 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
(Cranton, 1996, 2002; Lee & Greene, 2003; Sawyer, 2004; Yorks &
Sharoff, 2001).
Action is the final component of the transformative learning
process. The person may take “immediate action, delayed action or
reasoned reaffirmation of an existing pattern of action” (Mezirow,
2000, p. 24). Action can range from making a decision about some-
thing to engaging in radical political protest. For critics, who see the
goal of adult education as social action, Mezirow’s theory, with its
emphasis on individual transformation, is too egocentric (Taylor,
1997a). However, Mezirow speaks to social action in certain cir -
cumstances: “When the disorienting dilemma is the result of oppres-
sive action, the person needs to take individual or collective action
against the oppressor” (Mezirow, 1997b, p. 60). Mezirow continues,
“Personal transformation leads to alliances with others of like mind
to work toward effecting necessary changes in relationships, orga-
nizations, and systems, each of which requires a different mode of
praxis” (1992, p. 252). A three-step process for social action begins
with becoming aware of a need to change (Mezirow, 1993). This
need arises through critically reflecting on assumptions and biases.
Next, “a feeling of solidarity with others committed to change”
(p. 189) needs to be established. And finally, one has to learn what
actions are appropriate in particular situations to implement change.
To illustrate this three-step process, let us take the case of
Karen, who returns to college as an adult. She has always had trou-
ble in math courses and had assumed she was not academically
inclined. Nevertheless, she decides to try again to get her college
degree. Once again, she encounters problems and she considers
withdrawing. However, she has done exceptionally well in other
courses, and one of her instructors suggests she be tested for a
learning disability. This suggestion causes her to question assump-
tions about her academic ability, and when a learning disability is
confirmed, Karen seeks accommodations that allow her to stay in
school. In the process, her image of herself changes. She locates
others with learning disabilities, and they form a support and advo-
cacy group. The group works toward raising awareness and chang-
ing attitudes on campus regarding learning disabilities.
According to Mezirow, the process is most often set in motion
by a disorienting dilemma, that is, a particular life event or life expe-
rience such as the death of a loved one or an illness that a person
TRANSFORMATIONAL LEARNING 135
experiences as a crisis. This crisis cannot be resolved through the
application of previous problem-solving strategies. In the preceding
example, Karen’s diagnosis of a learning disability may be her “dis-
orienting dilemma.” The disorienting dilemma is the first step in the
ten-phase or ten-step process. (See Mezirow, 1991, for a delineation
of all ten steps.) Next, the learner engages in self-examination, which
is often accompanied by “feelings of fear, anger, guilt or shame”
(Mezirow, 2000, p. 22). Initially, Karen may feel shame or anger at
being learning-disabled. Self-examination is included in the third
step of a critical assessment of assumptions. After the initial shock of
the diagnosis, Karen starts to recognize that the diagnosis of a learn-
ing disability means she can begin to think more positively about her
academic abilities. After all, she is not “dumb” or “incompetent”; she
just has a weakness in one area. This assessment leads to the fourth
phase of recognizing that others have gone through a similar
process. When Karen seeks accommodations for her disability and
joins a support group, she recognizes that she is not alone. Step 5
consists of exploring options for forming new roles, relationships,
or actions, which leads to formulating a plan of action. This plan
has four steps: acquiring knowledge and skills, trying out new roles,
renegotiating relationships, and building competence and self-
confidence in the new roles and relationships. In our example,
Karen may tr y being an advocate for people with disabilities. She
gains skills and builds confidence as a spokesperson for people with
disabilities in her effort to raise awareness and change people’ s atti-
tudes toward people with disabilities. The final step or phase of the
process is a reintegration back into one’s life based on the new, trans-
formed perspective (Mezirow, 2000). Mezirow (1995, p. 50) com-
ments that although “a perspective transformation appears to follow”
the process of creating meaning, it is not necessarily “in this exact
sequence.”
Empirical studies of transformative learning reviewed by
Taylor, although generally supportive of this process, have added
depth to the recursive and evolving nature of the transforma tive
learning process (for example, Taylor, 1994; Saavedra, 1995, as cited
in Taylor, 2000a). Several studies also revealed a number of other
factors inherent in the transformative learning process. For example,
Erickson (2002) reasoned that individuals’ level of meaning-
making may influence how they experience the transformative
136 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
learning process. Ericks on used Lahey, Souvai ne , Kegan, Goodman,
and Felix’ s (1988) subject-object interview to determine participants’
current level or order of meaning-making (as cited in Erickson,
2002). Next, Erickson analyzed the interview for Mezirow’s ten-phase
process of perspective transformation. Participants’ meaning-
making capacity influenced their experience of the perspective
transformation. For example, those at more adv anced order s of
meaning-making “seemed more purposeful and less accidental” in
their exploration of new roles, relationships, and actions (Mezirow’ s
Phase 5) than participants at a lower order (Erickson, 2002, p. 105).
Likewise, Merriam (2004) argued that “mature cognitive develop-
ment is foundational to engaging in critical reflection and rational
discourse necessary for transformational learning” (p. 65). Yet, she
noted that two studies confirmed that people “had transformed
their perspective without being aware of the change process”
(p. 66). Merriam concluded that Mezirow should “expand the
theory of transformational learning to include more . . . affective
and intuitive dimensions on an equal footing with cognitive and
rational components” (pp. 66–67).
In sum, Mezirow’s psychocritical approach to transformative
learning has produced a plethora of scholarship and research. His
recursive ten-step, or ten-phase, model contains four main compo-
nents: experience, critical reflection, reflective discourse, and action.
In short, the learner must critically reflect on his or her experience,
talk with others about his or her new worldview in order to gain the
best judgment, and act on the new perspective. Recent research adds
depth to a theory long criticized for its overreliance on rationality.
Studies indicate that one’ s cognitive development may influence his
or her ability to experience a perspective transformation (Merriam,
2004) or experience of the perspective transformation process
(Erickson, 2002).
DALOZ’S PSYCHODEVELOPMENTAL PERSPECTIVE
AND
BOYD’S PSYCHOANALYTIC APPROACH
Perhaps less well known, but equally important, Daloz’s psycho-
developmental perspective and Boyd’s psychoanalytic approach to
transformative learning augment Mezirow’s ideas. While Mezirow
sees transformation as a more rational endeavor and emphasizes
TRANSFORMATIONAL LEARNING 137
critical reflection, Daloz and Boyd view transformative learning as
more holistic and intuitive (Dirkx, 1998).
A teacher and administrator, Daloz focuses o n adults who ar e
returning to higher education. In his view, the goal of transforma-
tive learning is lifelong personal development, with the teacher
serving as a mentor in the transformative learning process (Taylor,
2005a). Like Mezirow, Daloz recognizes that people need to make
meaning of their experiences and that individuals are often in a
developmental transition when they seek higher education to “help
them make sense of lives whose fabric of meaning has gone
frayed” (Daloz, 1999, p. 4). Education is a “transformational
journey” (Daloz, 1986, p. 16) that should “promote development.”
(Further disc u s si o n of adult de v e l op m e n t as it rela te s to transfor-
mative learning appears later in the chapter.)
The mentor serves as guide, cheerleader, challenger, and sup-
porter during the le arning process. The teacher/mentor chal-
lenges students to examine their conceptions of self and the world
and to formulate new, more developed perspectives. Like Mezirow,
for Daloz dialogue/discourse is integral to the process of transfor-
mation. However, unlike Mezirow, Daloz concentrates on the
importance of stories on the journey toward an expanded world-
view. He notes, “The first business of a guide is to listen to the
dreams of the pilgrim. How are our students moving? What do
they want for themselves? How do they tell their own stories?”
(Daloz, 1986, p. 21). Next, the mentor can tell the student stories
in an effort to promote development. It is through this mutual
storying of lives that development can occur. Stories also assist
mentors in doing three things for students: providing support,
challenging students, and providing a vision (Daloz, 1999).
Daloz (1999, p. 43) offers three “maps” of adult development
but he does not prescribe an end point to this transformational
journey. The first map consists of phase theories of adult develop-
ment such as presented by Daniel Levinson in Seasons of a Man’s
Life (Levinson, Darrow, Klein, Levinson, & McKee, 1978) and
Seasons of a Woman’s Life (Levinson & Levinson, 1996). This family
of theories examines “common tasks that people confront as they
face the problems associated with aging” (Daloz, 1986, p. 47).
These tasks can be culturally determined and may vary depending
138 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
on a variety of sociocultural factors including gender, class, and
ethnicity. Stage theories, the second map, such as Kegan’s The
Evolving Self (1982), examines cognitive growth and the ability to
think outside of one’s cultural reference. The third map, Perry’s
model of intellectual and ethical development (1970, 1999) helps
us look at how we and our students make “the journey from naïve
and simplistic thinking to complex and relativistic reasoning” over
time (Daloz, 1986, p. 48).
To summarize, Daloz takes a storied approach to development
and transformati ve learn ing. Through sto ryte lling, Da loz and his
students journey toward a more holistic and transformed world-
view. Like Mezirow and Freire, Daloz recognizes the importance
of cognitive growth. He acknowledges the importance of the whole
person in that growth.
Boyd’s psychoanalytic approach to transformative learning
(Boyd, 1989, 1991; Boyd & Myers, 1988) predates the recent flurry
of attention given to spirituality in adult education (Fenwick &
English, 2004; Kovan & Dirkx, 2003; Tisdell, 2003). His work,
grounded in depth psychology, sees transformation as an inner
journey of individuation from parts of the psyche such as the ego
and the collective unconscious (Boyd, 1991). He defines transfor-
mation as “a fundamental change in one’s personality involving
conjointly the resolution of a personal dilemma and the expansion
of consciousness resulting in greater personality integration”
(1991, p. 459). By coming to terms with one’s inner psychic con-
flicts, one can achieve self-actualization. To integrate the emotional
and spiritual parts of learning into ourselves, we must make sense
of the symbols and images in our psyche. Only then can we under-
stand how the unconscious influences our daily lives (Dirkx, 1998).
Like Mezirow and Daloz, Boyd indicates that dialogue is impor-
tant to the transformative learning process. Dirkx states (1998), “The
goal of transformative learning is to identify these images . . . and to
establish an intrapersonal dialogue with them” (p. 7). The dialogue
occurs between the ego and other “unconscious structures that pop-
ulate the psyche, such as the Shadow, Anima, and Animus” (p. 7).
Through dialogue we can individuate and become less subject to
“compulsions, obsessions, and complexes,” which may be the more
unconscious manifestation of the individuation process (p. 7).
TRANSFORMATIONAL LEARNING 139
FREIRE’ S SOCIAL-EMANCIPATORY PHILOSOPHY
Brazilian educator Paulo Freire’s philosophy of transformative
learning is the best- known sociocultural approach to transforma-
tive learning. His perspective emerged from his literacy work with
rural Brazilian farmers in the mid-twentieth centur y (McLaren,
2000). Unlike Mezirow’ s theory, which is based on the experiences
of White, middle-class women and concentrates primarily on per-
sonal transformation, Freire’s theory emerges from the context of
poverty, illiteracy, and oppression and is set in a larger framework
of radical social change. In Freire’s approach, personal empower-
ment and social transformation are inseparable processes. His con-
ceptions of conscientization and empowerment have contributed
significantly to the unde rlying theoretical framework of transfor-
mational learning.
Freire differentiates between two kinds of education: banking
and problem posing. Banking education is teacher-centered as the
“all-knowing” teacher deposits knowledge into the passive students
who ser ve as receptacles for this knowledge (Freire, 2000). The
teacher decides the content of the course and is the authority in
the classroom. Banking education resists dialogue. Students are
oppressed and live in a “culture of silence” because their respec-
tive worlds are defined by the teacher (oppressor) (Freire, 1985,
p. 72). Banking education serves the oppressors because it domes-
ticates the oppressed. In contrast, the purpose of problem-posing
education is liberation. Central to the learning is a c hanged rela-
tionship between teacher and student. They are coinvestigators
into their common reality, the sociocultural situation in which they
live (Freire, 2000). Further, dialogue is considered “indispensable
to the act of cognition which unveils reality” (p. 64).
The process of conscientization, wh ich is an ongoing process
where the learner becomes increasingly aware of the various
oppressive forces in his or her life and eventually becomes part of
the process of social change (Heany, 2005), begins with dialogue.
Through dialogue, generative themes or concerns are posed by
the learners themselves and become the content of a learning
situation. For example, in asking learners for some words that cap-
ture their ever yday experience, the word for “slum” or “land” or
“taxes” or “illness” or “government” might come up. These words
140 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
are then broken down into syllables and used in various contexts
in learning how to read. At the same time, participants engage in
discussions about these concepts. These discussions raise their
awareness about their life situations (Freire, 2000).
Conscientization occurs at several levels. At the least-aware lev-
els is a magical, fatalistic consciousness in which nothing about
one’s world is questioned; external forces are in charge, and there
is nothing that can be done to change things as they are. Midway
between being totally unaware and critical consciousness, people
begin to sense that they may have some control over their lives and
turn to questioning things as they are. The most sophisticated stage
of consciousness is critical consciousness. Here one achieves an
in-depth understanding of the forces that shape one’s life space,
and becomes an active agent in constructing a different, more
just reality.
The ultimate goal of education is liberation, or praxis, “the action
and reflection of men and women upon their world in order to trans-
form it” (Freire, 2000, p. 60). Note that a key component of Freire’ s
philosophy, like Mezirow’s, is critical reflection. Critical reflection
occurs through problem posing and dialogue with other learners.
Freire has operationalized his theory of education with tech-
niques that have demonstrated success in combating illiteracy in
numerous countries, including Chile, Switzerland, Tanzania,
Australia, and Italy (McLaren, 2000). Its application in North
America has been limited, owing perhaps to the necessary corol-
lary of social change. Although conscientization is always a politi-
cal act in Freire’s theory, it can be seen as similar to perspective
transformation in its characterization of adult learning as the
process of becoming aware of one’s assumptions, beliefs, and val-
ues and then transforming those assumptions into a new perspec-
tive or level of consciousness (Mezirow, 1995).
EMERGING S OCIOCULTURAL PERSPECTIVES:
T
HE CULTURAL-SPIRITUAL,RACE-CENTRIC,
AND PLANETARY APPROACHES
Tisdell (2003) discusses the main concepts of the cultural-spiritual
approach. Tisdell posits that “spirituality . . . is fundamentally
about how we make meaning in our lives” through conscious and
TRANSFORMATIONAL LEARNING 141
unconscious processes such as dreams and symbols (p. 31). In this
way, Tisdell’s perspective seems similar to Boyd’s (1989) concep-
tualization. However, Tisdell also includes the role of culture in the
transformative learning experience. This approach examines how
learners, in various cultural con texts and with differen t position-
alities (for example, race, class, gender, sexual orientation),
“construct knowledge as a part of the transformative learning expe-
rience” (Taylor, 2005a, p. 461). Whole-person learning, including
personal, political, historical, and sacred learning, is emphasized.
In this view, the teacher serves as a collaborator and helps the learn-
ers share and revise their narratives as new meaning is made.
Tisdell (2003) names several factors that foster spiritual-cultural
transformative learning. First, cross-cultural relationships allow us
to be exposed to different ways of thinking and being in the world.
Second, educators need to be spiritually and culturally grounded
in order to promote authenticity in students. When we are authen-
tic and open to experiences, transformation can occur. Third, trans-
formative learning may occur more easily in community-based,
culturally relevant settings because community-based educators feel
“freer to use different modalities to provide a different kind of expe-
rience for people or simply to go with how communities draw on
the spirituality that is part of their lifeblood” (p. 195). Last, the envi-
ronment needs to allow for explorations on the cognitive, affective,
relational, and symbolic levels.
The race-centric approach to transformative learning is a
“culturally bounded, oppositional, and non-individualistic con-
ception of transformative learning” that puts people of African
descent at the center (Taylor, 2005a, p. 461). It is culturally
bounded in that it emerges from the experiences of people of
African descent. Johnson-Bailey and Alfred (2006) explain that this
perspective is “grounded in oppositional spirit” because Blacks
(and other minority cultures) live in opposition to the cultural
norm. The race-centric perspective focuses on the transformative
learning of the group in an effort to raise race consciousness.
Central to this view is Sheared’s (1994) conception of poly-
rhythmic realities or attention to African descendents’ “lived expe-
rience within a sociocultural, political, and historical context”
(p. 36). Johnson-Bailey (Johnson-Bailey & Alfred, 2006) recalls
an experience where these polyrhythmic realities intersected. At
142 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
age five, in the segregated southern United States of the 1950s,
Johnson-Bailey was told she could no longer play with her best
friend—a White girl named Dianne. Johnson-Bailey writes, “This
lesson on race, on difference, on power, would become more
sophisticated and theoretical over my life span. . . . [I]t was the
first . . . that would transform my way of thinking . . . my way of
existing” (p. 50). Johnson-Bailey notes that because of racism and
sexism, Black women’s conceptions of themselves and the world in
which they live are transformed. She continues, “Most of my Black
women colleagues see transformational learning as the only
medium in which we exist, learn, and teach. Since it is the air we
breathe, maybe [we] just take it for granted and don’t attend to or
claim it sufficiently” (p. 51).
In order to foster transformative learning, this perspective pro-
motes inclusion of voices traditionally silenced and a sense of belong-
ing as a member of the group (Johnson-Bailey & Alfred, 2006). The
race-centric approach understands the importance of intra- and
intercultural negotiation in t he transformative learning process.
Finally, similar to other transformative learning approaches, people
deconstruct their assumptions through dialogue with others.
Last, the planetary view of transformative learning “recognizes
the interconnectedness between the universe, planet, natural envi-
ronment, human community and the personal world” (Taylor,
2005a, p. 462). The goal of this perspective is planetar y con-
sciousness. It emphasizes “quality of life issues, fostering a com-
munity’s sense of place, diversity within and between communities,
and an appreciation of spirituality” (p. 462). Its uniqueness
amongst the perspectives is in its attention to how people relate to
the physical world.
For O’Sullivan (2002), visionar y transformative education
includes several elements. First, people must move beyond the lim-
ited vision of a global market economy and locate their lives “in a
larger cosmological context much more breathtaking than the
market vision of our world” (p. 7). Second, we must adopt a defi-
nition of development that “links the creative evolutionar y
processes of the universe, the planet, the earth community, the
human community, and the personal world” (p. 8). Third, we need
to understand how our quality of life goes beyond our standard of
living to include our need for community and the necessity
TRANSFORMATIONAL LEARNING 143
of diversity within and between communities. Last, transformative
education must address spirituality.
In sum, all perspectives possess commonalities. All theorists are
constructivists. That is, they view knowledge as constructed by the
learner rather than “out there” to be discovered (Dirkx, 1998).
Second, dialogue is necessary for transformative learning to occur.
Dialogue with others, or intrapsychically in Boyd’s case, assists the
learner in expanding her views. Third, critical reflection on
the origin and nature of our submerged assumptions, biases,
beliefs, and values, and in Boyd’s case, symbols, is also necessar y
for change and growth to occur. Fourth, most theorists mention
social change as a result of transformative learning (Daloz, 2000;
Freire, 2000; Mezirow, 2000; O’Sullivan, 1999).
KEY CONCEPTS IN TRANSFORMATIONAL
LEARNING
Three key concepts of transformative learning emerge: life experi-
ence, the nature of critical reflection, and the connection between
transformative learning and development. We draw from several
sources to discuss these three areas.
EXPERIENCE
Experience is integral to learning. One of the assumptions of andra-
gogy is that adults bring with them a depth and breadth of experi-
ence that can be used as a resource for their and others’ learning
(Knowles, 1980). These experiences come in different dimensions.
For example, a “direct embodied experience” is “an immediate
encounter in the here-and-now, planned or unplanned, involving
us physically, emotionally, sensually, mentally, and perhaps spiritu-
ally” (Fenwick, 2003, p. 13). Other dimensions of experience
include vicarious experiences, simulated experiences, collaborative
experiences, and introspective experiences such as meditation.
However experience is construed, the ways in which it can be
used in learning differs according to one’s theoretical orientation.
Tennant (1991) delineates several uses: “First, . . . teachers can
link their explanations and illustrations to the prior experiences
of learners. . . . Second, teachers can attempt to link learning
144 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
activities to learners’ current experiences at work, home, or in the
community” (pp. 196–197). Third, teachers can create activities
such as simulations, games, and role-plays. These activities can lead
to learners’ critical reflection of assumptions.
Clearly, Tennant’s third level is most congruent with the use of
experience in transformative learning. Equally obvious is that not
all experiences trigger learning—whether the learning is a simple
addition to our prior knowledge or a fundamental change in our
perspective. Further, the identical experience—a job change or a
divorce, for example—can trigger learning for some people but
not others. Adults may be unable to respond to a new experience.
It is “at this point of disjuncture” that “individuals are forced to ask
why this has occurred to them or what it means. These questions
are located at the start and at the core of human learning” (Jarvis,
1992, p. 15).
CRITICAL REFLECTION
With an experience that one cannot accommodate into the prior
life structure, the transformative learning process can begin.
Necessary to the process is critical reflection, the second key con-
cept. As Criticos (1993, p. 162) points out, “Effective learning
does not follow from a positive experience but from effective
reflection.” Reflection is a cognitive process. We can think about
our experience—muse, review, and so on—but to reflect critically,
we must also examine the underlying beliefs and assumptions that
affect how we make sense of the experience.
Mezirow (2000) differentiates among three types of reflection,
only one of which can lead to transformative learning. Content
reflect ion, the first type, is thinking about the actual experience
itself. Process reflection is thinking about ways to deal with the
experience—that is, problem-solving strategies. Premise reflection
involves examinin g long-h eld, socially const ructed assumptions,
beliefs, and values about the experience or problem.
Much has been written about critical reflection, especially under
the more common topic of critical thinking and reflective practice
(see Chapter Seven). There are a number of adult educators in addi-
tion to Mezirow who have focused on critical thinking, especially as
it relates to transformative learning. For example, Cranton’s (2002)
TRANSFORMATIONAL LEARNING 145
scholarship concerns fostering transformative learning in the class-
room. In order to engage lea rners in self-reflection, Cranton sug-
gests using reflective journals in which students reflect on various
incidents in their lives to foster the critical reflection that promotes
transformative learning.
The most prominent adult educator writing about critical
thinking is Brookfield (1987, 199 4 ) . He presents a rationale as to
why critical thinking is important and how adults can become crit-
ical thinkers in their family, work, and personal lives and in rela-
tion to mass media. Especially relevant to the link between critical
thinking or critical reflect ion and transformative learning is his
model of critical thinking.
The model consists of five phases ver y similar to Mezirow’s
conceptualization. First is what he calls a trigger event, “some unex-
pected happening [that] prompts a sense of inner discomfort and
perplexity” (Brookfield, 1987, p. 25). The next stage, appraisal,
captures several of the steps in Mezirow’s process, including a self-
examination of the situation, “brooding” about our discomfort,
and finding others who are experiencing a similar problem. In the
third phase of exploration, we examine new and different ways of
explaining or accommodating the experienc e that has led to our
discomfort. The fourth phase is one of developing alternative per-
spectives. Basically, we try on a new role, a new way of behaving, a
new way of thinking about the problem or experience, and simul-
taneously gain confidence in the new perspective. Finally, we are
able to integrate these new ways of thinking or living “into the fab-
ric of our lives” (p. 27).
In subsequent writing (1996, 2000, 2005a), Brookfield has clar-
ified and expanded his notion of critical thinking. He now believes
that critical thinking helps us scrutinize (2000, p. 136) “how
we view power relationships in our lives” and helps us analyze
“hegemonic assumptions” (Brookfield, 2000, p. 138). Hegemonic,
or taken-for -grant ed assumptions about the world, serve the status
quo and keep others disenfranchised. An example of a hegemonic
assumption is the idea that “adult education is a vocation requiring
self-abasement of practitioners on behalf of learners” (Brookfield,
2000, p. 138). If adult educators believe this assumption, adminis-
trators can “guilt” them into taking on more work and reducing
costs. In this view, critical reflection is employed to examine social
146 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
inequities. Brookfield acknowledges that his definition of critical
reflection is a st r ic te r and more radically political definition than
Mezirow’s because Mezirow “allows for the possibility of implicit
critical reflection ‘as when we mindlessly choose between good and
evil because of our assim i l a ted values’” (Mezirow, 1 9 9 8 , p. 186, as
cited in Brookfield, 2000, p. 131).
DEVELOPMENT
In addition to the centrality of experience and critical reflection,
there is in transformational learning theory the notion of individ-
ual development. Individual development is both inherent in and
an outcome of the process. The ability to think critically, which is
mandatory to effecting a transformation, is itself developmental;
that is, we can become better, more critical thinkers. Elias (1997,
pp. 3–4) explains how individual and c ognitive development are
intertwined:
What are transformed through the processes of transformative
learning are several capacities of mind or consciousness. First is
the development of a “conscious I” capable of exercising critical
reflection. Second is a transformed capacity for thinking, trans-
formed to be more dialectical or systemic, thinking (for example)
that perceives polarities as mutually creative resources rather than
as exclusive and competitive options and that perceives archetypes as
partners for inner dialogue. Third is the capacity to be a conscious
creative force in the world, as expressed, for example, as the capac-
ity to intervene in and transform the quality of discourse in a group
or learning community.
Mezirow (1995) acknowledges that other scholars make impor-
tant contributions to understanding adult critical reflection. King
and Kitchener’s (1994, 2002) model, which draws on the earlier
work of Perry (1970), consists of seven stages, of which only the last
two are characteristic of critical reflection (see Chapter Thirteen
for a further explanation of this model).
Development is also the outcome of transformative learning.
Mezirow (1991, p. 155) states clearly that the process of perspec-
tive transformation is “the central process of adult development.”
TRANSFORMATIONAL LEARNING 147
And “meaning perspectives that permit us to deal with a broader
range of experience, to be more discriminating, to be more open
to other perspectives, and to better integrate our experiences are
superior perspectives” (1990b, p. 14).
K. Taylor (2000) discusses changing how one knows in devel-
opmental terms. She explores movemen t along five dimensions.
First, learners move “toward knowing as a dialogical process”
(p. 160). They learn how they construct knowledge and they recon-
struct knowledge in light of new experiences and reflections.
Second, learners move “toward a dialogical relationship with one-
self” by learning who they are and that they can choose to be
another way (p. 163). Third, individuals move “toward being con-
tinuous learners” (p. 163). They become aware that learning is up
to them. Next, they move “toward self-agency and authorship,”
where they “increasingly recognize their responsibility for their
actions, choices, and values and for the decisions they may make
based on those values” (p. 163). Finally, they move “toward con-
nections with others,” where they learn in community but retain
their individuality (p. 163).
That the outcome of transformational learning is development
is congruent with the growth orientation of much of adult learn-
ing literature generally. Underpinning this orientation is humanist
psychology. Rogers (1961, p. 115) contended that “significant
learning” results in a more mature self who is open to experience,
to “new people, new situations, new problems.” K nowle s’s (1980)
model of andragogy is written quite explicitly from this humanis-
tic perspective, defining adult learning as “a process that is used
by adults for their self-development” (p. 25) and “to mature”
(p. 28). Similarly, Kegan (1994, p. 287) wrote that higher and adult
education’s “mission” is to “assist adults in creating the order of
consciousness the modern world demands.”
This fact raises yet another dimension to the link between
transformation and development. Tennant (2000) argues that what
constitutes psychological development is itself a social construc-
tion; that is, in any society at any particular point in time, there are
normative expectations about “what it means to be enlightened or
developmentall y more mature” (Tennant, 1993, p. 4 1 ). He warns
that changes that are part of the expected life course (instances of
normative development) should not be confused with actual
changes in perspective.
148 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Although there are certainly other factors important to trans-
formational learning, we have discussed three that are central to
the process. First, transformative learning posits experience as its
starting point and as its content for reflection. Engaging the life
experience in a critically reflective manner is a necessary condition
for transformation. Finally, the entire process is about change—
change that is growth-enhancing and developmental.
UNRESOLVED ISSUES IN TRANSFORMATIONAL
LEARNING THEORY
The growing prominence of transformative learning theor y has
generated closer scrutiny of several aspects of the theory. Mezirow’ s
psychocritical perspective has been critiqued for its inattention to
context and its overreliance on rationality in the meaning-making
process. In addition, scholars have examined the role of relation-
ships in transformative learning, the place of social action, and the
educator’s role in fostering transformative learning.
CONTEXT
Clark and Wilson (1991) were the first to point out that Mezirow’s
theory appeared to be acontextual. Derived as it was from research
on women returning to school, they note that the women’s experi-
ences “were studied as if they stood apart from their historical and
sociocultural context, thereby limiting our understanding of the full
meaning of those experiences” (p. 78). Further, they contended,
Mezirow’ s own orientation toward autonomy uncritically reflects the
values of the dominant culture in our society—masculine, White,
and middle-class. In addition, Taylor’ s (2000a) review of the empir-
ical research on Mezirow’ s theory revealed a number of studies that
found that aspects of the individual’ s biographical history and socio-
cultural factors shaped the nature of the transformative learning.
Taylor points out that more attention to such factors can help
explain, for example, why a disorienting dilemma might lead to a
perspective transformation for one person but not another. Indeed,
studies accounting for individual biography and context are begin-
ning to give a richer picture of transformative learning. Recent stud-
ies have explored transformative le arning in the urban c ontext
(Kappel & Daley, 2004), in an experiential Hawaiian ecological
TRANSFORMATIONAL LEARNING 149
course that emphasized indigenous knowledge (Feinstein, 2004),
and in corporate America (Henderson, 2002). All have indicated
that the context affects the transformative learning process.
Power, an interrelated aspect of context, has not been ade-
quately addressed in Mezirow’s theory. McDonald, Cer vero, and
Courtenay (1999) examined the role of power in ethical vegans’
transformative learning process. The authors acknowledged that
while vegans experienced a perspective transformation when they
journeyed from being meat eaters to vegans, “the sustained power
of the normative ideology . . . brought subtle changes in the
vegans’ praxis over time” (p. 19). They remained vegans but were
worn down by “social-cultural and interpersonal challenges to veg-
anism,” and “their praxis became less outspoken” (p. 19). Likewise,
in a longitudinal study of international ser vice program partici-
pants in Nicaragua, participants indicated that upon returning to
the United States, respondents had a “chameleon complex” where
they held unpopular views on global issues but felt “compelled to
conform and blend in with mainstream views on local and global
issues even though they disagree[d]” (Kiely, 2003, p. 221).
Mezirow (1996, 2000) has attempted to explain better how con-
text fits into his theor y. He acknowledges , “Th e justific ation for
much of what we know and believe, our values and our feelings,
depends on the context—biographical, historical, cultural—
in which they are embedded” (Mezirow, 2000, p. 3). He maintains
that certain sociocultural factors s uch as racism, sexis m, and clas-
sism may impede or encourage critical reflection and reflective dis-
course. “Transformation Theory,” Mezirow (1996, p. 169) writes,
“does not suggest a disengaged image of the individual learner, but
of a learning process characterized by dialogical voices. The social
dimension is central, but so are the historical and cultural dimen-
sions of the process.”
RAT I O NA L I T Y A N D AFFECT
The second major issue with Mezirow’s view of transformational
learning theory is what appears to be an overreliance on rational-
ity as the means of effecting a perspective transformation; other
forms of knowing are secondary at best. Rational thinking is a par-
ticularly Western concept, a product of the Enlightenment and
150 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Descartes’ mind-body split. The idea that emotions and cognition
are separate and that emotions are “less evolved” continues to this
day despite evidence to the contrary (Taylor, 2001). Even in the
West, rationality, and in particular its separation from experience,
is also gender-specific, privileging men, those of the middle and
upper classes, and Whites. Mezirow (1998, pp. 187–188) has
responded to these charges, noting that rationality is not in itself
an ideology; rather, “the justification for embracing an ideology
depends upon advancing and supporting reasons for doing so. . . .
Arguments against the universality of rationality and critical reflec-
tion themselves demonstrate the necessity of assessing reasons and
becoming critical of assumptions. Once these critics enter into
rational discourse, they have no choice but to agree to observe uni-
versal principles of rationality.”
Although Mezirow’s (2000) work briefly a cknowledges other
ways of making meaning, including intuition, imagination, and
dreams, and acknowledges the role of feelings in the transforma-
tive learning process, Taylor (2000a) notes of Mezirow’s theory that
“critical reflection is granted too much importance and does not
give enough attention to the significance of affective learning—the
role of emotions and feelings in the process of transformation”
(p. 303). Further, Taylor (2000a) cites several studies indicating that
people’s emotions must be worked through before they can engage
in critical reflection. The interdependence of affect and critical
reflection cannot be overlooked. For example, Mulvihill (2003) dis-
cusses the importance emotion plays in the transformative learning
experiences of survivors of clergy abuse. Mulvihill writes, “When
individuals and groups can be encouraged to uncover the emo-
tional impact of perspectives and meanings, and to blend this infor-
mation with other ways of knowing, a more holistic transformative
paradigm might be embraced” (2003, p. 325). In addition, the
exploration of feelings leads to greater self-awareness (Taylor, 2001).
As previously noted, other transformative learning scholars
delve more deeply into the importance of learning through other
ways of knowing, including emotion and intuition (Blacksher,
2001; Johnson, 2001), “soul learning” (Dirkx, 1998), and levels of
consciousness (Boucouvalas, 1993), and through stories (Rossiter,
2002), the physical body (Amann, 2003), and the subconscious
(Scott, 1997). For example, using Boyd’s extrarational approach
TRANSFORMATIONAL LEARNING 151
to transformative learning as a framework for their study, Kovan
and Dirkx (2003) sought to understand the “role of learning in sus-
taining commitment to nonprofit work” of environmentalists
(p. 100). They discovered that the participants’ transformative
learning was “a struggle for consciousness in a largely unconscious
world, a process that Jung referred to as individuation” (p. 107).
For these participants, transformation was an ongoing process,
which involves the whole person including the “head, heart and
spirit” (p. 114).
Last, in an effort to explain how participants in several studies
experienced a perspective transformation without critical reflec-
tion, Taylor (2001) explore d the literature on neurobiology. He
found that “nonconscious memory . . . has a tremendous influence
on how we think and act” (p. 228). He continues, “Implicit memory
of experience can be received, stored and recovered without con-
scious awareness of the individual” (p. 226). Examples of implicit
memory include learning category-level knowledge such as gram-
mar. People know the rules of grammar but are unable to say
exactly what guides their speaking. A second form of implicit mem-
ory is learning a conditioned response (Taylor, 2001). For exa m-
ple, people may be conditioned into accepting the norms of a new
culture. Taylor (1994) found that people in cultures different from
their own developed new habits and uncritically accepted many of
the routines and norms of the culture. They “absorbed” cultural
norms without tr ying to make meaning of them. Yet, despite this
uncritical acceptance of the culture, participants reported experi-
encing a perspective transformation.
In sum, the charge that Mezirow’s (2000) theor y relies too
heavily on rationality has sparked discussions about the role of feel-
ings and the unconscious in the transformative learning process.
In addition, researchers have explored how people experience a
perspective transformation in the absence of critical reflection.
ROLE OF R ELATIONSHIPS IN THE
TRANSFORMATIVE L EARNING PROCESS
Closely tied to the role of feelings in the transformational learning
process is the role of relationships. Taylor (2000a) indicates
the importance of “relational ways of knowing” (p. 306) in the
152 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
transformative learning process. In particular, he indicates that ele-
ments such as “trust, friendship, and support” are necessar y for
effective reflective or rational discourse to occur (p. 306). Receiv-
ing support, connecting with family, and developing trust were all
ways in which relationships were evident in the transformative
learning process.
Recent studies support the as sertion that relatio nships are an
important part of the transformative learning process. Har vie
(2004) found that the transformative learning process for under-
graduates was a highly social process, with interpersonal support
being an important component of the process. Likewise, Hw ang
(2004) analyzed the transformative learning of Korean Presbyterian
disciples in training. Hwang indicates, “The transformative learn-
ing experiences did not appear to rely upon rational discourse for
critical reflection of assumptions. . . . Instead, participants experi-
enced transformative learning through relationship dialogue based
on the relationships among group members and the relationship
with God” (abstract).
Both the importance and the nature of the relationships in the
transformative lea rning process h ave received a ttention (Taylor,
2003). For example, Carter (2000) uncovered four types of devel-
opmental relationships in the lives of midcareer women: utilitarian,
memory, imaginative relationships with self, and love relationships.
The author discovered: “Psychosocial support functions that pr e-
dominate in love, me mor y and ima ginative relationships ge ner-
ated proportionally more instances of transformative learning
than did mostly career-enhancing functions of utilitarian relation-
ships” (p. xiii).
SOCIAL ACTION
The place of social action in transformational learning theor y
remains controversial. Mezirow in particular has been criticized for
focusing too much on individual transformation at the expense of
social change. Mezirow (1990a, p. 363) indeed states that “we must
begin with individual perspective transformations before social
transformations can succeed.” As previously mentioned, for
Mezirow “action can mean making a decision, being critically
reflective or transforming a meaning structure as well as a change
TRANSFORMATIONAL LEARNING 153
in behavior” (1995, pp. 58–59). Perspective transformation may
also result in social action. For Mezirow, though, the role of adult
education is to promote and facilitate individual critical reflection
in which “the only anticipated learning outcome . . . is a more
rational and objective assessment of assumptions” (1995, p. 59).
To assume that the outcome is social action is to require “the
learner to share the convictions of the educator’s own view of social
reality [which] would be tantamount to indoctrination” (p. 59).
Both Freire and Mezirow have been criticized for romanticiz-
ing the social change process. Both educators “start with the
oppressed or the person trapped within a culturally induced
dependency role, and both require these victims to liberate them-
selves, albeit with the help of the dialogic or transformativ e edu-
cator” (Newman, 1994, p. 241). Newman believes this offers little
help to those who are oppressed. Newman believes that adult
teaching and learning should focus on identifying strategies to deal
with oppression at the same time that we help learners “build
up their skills, increase or regenerate their knowledge, and
rework their meaning perspectives in order to be better able to
carry out those strategies” (p. 241). Mezirow (1997b, p. 62) has
responded to Newman’s critique, arguing that “often learners are
unaware of being oppressed; they internalize the values of the
oppressors.” In these situations, it may be necessary to engage in
the “‘deconstruction’ of reified frames of reference” before action
can be taken “on one’s own behalf” (p. 62).
THE E DUCATOR’S P LACE IN FOSTERING
TRANSFORMATIVE L EARNING
There is yet another dimension to this issue of the place of social
action in transformational learning theor y. The ethical issues
involved have been little addressed. For example, what right do
adult educators have to tamper with the worldview (mental set, per-
spective, paradigm, or state of consciousness) of the learner? How
invasive is it to study adults in the process of transformation
(Courtenay et al., 2000)? How is the goal of educational interven-
tion, whether it is social or personal change or something else, to
be determined? What is the educator’s responsibility for the action
component of praxis?
154 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
The educator who supports personal and social transformation
as the goal of adult education is confronted by a more practical
issue: how exactly to facilitate such learning. Brookfield (1987,
1996) offers some help through his critical questioning techniques
and through a critical incident activity. Daloz (1986) suggests that
mentors use the strategies of challenging, supporting, and vision-
ing to facilitate the learner’s personal journey of transformation.
Freire (1970) and Hart (1990) discuss techniques for conscious-
ness-raising in groups. Vella (1994) presents twelve principles of
adult learning with specific case examples of their implementation
in popular education sites around the world.
The most extensive discussions of techniques for fostering
transformative learning can be found in Cranton’s work (1996,
2002). Recognizing individual differences and learning prefer-
ences, Cranton suggests drawing from a repertoire of strategies,
including critical questioning and experiential techniques such as
role-plays and simulations, journal writing, and life histories. In
addition, Lamb (2003) investigated best practices for fostering
transformative learning in the workplace. She studied three cor-
porate workplace programs that indicated transformative learning
was an outcome. Lamb uncovered eight conditions that fostered
transformative learning, including “putting pa rticipants in unfa -
miliar and new situations, . . . maximizing the diversity mix of
participants, . . . and repeated team opportunities balancing action
and reflection” (pp. 266–267).
Mezirow (1995) lays out the “ideal conditions” of discourse for
fostering transformative learning, which have found some support
in recent studies. Taylor (2000b) reviewed twenty-three empirical
studies that explored the practice of fostering transformative learn-
ing in the classroom. He found that the studies supported
Mezirow’s ideal conditions for fostering transformative learning,
including providing a trusting environment for learning, promot-
ing autonomy and collaboration, and utilizing activities that
“encourage exploration of alternative personal perspectives
and critical reflection” (p. 9). Other themes that arose from the
literature included “fostering group ownership and individual
agency, . . . promoting value-laden course content, . . . recognizing
the interrelationship of critical reflection and affective learn-
ing and the need for time” (p. 10).
TRANSFORMATIONAL LEARNING 155
To summarize this section on some of the unresolved issues
surrounding transformative learning, it is clear that questions of
context, rationality and affect, the role of relationships in the trans-
formative learning process, social action, and implementation are
not as discrete as presented. To understand the biographical and
sociocultural context of the individual learner is to consider other
equally if not more powerful ways of knowing than pure rati o n a l-
ity. It also means to consider what the appropriate action might be
as a result of personal transformation; clearly such action may
reside with the person or may be mobilized for some form of col-
lective, social action. Ethical and professional considerations per-
vade the process, a process that most adult educators are little
prepared to handle.
TRENDS IN THE TRANSFORMATIONAL
LEARNING LITERATURE
Recently, scholars have looked more closely at the emotional and
spiritual aspects of transformative learning (Amann, 2003; Davis,
2003; Lennox, 2005; Ludwig, 2005; Sawyer, 2003). For example,
through in-depth interviews with twelve participants, Davis (2003)
explored “the human experience of spirit and its relationship to
the transformative learning process” (p. 130). Participants reported
spiritual experiences, that is, “intrapersonal conversations
with spirit” that were transformational (p. 132). This “dialogue with
the soul” is unique to this form of transformative learning (p. 134).
Sawyer (2003) detailed the role of cognition, em otion, and spiri-
tuality in cellular biologist Bruce Lipton’s transformation from
holding a “materialist-reductionist-determinist worldview . . . to a
quantum physics–based understanding of the universe, founded
on energetics, holism and uncertainty” (p. 372). Sawyer concludes
that Lipton’s experiences help us see the relationship between the
“cognitive, emotional, spiritual, physical, and behavioral dimen-
sions of experience and pave the way for more integrative per-
spectives on how human beings learn, adapt, and grow” (p. 373).
Asecondareaofinquiryincludestransformativelearningand
technology (Cranton & Dirkx, 2005; Cranton & Lin, 2005; Dirkx &
Smith, 2005; Lewis, Adams, & Southern, 2005). For example,
Cranton and Dirkx (2005) explore how their online dialogue with
156 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
each other led them toward a more inclusive perspective on trans-
formative learning. Dirkx and Smith (2005) examined how people
“worked through the problem of the relationship of the individual
to the group, and the transformative processes and dynamics asso-
ciated with this learning and development” (p. 114). Findings sug-
gested that while individuals valued collaborative online learning,
they also wanted to be evaluated individually. Participants noted
that the online format did not lend itself as well to social connec-
tions as a face-to-face course would have; they did not feel as
connected to each other as they would have in a face-to-face
course. The authors concluded that the facilitating process in
the online environment needs more development in order to facil-
itate transformative learning.
Athirdareaofinterestinvolvestransformativelearninginthe
workplace. Transformative learning in groups and organizations is
atopicofinterest(Baumgartner,2001).Forexample,Yorksand
Marsick (2000) utilized action learning in an organization. Action
learning involves people working in teams toward a solution to
aproblem.Throughdialogueandreflection,theteamssolvedthe
problem, and the organizational culture was transformed. Bierema
(2005) examined the need for critical human resource develop-
ment education. She maintained that much of the HRD literature
is performance-based. Bierema encouraged HRD educators to
teach critical HRD by “building awareness of the many dimensions
and contradictions inherent in HRD” (p. 36) and by helping learn-
ers critique and analyze HRD readings and the language used in
the text. These techniques will help transform the field and prac-
tice of human resource development.
SUMMARY
This chapter has presented a discussion of transformational learn-
ing theor y. Probably more than any other approach, this theory
has captured the attention of adult educators over the past fifteen
years. Whether transformational learning will remain a centerpiece
of adult learning theor y is, of course, not predictable. It would
seem, however, that the theoretical foundations presented by
Taylor (2005a) are sufficiently robust to foster continued debate,
discussion, and research.
TRANSFORMATIONAL LEARNING 157
In addition to reviewing seven “lenses” through which transfor-
mative learning can be seen, this chapter also offered a detailed dis-
cussion of three of its key components: the centrality of experience,
the process of critical reflection, and transformative learning’ s link to
adult development. In the final section of the chapter, we explored
unresolved issues surrounding transformational learning: the extent
to which context has been neglected, the overreliance on rational
forms of knowing at the expense of honoring feelings and other
ways of knowing, the role of relationships in the transformative learn-
ing process, the nature of the relationship between individuals and
social change, and questions regarding preparation for and imple-
mentation of this type of learning. In addition, we examined new
trends in the transformative learning literature.
158 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
CHAPTER SEVEN
EXPERIENCE AND LEARNING
Aaron, a psychotherapist with twenty years of experience, attends a
workshop concerning new treatments for depression. Aaron has
treated many clients with this disorder and wants to remain abreast
of new treatment modalities. The workshop instructor, Dr. K., asks
participants to introduce themselves, explain their reasons
for being at the workshop, and tell what they want to learn. Dr. K.
indicates that he wants to know participants’ experiences treating
people with depression and provides activities and opportunities
for workshop attendees to interact and learn from each other.
Dr. K. tailors the workshop to the needs of the participants. On the
workshop evaluation, Aaron writes, “The interaction with peers was
the most beneficial part of the workshop. Dr. K.’s willingness to
value our experiences made this a successful workshop.” Aaron’s
colleague Gloria attends a different workshop on the same subject.
Participants listen to lectures and briefly interact with the presen-
ter in a question-and-answer session at the end of the workshop.
Gloria’s experiences are never solicited. Her workshop evaluation
reads, “I could have read this information in a book. The workshop
was a waste of time.” The difference between the two work-
shops was Dr. K.’s recognition that learners have a vast array of
experiences that can be used for learning.
We learn from experience in a variety of ways. As in the vignette,
Aaron learned as the result of a direct embodied experience that
engaged him mentally, physically, and emotionally in the moment.
Other dimensions of experience include learning from a simulated
experience or reliving a past experience. In addition, people may
make sense of their experience through collaboration with others
in a community (sometimes referred to as a community of practice)
159
or through introspective experiences such as meditation or dream-
ing (Fenwick, 2003).
In addition to there being different dimensions to experien-
tial learning, there are different theoretical conceptualizations
of this type of learning. Fenwick (2003) proposes five perspectives
that “raise important questions about the nature of experience”
(p. 38): (1) reflecting on concrete experience (constructivist the-
ory of learning); (2) participating in a community of practice
(situative theor y of learning); (3) getting in touch with uncon-
scious desires and fears (psychoanalytic theor y of learning); (4)
resisting dominant social norms of experience (critical cultural
theories); and (5) exploring ecological relationships between cog-
nition and environment (complexity theories applied to learning).
The constructivist approach focuses on “reflection on experience”
(Fenwick, 2003, p. 22). People have concrete experiences; they
reflect on them and construct new knowledge as a result of
these reflections. In this view, the focus is on the learners’ meaning-
making processes as the result of an experience.
Unlike the constructivist paradigm, which emphasizes reflec-
tion on experience, the situative theory posits that knowing is inter-
twined with doing. Fenwick (2003) states, “Learning is rooted in
the situation in which the person participates, not in the head of
that person as intellectual concepts produced by reflection” (p.
25). Participation in a community of practice is the goal of this per-
spective. Fenwick continues, “The outcome of experiential learn-
ing as participation is that the community refines its practices,
develops new ones, or discards and changes practices that are
harmful or dysfunctional” (p. 27; italics in original).
The psychoanalytic perspective sees our unconscious as inter-
fering with our conscious experiences. As a result, we must work
through psychic conflicts to learn (Fenwick, 2003). This approach
recognizes the complex role of desire in our learning. We may
have conflicting desires in a learning situation that affect our learn-
ing experience (Fenwick, 2001 ). The fourth lens through which
experiential learning is viewed, the critical cultural perspective,
“seeks to transform existing social orders, by critically questioning
and resisting dominant norms of experience” (Fenwick, 2003,
p. 38). Last, the complexity theor y says learning is produced
through interaction “among consciousness, identity, action and
160 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
interaction, objects and structural dynamics of complex systems”
(p. 37). In this view, the focus is not on the experience itself but
on the “relationships binding them [the dynamics] together in com-
plex systems” (Fenwick, 2003, p. 37; italics in original).
Numerous adult educators ha ve underscored the fundamen-
tal role that experience plays in learning in adulthood. For exam-
ple, Lindeman (1961, p. 6) states that “the resource of highest
value in adult education is the learner’s experience.” Experience
then becomes “the adult learner’s living textbook . . . already there
waiting to be appropriated” (p. 7). Similarly, one of the primar y
assumptions underlying Knowles’s (1989, p. 58) work on andra-
gogy is that “[a]dults come into an educational activity with both
agreatervolumeandadifferentqualityofexperiencefrom
youths.” As adults live longer they accumulate both a greater vol-
ume and range of experiences. Knowles also observes that adults
tend to define themselves by their experiences, describing them-
selves as parents, spouses, workers, volunteers, community activists,
and so on. Kolb (1984) states, “Learning is a continuous process
grounded in experience. Knowledge is continuously derived and
tested out in the experiences of the learner” (p. 27). Kolb notes
that these experiences can be personal (for example, the experi-
ence of happiness) or objective/environmental (for example, years
of experience at a place of employment).
Although adult educators have accepted the connection between
experience and learning, we are still learning about this connection
and how to use it most effectively in both for mal and nonformal
learning situations. A number of questions puzzle us: What leads
to learning from experience? Is the context in which the experience
happens important? Are there ways we can design learning episodes
to capture this experiential component best? In this chapter we
explore responses to these and other important questions related
to experience and learning. First, we briefly discuss John Dewey’ s view
of experience and learning. Next, we delineate several models of
experiential learning. Third, we explore educators’ purposes, roles,
and learning designs for experiential learning and delve into four
methods associated with experiential learning: reflective practice,
situated cognition, cognitive apprenticeships, and anchored instruc-
tion. Last, we detail criticisms and pedagogical debates in the expe-
riential learning literature.
EXPERIENCE AND LEARNING 161
LEARNING FROM LIFE EXPERIENCES
John Dewey (1938), in his classic volume Experience and Education,
made some of the most thoughtful observations about the con-
nections between life experiences and learning. More specifically,
Dewey postulated that “all genuine education comes about
through experience” (p. 13). However, this “does not mean that
all experiences are genuinely or equally educative” (p. 13). In fact,
some experiences “mis-educate,” in that they actually “distort
growth . . . narrow the field of further experiences . . . [and place
people] in a groove or rut” (p. 13). Judging whether experiences
actually produce learning can be difficult because “ever y experi-
ence is a moving force. Its value can be judged only on the ground
of what it moves toward and into” (p. 31). For example, being diag-
nosed a s HIV-positive may make s ome people so bitter and an g ry
that any positive or growth-enhancing learning from that life
change is almost impossible. In contrast, others become highly
active inquirers and part icipants in maintaining their health as
well as become involved in caring for those with full-blown AIDS.
For learning to happen through experience, Dewey (1938,
p. 27) argued that the experience must exhibit the two major prin-
ciples of continuity and interaction: “The principle of the conti-
nuity of experience means that every experience both takes
up something from those which have gone before and modifies in
some way the quality of those which come after.” In other words,
experiences that provide learning are never just isolated events in
time. Rather, learners must connect what they have learned from
current experiences to those in the past as well as see possible
future implications. For example, we can assume that people who
are enjoying their retirement have been able to connect their past
experiences to those of the present. Glennie, a retired salesperson,
who may have always traveled vicariously through the Sunday
paper’s travel section, has bought a small travel trailer and now
spends six months of the year exploring new places.
The second principle, that of interaction, posits that “an expe-
rience is always what it is because of a transaction taking place
between an individual and what, at the time, co nstitutes his envi-
ronment” (Dewey, 1938, p. 41). Going back to the example of
Glennie, she is learning about new places firsthand because she
now has the time and means to visit them. Through her travels,
162 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
she has developed an interest in Native American culture and so
seeks out new tribal groups to explore. As illustrated through
Glennie’s interest in Native American culture, the two principles
of continuity and interaction are always interconnected and work
together to provide the basis for experiential learning. What
Glennie has learned in visiting one reservation “becomes an instru-
ment of understanding” for attending the next tribal celebration
with a different group of Native Americans. In translating Dewey’s
ideas into educational practice, what is key is how important the
situation becomes in promoting learning. Developing a welcom-
ing and comfortable atmosphere, providing the right materials,
and linking these materials to learners’ past and future experiences
are critical in assisting adults to learn from their experiences.
While Dewey (1938) explored how people learned from life
experiences, Kolb and Kolb (2005) went one step further. They
examined the works of John Dewey, Jean Piaget, Carl Jung, and
Carl Rogers, among others, and they compiled six general propo-
sitions of experiential learning theory. First, “learning is best con-
ceived as a process, not in terms of outcomes” (p. 194). Second,
“learning is relearning” (p. 194). Stude nts’ ideas must be drawn
out, discussed, and refined. Next, learning requires a resolution of
“dialectically opposed modes of adaptation to the world”; that is,
learners must move between “opposing modes of reflection and
action and feeling and thinking” (p. 194). Fourth, learning is holis-
tic. Fifth, learning involves interactions between the learner and
the environment. Last, learning is constructivist in nature. These
propositions are evident in some of the models of e xperiential
learning that are discussed in the next section.
MODELS OF EXPERIENTIAL LEARNING
Clearly, people learn from experience. However, scholars’ per-
ceptions of how people learn differ depending upon their theo-
retical orientation. Kolb’s (1984) and Jarvis’s (1987) models arise
from the constructivist paradigm, while Boud and Walker (1991)
and Usher, Br yant, and Johnson’s (1997) models are situative in
nature. Although the psychoanalytic, critical, and complexity
approaches to experiential learning proposed by Fenwick (2003)
do not have models per se, their theoretical underpinnings show
us how people learn.
EXPERIENCE AND LEARNING 163
Kolb (1984), building primarily on the work of Dewey, Piaget,
and Lewin, conceptualized that learning from experience requires
four different kinds of abilities: (1) an openness and willingness to
involve oneself in new experiences (concrete experience); (2)
observational and reflective skills so these new experiences can be
viewed from a variety of perspectives (reflective observation); (3)
analytical abilities so integrative ideas and concepts can be created
from their obser vations (abstract conceptualization); and (4)
decision-making and problem-solving skills so these new ideas and
concepts can be used in actual practice (active experimentation).
Kolb pictured these capabilities as interrelated phases within a
cyclical process, starting with the concrete experience and then
moving through reflective observation and abstract conceptualiza-
tion to active experimentation. Whatever action is taken in the final
phase becomes another set of concrete experiences, which in turn
can begin the experiential learning cycle again. (See Miettinen,
2000, for a critique of Kolb’s conceptualization of Dewey’s work.)
For Kolb, the ultimate goal of this experiential learning process is
to obtain “a fully integrated personality” (Malinen, 2000, p. 89).
AcritiqueofKolb’smodelisthatthelearner’scontextisnot
taken into consideration (Fenwick, 2003). Experience and reflec-
tion seem to exist in a vacuum. Kolb does not account for issues of
power in his model. Jarvis’s (1987, 2001) model addresses some of
Kolb’s (1984) shortcomings. Jarvis’s model shows that the person
brings his or her biography into the situation. Our construction of
our experiences is affected by our “psychological history” (Jarvis,
2001, p. 52). There are two main types of learning from expe ri-
ences. We may engage in nonreflective learning, which includes
remembering an experience and repeating it or just doing what
we are told to do. In contrast, we may engage in reflective learning
when we “plan, monitor, and reflect upon our experiences”
(p. 52). Jarvis includes both experimental learning (the result of
apersonexperimentingontheenvironment)andreflectiveprac-
tice (thinking about and monitoring one’s practice as it is hap-
pening) with what he conceives as the highest forms of learning.
Jar vis notes that, ironically, often the more experienc es we have ,
the less likely we are to learn from them. Instead, we tend to
choose what is familiar and deny ourselves new learning (Jar vis,
2001; see also Chapter Four for Jarvis’s model, 2006. For a critique
164 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
of Jar vis’s model, see Le Cornu, 2005. Le Cornu critiques three
dimensions of Jarvis’s model including “its time-centered base, its
weak process of internalization, and the notion of non-learning”
(p. 166). She suggests several modifications of the model.)
Boud and Walker (1991) take a situated approach to experien-
tial learning. These scholars augmented Kolb’s model in two ways.
First, they recognized that “specific contexts shape an individual’s
experience in different ways” (Fenwick, 2001, p. 11). Second, they
were “interested in how differences among individuals—particularly
past histories, learning strategies, and emotion influence the sort of
learning developed through reflection on experience” (p. 11).
Boud, Keogh, and Walker’s (1985, 1996) original model consisted
of three stages: (1) returning to and replaying the experience, (2)
attending to the feelings that the experience provoked, and (3)
reevaluating the experience. The authors state that people need to
work through any negative feelings that have arisen and eventually
set those aside while retaining and enhancing the positive feelings. If
the negative feelings are not addressed, what commonly happens is
that learning becomes blocked. In the reevaluation stage, our aim
is to use this experience as a way of getting us ready for new experi-
ences, and thus new learning. Four processes may contribute to this
reevaluation stage: “association, that is, relating of new data to that
which is already known; integration, which is seeking relationships
among the data; validation to determine the authenticity of the ideas
and feelings which have resulted; and appropriation, that is, making
knowledge one’s own” (Boud, Keogh, & W alker, 1996, pp. 45–46).
In addition to Boud, Keogh, and W alker (1996), other authors
also recognize the importance of emotion in experiential learning
(Beard & Wilson, 2002; Dirkx, 2001a, 2001b). Beard and Wilson
(2002) note, “The affective domain can be seen to provide the
underlying foundation for all learning” (p. 119). In order for peo-
ple to interpret experiences positively and to learn effectively they
need to have confidence in their abilities, good self-esteem, sup-
port from others, and trust in others. In contrast, distorted learn-
ing can occur if a person is told he or she is not talented, or
distressed learning can occur when we are forced to learn some-
thing (Beard & Wilson, 2002).
Beard and Wilson (2002) discuss several methods for working
with emotions in the classroom. They suggest that fear can block
EXPERIENCE AND LEARNING 165
learning and can manifest itself through perfectionism, anger, and
aggression. By reflecting and mapping our fears via journaling or
writing down “inner rules” and reflecting on them, we can address
our fears (p. 119). The authors suggest writing down the rule, then
writing down what this rule really means, and then revising the rule.
For example, perhaps a person’s inner rule is: “I must never cry in
public.” This rule may really mean that the person would be
embarrassed if he or she cried in public. The revised rule may
read: “I would rather not cry in public, but if I do, it wouldn’t be
the worst thing in the world. I could handle it.” This new rule takes
some of the fear away from crying in public. Techniques for creat-
ing positive emotion in the classroom include using various aro-
mas to help the learning process. For example, they suggest that
the scent of lemon increases mental clarity and they have specific
instructions for dealing with anger, promoting calm, disputing
the internal critic in all of us, and being assertive.
Usher, Bryant, and Johnston (1997) approach the situated or
contextual nature of experience in a very different way from most
other scholars who discuss experience as foundational to learning.
Although they acknowledge that Jar vis (1987) and Boud and
Walker (1991), among others, use a contextual or sociological
frame for learning from experience, they still view the work of
these authors as centered on an individualized self who uses expe-
riences as the material to be acted upon by the mind through
observations and reflection. Grounded in the assumption that “the
self is a culturally and historically variable category,” Usher, Bryant,
and Johnston (1997, p. 102) view experience instead as a text to
be used in learning—as “something to be ‘read’ or interpreted ,
possibly with great e ffort, and certainly with no final, definitive
meaning” (p. 104). These authors assert that “the meaning of
experience is never permanently fixed; thus, the text of experience
is always open to reinterpreta tion” (p. 105). Usher, Br yant, and
Johnston have proposed a “map” of experiential learning within
the framework of postmodern thought. With this model, “learning
does not simplistically derive from experience; rather, experience
and learning are mutually positioned in an interactive dynamic”
(p. 107). In posing this model, these authors view the use of expe-
rience as part of the learning process as “inherently neither eman-
cipatory nor oppressive, neither domesticating nor transformative.
166 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Rather . . . it is perhaps most usefully seen as having a potential for
emancipation and oppression, domestication and transformation,
where at any one time and according to context both tendencies
can be present and in conflict with one another” (p. 105).
Usher, Br yant, and Johnston’s model, shown in Figure 7.1, is
structured around two intersecting continua—autonomy-adaptation
(empowerment of individuals to a ct independently to being able
to adap t one’s actions in relation to the context) and expre ssion-
application (being able to apply what one knows in real-world con-
texts)—and four quadrants, referred to as lifestyle, vocational,
confessional, and critical. Learning from experience happens both
between and within the quadrants, which represent different types
of learning venues.
Lifestyle practices center on the achievement of autonomy
through individuality and self-expression, particularly in taste and
style (for example, ways of speaking, clothes, leisure pursuits, vaca-
tions). Experience is used as a means of defining a lifestyle that is
actively sought by people but also influenced by socially and cul-
turally defined norms.
EXPERIENCE AND LEARNING 167
FIGURE 7.1. MAP OF EXPERIENTIAL LEARNING IN THE SOCIAL
PRACTICES OF MODERNITY.
Source: Usher, Bryant, & Johnston, 1997, p. 106.
Critical
Vocational
Lifestyle
Confessional
Autonomy
Adaptation
ExpressionApplication
Vocational practices are conveyed through the market. Learners
need to be highly motivated in the direction of a personal change
linked to the needs of the socioeconomic environment. Vocation-
alism then is designed to produce flexible competencies and a pre-
disposition to change. As a result of learning adaptive skills through
experiential means, learners become more empowered to respond
to their changing vocational environments.
In confessional practices our private, self-regulating capacities
become public. In other words, realizing oneself, finding out the
truth about oneself, and accepting responsibility for oneself become
both personally desirable and economically functional. The empha-
sis in this process is on self-improvement, self-development, and reg-
ulation. Experience is used as enabling access to knowledge and the
innermost truths about self, which in turn creates productive and
empowered people in a number of roles (for example, as active cit-
izen, ardent consumer, enthusiastic employee).
Finally, in Usher, Bryant, and Johnston’ s (1997) fourth quadrant,
critical practices, there is a recognition that experience is never a basic
given. The focus is on changing particular contexts rather than
adapting to them, and therefore working with learners becomes a
political practice. Experiential learning becomes a strategy designed
to find and exe rcise one ’s voice in the service of self and soc ial
empowerment and transformation and is not regarded as something
that leads to knowledge, but rather as knowledge itself.
Although no particular model exists to represent the psycho-
analytic perspective that focuses on the issue of desire and the
unconscious in experiential learning, Jacques Lacan’s work exem-
plifies this approach. Lacan’s idea that a person’s “identity is split
between conscious and unconscious desires” may help explain why
people are conflicted in some experiential learning situations
(Fenwick, 2001, p. 30).
Experiential learning from the critical cultural perspective looks
at “power as a core issue in experience” (Fenwick, 2001, p. 39).
Emancipatory learning exemplifies this perspective on experiential
learning. People critically examine how power works in society, and
they rise from their oppression and take action that make s a dif-
ference in their lives and others’ lives. This perspective concentrates
on the community, not the individual. The community recognizes
that it needs to act, takes collective action, and understands that
168 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
learning arises from conflict. For example, a group of HIV-positive
individuals realize that many HIV -positive individuals could die with-
out access to affordable medication. They unite to lobby the state
for free or low-cost medications for HIV/AIDS. They learn how to
lobby their legislature and as a result the state passes a bill that helps
supply low-cost HIV/AIDS medications to state residents.
Clearly the role of experience in learning is highly complex.
Per haps equally complex are the roles of the adult educator in the
experiential learning process. In the next section we explore edu-
cators’ roles and purposes in the classroom.
EDUCATORS’ROLES AND PURPOSES
As we have seen, experiential learning models focus on different
aspects of the process, depending on their theoretical orientation.
Likewise, educators’ purposes, roles, and learning designs for expe-
riential learning differ depending on the lens through which they
view experiential learning.
Those who see experiential learning through a constructivist
lens want to foster critical reflection on experience and challenge
learners’ assumptions while validating personally constructed
knowledge (Fenwick, 2003). Educators serve as facilitators of reflec-
tion and encourage learners to discuss and reflect on concrete
experiences in a trusting, open environment. For example, they
challenge students’ assumptions by having them reflect on specific
work situations. A second role the teacher plays is that of catalyst.
Instructors invol ve stude nts in role-p l ays or problem-based learn-
ing exercises where learners must solve a dilemma. This activity
reveals learners’ assumptions and creates ample opportunities for
reflection. Third, the adult educator may become the student’s
coach or mentor. Coaching is generally associated with “specific
skill learning” while mentors serve as life guides (Fenwick, 2003,
p. 117). Last, the teacher becomes the assessor of the learners’
prior experiential learning. Typical assessment tools that empha-
size reflection are portfolios, learners’ analyses of their life or work
experience, and interviews in which learners explain their “learn-
ing outcomes of their past experience” (p. 118).
The educator’s role from the situative framework is to get
learners involved in a community of practice (Fenwick, 2003). The
EXPERIENCE AND LEARNING 169
educator arranges real situations in which the learners participate.
Fenwick states, “The educator’s role . . . is in providing just-in-time
assistance to enable confident action in situations where confident
competence is lacking” (p. 121). Fenwick adds that the instructor
may also help those who become stuck or immobilized in situations
to move ahead. The situative orientation can be found in se rvice-
learning activities. These experiences “are often community-based
volunteer work with different non-profit organizations . . . and
are typically organized for a short-term period of a few weeks”
(p. 149). Cognitive apprenticeships (discussed later in the chapter)
exemplify the type of experiential learning promoted by this the-
oretical orientation.
Facilitators who view experiential learning through the psy-
choanalytic lens want to facilitate analysis of learners’ psychic con-
flicts that may impede learning (Fenwick, 2003). Educators can do
this by encouraging students to pay attention to their dreams,
behavior, and odd images that may arise in their minds. Activities
that may facilitate these goals include finding materials such as
images, film clips, or texts that elicit emotion. These emotions may
lead us to uncover aspects of our unconscious that block our learn-
ing (Dirkx, 2001a, 2001b). Students are encouraged to respond as
educators listen and compassionately help them examine resis-
tance and bring t o light unconscious fee lings associated with th e
material. Another technique used to help learners analyz e their
desires and anxieties in their workplace is to ask employees a series
of questions about their most pleasant, frustrating, or anxious
moments at work. In addition, Dirkx (2001a) suggests having learn-
ers “name an emotion or feeling they experienced during
an assignment or classroom meeting” (p. 16). Next, they should
describe the emotion in their journal and also write anything they
associate with the emotion. They may also want to draw or paint
any images that come to mind.
For those educators looking at experiential learning through
the critical cultural lens, the educator’s purpose includes helping
learners see the influence of power relationships on their lives.
Teachers support and encourage resistance against oppression and
help learners see beyond the immediate struggle to solutions
(Fenwick, 2003). Educators engage in what Freire (1970) called
problem-posing. The issues of concern come from the people, and
170 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
educators help “identify general causes and outcomes of these
issues” (Fenwick, 2003, p. 162). Instructors encoura ge people to
critically analyze their situations and work toward a solution. For
example, workers in a factory may be concerned about the work-
ing conditions and wages. The teachers ask questions to allow the
workers to see they are oppressed and help workers find an
empowering solution to their problems. The learners then may,
for example, engage in social action through forming a union or
fighting as a group for better working conditions.
Individuals who view experiential learning through the com-
plexity theory lens do not instigate change through organization
but “seek to open spaces for the system to experiment with change
itself” (Fenwick, 2003, p. 132). The emphasis is on seeking
change within complex systems. One of the teacher’s roles in this
environment is to be an interpreter in order to help students
understand the changes in the complex systems in which they find
themselves. In addition, instructors “attune the learner and the
learning community to the disturbances: drawing attention to
the new possibilities created, while helping to divert patterns that
may start to create unsafe spaces or power inequities” (p. 134). The
teacher helps learners exp lore changes by having them dialogu e
about issues in order to develop insights. Unlike the educators
from the critical cultural perspective, these teachers are not
expected to help the community “link its experiences to larger
forces perpetuating exploitation and inequity” (p. 169).
In sum, educators’ roles and purposes differ according to their
theoretical orientation. Constructivists foster critical reflection on
students’ assumptions and assess learners’ prior experiential learn-
ing. Teachers from the situative framework engage students in a
community of practice through ser vice activities and cognitive
apprenticeships. Those from the psychoanalytic framework want
to help learners bring to light unconscious conflicts that may
impede learning; they can assist learners by providing activities that
elicit emotion and listening to learners. Instructors who take a crit-
ical cultural approach help learners see the influence of power in
their lives; they encourage resistance against oppression and help
learners find solutions. Last, those utilizing the complexity theory
help students understand change within complex systems and work
toward solutions.
EXPERIENCE AND LEARNING 171
METHODS ASS OCIATED WITH REFLECTIVE
AND
SITUATIVE PARADIGMS
In the previous section, we explored how educators’ purposes, roles,
and learning designs for experiential learning differ depending on
their theoretical orientation. Since much of the experiential learn-
ing literature focuses on procedures used by practitioners from the
constructivist and situative paradigms, we choose to investigate four
methods in detail. Namely, we will dis c u ss reflective practice, situ-
ated cognition, cognitive apprenticeships, and anchored instruction.
R EFLECTIVE P RACTICE
Reflective practice allows one to make judgments in complex and
murky situations—judgments based on experience and prior knowl-
edge. Although reflective practice is most often associated with pro-
fessional practice, this process can be applied to other types of
learning situations, both formal and informal. Practice knowledge,
the cornerstone of reflective practice, consists of much more than
abstract theoretical or technical knowledge (Cervero, 1988; Schön,
1983). The knowledge we gain through experience and the way we
practice our craft are just as important. The initiation of reflec-
tive practice involves using data in some form, which almost always
includes our past and current experiences. Our tacit knowledge
about practice—that is, knowledge that we use every day, almost
without thinking about it—is an important part of these data.
Researchers define reflective practice in a number of ways.
Perhaps one of the most inclusive, useful definitions comes from
scholars interested in using reflective practice to improve schools.
They write: “Reflective practice is a deliberate pause to assume an
open perspective, to allow for higher-level thinking processes. Prac-
titioners use these processes for examining beliefs, goals, and
practices, to gain new or deeper understandings that lead to
actions that improve learning for students. Actions may involve
changes in behavior, skills, attitudes, or perspectives within an indi-
vidual, partner, small group, or school” (York-Barr, Sommers,
Ghere, & Montie, 2001, p. 6.).
The authors focus on several elements of reflective practice.
First, reflective practice requires a deliberate slowing down to
172 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
consider multiple perspectives. Second, maintaining an open per-
spective is also necessary. The purpose of reflective practice in a
group is not in needing to be right or in winning but in openness
to a variety of perspectives, for it is only in openness that new
understandings can occur (York-Barr et al., 2001). Third, reflec-
tive practice requires “active and conscious processing of thoughts,”
which may include analysis, synthesis, and metacognition (think-
ing about thinking) in order to achieve a “broader context for
understanding” (p. 7; italics in original). Fourth, beliefs, goals, and
practices must be examined. Beliefs are formed from experiences
and influence behavior, while goals include “desired aims, out-
comes, or intentions,” which may be general or specific (p. 7).
Practices include one’s “dispositions, behaviors, and skills in spe-
cific areas of performance, such as designing instruction and
assessment strategies, interacting with students, developing rela-
tionships with families” (pp. 7–8). The outcome of reflection is to
gain deeper insights that lead to action.
Although reflective practice theoretically should result in the
most thoughtful and useful solutions to practice problems, this
may not be the case depending on the beliefs educators have about
this practice. Wellington and Austin (1996) have argued that
depending on their beliefs and values, practitioners have very dif-
ferent orientations toward reflective practice. These differing ori-
entations influence how reflective practice is used, and therefore
the possible outcomes of this practice. For example, do those
involved believe that education should be a liberating or “domes-
ticating” form of practice? And what is more important to them:
system or human concerns? Wellington and Austin have depicted
a way of thinking about reflective practice that acknowledges how
it could be filtered through the belief and value systems of practi-
tioners, which in their view results in five orientations toward
reflective practice: the immediate, the technical, the deliberative,
the dialectic, and the transpersonal.
Practitioners who use the immediate orientation, focusing basi-
cally on survival, rarely use any form of reflective practice. Those
who view practice as more of a domesticating activity—that is, who
see societal needs as taking precedence over individual needs—
lean toward the technical and deliberative orientations. The tech-
nical mode “uses reflection as an instrument to direct practice”
EXPERIENCE AND LEARNING 173
(Wellington & Austin, 1996, p. 308), usually within predetermined
guidelines and standards. The delibe rative orientation “places
emphasis on the discovery, assignment and assessment of personal
meaning within an educational setting” (p. 310). Those operating
from this orientation a re typically humanistic, stress communica-
tion, and believe that the attitudes and values of learners are
important. Although people whose orientation is deliberative
sometimes are uncomfortable with the organization in which they
work, they nevertheless tend to work within that system. And
finally, those who view educational practice as liberating primarily
have the dialectic and transpersonal orientations. Practitioners
whose orientation toward reflective practice is dialectical “reject
the limitations of authorized organizational structures and para-
meters and are uncomfortable working within them. . . . They tend
to . . . focus on political and social issues . . . [and] advocate polit-
ical awareness and activism” (p. 310). In contrast, the transpersonal
orientation “centers on universal personal liberation. . . . They ques-
tion educational ends, content and means from a personal, inner
perspective” (p. 311). This orientation, applied to groups, is the basis
for what is called organized reflection. This is a type of reflection that
occurs “within and as a collaborative entity,” where groups critically
question the status quo (Welsh & Dehler, 2004, p. 20). It examines
power relationships in groups and emancipation is its aim.
Wellington and Austin (1996) cast these orientations not as
competing views of what reflective practice should encompass but
as different ways of going about reflective practice. They believe
that practitioners need to recognize their own predominant
modes, as well as respect the preferred orientations of others.
“When practitioners become aware of their own preferences and
prejudices across models, they can begin to reflect upon a wider
range of questions and develop a wider range of responses”
(p. 314). No matter what orientation people have, two basic
processes have been identified as central to reflective practice:
reflection-on-action and reflection-in-action.
Reflection-on-Action
Reflection-on-action involves thinking through a situation after it
has happened. This mode of reflection is presented by most authors
as primarily an analytical exercise, which results in new perspectives
174 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
on experiences, changes in behavior, and commitments to action.
In reflection-on-action, we consciously return to the experiences we
have had, reevaluate these experiences, decide what we could do dif-
ferently, and then tr y out whatever we decided to do differently.
Different authors have offered various models of carrying out this
reflective cycle. Kolb’s (1984) model, or adaptations of his model, is
the one most often used in practice. The cyclical nature of the
model allows for a process of continued change and growth. Boud,
Keogh, and Walker (1985, 1996) have added to Kolb’s work on
reflection-on-action by stressing that we must attend to the feelings
created by our experiences in order for the reflective process to be
truly effective. In addition, they have added more in-depth descrip-
tions of four cognitive processes (association, integration, validation,
and appropriation) that can contribute to the reflective process.
Osterman and Kottkamp (200 4 ) , b or r ow i n g from the work of
Argyris and Schön (1978), set reflective practice within the frame-
work of espoused theories (beliefs) and theories-in-use (actions).
Within this framework, they view the reflective practice cycle as help-
ing practitioners become aware of, and act on, the discrepancies
between their beliefs (their espoused theories) and what they actu-
ally do. In contrasting espoused theories with action, people may ask
themselves, “Was our action consistent with our intent? Did we act
as we wanted to act, in a way consistent with our values?” (Osterman
&Kottcamp,2004,p.34).Forexample,ateachermayespousethe
theory that she is responsible for helping students who are disrup-
tive in class. She knows that their anger is a cry for help. However,
instead of directly addressing the disruptive students, she glares at
them. Osterman and Kottcamp (2004, p. 35) state, “[The teacher]
consciously knows that student misbehavior is frequently a cry for
help (espoused theory) but her gut reaction is an angry one. The
response may reflect a deeper assumption (theor y-in-use)”—for
example, that angry students are intentionally disrespectful students.
Critical examination of discrepancies between espoused theo-
ries and theories-in-use often begin with a feeling that something
could be improved upon in one’s practice (Osterman & Kottcamp,
2004). In the process of improving their practice, people think
about their espoused beliefs, examine what they actually do and
the results of their actions, and contrast their espoused beliefs with
their practice to unearth their theories-in-use.
EXPERIENCE AND LEARNING 175
Descriptions are plentiful on how to put reflection-on-action
into practice (for example, Osterman & Kottkamp, 2004; Y ork -Barr
et al., 2001). Some of the most popular methods used in education
and other fields are portfolio development, journal writing, map-
ping (a form of journal writing that can be more fluid and visual
than a journal), and critical reflection. Key to all of these methods
is the framing of critical observations and questions as part of the
reflection-on-action process. For example, York-Barr et al. (2001,
p. 47), delineate a four -step process that can guide reflection. First,
individuals must pick an event and ask themselves what happened.
Second, they need to analyze and interpret the event by asking
themselves questions such as, “Why did things happen this way?
Why did I act the way I did? How did the context affect the expe-
rience? Did past experiences affect the way I reacted?” Third, peo-
ple have to make sense of the event by asking themselves, “What
have I learned from this event? How can I improve? How might
this change my future thinking, behaving, interactions?” Last,
people must think about implications for action by quer ying,
“What am I going to remember to think about the next time this
situation comes up? How could I set up conditions to increase the
likelihood of productive interactions and learning?”
Reflection-in-Action
In contrast, reflection-in-action reshapes “what we are doing while
we are doing it” (Schön, 1987, p. 26). “Thinking on your feet” and
“keeping your wits about you” are commonly used phases that
describe reflection-in-action. Schön (1983, 1987, 1991, 1996) is
perhaps the best-kno w n author who has challenged professionals
to incorporate this form of reflective process as an integral part of
professional development. In Schön’s view, reflect ion-in-ac tion is
triggered by surprise. What we have been thinking and doing all
along as professionals no longer works. “We think critically about
the thinking that got us into this fix or this opportunity; and we
may, in the process, restructure strategies of action, understanding
of phenomena, or way s of framing problems. . . . Reflection gives
rise to on-the-spot experiment” (Schön, 1987, p. 28).
For example, in running an institute for professionals, the insti-
tute staff sense that the sessions on a particular day have not gone
well. Over coffee, they ask for feedback from participants, and the
176 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
general observation is that they are finding the material too eso-
teric and are tired of being “talked at.” The next presenter, who is
listening to these conversations, has also planned to lecture.
Although Ron knows he is an excellent lecturer, he decides that
unless he changes the way he presents the material, he will totally
lose the audience. Knowing that many of the people in the audi-
ence have experience related to his content area, he asks for vol-
unteers to join him in a panel discussion on the topic, explaining
that he is changing his format to respond to their needs as learn-
ers. While Ron works with the panel members on their roles, he
asks the rest of the parti cipants to generate questions they would
like to ask panel members. Although he has never used this format
in quite this way before, he believes it might work and is willing to
take a chance to recapture the interest of the participants. In this
way, Ron is using his expertise as an instructor to change on the
spot what he is doing as a presenter as he goes along. Schön goes
on to observe that competent and experienced professionals use
reflection-in-action as a regular part of their practice, although
they may not verbalize they are doing this. This form of reflective
practice allows professionals to go beyond the routine application
of rules, facts, and procedures and gives them the freedom to prac-
tice their craft more as professional artistry where they create new
ways of thinking and acting about problems of practice.
There have been both validation of and criticisms to Schön’s
model of reflection-in-action. Ferry and Ross-Gordon (1998), for
example, in exploring the links between experience and practice,
support Schön’s theory that “reflection-in-action goes beyond
‘stable rules’ by devising new methods of reasoning” (p. 107) and
fostering new ways of framing and responding to problems. Edu-
cators who were reflective in their practice used both reflection-
on-action and reflection-in-action to build their expertise. They
did not find, however, that the amount of experience a person pos-
sessed necessarily had anything to do with that person using reflec-
tive practice.
In contrast, Usher, Br yant, and Johnston (1997) ass ert that
although Schön adequately describes the reflection-in-action
process, in his own work he did not use “his own practice as a pro-
ducer of text . . . [and they view that as] a problem of the absence
of reflexivity in his own work” (p. 143). By this, Usher, Bryant, and
EXPERIENCE AND LEARNING 177
Johnston meant that Schön did not question how the context of
his work, being academic in nature, could get in the way of the
message. Overall, Usher, Br yant, and Johnston believe that
despite Schön’s clear message that reflection-in-action should be
implemented in a c ritical manner, the way in which he conveyed
that message makes it easy for practitioners to co-opt the process
into a technical and rationalistic dialogue.
S ITUATED C OGNITION
Although reflective practice and situated cognition both involve
learning from real-world experiences, how these experiences are
interpreted is often vastly different. In most models of reflec-
tive practice, learning from experience is still viewed as something
that goes on in someone’s head. Individuals, whether by them-
selves or in groups, think through problems presented to them and
then act on those problems by changing their practice on the spot
or as they en c o unt e r similar situations at a later date. Experience
provides the catalyst for learning in reflective practice, but most
often it is seen as separate from the learning process itself.
In situated cognition, one cannot separate the learning process
from the situation in which the learning is presented. Knowledge
is not received and later transferred to another situation “but part
of the ver y process of par ticipation in the immediate situation”
(Fenwick, 2003, p. 25; italics in the original). The proponents of
the situated view of learning argue that learning for ever yday liv-
ing (which includes our practice as professionals) ha ppens only
when people interact with the community (including its histor y
and cultural values and assumptions), “the tools at hand” (such
as technology, language, and images), and the activity at hand
(Fenwick, 2003, p. 25). In other words, the physical and social
experiences and situations in which learners find themselves and
the tools they use in that experience are integral to the entire
learning process.
Machles (2004), through his study of the situated learning of
occupational safety by biotechnical employees, provides us with an
example of how situated cognition translates into practice. In his
study, participants interacted with each other in the workplace to
learn occupational safety on the job. Steve, a study participant,
178 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
stated, “I think most ever ything I ha ve learned, especially about
safety . . . has been learned from other people. . . . It was learned
from my co-workers and stuff. There was never a class” (p. 145).
The tools for learning can be physical tools or concepts learned at
the workplace. Machles (2004) obser ved that workers’ tools
included physical equipment, such as the eye wash and shower
used to treat chemical accidents, as well as concepts such as “don’t
hesitate, respond quickly” (p. 154). A study respondent, James,
spoke about how he used both the physical tools of the eye wash
and shower and the concept of “respond quickly” to save a col-
league’s sight after a chemical accident. James stated, “Another guy
got something in his eye. . . . I got him in the safety shower. I kept
him there 20 minutes. . . . It’s kind of an automatic reflex.
Grab and go” (p. 113).
In viewing learning from a situated perspective, two other ideas
are key. The first is that the emphasis in the learning process changes
from being concerned about memory and how we process infor-
mation internally to perception and the settings in which those per-
ceptions are made (Hansman, 2001). In essence, according t o
Clancey (1997), “[E]very human thought and action is adapted
to the environment, that is, situated, because what people perceive,
and how they conceive of their activity, and what they physically do
develop together” (pp. 1–2). According to proponents of the situ-
ative perspective, this situated nature of cognition makes the trans-
fer process from using learning gained from one situation to the
next more problematic, which has led some theorists to question
whether knowledge, especially practical knowledge, can really trans-
fer across situations (Anderson, Reder, & Simon, 1996). However,
constructivists maintain that the transfer of learning from one sit-
uation to another is possible (Fenwick, 2003). Scholars who study
organizational learning indicate that knowledge transfer of tacit
knowledge (knowledge evident in our actions but that may not be
explicitly articulated), occurs through socialization with others
(Fenwick, 2003). They also recognize that explicit knowledge can
be transferred.
Second, making the assumption that learning and knowing are
primarily cultural phenomena moves the study of cognition (and
therefore, learning from experience) into the social and political
realm and raises the issue of knowledge and power as a legitimate
EXPERIENCE AND LEARNING 179
part of the study of cognition (Fenwick, 2003; Kirshner & Whitson,
1997). Although this issue of power and knowledge is fundamen-
tal to the theor y of situated cognition, it has often been down-
played or overlooked in favor of how to apply the concept
practically (Fenwick, 2003). In acknowledging cognition and learn-
ing from experience as a cultural phenomenon, the perspectives of
critical, feminist, and postmodern thinkers become crucial. Among
the major results of thinking about cognition from a cultural frame
are the critiques that have been fostered about traditional educa-
tional theory and practice (Brown, Collins, & Duguid, 1989; Lave,
1988). Foremost among these critiques is a challenge to the fun-
damental notion that learning is something that occurs within the
individual. Rather, learning encompasses the interaction of learn-
ers and the social environments in which they function.
In using experience in the framework of situated cognition, the
emphasis is on “providing enabling experiences in authentic versus
decontextualized contexts” (Choi & Hannafin, 1995, p. 53). As
Greeno (1997) has thoughtfully observed, “When we recognize that
all learning involves socially organized activity, the question is
not whether to give instruction in a ‘complex, social environment’
but what kinds of complex, social activities to arrange, for which
aspects of participation, and in what sequence to use them” (p. 10).
From this perspective education and training by just abstraction is
of little use. Rather, “to meet the test of ‘authenticity,’ situations
must at least have some of the important attributes of real-life prob-
lem solving, including ill-structured complex goals, an opportunity
for the detection of relevant versus irrelevant information, active/
generative engagement in finding and defining problems as well as
in solving them, involvement in the student’ s beliefs and values, and
an opportunity to engage in collaborative interpersonal activities”
(Young, 1993, p. 45). Cognitive apprenticeships and anchored
instruction are two ways in which the concept of authentic experi-
ences has been put into practice by educators.
C OGNITIVE A PPRENTICESHIPS
Cognitive apprenticeships have received much attention in the liter-
ature. “Cognitive apprenticeship methods try to enculturate [learn-
ers] into authentic practices through activity and social interaction
180 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
in a way similar to that evident—and evidently successful—in craft
apprenticeship” (Brown, Collins, & Duguid, 1989, p. 37). The cog-
nitive nature of the apprenticeship places emphasis on teaching
learners different ways of thinking about whatever they are learning,
as well as any skills associated with the apprenticeship. Fenwick (2003)
adds, “Cognitive apprenticeship moves away from the purely situative
view of learning, treating learners as independent reflective con-
structors of knowledge” (p. 152).
Based on a study of different forms of cognitive apprenticeship
used in several professions, such as engineering, medicine, and
educational administration, Brandt, Farmer, and Buckmaster
(1993) have created a five-phase model (see Table 7.1). The first
phase, modeling, is whe re the model demonstrates the activity as
he or she verbally describes the activity. Phase 2, approximating,
consists of the learner doing the activity with the teacher provid-
ing support (scaffolding) and coaching the learner. In Phase 3, the
coaching and scaffolding are gradually removed and the learner
works in less defined situations individually and in groups. The stu-
dent is self-directed in Phase 4 and assistance from the instructor
is only provided when requested. In Phase 5, generalizing, the gen-
eralizability of the skill is discussed and students are encouraged
to try the skill in new situations.
Several studies indicate that the cognitive apprenticeship
model produces better results in the c lassroom than traditional
instruction (Hockly, 2000; Mayer, Moutone, & Prothero, 2002;
Snyder, 2000; W alker, 2003). Meyer, Mautone, and Prothero required
college students to solve geology problems using a computer game.
Those who were given instructional support and scaffolding outper-
formed those who received basic instruction. Cope, Cuthbertson, and
Stoddart (2000) surveyed nurses who had completed their practice
placements in nursing. Results demonstrated the benefits of scaf-
folding and mentoring for nurses in a practicum setting.
A NCHORED I NSTRUCTION
The purpose of anchored instruction is to create situations in which
learners, through sustained experiences, can grapple with the prob-
lems and opportunities that experts encounter (Cognition and Tech-
nology Group at Vanderbilt, 1990, 2000). To do this, the instructional
EXPERIENCE AND LEARNING 181
TABLE 7.1. COGNITIVE APPRENTICESHIP PHASES.
Role of Model Role of Learner Key Concepts
Phase 1: Modeling Model real-life activity that Observe performance of Articulation, domain-specific
learner wants to perform total activity, not merely the heuristics
satisfactorily. Model states individual steps. Develop a
aloud the essence of the mental model of what the
activity. He or she can real thing looks like.
include tricks of the trade.
Phase 2: Provide coaching to the Approximate doing the Scaffolding, coaching
Approximating learner. Provide support real thing and articulate
when needed. its essence. Reflect on the
model’s performance.
Use self-monitoring and
self-correction.
Phase 3: Fading Decrease coaching Continue to approximate Fading
and scaffolding. the real thing. Operate in
increasingly complex, risky,
or ill-defined situations. Work
individually or in groups.
Phase 4: Provide assistance only Practice doing the real Self-directed learning
Self-directed when requested. thing alone. Do so within
learning specified limits acceptable
to profession and society.
Phase 5: Discuss the Discuss the generalizability Generalizability
Generalizing generalizability of of what has been learned.
what has been learned.
Source: Brandt, Farmer, & Buckmaster, 1993, p. 71.
process is anchored in what the Cognition and Technology Group
calls macrocontexts, whic h are complex problems explored over
extended periods of time and through multiple lenses (Cognition
and Technology Group at Vanderbilt, 2000). These macrocontexts,
which in essence become the tools of learning, can take many forms.
For example, instructors might provide videodisks containing
the problems to be explored or they might ask learners to prepare
problem-based case studies. The goal of anchored instruction is
to have learners “experience what it is like to grow from novices who
have only rudimentar y knowledge . . . to relatively sophisticated
experts who have explored an environment from multiple points of
view” (Cognition and Technology Group at Vanderbilt, 1990, p. 9).
AN APPRAISAL OF EXPERIENTIAL LEARNING
Differing philosophical viewpoints provide several critiques of
experiential learning. First, scholars debate whether people con-
sist of one unified self or if they are a collection of multiple selves
(Fenwick, 2003). The constructivist approach maintains that “[t]he
learner is assumed to be a stable fixed identity, with transparent
access to experience through rational reflection” (p. 77). However,
the psychoanalytic perspective on experiential learning counters
that the self is split between “conscious and unconscious desires”
(Fenwick, 2003, p. 77). The conflict between these desires can
affect our learning and reflection processes.
Those professing the psy choanalytic viewpoint also take issue
with the prominence of cognitive reflection in experiential learn-
ing. They maintain that the focus on cognitive reflection in the
experiential learning literature is limited (Fenwick, 2003). In
the constructivist view of learning, the impact of desire and resis-
tance is not taken into account in the learning process.
Athirdcritiqueofexperientiallearninginvolvestheseparation
of the learner from the context of the experience. The learner’s con-
text includes “the social relations and political cultural dimensions
of the community, . . . the nature of the task, . . . the vocabulary and
cultural beliefs through which the individual makes meaning of the
whole situation, and the historical, temporal, and spatial location of
the situation” (Fenwick, 2003, p. 79). Kolb’ s (1984) model, in par-
ticular, is criticized for its inattention to context, and although Boud
and Walker (1991) mention context, it is presented as a “static
EXPERIENCE AND LEARNING 183
space” (p. 79) that the learner experiences. However, notes Fenwick
(2003, p. 80), “Social relations of power exercised through language
or cultural practices are not theorized as part of knowledge con-
struction” in Boud and Walker’s (1991) model.
Last, say critics, experiential learning needs to be bounded
(Fenwick, 2003). Experiential learning can occur in a variety of
contexts. How does experiential learning differ from experiences
in classrooms such as class discussions and reflection? If all of life’s
activities are considered experiential learning, what does this mean
for the educator?
In addition to critiques of experiential learning, there are
debates about the content, design, and role of the educator in expe-
riential learning. For example, critics maintain that educators’ man-
agement of learners’ experiential learning interferes with the basic
tenet that experiential learning should liberate and not oppress
learners. Scholars argue that management of experiential learning
in the workplace may worsen social problems. In the workplace,
“workers’ experiential learning becomes human capital with great
potential economic benefits for the organization” with no attention
given to the workers’ dignity and freedom (Fenwick, 2003, p. 90).
Asecond,relatedcriticismisthattheassessmentoflearningby
organizations “becomes a tool to control lives” (Fenwick, 2003,
p. 91). In North America, institutions of higher learning assess
learners’ experiences to “help adults gain credits in postsecondary
education” (p. 91). However, the interests and biases of the insti-
tution color what counts as experience worthy of credit. Fenwick
states, “People’s knowing is colonized by being squeezed into . . .
categories and identities” (p. 92).
Some critics counter that although interference in adult learn-
ers’ experiential learning can be oppressive, it is necessary so that
bad practices do not continue. Fenwick (2003) states, “Unsuper-
vised people may make do, finding ways to participate that actually
reinforce negative practices that a community is trying to elimi-
nate” (p. 93). Educators can inter vene and help create positive
practices and reaffirm the adult learner.
S UMMARY
The experiences of adults have always been viewed as a critical com-
ponent of learning in adulthood. Various theoretical perspectives
184 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
emphasize different aspects of experiential learning. The con-
structivist perspective highlights reflecting on the concrete experi-
ence and making meaning of it. The situative approach focuses on
getting learners involved in a community of practice because in this
view learning is intertwined with doing. The psychoanalytic
lens emphasizes the learner’s need to get in touch with his or her
unconscious desires and fears. The critical approach focuses on
the need to resist dominant social norms. Last, the complexity the-
ory of experiential learning emphasizes the relationships among
experiences.
Although exploring the role of experience in learning has a
long history, we continue to discover more about the connections
between learning and experience and how to assist adults in for-
mal and nonformal settings to capture the richness of learning
from experience. Discussed in this chapter were the theories of
Dewey (1938), Kolb (1984), Jar vis (1987), Boud and Walker
(1991), and Usher, Bryant, and Johnston (1997), which offer vary-
ing conceptual views of the process of learning from experience.
Central to all of these writers is the notion that learning from expe-
rience involves adults’ connec ting what they have learned from
current experie n c e s to those in the past as well to poss i b l e future
situations.
We investigated common methods employed in experiential
learning, including reflective practice, sit uated cognition, cogni-
tive apprenticeships, and anchored instruction. Reflective prac-
tice, one of the main ways in which educators have structured
learning from experience, focuses on helping learners make
judgments based on experience related to primarily complex and
murky problems. Situated cognition acknowledges the impor-
tance of the soci al and cultural context of learning. In other
words, the physical and social experiences and situations in which
learners find themselves and the tools they use are integral to
the learning process. The importance of the authenticity of the
experience in which adul t s learn is stressed in the situated frame-
work. Two ways educators have put this concept of authe ntic
experiences into formal practice are cognitive apprenticeships
and anchored instruction.
Last, there are several criticisms of experiential learning. For
example, some critics assert that the focus on cognitive reflection
in the experiential learning literature is a limited perspective and
EXPERIENCE AND LEARNING 185
that the learner is separated from the context of the experience
in experiential learning (Fenwick, 2003). Finally, current debates in
the experiential learning literature center on the role of the edu-
cator in the process. Critics assert that the educator’s control over
the experiential learning situation may be viewed as oppressive.
186 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
PART THREE
NEWER APPROACHES
TO
ADULT LEARNING
In the more than seven years between the last edition of Learning
in Adulthood and this third edition, there has been a burgeoning
of interest both in other ways of knowing and learning, and in
applying the tools of critique and postmodernism to our more tra-
ditional understandings of adult learning. Thus in this Part Three
we have added two totally new chapters. The first attempts to cap-
ture the noncognitive dimensions of learning, learning that is
embodied, spiritual, and narrative or “storied.” The second new
chapter takes us to other cultures and systems of knowing and
learning, for insights with which we can augment our Western ori-
entation to learning. Alth ough certainly noncognitive and non-
Western understandings of learning are not at all “new” in the
world, their emergence in our adult learning literature and pr a c -
tice is relatively new. The third chapter in Part Three updates crit-
ical, feminist, and postmodern perspectives on adult learning.
Most of our knowledge of adult learning is centered on the
mind—that is, cognitive processes related to acquiring, storing,
and making meaning of new information. But the whole person is
always involved in learning, even when we think it is just our brain.
First discussed in Chapter Eight is learning through the body, or
what is called somatic or embodied learning. This type of learning is
learning in an experience as it occurs, rather than from reflecting
on the experience after it occurs. The body actually has receptors
throughout that take in sensory information. At times we attend to
this information better than at others, as when we have a physical,
emotional, or “gut” reaction to what is transpiring around us. In
this chapter we also explore the notion of spirituality, by its nature
difficult to define and grasp. Nevertheless, the notion of spiritual-
ity and its place in our lives and our learning has captured the
attention of not only the popular press but also adult educators.
What is being acknowledged is that our spiritual selves help define
who we are, whether we are at work, at home, or in a classroom.
Finally, whether our learning is through our mind, our body, our
spirit, or some combination of these, we often make sense of this
learning through narrative, through putting it into a story format.
We learn from “storying” our experience.
Chapter Nine explores non-Western approaches to learning.
Immersed as we a re in our own Western orientation to learn ing
and knowing, an orientation that privileges cognition, individual-
ity, autonomy, and independence of thought, we know little about
other cultures and systems of knowing and learning. In this chap-
ter we discuss the value of learning from others and some key con-
cepts for understanding this approach. Then we provide a
sampling of five non-Western perspectives on learning: Confucian,
Hindu, Maori, Islamic, and African indigenous knowledge. We con-
clude the chapter by identifying some themes common to non-
Western and indigenous perspectives. Emphasized are the notions
that learning is interdependent, communal, holistic, and informal.
The last chapter in Part Three is titled “Critical Theory, Post-
modern, and Feminist Perspectives.” While some of the work from
these perspectives has been available for decades, it has only been
since the early 1990s that adult educators have thought about how
these ideas might apply to adult learning and the practice of adult
education today. Underlying all three of these approaches is ques-
tioning the way things are. Each approach, to varying degrees, has
directed attention to how race, class, and gender shape the learn-
ing transaction, how powe r and oppression are inherent in the
process, and how knowledge and truth are construed depending
on the theoretical framework. In addition to these general con-
cepts, which cut across several perspectives, we look specifically at
the contributions made by each of the three schools of thought:
critical theory, postmodernism, and feminist pedagogy.
188 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
CHAPTER EIGHT
EMBODIED,SPIRITUAL, AND
NARRATIVE LEARNING
The whole person is made up of mind, body, and spirit. Rare ly,
however, are the body and spirit tak e n into account when we talk
about learning. Our Western heritage has defined learning as a
mental process that takes place in the mind—never mind that we
cannot locate the “mind.” The brain, which we can locate, becomes
the place of learning, severed from something as concrete as the
body and as ephemeral as the spirit. This focus on the mind is
partly due to Western science’s investigation of learning as a mech-
anistic process—one designed to produce responses to stimuli, or
to process information, or more recently, to construct knowledge
largely through reflection on experience (see Chapter Eleven for
a review of these traditional learning theories).
This emphasis on the mind goes back even before twentieth-
century learning theory to Descartes, a seventeenth-century French
philosopher who declared that “I [that is, my mind, by which I am
what I am] is entirely and truly distinct from my body” and that
“body, figure, ex t e n si o n, motion, and place are merely fictions of
my mind” (Descartes, 1637/1960, pp. 165, 118, cited in Michelson,
1998, p. 218). This separation of the mind and body was reinforced
by eighteenth-century Enlightenment philosophers who believed
that knowledge could be obtained through reason alone; other
sources of knowledge at that time, such as faith, tradition, and
authority, were rejected by many.
As a result of Cartesian and Enlightenment thinking, learning
has come to be equated with mental processes, with knowing
through thinking or cognition. Not until the last few decades of
the twentieth centur y has the role of the body and the spirit in
189
adult learning theory been considered. Feminist theorists and mul-
ticultural theor is t s in particular have signific a n t l y shaped this dis-
cussion, along with a number of adult educators.
This chapter will first discuss the nature of what is being labeled
somatic or embodied learning—that is, learning through the body. An
even larger set of writin g and some research is on spirituali t y and
its role in learning. This will be reviewed in the sec ond section of
the chapter. Finally, whether our learning is located in the mind,
the body, or the spirit, or some combination of these, we often
make sense of this learning through stor ytelling. How we learn
through narrative is explored in the last section of the chapter.
EMBODIED OR S OMATIC LEARNING
Everyone can name times when the body communicates to us,
whether it be a panic attack brought on by stress, a “gut” reaction
to a racist comment, an upset stomach as we contemplate com-
plaining to a teacher or boss, or being drained and exhausted from
an intense encounter. So why have we tended to ignore the body as
asiteforlearning?ThemainreasonseemstobetheWesternpriv-
ileging of mind over body. The focus of learning and education is
“a change in a mental state, from one of ignorance, to one of knowl-
edge. . . . In Western education, the highest status is reserved for
the most abstract and immaterial learning, irrespective of its utility,
and the lowest status is accorded to concrete, material learning,
much of which we learn in daily embodied action” (Beckett & Mor-
ris, 2001, p. 36). Michelson (1996) observes how absurd this sepa-
ration can be when an institution of higher education engages in
awarding credit for prior experiential learning: “To be accredited,
knowledge must be detached from the site of its production. . . .
Knowledge is credited only to the degree that experience has been
transcended, so that both the site of its production and the partic-
ularities of the self have been excised” (p. 190).
REJECTION OF THE B ODY
But the rejection of the body may be even more basic than privi-
leging cognitive knowledge. Goldenberg, Pyszczynski, Greenberg,
and Solomon (2000) advance an interesting hypothesis that the
body is problematic because it is a perpetual reminder of the
190 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
inevitability of death. The dilemma is that, on the one hand, “we are
animals with a deeply rooted instinct for self-preservation; on the
other, we are intelligent beings with sophisticated cognitive abilities
that are immensely adaptive but also render us aware of the inevitabil-
ity of our own death” (p. 201). To deal with this dilemma, we engage
in cognitive distancing, “strip[ping] the body of its creatureliness”
and replacing it with cultural symbols and standards of beauty, sex,
and so on. They conclude that “our flight from our physical nature
causes us to lose a bit of what it means to be human” (p. 215).
Fleeing from the “creatureliness” of the body extends to ignor-
ing, covering up, or satirizing our physical characteristics, bodily func-
tions, and sexua lity. But we live in our bodies, and we learn about
ourselves, about who we are, through what our bodies can and can-
not do and how we experience sexuality and other bodily functions.
Chapman (2002) for example, analyzes the interrelationship of
power and her identity through examination of bodily functions. In
attending an English boarding school, eating constructed her iden-
tity: “We ate at school, every day, the food of Empire . . . seated in the
dining room under the gaze of John Smith, our f a m o u s ‘old boy,’
sternly subduing the female colonial body of waif-like Pocahontas.
We learned/ate to be future wives of the Empire. In food and eating,
we position bodies in relation to others in terms of class and ethnic-
ity, as well as morally, as in good food and bad food” (pp. 75–76).
Popular culture reflects a growing interest in reconnecting the
mind and body. Both Time (January 17, 2005) and Newsweek (Sep-
tember 27, 2004) devoted entire issues to this topic. As the lead story
in the Newsweek issue titled “The New Science of Mind & Body” states:
So why is Newsweek devoting this Health for Life report to the mind-
body connection? Because the relationship between emotion and
health is turning out to be more interesting, and more important,
than most of us could have imagined. Viewed through the lens of
21st-century science, anxiety, alienation and hopelessness are not
just feelings. Neither are love, serenity and optimism. All are physi-
ological states that affect our health just as clearly as obesity or
physical fitness. And the brain, as the source of such states, offers a
potential gateway to countless other tissues and organs—from the
heart and blood vessels to the gut and the immune system. The
challenge is to map the pathways linking mental states to medical
ones, and learn how to travel them at will. [Benson, Corliss, &
Cowley, 2004, p. 46]
EMBODIED,SPIRITUAL, AND NARRATIVE LEARNING 191
The mind-body connection is not only made in terms of health
and medicine. Take, for example, the Academy Award–winning
movie Ray, depicting the life and music of Ray Charles. Clearly, this
blind musician navigated the world through his body just as the
genius of his music flowed through his body.
But while we can find that attention is being paid to uniting
the mind and the body in popular culture, and we can even come
up with personal examples of times when we have learned through
our bodies, embodied or somatic knowing and learning are only
now being sporadically researched and theorized about in educa-
tion and other social sciences (Kerka, 2002). We now turn to defi-
nitions, examples, and theorizing related to embodied learning.
RECLAIMING THE BODY IN LEARNING
Embodied learning is most often linked to experiential learning in
the sense that we learn in an experience. Somatic knowing, as is also
true of spiritual and narrative knowing, is connected to adult learn-
ing through meaning-making. Attending to these noncognitive
dimensions of knowing can bring greater understanding to our
lives; they enable us to make meaning of our everyday experiences.
Learning in the experience is immediate, physical, emotional.
It is, as Siegesmund (2004, p. 80) writes, “a felt reaction of right-
ness within an experience.” This is not to deny that the body has a
social and material location; as Michelson (1998) points out,
“[L]earning is an active, world-creating process inscribed on the
body and at the same time subject to particular material and dis-
cursive conditions that cons train the body within culture and in
history” (p. 225). For example, a woman who physically registers a
sexist comment may in the moment understand something about
sexism or patriarchy. At the same time, however, this learning
would be “a function of a gendered subjectivity, or a social exis-
tence lived within a woman’s body in which the traces of past
angers and hurt feelings, of personal and collective memories
reside” (p. 226). The body, in fact, has long been a central point
of analysis in feminist research and theory (Somerville, 2004).
Other examples of embodied learning are offered by Matthews
(1998) and Crowdes (2000). Matthews recalls his early schooling
days where by and large he had to sit still and endure, rather than
be actively engaged in learning. One exception was a fifth-grade
192 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
teacher who understood “the power of embodied action even at
the level of ritual, [when] she provided white lab coats for us to
wear, which we kept in the cloak room. She explained that when
we put on these coats we would become scientists” (p. 238).
Crowdes (2000) noticed the irony of critical social analysis
courses taught at her university in which students became quite
sophisticated in analyzing issues of power and social inequity but
were “detached from their bodies and agency in matters of conflict
resolution and change” (p. 25). She redesigned the course and
called it “Power, Conflict, and Change in Social Interaction: What’ s
aBodytoDo?”Incorporatedintothecourseareembodiedexer-
cises to convey what is really meant by these terms and how the
body can be employed, along with the intellect, to negotiate
change. In one exercise called bowing, partners in dyads are
assigned roles, with one being superior and all-powerful to whom
the other must bow. The roles are reversed in the second step.
After each phase students are asked to reflect on how they felt in
either role. The third step was for each partner to bow to the other
in a mutually loving and respectful way. The three phases of the
exercise allow students to experience the multifaceted nature of
power and power relations. It is in the experience that power rela-
tions become meaningful.
It is, of course, easier to see how embodied learning takes place
in a physical activity such basketball or dance. But even in the
realm of dance, “dance educators often seem embarrassed to speak
too much about the body, thinking that to note the physical labor
of dance demeans it in the eyes of intellectuals, and to call atten-
tion to the sensory, bodily pleasure of dancing makes us seem mere
hedonists” (Stinson, 1995, p. 46). Stinson goes on to say that for
her to really know something involves “thought as something that
occurs throughout my body, not just above my neck” (p. 46).
Dance choreography is that effort to convey lived experience
through artistic form.
In the same way, conducting research is an embodied process
beginning with a passionate connection to the topic one is going to
research. Data gathering, Stinson (1995) points out, is very embod-
ied, whether interviewing or observing. Sorting through the data
gathered is also an embodied activity “in [an] effort to find the
form and content of the work” being constructed (p. 49). So too,
insights with regard to important theoretical considerations and
EMBODIED,SPIRITUAL, AND NARRATIVE LEARNING 193
the final form of the project “could not have arisen without atten-
tion to embodied knowledge. . . . We can think only with what we
know ‘in our bones,’ and . . . attending to the sensory, followed by
reflection, is essential in research” (p. 52).
In yet another example of embodied knowing, Yoshida (2005)
describes how writing Japanese calligraphy, at first cognitive,
became an embodied experience. He recounts writing the Japan-
ese character for river (Kawa), which requires three strokes:
When I finished the third stroke, I recognized a strong feeling that
remained in my body. I stopped and put the brush down, and went
into that feeling. It was similar to a feeling in my palm which I
remembered from canoeing in the wildness. . . . The beautiful
scene came back. I closed my eyes with this image. And again I
wrote Kawa with a brush as if I was paddling with the flow of the
river. In the left sidestroke the water flows with a paddle (brush). In
the middle stroke, I hold the water and stop the brush. For the
third, I sink the paddle deep down, holding the heavy water for the
longest stroke. I push it all the way down.
I felt the Kawa character written in this way came alive, as if
flowing in front of me. I encountered the vital life of the Kawa
character in this way. . . . The character is no longer an object out-
side myself, it is something living within. [p. 133]
Although the aforementioned examples of embodied learning
involve the body in learning, there are also subtle differences.
Amann (2003) teases out these differences in her four-part model
of somatic knowing. She feels there are four dimensions to this type
of knowing—kinesthetic, sensory, affective, and spiritual. Athletes,
artists, dancers are all concerned with the movement of the body,
or kinesthetic lear ning. This “movement and action . . . often yields
lessons about discipline, diligence, dealing with stress, or solving
problems” (p. 28). Sensory learning, she maintains, is “inherently
somatic” because by definition it is how we access information
through our senses; we then “relate that information to our expe-
rience and extrapolate meanings significant to our lives” (p. 28).
Embodied learning has a strong emotio nal or feeling dimen-
sion, which Amman labels af fective learning. Dirkx (2001b), for
example, speaks to the power of emotions wherein “meaningful
learning is fundamentally grounded in and is derived from the
194 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
adult’s emotional, imaginative connection with the self and with
the broader social world” (p. 64). Actually, science has known for
some time that ner ve endings extend throughout the body
through which we receive impulses from outside the body (see
Chapter Fifteen). Further, “emotions are enmeshed in neural net-
works involving reason. . . . Emotions increase the strength of
memories and help to recall the context of an experience, ren-
dering it meaningful” (Hill, 2001, p. 76). Mulvihill (2003, p. 322) is
even more explicit about the neurological dimension of learning:
There is no such thing as a behaviour or thought, which is not
impacted in some way by emotions. There are no neurotransmit-
ters for “objectivity”; rather even the simplest responses to informa-
tion signals are linked with possibly several “emotional
neurotransmitters” (Haberlandt, 1998). Because the neurotrans-
mitters, which carry messages of emotion, are integrally linked with
the information, during both the initial processing and the linking
with information from the different senses, it becomes clear that
there is no thought, memory, or knowledge which is “objective,” or
“detached” from the personal experience of knowing.
In making the case for including dance and the arts in educa-
tion, Ross (2000) underscores the interconnectedness of emotions
with somatic knowing: “The arts are firmly rooted in these
exchanges between the psyche (mind) and soma (body), and the
senses and emotions are the conduits of these experiences” (p. 31).
Emotions are embodied and thus are an integral component of
this type of learning.
The fourth component of Amann’s somatic learning model is
spiritual. The spiritual aspect of somatic learning is meaning-making
through music, art, imager y, symbols, and rituals and overlaps
or intersects with the other three dimensions (see Chapter Nine).
Interestingly, Yoshida presents his example of somatic knowing in
writing the Japanese word for river as relating to his “spiritual” roots:
“As soon as the characters unfold their life, they unfold the soul,
not only in me, but also in all the souls of the people who lived and
wrote this character throughout Japanese history” (2005, p. 133).
Götz (2001) links the embodied with the spiritual in a number of
ways, citing, for example, numerous athletes who through intense
physical activity have experienced spiritual moments.
EMBODIED,SPIRITUAL, AND NARRATIVE LEARNING 195
Other writers have conceptualized embodied or somatic learn-
ing as embodied cognition (Cheville, 2005), as ontological performance
(Beckett & Morris, 2001), or as a somatic epistemology for education
(Brockman, 2001). Cheville proposes “a theoretical frame that
locates the human body at the intersection of culture and c ogni-
tion”; that is, “the human body is at once an object of culture and
a subject of cognition” (p. 86). To illustrate how the body is at the
intersection of culture and cognition, Cheville conducted an
ethnographic study of the athletic and academic learning of a
women’s basketball team. Cultural expectations manifested them-
selves in the players having to assert their femininity off the court
to counter their physicality (associated with males) on the court.
Further, the African-America n players fought against being seen
solely as athletes, which, along with entertainers, were among the
common culturally prescribed roles for Blacks. Court learning was
amatterofnegotiatingone’sbodybothspatiallyandtemporally;
this learning was overlaid with asymmetrical power relations
between coach and players and more experienced and less expe-
rienced players. Cheville summarizes: “Only by ‘being there’
together in body did players enter into reflexive consciousness. For
Jenny [one of the players] and her teammates, the orchestration
of bodily activity was the means to a collective mindset. Learning
was necessarily a political process, demanding that coache s and
players negotiate their understanding through social and bodily
engagement” (p. 98).
The relationship between identity, learning, and the body is
explored in Beckett and Morris’s (2001) article. To illustrate their
thesis that identity is constructed through embodied actions in
context, they studied two work settings, one an aged-care facility
(ACF) and the other an English as a Second Language (ESL) class-
room. In the ACF, most of the st aff were female with little formal
training or education. However, their physical experience in the
facility, reading each situation as it occurred and finding “what
works,” created a communit y of practice where their iden tities as
health practitioners were secure. The authors characterize this
workplace as a “site of powerful adult learning for the staff,” a place
where “practical logic, aimed at what will work by drawing laterally
on embodied experiences, prevails” (p. 41).
Beckett and Morris (2001) go on to cite two examples from the
ESL classroom of what they call ontological performance. The first
196 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
had to do with a Muslim woman who at first wore the headscarf
but later in the course came covered in a full veil and gloves. The
teacher could not understand the change, which was explained by
student as, “Well, I’m closer now to my religion. I’m more . . . I’m
a better person now because I do this” (p. 42). The authors point
out that while the teacher saw the body as a cultura l representa-
tion, “the learner presents a very different version of culture, one
that is lived, where knowledge, beliefs, and experiences are located
in the body, where the body is the medium for having a world” (p.
42). In the second example from the ESL classroom, learners were
preparing for a two-week work experience placement. The
teacher’s version of the “good worker” was one who stays in his or
her place, acts politely, and does not challenge the boss. The stu-
dents, several of whom had many years of work experience in their
home countries, continually questioned and resisted the teacher’s
construction of them as docile workers. These learners were
“‘active bodies’ constructing and reconstructing their sense of self
and occasionally resisting others’ construction of them” (p. 43).
Brockman’s (2001) somatic epistemology for education is the
final conception of somatic knowing. In today’s world of diversity,
postmodernism, and multicultural education, he asks the impor-
tant question of how we are to assess and deal with cultural “evils.”
All cultures perpetuate certain beliefs, values, customs, practices,
and ideologies that are oppressive and even physically abusive
(sanctioned violence against women, for example). Yet cultural rel-
ativism mitigates against our making a moral judgment of these
behaviors. As an example, he asks what a U.S. schoolteacher should
do if the teacher observes a Turkish boy beating his sister who has
flirted with boys at school. “In Turkish culture, a strong value is
placed on a girl’s honor, so her brother is merely putting into
effect the norms of their culture” (p. 328). Relying on cultural-
linguistic knowledge does not provide a satisfactory basis for dealing
with this moral dilemma.
What is needed, Brockman (2001) maintains, is an epistemol-
ogy based on somatic knowing. Knowing through the body is more
fundamental than what we know through culture. “In short,
neither culture nor language are the source of somatic knowledge.
Somatic knowledge is received from within the human being;
cultural knowledge is received from without the human being”
(p. 331). With regard to the Turkish schoolgirl, while she may
EMBODIED,SPIRITUAL, AND NARRATIVE LEARNING 197
cognitively know that her brother’s actions are cul turally appro-
priate, she “knows somatically the abusive and harmful nature of
her brother’s behavior; it is a cultural evil” (p. 331). The teacher
should “stop the beating, in the name of the body—her body” (p.
333). For those who worry that an outside standard of moral behav-
ior is being placed on a particular cultural context, Brockman
responds, “The body is a criterion of knowing inclusive within every
cultural context, though not independent of context. Therefore,
somatic knowing offers great promise in answering the problem of
relativism, because it recognizes dimensions of knowing (and real-
ity) common within all cultural contexts” (p. 332). A somatic epis-
temology also holds greater promise for “a broader theor y of
learning than would a strictly multicultural theory” (p. 332).
In summary, reclaiming the body in learning contributes to a
broader theor y of learning, one that recognizes the body as a
source of knowledge. This recognition alone challenges the dom-
inant culture’s claims to knowledge based predominately on re a-
son. Legitimizing somatic knowing can also lead to developing
empathy, as Crowdes (2000) attempted to do with her course on
critical social theor y. It is also, as Matthews (1998, p. 237) points
out, “a political argument for greater educational equity.” Finally,
embodied knowing is linked to adult learning through its power
to contribute to making sense of, or making meaning of, our lives.
SPIRITUALITY AND LEARNING
One of us (Merriam) offers this insight:
As is true of most decade birthdays I was not looking forward to
turning sixty. I basically ignored it and managed to schedule some
workshops in South Korea at that time. On the exact date of my
birth I and a Korean colleague were high in the mountains in the
southeast part of the country engaging in an overnight Buddhist
temple stay. We attended prayers, ate in silence with the monks,
and spent an evening in seminar with a monk who explained the
life of the monastery and basic Buddhist beliefs. During the visit I
felt a sense of peace and of being “present” that I had not experi-
enced before; the fact that I had just turned sixty seemed not to
matter and my angst about it evaporated.
198 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
For the author, this was a spiritual learning experience in that
the “flow” or “life force” that she felt in that mountain retreat
enabled her to make meaning of her own aging. Like somatic-
embodied knowing, spiritual knowing or learning is also about
meaning-making, though perhaps more difficult to accommodate
than embodied learning, which does have a tie to physical sensa-
tions. While most would acknowledge that human beings are spir-
itual beings as well as corporal and thinking beings, our image of
the adult learner has been bereft of anything remotely “spiritual.”
Rather, the learner is “merely an animal to be socialized, a com-
puter to be programmed, a unit of production to be harnessed and
utilized, a consumer to be won” (Sloan, 2005, p. 27). Further, the
sense of wonder and awe characteristic of a spiritual stance has
been “trivialized” in “the contemporar y market-driven world” to
the point that “we have ended up attempting to reinvent it in Dis-
neyland or through virtual reality (Mander, 1991)” (O’Sullivan,
2005, p. 70).
These gloomy images of learners in a virtual world are being
countered by an outburst of writing and discussion on the place of
spirituality in our lives generally, and in adult and higher educa-
tion and human resource development specifically. Popular cul-
ture vehicles of movies, books, television shows, and magazine
articles are reflecting this interest, perhaps, as some writers have
speculated, because of the aging baby boom generation. Develop-
mental psychologists dating back to Carl Jung have asserted that
as adults move into midlife and beyond, there is an inward turn-
ing to contemplate the meaning of life and spiritual aspects of one-
self. Indeed, in a longitudinal study of spiritual development in
adulthood, “all participants, irrespective of gender and cohort,
increased significantly in spirituality between late middle (mid-
50s/early 60s) and older adulthood” (Wink & Dillon, 2002, p. 79).
Interest in the topic is manifest in bookstore titles, continuing
education courses, and solidly conservative agencies such as the
National Institutes of Health and the American Medical Associa-
tion, both of which are investigating how spiritual practices such
as meditation, yoga, and prayer can affect physical health. Spiritu-
ality has become a popular topic in even as unlikely a site as Amer-
ica’s profit-driven corporate w orld. Dozens of articles and books
EMBODIED,SPIRITUAL, AND NARRATIVE LEARNING 199
such as Mitroff and Denton ’s A Spiritual Audit of Corpo r a t e America
(1999), Bolman and Deal’s Leading with Soul: An Uncommon Journey
of Spirit (1995), and Briskin’s The Stir ring of Soul in the Workplace
(1996) are calling for management to integrate spirituality into
workplace practices and allow for its expression in the workplace.
Coming from another perspective, and perhaps influenced by
Goleman’s (1995) popular book on emotional intelligence (EQ),
Zohar and Marshall (2000) are proposing a spiritual intelligence
(SQ) to go along with EQ and IQ. This kind of intelligence helps
us “solve problems of meaning and value” (p. 4).
It is a similar picture in higher and adult education. Books,
conference presentations, journal articles, and student theses and
dissertations are grappling with the topic and making visible what
has long been ignored—that there is a spiritual side to our learn-
ing despite the domination of rationality in the classroom. Perhaps
because of the nature of this topic, with only a few exceptions, the
great majority of the writing has been philosophic al in nature.
Drawing from these many sources, we first grapple with defining
spirituality and its place in adult and higher education. Next, we
have distilled from the literature a number of practices and strate-
gies that can cultivate the spiritual dimension of our learning.
DEFINING S PIRITUALITY
There are as many definitions of spirituality as there are people
writing about it. Some use other words, such as grace, heart, flow,
life force, and soul, perhaps partly to avoid the inevitable confu-
sion of spirituality with religion. While for some people spiritual-
ity and religion might be related, writers on the topic of spirituality
are emphatic about the difference between the two. As Tisdell
(2003, p. 29) writes, “Religion is an organized community of faith
that has written doctrine and codes of regulator y behavior. Spiri-
tuality, however, is more personal belief and experience of a divine
spirit or higher purpose, about how we construct meaning, and
what we individually and communally experi ence and attend to
and honor as the sacred in our lives.”
Tisdell’ s (2003) definition of spirituality is derived from a study
of thirty-one higher and adult educators specifically engaged in
anti-oppression pedagogy. She presents seven assumptions about
the nature of spirituality, especially as they relate to an educational
200 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
setting. These assumptions are helpful in grasping what this dimen-
sion in learning is all about:
1. Spirituality and religion are not the same. . . .
2. Spirituality is about an awareness and hono ring of wholeness
and the interconnectedness of all things. . . .
3. Spirituality is fundamentally about meaning-making.
4. Spirituality is always present (though often unacknowledged)
in the learning environment.
5. Spiritual de velopment consti tutes moving tow ard greater
authenticity or to a more authentic self.
6. Spirituality is about how people construct knowledge through
largely unconscious and symbolic processes, often made more
concrete in art forms such as music, art, image, symbol, and rit-
ual which are manifested culturally.
7. Spiritual experiences most often happ en by surpr ise. [pp.
28–29]
Unlike most who write about spirituality from the individual’s
perspective, Tisdell embeds spirituality and learning in a cultural
context. That is, one’s spirituality is informed by and manifested
in culturally defined experiences, symbols, myths, and rituals.
While significant spiritual experiences are found in all cultures,
“the meaning of those experiences is not only valued differently
by different cultural communities, it is also manifested and given
further expression symbolically differently in different cultures—
in art, music, or ritual” (p. 86).
Tisdell’ s participants were also selected for their social justice ori-
entation to practice. English (2005a) identifies this form of spiritu-
ality as “secu lar” or “public” in nature versus spirituality as purely
private and individual in nature. English makes the case that this pub-
lic form of spirituality goes hand in hand with adult education’ s social
change agenda and that “accepting a strong twofold purpose—
spirituality and social change—will move adult educators closer to
reconciling the personal and collective divide in our field” (p. 1187).
In one of the few other empirical studies of spirituality,
Courtenay and Milton’s (2004) sample of adult educators and learn-
ers identified three components of spirituality: a sense of connect-
edness, a search for meaning, and an awareness of a transcendent
force or energy beyond the self. And in an interesting angle on
EMBODIED,SPIRITUAL, AND NARRATIVE LEARNING 201
spirituality, McDonald (2002) looked at the role of spirituality in
the life and work of committed environmentalists. Ten of the eigh-
teen participants expressed a pantheist view in which everything is
an expression of the “vital force” (p. 270). All eighteen were
engaged in “the making of spirit”—that is, “the actions and experi-
ences that bring spirit into being” (p. 269).
Although they are not empirically based, there are some help-
ful discussions in the literature about the nature of spirituality.
Lemkow (2005, p. 24) cites David Bohm, a physicist-philosopher:
“What is spirit? The word is deriv ed from a Latin word meaning
‘breath’ or ‘wind’—like respiration or inspiration. It is suggested
by the trees moving with the invisible force of the wind. We may
thus think of spirit as an invisible force—a life-giving essence that
moves us deeply, or as a source that moves everything from within.”
Anumberofwriterscapturethisnotionofwind,energy,or
movement as characteristic of spirituality. Foehr (1997) speaks of
“spiritually empowering forces or energies . . . having to do with creativ-
ity, imagination, inspiration, intuition, kinesthetic knowledge, felt
sense, passion for knowing, the aha experience, archetypal energy,
and the collective unconscious” (pp. 46–47; italics in original).
Using the word grace instead of spirituality, and speaking of its
place in pedagogy, Graves (1997) notes its transcendent nature as
well as its more common understanding as “harmony of move-
ment, coordination, poise under pressure” (p. 15). Graves’s notion
of grace is not tied to a religious perspective; rather, grace, he
writes, “moves to it s own rhythm, follows its own a genda , and it is
always beyond our power to control or manipulate” (p. 16). Grace
happens “in the ordinary experiences of daily l i f e . . . in everyday
routines and habits . . . in the small joys and disappointments of
life. Moreover, it shows up in the most unlikely places. Grace lurks
among the vegetables in the supermarket. Grace sits on a bar stool
and smokes a cigarette. Grace roams the corridors of a big city hos-
pital. Grace is always there, ever ywhere; we don’t see it, but it
changes our lives when we experience it” (p. 16).
He recounts several stories of how grace can transform human
consciousness, such as one story of a teacher, widowed with small
children, feel ing depressed. Upon looking outsi d e her classroom
window she sees a rabbit on the lawn below: “Somehow I realized
that if that rabbit, who seemed so full of peace and so much a part
of nature, would be all right then I would be too” (p. 17). Graves
202 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
goes on to say that we do not find grace; rather, “to be found by
grace—we must live not only in the immediate moment but let go
of ego involvement in that moment, for grace comes in by the back
door. . . . While the attention is elsewhere, grace is at work in the
unconscious” (p. 16).
This notion of grace as serendipitous is echoed in Dirkx’s
(2001b) understanding of the soul being accessed through images.
“Emotionally charged images,” he writes, “are not under the will-
ful control of the ego.” Rather, they tend to appear spontaneously
during the learning process. “They arrive as they so choose, as acts
of grace” (p. 69). Drawing from Jungian psychology, these images
reflect archetypes from the collective unconscious. “From an arche-
typal perspective, to teach in adult or higher education settings is
to participate in a timeless story or myth” (Dirkx, Pratt, & Ta ylor,
2002, p. 95). Such conscious participation “can help us connect in
amoreprofoundmannerwiththeanimatingforcesofourlives”
(p. 95).
In relating grace to pedagogy, Graves (1997) delineates several
characteristics of grace. First, it is transforming, as in the preceding
story of the teacher. Second, it is healing;stressandanger,grief,the
most impoverished, can find healing in moments of grace. Third,
grace transcends the ego. “Grace provides the perspective to see our-
selves in the larger context, not just as students and teachers but
as individuals connected with each other and with the world
beyond ourselves” (p. 18). Opening the possible is the fourth charac-
teristic. “Grace cuts through the boundaries of culture, language,
race, social class, economic level, age, handicaps, intelligence level,
geography, and birth. Grace interrupts the expected and creates
its own channel” (p. 19). Pointing toward what is right is the fifth
characteristic. The moral and ethical tone of grace echoes others’
writings. English, Fenwick, and Parsons (2003, p. 3 ) for example,
write that “the most straightforward way to promote a spiritual
dimension in teaching and learning is to make a deliberate
attempt to think and act ethically,” simply because “ethical choices
implicitly include a basic recognition of the person as spiritual” (p.
4). Grace is also about enhanci ng creativity, Graves’s sixth charac-
teristic. Finally, grac e is surprising, it—“ shows up in une xpected
places, in coincidences that prove to be extraordinary, and in syn-
chronistic events” (p. 19). It might be recalled that surprise is one
of Tisdell’s (2003) seven assumptions.
EMBODIED,SPIRITUAL, AND NARRATIVE LEARNING 203
Given the nature of spirituality as delineated by these and other
writers and researchers, it is not surprising that strategies for enhanc-
ing or fostering spirituality, soul, or grace during the te aching-
learning transaction are about making space for it to happen.
FOSTERING SPIRITUALITY IN ADULT LEARNING
To the extent that spirituality is about meaning-making, it can be
argued that it has a place in adult learning. Unfortunately, formal
programs of adult education, like any other institutionalized form
of learning, suffer from “order, hierarchies, grades, tests, a gloried
past, control, deprivation, remoteness of various kinds, and weighty
seriousness” (Moore, 2005, p. 13). For spirituality or moments of
grace to happen, “weighty seriousness” must be replaced with play-
fulness, openness, creativity, and imagination. If, as hooks (1994)
writes, “we believe that our work is not merely to share information
but to share in the intellectual and spiritual growth of our students,”
then we must “teach in a manner that respects and cares for the
souls of our students . . . [and] provide the necessar y conditions
where learning can most deeply and intimately begin” (p. 13).
One of the “necessary conditions” identified by several writers
is that the instructor must examine her or his own biography,
acknowledging and “perhaps reconcil[ing] the influence of our
religious upbringing on our current spiritual preferences and resis-
tances” (Fenwick, English, & Parsons, 2001, p. 6). That our own
spiritual or religious biography has an impact is underscored in
Tisdell’s st udy o f thirty-one educators. She found t hat w hile only
six practiced in their childhood religious traditions, all “continu-
ally spiraled back and reclaimed images, symbols, music that still
had important meaning for them from their childhood religious
traditions” and that these “often connected to their cultural back-
grounds” (2005c, ¶ 12).
For moments of spiritual learning to occur there must be space
in the learning environment. Such a space is safe, supportive,
open, “sacred.” Vella (2000) outlines three aspects of a sacred
space—dialogue, respect, and accountability. A sacred space allows
for dialogue where one listens to others’ experiences without judg-
ment. The teacher is accountable for designing a learning experi-
ence that both supports and challenges the learners. We are
204 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
accountable “to make the best plans possible,” but at the same time
we must “be ready to abandon them” (Graves, 1997, p. 20). As
Graves observes, “If grace ever comes into pedagogy, it will be there
not because it was planned but because the conditions were right
and because some sensitive soul had the wisdom not to thwart it”
(p. 20). The spontaneous and fluid nature of spirituality requires
space where it can happen. An overly programmed, informati on
dissemination–driven classroom leaves no space for significant,
indeed, spiritual, learning to occur.
Anumberofwritersunderscoretheimportanceofallowingfor
dialogue. English (2000) defines dialogue as “the interpersonal
connections and interchanges among people that encourage and
promote their spiritual development. . . . Dialogue . . . recognize[s]
the other as an extension of one’s self” (p. 34). It is also through
dialogue that a sense of community can be effected. It might be
recalled that “connection” is one of the components of spiritual-
ity. A community of learning is people-centered, and through dia-
logue, discussion, and sha ring, learners have the opportunity to
connect with others, with their inner, spiritual selves, and perhaps
with a force or energy beyond the self. This is not to ignore the dif-
ficulties in creating community in the classroom, especially in one
that is culturally diverse (Hart & Holton, 1993; Tisdell, 2003).
Mentoring is an activity that can promote spiritual develop-
ment. Daloz’s (1999) concept of the mentor as a guide to the holis-
tic development of the mentee speaks of the process as a journey.
The relationship is also reciprocal and nurturing of both the men-
tor and mentee. English, Fenwick, and Parsons (2003) position
mentoring and coaching in adult education and human resource
development settings. They are careful to point out that this activ-
ity “is not about increasing the bottom line. It is about relationship,
support, and increasing the human spirit” (p. 93). That is not to say
that the power dynamics of such a relationship be ignored; rather,
it is a stance or reverence in which “the spirituality of the relation-
ship is the reciprocity that constitutes the relationship” (p. 95).
In addition to examining one’s own stance, creating space,
and mentor ing, one can foster spirituality through the use of cre-
ative and imaginative activities such as visualization, stor ytelling,
and the use of literature, poetr y, art, and music. These activities
can assist us in looking for “connections in unlikely places,
EMBODIED,SPIRITUAL, AND NARRATIVE LEARNING 205
between apparently unconnected and disparate ideas and expe-
riences” (MacKeracher, 1996, p. 179). Dirkx (2001b) speaks of
these techniques as the imaginal method:
Journal writing, literature, poetry, art, movies, story-telling, dance,
and ritual are specific methods that can be used to help foster the
life of the image in our relationships with adult learners. By
approaching emotionally charged experiences imaginatively rather
than merely conceptually, learners locate and construct, through
enduring mythological motifs, themes, and images, deep meaning,
value, and quality in the relationship between the text and their
own life experiences. [p. 70]
Imagination, and more specifically cultural imagination, is the
focus of Tisdell’s (2005c) work in linking spirituality with diversity
and multicultural issues in today’s hi gher education classroom.
Imagination is a meaning-making activity in that we put together
insights, images, symbols, and ideas in new ways so that new mean-
ing is revealed. Tisdell maintains that this imaginative activity can-
not be separated from the person’s cultural context and history.
When imagination, which “helps people to see from multiple per-
spectives, to visualize new possibilities, and potentiall y to create
something new” involves “cultural stories, histories, and issues, it
engages cultural imagination” (¶ 50). Using teaching strategies
that cross cultural borders such as “service learning opportunities,
engaged dialogue about current issues, and problem-posing tech-
niques” along with the cultural imagination (such as sharing per-
sonal cultural symbols with others) can bring about transformation.
“Image, symbol, music, ritual, art, poetry, often touch off memory
in conscious and unconscious ways, which sometimes connects to
spirituality. . . . One can combine these ways of knowing that are
part of cultural imagination, with the intellectual and critical analy-
sis aspects of higher education to facilitate greater student learning
and greater equity in society” (abstract).
Any summar y of the role of spir ituality in learning would be
only a partial view given the array of understandings, definitions,
and conceptualizations of the phenomenon. Spirituality is, by its
very nature, difficult to capture in the rational prose of academia.
However, given that this dimension of our experience deals with
206 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
meaning-making, it is an appropriate topic to consider because
most significant adult learning is about meaning-making. What-
ever label one prefers, spirituality and the creative and imaginative
techniques for eliciting its presence have a role to play in a more
complete understanding of adult learning. However, what exactly
that role is is open to question. While we have definitions of spiri-
tuality and conditions that might elicit it in an instructional setting,
what we do not yet have is an understanding of or theoretical mod-
els of spiritual learning as we do, for example, with self-directed
learning or transformational learning. Courtenay (personal com-
munication, June 13, 2005) speculates that if we assume spiritual
learning is about meaning-making, then:
What does that mean? Am I able to make meaning better because I
use spirituality in some way? Yes, OK, then in what way? Notice I
didn’t ask “use spiritual learning” in some way, because I don’t
know what spiritual learning means, nor have I seen an acceptable
definition in the literature. Staying with meaning-making further,
would it be easier to explain the link between spirituality and
meaning-making if we provided the opportunity for instructors and
learners to ask and discuss the fundamental questions that all of us
have about the meaning of life? Why are we here? What are we to
do while we are here? Is this all there is and what are the implica-
tions of my answer to this question? What do I value and why? What
is non-negotiable in my life and why? . . . Further issues—when
meaning making is facilitated by spirituality, how is it manifested?
How might it occur in an adult education classroom?
These and other questions will, we hope, shape future research
and theory building in this area.
NARRATIVE LEARNING
At the close of 2004, while people were vacationing in Thailand,
fishing in a coastal village of India, or just relaxing in that lull
between Christmas and New Year’s, an earthquake-caused tidal
wave of d eath an d destr ucti on engu lfed so uthe ast Asi a. What
was impossible to grasp was made human through the stories of
individuals—stories of how they faced then ran from the tsunami,
of a village leveled, of family members being separated, some never
EMBODIED,SPIRITUAL, AND NARRATIVE LEARNING 207
found, of filming the wall of water from a hotel rooftop. Only
through these stories could we make some sense of what had
happened.
Narratives are stories, “the oldest and most natural form of
sense making” (Jonassen & Hernandez-Serrano, 2002, p. 66), and
they have a place in adult learning because stories enable us to
make meaning of our lives. The vignette presented earlier in this
chapter on turning sixty during a stay at a Buddhist temple was a
story used to illustrate spiritual learning. And like embodied and
spiritual learning, narrative learning is firmly lodged in what may
be called the nonscientific. Drawing from Bruner (1986), Rossiter
(2005) sums up the difference between scientific and narrative
knowing: “Narrative knowing . . . is concerned more with human
meaning than with discrete facts, more with coherence than with
logic, more with sequences than with categories, and more with
understanding than with predictability and control” (p. 419).
We not only view our own lives as narratives but are sur-
rounded by and embedded in narratives. We watch news stories on
television, tell stories of our day at school or work, perhaps write
the story of our day in our diary. Rossiter and Clark (in press) orga-
nize these surrounding narratives into fou r types—cultu r a l , famil-
ial, individual (Keen & Valley-Fox, 1989), and organizational
(Neuhauser, 1993).
Cultural narratives or myths are those that define the socio-
cultural milieu in which we live; they form the taken-for-granted
assumptions on which we live our lives in the way that we do. The
cultural narrative “is difficult to recognize—to notice and reflect
upon—because we’re immersed in it. It is as invisible to us as the
air we breathe” (Rossiter & Clark, in press, p. 24 of ms.). In the
United States, the individual being responsible for his or her own
success, the right to material wealth, the United States as super-
power, and so on, are parts of our cultural narrative but so embed-
ded that we rarely recognize them as such. Sometimes it takes a
catastrophic event to expose these narratives. For example, the
authorities’ lack of prepare dness and Hurricane Katrina’s devas-
tation of the city of New Orleans challenged the cultural narrative
of the United States being all-powerful and in control. Family nar-
ratives embrace certain values and beliefs, customs, roles, and rit-
uals. “Who are the heroes of the family, whose stories are told with
pride across the years? And who are the villains, the black sheep,
208 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
whose crimes . . . [a re] only suggested or whispered?” (p. 26 of
ms.). Individual narratives are how we story our own lives.
Finally, “just as cultures, families and individuals have narratives,
so do organizations, and organizational narratives express and cre-
ate the lore of the organization as in cultures and families” (Rossiter
&Clark,inpress,p.30ofms.).Inadulteducation,thesenarratives
can be examined, reflected upon, challenged, and even revised.
Interestingly, the field of adult education itself is involved in con-
structing a narrative of its identity: “Are we heroes engaged in the
emancipation of the oppressed? . . . Are we tour guides in the busi-
ness of actualizing the human potential of people who have leisure
time? Are we entrepreneurs who sell job training in a competitive
marketplace? Are we all of those characters?” (p. 33 of ms.).
LEARNING THROUGH NARRATIVE
The use of narratives is common in numerous disciplines, such as
psychology and literature, and fields of practice, like medicine, law,
social work, and more recently, education (Hopkins, 1994).
Although it has only been since the 1990s that narrative learning
has received some attention in adult education, the field’s histori-
cal recognition of the importance of experience in learning, as well
as learning as a meaning-making activity, have made for the ready
acceptance of narrative as learning. Speaking of journals, a form
of narrative, Kerka (2002, p. 1) writes that “a journa l is a crucible
for processing the raw material of experience in order to integrate
it with existing knowledge and create new meaning.”
Narratives can take a number of forms, each useful as a vehi-
cle for learning. Rossiter (2005) and Rossiter and Clark (in press)
identify three ways in which stories appear in practice: “stor ying”
the curriculum, stor ytelling, and autobiogra phy. In the first, the
curriculum or the text of a course is treated as a story and students
interact with these texts to come to some understanding or inter-
pretation of the subject matter. For example, in a graduate
research seminar on the development of the knowledge base of
adult education, Merriam made use of research journals dating
back to the 1930s, periodic review s of research, and historical lit-
erature on the founding of professional associations and graduate
programs in adult education. These materials were read and exam-
ined with the goal of telling a story (not necessarily the story) about
EMBODIED,SPIRITUAL, AND NARRATIVE LEARNING 209
how the knowledge base of adult education has come to be con-
structed as it has. Each student was asked to interpret these mate-
rials and to write a paper (a story) about the development of the
knowledge base.
This storying of the curriculum is in itself a learning process.
Clark (personal communication, July 30, 2005) explains this learn-
ing: “When we are learning something new, we’re trying to make
sense of it, to figure out its internal logic and how it’ s related to what
we already know. We do this by narrating it, or trying to—that is, we
work to story it, to make this new idea coherent to ourselves. . . . The
construction of that narrative is how we see our understanding come
together and make sense. . . . The narrativizing of our understand-
ing is how we make our learning visible to ourselves, if only in our
heads.”
Asecondformofnarrative,storytelling,invariousforms—such
as fiction (Baumgartner & Merriam, 1999), case studies, exemplars
from practice, role-playing, or critical incidents—is a common
means of engaging students in understanding concepts, principles,
or theories. Jonassen and Hernandez-Serrano (2002) argue that sto-
ries in the form of cases are a good instructional technique to teach
problem solving. They cite a number of studies with practitioners
who understood their practice not from a technical or rational per-
spective but rather through stories and examples from experience.
These stories of past experience were what guided future action. If
practitioners in real-life situations solve ill-structured problems
through narratives, stories, or cases, then “stories can function as a
substitute for direct experience, which novice problem solvers do
not possess. Supporting learning with stories can help students
to gain experience vicariously” (p. 69).
Using stories to engage students in ideas that are part of course
content may be the only way to allow understanding to occur. It is
also a powerful means of making connections not only with ideas
but with other learners, perhaps ultimately creating a learning
community. Whether these stories are generated by students them-
selves, are case studies, or are fictional accounts, they draw us in,
they allow us to see from another’s perspective. In today’s multi-
cultural classrooms we cannot assume the rest of the world sees
things the way we do. “The authenticity and immedia c y of a story
of lived experience takes us into the experience of another. In that
210 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
way it deepens and expands our capacity for taking the perspective
of another. In short, life story sharing reduces resistance to new or
different po i n ts of view an d serves to broaden the perspectives of
all participants” (Rossiter & Clark, in press, p. 107 of ms.).
The third form of narrative, autobiographies, are by the self
and about the self and can include journaling, dream logs, ther-
apy, blogs, and what Dominice (2000) calls “educational biogra-
phy.” Human beings have kept records of their lives for centuries.
Some of these self-authored stories have become famous, such as
St. Augustine’s Confessions, or The Diary of Anne Frank. Others,
though not by famous people, have proved enormously helpful to
historians who want to tell the stor y of some past time or event.
Slave narratives, immigrant journals, and memoirs of prisoners in
Nazi concentration camps are examples of such historical narra-
tives. Blogs are the most recent form. A blog is a Web site where
“you write stuff on an ongoing basis.” A blog takes any number of
forms; it can be “a pe rsonal diar y. A daily pulpit. A collaborative
space. A political soapbox. A breaking-news outlet. A collection of
links. Your own private thoughts” (http://www.blogger.com/start).
An early approach to one form of autobiographical methods—
journaling—began in the wel l-known intensive workshops of the
1970s by Progoff (1975). In these workshops, which are still held
today, journaling is used to foster the participant’s potential for
growth and development. Indeed, research suggests there are a
number of benefits in writing to the self and about the self. Brady
and Sky (2003) studied fifteen older learners who kept a journal
currently and had done so for at least th ree years. Interestingly,
participants kept journals not as a lifelong activity but rather as a
sporadic activity, which would be reignited by some critical life
event, such as illness, death, family problems, and so on. These par-
ticipants spoke of three benefits to journal writing. First, they
described it as a means of coping with their day-to-day lives, includ-
ing with decisions, with relationship issues, and “as an antidote to
failing memory” (p. 159). A second benefit the researchers termed
“the joy of discovery,” meaning that journals were “a sort of mile-
stone for measuring one’s own progress in the journey of human
development” (p. 159). Finally, journaling allowed for the nurtur-
ing of one’ s voice and spirit; that is, journaling confirmed that they
had “something meaningful to say” (p. 160), and it allowed for
EMBODIED,SPIRITUAL, AND NARRATIVE LEARNING 211
contemplation and sometimes the realization of a new level of spir-
itual consciousness.
Although the benefits of journaling for Brady and Sky’s older
adult learners might be partially explained by their life stage, their
findings have similarities with those of other studies. Wiener and
Rosenwald (1993) interviewed twelve people between eighteen and
fifty years of age to identify the subjective utility of keeping a diary,
amorestructuredformofjournaling.Onebenefitwasinestab-
lishing and maintaining boundaries among different senses of the
self, and different emotions and experiences. Like Brady and Sky,
the researchers in this study were surprised to learn that most par-
ticipants kept multiple diaries. Participants kept separate journals
for family matters, emotional writing, travel, daily events, and so
on. While one benefit was maintaining boundaries of the self,
another seemingly opposite benefit was dissolving boundaries. Par-
ticipants reported using diaries “to allow repressed material to sur-
face” (p. 42) and to bring to the fore varying aspects of the self.
Three other benefits uncovered by Wiener and Rosenwald
(1993) are that diaries help manage emotions, manage time (a
diarist can preser ve the past, or condense past and present), and
function as “the self in a mirror” (p. 43). By this last the authors
mean that a diary can be like looking into a mirror—“defining the
self by objectivating and then observing it” (p. 45).
Journal writing, whether it is about the self or about one’s
learning, has been advocated as a tool for adult learning, especially
if the learner is asked to reflect on the day’s (or class’s) events and
activities. Kerka (2000, p. 1) offers a set of assumptions about how
this learning occurs:
• Articulating connections between new and existing knowledge
improves learning.
• Writing about learning is a way of demonstrating what has
been learned.
• Journal writing accentuates favorable learning conditions—it
demands time and space for reflection, encourages indepen-
dent thought and ownership, enables expression of feelings,
and provides a place to work with ill-structured problems.
• Reflection encourages deep rather than surface learning.
212 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Connections and reflection are two aspects of learning that are
also present in the construction of autobiographical stories and
educational biographies. Autobiographical writing requires a bit
more distance from the self than does journal writing. “Because
autobiography involves not only recounting memories and expres-
sions but also finding their larger meaning, and to the extent that
the activity expands the individual’s knowledge of self and the
world, it constitutes learning” (Karpiak, 2000, p. 34). It is in auto-
biography that we can identify “pattern s and meaning in our life,
per haps even building a theory of our life, or of life in general. Hav-
ing stepped back and reflected, we know something now that we
did not know before” (p. 34). Karpiak (2000) maintains that auto-
biographies are a particularly potent instructional activity, especially
for courses in adult learning and adult development. As one stu-
dent she interviewed said, “Autobiography helps an individual find
how the course material fits into their life, as opposed to having the
instructor do it for you” (p. 41). Another student said that in writ-
ing her autobiography, the concept of lifelong learning, which had
previously been just a “buzz word,” now had meaning. She could
“see that in one’s life each moment is a learning experience. . . .
That actual living was learning” (p. 42).
Focusing on one’s educational history or how one has come to
know what one knows is what Dominice (2000) calls educational biog-
raphy . He has developed this technique into a two-semester student
experience of oral and written narratives involving individual and
collaborative learning. Through these biographies students see how
family, schooling, and the sociocultural environment have helped
them construct their identities as adult learners. “Looking at the
past, checking roots, and giving names to experiential learning help
adults clarify the future they want to build” (Dominice, 2000, p. 143).
NARRATIVE LEARNING,ADULT DEVELOPMENT,
AND TRANSFORMATIONAL LEARNING
As is evident in the techniques already reviewed, narrative learn-
ing has very strong links to both adult development and tra nsfor-
mational learning. As a means of understanding adult development,
anarrativeframeworkseesthelifecourseasanunfoldingstory,
EMBODIED,SPIRITUAL, AND NARRATIVE LEARNING 213
one constructed and interpreted by the individual. While the
sociocultural-historical context interacts with and to some extent
shapes the life course, the meaning of our life experiences consti-
tutes our particular developmental trajectory.
In contrast to stage and phase theories of adult development,
most of which have an end state (such as Erikson’s [1963] final
stage of ego integrity versus despair, for example), life narratives
are retrospective, always in process, unfolding. And as Rossiter and
Clark (in press) point out, development from a narrative perspec-
tive can be “empowering. While we do not have control over many
of the events or circumstances of our lives, we do have some choice
as to how we interpret them. If something unpleasant happens it
is not imperative that we will see it as the end of all happiness for-
ever and ever. This realization of choice in meaning-making is one
of the most valuable aspects of the narrative orientation” (pp.
38–39 of ms.)
Adult development and transformational learning are closely
intertwined (see Chapter Six). The chief architect of transforma-
tional learning theory, Jack Mezirow, unequivocally states that the
process of perspective transformation is “the central process of
adult development” (1991, p. 155). The process that he delineates,
however, is quite cognitive and depends on the critical examina-
tion of assumptions, re flection, and rational discourse. Randa ll
(1996) makes a convincing case for how narrative can be seen as
transformational le arning. Both methods are primarily cognitive
dealing with the learner’ s lived experience through interpretation,
through creating new meaning. While Mezirow’s process most
often begins with a “disorienting dilemma” that causes us to exam-
ine our underlying a ssum pti ons and values, Randall suggests that
when we encounter a life experience that cannot be accommo-
dated by our old story of ourselves and the world, we seek to restory
our lives: “We seek restorying when our current lifestory (inside,
at least) no longer coheres within itself, when it becomes incoher-
ent, when the many are at war with the one. We seek it when our
central self-story has either too little conflict and so fails to go any-
where, or too much and so threatens to fly apart. . . . We might
seek restorying, for example, when a particular episode fails to fit
with the dominant story we tell ourselves about who we are, where
we have come from, and where we are going” (p. 238).
214 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
In Mezirow’s framework, transformational learning results in
a“moreinclusive,discriminating,permeable,andintegrativeper-
spective,” one that better accommodates the meaning one makes
of one’s experience (1990b, p. 14). Restorying one’s life is quite
similar: “Specifically, it is the question as to how I can compose a
story big enough, with a horizon broad enough, to account for as
much as possible of my actual life and render it available to me as
acoherent,re-memberedwhole”(Glover,citedinRandall,1996,
p. 240).
But adult development and transformational learning also
involve embodied and spiritual learning. How w e story our lives
includes not just cognitive but emotional, bodily, and spiritual
dimensions. In a study of a culturally diverse sample of midlife
men and their transformative spiritual dev elopment, Davis
(2004) found that the men “cited their experiences of spirit as
atimeofchallengeandopportunitytoexpressemotion,con-
nect with people, relinquish control, and move beyond the ratio-
nal” (p. 122).
Life transitions and crises that trigger de velopment, whether
social, psychological, or spiritual, are often highly charged, physi-
cal, and sometimes spiritual (see Chapter Twelve). The birth of a
child, a major health problem, the loss of a job, and so on are
experiences that are holistic in nature. In a discussion of the role
of somatic learning in transformational learning, Amann (2003)
explores how kinesthetic, sensory, affective, and spiritual aspects
“centraliz[e] the body so that it is integral to the learning experi-
ence. Combined with opportunities for reflection, somatic learn-
ing contributes a ne w perspective to the scope of transformative
learning” (p. 31). Brooks and Clark (2001) point out that narra-
tives of transformative learning are compelling because of their affec-
tive, somatic, and spiritual dimensions.
To summarize this section on narrative learning, it is clear that
adult educators have a means of facilitating learning that all adults
can relate to—stories that surround us, that define us, that we can
construct, analyze, reflect upon, and learn from. Stories can be
used to understand content, ourselves, and the world in which we
live. Narratives are also windows into development and transfor-
mational learning. They enable us to make sense of our experi-
ence, which is what adult learning is all about.
EMBODIED,SPIRITUAL, AND NARRATIVE LEARNING 215
SUMMARY
Embodied, spiritual, and narrative learning all have in common
meaning-making that is embodied, constructed, and i nt e r p r e t e d .
These are not modes of learning that adhere to a way of thinking
that elevates reason, logic, and theory over the body, the spirit, or
the “story” of our experience.
Embodied or somatic knowing is knowing through the body.
It is directly related to our physical being, our senses, and the expe-
riences of the body. Examples of embodied learning were pre-
sented and discussed; these examples reflect Amann’s (2003)
model of somatic knowing, which consists of the four overlapping
dimensions of kinesthetic, sensory, affective, and spiritual. This sec-
tion of the chapter concluded with a review of three conceptual-
izations of embodied learning: embodied cognition, ontological
performance, and a somatic epistemology for education.
In the second section of the chapter on spirituality and learn-
ing, we first grappled with defining spirituality as something dif-
ferent from but per haps related to religion. Most of the authors we
reviewed link spirituality to meaning-making in our lives, and on
that basis it is an appropriate topic for exploration in adult learn-
ing. A number of instructional techniques were reviewed that fos-
ter spirituality in adult learning, including self-examination by the
instructor of her or his views and assumptions, creating a safe space
for this kind of learning to occur, mentoring learners, and engag-
ing in creative and imaginative instructional activities.
The final section of the chapter dealt with narrative learning.
Narrative learning is the use of stories in the construction of mean-
ing, whether the meaning-making has to do with the self, with the
content of instruction, or with the world around us. Using Rossiter
and Clark’s (in press) model, three uses of narrative in practice
were reviewed: narrative as storying the curriculum, narrative as
storytelling, and narrative as autobiography. A final section focused
on a narrative perspective of adult development and transforma-
tional learning.
216 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
CHAPTER NINE
LEARNING AND KNOWING:
NON-WES TERN PERSPECTIVES
The newborn infant only hours old is handed to the
father who whispers into the newborn’s ear, “God is
Great. I bear witness there is no God but the one true
God.” So begins the Muslim’s life journey. It is a
journey of lifelong learning and discovery , a journey
during which every Muslim discovers the greatness of
God through the beauties and wonders of His creation.
—MAZALAN KAMIS
For those of the Islamic faith, learning is indeed lifelong. It is also
considered a sacred obligation to learn not for personal benefit,
but for sharing with the whole community. Unfortunately, we know
little about this perspec tive and other epistemological systems as
we are immersed in our own Western orientation to learning and
knowing. Indeed, this edition of Lear ning in Adulthood is primarily
lodged in Western values and culture.
Beginning with the 1928 publication of Thorndike et al.’s land-
mark study of adult learning (Thorndike, Bregman, Tilton, &
Woodyard, 1928), the knowledge base that has developed around
learning and adu lt learning has been shap ed by what counts as
knowledge in a Western paradigm. Research and theor y in adult
learning to a large extent assumes that the mind and body are
split, thus leading to an emphasis on cognition, information pro-
cessing, intelligence measures, cognitive development, and so on.
Embedded in this focus are the cultural values of privileging the
217
individual learner over the collective, and promoting autonomy
and independence of thought and action over community and inter-
dependence. Andragogy, self-directed learning, and much of the
literature on transformational learning position self-direction,
independence , rational discourse, and reflective thought as pinna-
cles of adult learning theory.
That Western notions of adult learning dominate is evidenced
by the use of Western textbooks, journals, an d conference pro-
ceedings in academic adult education programs not only in North
America but in Asia and Africa. In addition, the curriculum
that international students study in graduate programs in North
America is, of course, primarily Western. While there is some
recent work by Western scholars on spirituality, embodied or
somatic knowing, emotions, aesthetics, and the “nonrational,”
these perspectives are still ver y much on the margins of the field
(see Chapter Eight).
However, we need only look more closely inside our own bor-
ders, to Native Ame ricans, for example, and beyond the borders
of North America and Western Europe, to find major systems of
thought and beliefs embedded in entirely different cultural values
and epistemological systems that can be drawn upon to enlarge our
understanding of adult lea rning. Some of these systems predate
Thorndike by thousands of years and encompass the greater part
of the world’s peoples. For example, in a study of self-directed
learning in the Korean context, most of the Western values were
rejected (Nah, 2000). Rather, “a person becoming independent of
his or her parents, teachers or other people, tends to be consid-
ered threatening [to] the stability of a community he or she
belongs to. . . . Becoming independent without being interdepen-
dent passes for immaturity or self-centeredness” (p. 18). Moreover,
in a countr y that has faced numerous enemies, “collectivism and
collaboration are taught from one’s childhood as one of the most
important survival skills and moral virtues” (p. 18).
In yet another example, the notion of transformational learn-
ing from a Buddhist thought system involves “increased insight into
the nature of reality result[ing] in an understanding of the inter-
connection of all living beings and a decrease in human suffering”
(Brooks, 2000, p. 166). Brooks goes on to point out that “although
Buddhism is a part of mainstream institutional culture in many
218 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Asian nations, it stands as an alternative to the mainstream in the
West” (p. 166).
This chapter has a number of purposes. First, we introduce
readers to the value of learning about other perspectives. Second,
we discuss some key concepts involved in this endeavor, concepts
such as the Western/non-Western dichotomy itself, ethnocentrism,
culture, and indigenous knowledge. At the center of the chapter
are short introductions to five different perspectives on learning
and knowing; these five perspectives were first presented as a sym-
posium at the 2005 Adult Education Research Conference and are
but examples of how much we have to learn from other systems of
learning. Finally, we will close with some commonalities or themes
found across non-Western perspectives that stand in contrast to our
Western orientation to learning.
WHY STUDY OTHER WAY S O F
LEARNING AND K NOWING?
Some readers of this book might argue that since a Western per-
spective dominates what is considered the legitimate knowledge of
adult learning, we need not bother ourselves with considering yet
other systems of learning. This view is quite ethnocentric; that is,
“the tendency to view one’s own cultural group as superior to oth-
ers” (Reagan, 2005, p. 4), and being ethnocentric, reinforces the
marginalization and oppression of other systems of knowing. The
purpose of examining other systems is not to replace the Western
tradition but rather to expand our understanding of learning and
knowing.
Such exposure can affect our practice as adult educators in a
number of ways. First, we might rethink our purposes as educators
from largely transmitters of “validated Western information” to “a
more compelling form of analysis . . . engaging students in the
interpretation of various knowledges and modes of knowledge pro-
duction” (Semali & Kincheloe, 1999, p. 34). Closely aligned with
this purpose is that considering other ways of knowing leads us to
examine how knowledge is produced, whose interests are being
ser ved by this knowledge, and how knowledge comes to be vali-
dated or “official” (see Chapter Ten). “Such an awareness is too
LEARNING AND KNOWING:NON-WESTERN PERSPECTIVES 219
often absent in Western education. In mainstream pedagogies we
are taught to believe that the knowledge we consider official and
valid has been produced in a neutral, noble, and altruistic manner.
Such a view dismisses the cultural and power-related dimensions
of knowledge production” (Semali & Kincheloe, 1999, p. 34).
Yet another purpose in becoming familiar with other knowl-
edge systems is the benefit this knowledge will have in affecting our
practice with learners having other than Western worldviews.
Antone and Gamlin (2004) for example, argue that to be effective,
literacy programs with Aboriginal people (a term they use to refer
to First Nations, Inuit, and Métis persons and collectivities) must
be more than “reading, numeracy and writing which is typically
directed towards gaining access to mainstream employment” (p.
26). Rather, Aboriginal literacy
is about sustaining a particular worldview and about the survival of
a distinct and vital culture. Being literate is about resymbolizing
and reinterpreting past experience, while at the same time honour-
ing traditional values. Being literate is about living these values in
contemporary times. Being literate is about visioning a future in
which an Aboriginal way of being will continue to thrive. Meaningful
Aboriginal literacy will develop and find expression in everything
that is done. Consequently Aboriginal literacy programs must
reflect a broad approach that recognizes the unique ways that Abo-
riginal people represent their experience and knowledge. [p. 26;
italics in original]
Another example of how having some familiarity with other
worldviews can affect our practice as adult educators is in under-
standing how many Asian students view aspects of the teaching-
learning transaction. Their reticence to question or speak out in
our classes is due to years of training that speaking out might cause
someone (the teacher in particular) to lose face; the accepted strat-
egy is to personally approach the teacher outside class. Further,
“silence is used by east Asian collectivists as an indication of
strength, power, and disagreement, whereas individualists see it as
an indication of weakness, shyness, or trouble” (Liu, 2001, p. 190).
Finally, Wang (2006) points out that for a Chinese student, shar-
ing something personal in our adult education classes is seen as a
sign of weakness, a loss of manners, or an attempt to seek help.
220 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Afinalvalueinexpandingourunderstandingoflearningto
include perspectives outside of our traditional Western views is that
we will be personally enriched. Such exposure leads to reflecting on
our own ideas in new ways, and hearing others’ stories about their
learning contributes to our own meaning-making. While we can
acknowledge that no story perfectly evokes all that is true about our
lives, . . . we must also acknowledge that the more stories we have
available to us, the richer are our resources . . . the more voices and
narratives to which we listen, the more abundantly we experience
our lives. In fact, we often find that as different from ourselves as we
may imagine the others who create those narratives to be, we can
still find that the stories from their lives reflect something true
about our own. In that case, for both their differences and their sim-
ilarities, we can hardly afford to let some voices remain marginal
and silenced and other voices dominate. [Brooks, 2000, p. 169]
For example, in one of our adult development classes an adult
learner from India shared her story of living with her parents, as is
the custom, until she was married at age thirty-two. She saw this as
agreatadvantageinherlearningtobeamatureadultbecauseshe
had her parents as constant role models. At the same time, she
came to understand what aging meant for older adults and devel-
oped both compassion and admiration for the older generation.
THE WESTERN/NON-WESTERN DICHO TOMY,
C
ULTURE, AND INDIGENOUS KNOWLEDGE
There are a number of concepts that are important to consider
when stepping out of our Western-only perspective on learning.
First to be considered is the dichotomy of Western versus non-
Western. Culture and indigenous knowledge are two other con-
cepts that inform this effort.
We have used “non-Western” in the title of this chapter to con-
vey something different from the epistemology that many label
“Western” that informs the rest of this book. This notion of
dichotomies is itself a very Western concept, a fact not lost on us.
Dichotomies such as mind-body, nature-nur ture, emotion-reason, and
human-animal are in fact an “obsession . . . that runs through West-
ern intellectual history” (Nisbett, 2003, p. 154). And, of course,
LEARNING AND KNOWING:NON-WESTERN PERSPECTIVES 221
there are a number of anomalies in using these terms—for exam-
ple, many indigenous peoples of North America do not adhere
to a “Western” perspective. Also problematic is the suggestion
that “Western” is the gold standard against which we measure non-
Western, thus depriving non-Westerners of having legitimate knowl-
edge apart from Western norms. So why do we use these categories?
As Reagan (2005, p. 11) notes, “The biases inherent in the terms
are in fact a significant and telling component of the phenomenon
that we are concerned with studying. . . . Thus, what begins as a false
dichotomy can emerge as an effective way of challenging and
reforming racist and ethnocentric assumptions and biases.”
AWesternperspectiveisoftentracedtoclassicalGreekculture
where “personal freedom, individuality, and objective though t”
(Nisbett, 2003, p. 30) were developed, brought to Europe, and
extended to other parts of the world through European coloniza-
tion. Still going on today is the intellectual “colonization” of the
world, largely through Western science. “A key to comprehending
the power of Western science involves its ability to depict its find-
ings as universal knowledge. Modernist science produces univer-
sal histories, defines civilization, and determines reality: such
capabilities legitimate particular ways of seeing and, concurrently,
delegitimate others” (Semali & Kincheloe, 1999, p. 31).
The separation of knowledge from its context and its codifica-
tion according to Western science has had an impact on educa-
tional thought and practice. We collapse education into
“schooling,” for example, so that in adult education learners have
adifficulttimethinkingoftheirlearningasanythingbutpartici-
pation in formal classes. Informal learning, which adults engage
in on a daily basis, hardly counts as “real” learning. “Western epis-
temological tyranny and the oppressive educational practices that
follow it” (Semali & Kincheloe, 1999, p. 31) have resulted in our
overlooking rich sources of knowledge. For example,
Western epistemological exports to Africa . . . tend to limit reality
to appearances with which they [Westerners] seek to justify, mostly
without explanation, the so-called absolute and irrefutable truth.
For Africans, the search for truth goes beyond appearances into
some deep understanding of why the truth is truth. Sometimes the
search for truth may be mystified as [when] recourse may be
made to traditional religious performances. Among the Yoruba in
222 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Nigeria, the ifa oracle of divination may be used to determine what
the truth is. Magical understanding and interpretation of the truth
is accepted in Africa and this is connected to the way in which peo-
ple know. [Fasokun, Katahoire, & Oduaran, 2005, pp. 63–64]
The Western/non-Western dichotomy is one means of consid-
ering alternative perspectives to our understanding of learning and
knowing. Culture is another, which is of course part of defining
Western and non-Western perspectives. There are as many defini-
tions of culture as there are individua ls who write about it. Basi-
cally, culture consists of the shared behavior and symbolic meaning
systems of a group of people. It is, as Hofstede (1984, p. 51) writes,
“the collective programming of the mind which distinguishes the
members of one categor y of people from another.” Banks and
Banks (1997, p. 8) have more recently defined it as follows:
The essence of a culture is not its artifacts, tools, or other tangible
cultural elements but how the members of the group interpret,
use, and perceive them. It is the values, symbols, interpretations,
and perspectives that distinguish one people from another in mod-
ernized societies; it is not material objects and other tangible
aspects of human societies.
While we often link “Western” and “culture” together, “there
is no single ‘Western’ culture in any really meaningful sense;
rather, there are many different and distinct cultures that share
certain elements of a common historical background that are man-
ifested in different ways in the present” (Reagan, 2005, p. 37).
What linking “Western” and “non-Western” to culture does is to
provide a kind of shorthand for comparing two epistemological
systems. For example, Jegede (1999) presents a table comparing
African and Western sys tems of thought. In African cul ture “oral-
ity predominates,” whereas in Western thought knowledge is “doc-
umented.” Similarly, in Africa, “learning is communal,” but in the
West, “learning is an individual enterprise” (p. 125).
Abdullah (1996), a management consultant in Malaysia, com-
pares what she calls “individualistic” or “more Western” with “col-
lectivistic” or “more Eastern” cultural interpretations of values.
With regard to group versus individual preference, for example,
LEARNING AND KNOWING:NON-WESTERN PERSPECTIVES 223
“Westerners” value freedom and independence whereas “Eastern-
ers” value belonging, harmony, family, security, and guidance; suc-
cess in the West is materialistic but in the East it is relationship- or
friendship-based. The communication style in a more Western cul-
tural orientation is direct, to the point, and emphasizes clarity; in a
more Eastern culture communication is subtle, indirect, and often
employs a third party. Understanding these and other differences
in values, Abdullah points out, is crucial to managing a multina-
tional and multicultural workplace.
What are presented as “Western” or “African” or “Eastern” val-
ues and systems of thought capture, imperfectly of course, some
of the differences that in turn affect not only how we see the world
but how learning experiences are interpreted. For example, in a
study of the role of cultural values in shaping older adult learning
in Malaysia, participants spoke of learning as a spiritual or philo-
sophical quest, and as “a responsibility and a means of giving back
to their communities” (Merriam & Muhamad, 2000, p. 60).
Athirdconceptimportantforunderstandinglearningand
knowing from non-Western perspectives is that of indigenous knowl-
edge. Like culture, indigenous knowledge has been defined in
numerous ways. Most de finitions consider it “local or comm u nity
knowledge that is commonly generated and transmitted over
aperiodoftimeingeographicandhistoricspace”(Fasokun,
Katahoire, & Oduaran, 2005, p. 61). It is knowledge generated to
deal with local problems and issues “related to health, farming,
warfare, education, culture and the environment” (p. 61). This is
knowledge produced by people, who, according to the World
Council of Indigenous Peoples, “occupied lands prior to popula-
tions who now share or claim such territ ories”; indigenous peo-
ples may also “possess a distinc t language and culture” (Semali &
Kincheloe, 1999, p. 40). Dei, Hall, and Rosenberg (2000) point out
that many indige n o us cultur e s value the followin g : “seeing the indi-
vidual as part of nature; respecting and reviving the wisdom of
elders; giving consideration to the living, the dead, and future
generations; sharing responsibility, wealth, and resources within the
community; and embracing spiritual values, traditions and practices
[with] reflection [on] connections to a higher order, to the culture,
and to the earth” (p. 6).
224 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Indigenous knowledge differs from official, academic knowl-
edge in several ways. First, it is organic in the sense that it is gen-
erated during the daily lives of people in a local context rather
than “by planned procedures and rules” (George, 1999, p. 80).
This knowledge is typically passed on from one generation to the
next in oral, rather than written form. Finally, “indigenous knowl-
edge is not to be found in the school curriculum” (p. 80). So, too,
the “pedagogy” of indigenous knowledge differs from traditional
schooling or education. Knowledge is conveyed through “stor y-
telling, poetr y, metaphor, myth, ceremony, dreams and art; and
honoring indigenous elders as ‘cultural professor’” (Gra veline,
2005, p. 308).
As many writers have pointed out, we have much to learn from
indigenous knowledge systems t hroughout the world. What ha s
until recently prevented us from accessing and learning from these
systems is
“Western” knowledge production—it is self-contained, self-sustaining,
handy, convenient, and even tinged with a sense of righteousness. . . .
Hermetically sealed, the closed system of “Western” knowledge pro-
duction has been institutionalized, in a matter of several hundred
years, to such a degree as to dismiss indigenous knowledges based on
thousands of years of experience, analysis, and reflection as primitive
(Allen, 1989; Deloria, 1997; Harjo & Bird, 1997). It is . . . intellectual
apartheid. [Rains, 1999, p. 317]
By way of summarizing, it is our thinking that non-Western per-
spectives on learning a nd knowing include , for example, indige-
nous knowledge systems such as found in Africa, in Native
American and First Nations peoples of North America, and in
Maori people of New Zealand and Aboriginal people of Australia.
Typically, however, major philosophical or religious systems of
thought such as Buddhism, Islam, Hinduism, Confucia nism, and
so on are labeled “non-Western” rather than indigenous. Of
course, how we group or label these systems is not what is impor-
tant. What is important is that by becoming acquainted with other
ways of learning and knowing we enrich our understanding of
learning, and ultimately our practice with adults.
LEARNING AND KNOWING:NON-WESTERN PERSPECTIVES 225
AN INTRODUCTION TO FIVE NON-WESTERN
PERSPECTIVES ON LEARNING
Following is a sampling of five non-Western perspectives on learn-
ing. There are, of course, book-length descriptions of each of these,
and there are many other non-Western and indigenous educational
traditions that could be explored; however, it is not the intention
of this chapter to be comprehensive with regard to these perspec-
tives. Rather, we wish to introduce readers to the possibilities in learn-
ing about ot h er ways of knowing. The perspectives incl u d e d here
were presented by their authors in a symposium held at the Forty-
Sixth Annual Adult Education Research Conference at the Uni-
versity of Georgia, Athens, on June 4, 2005 (Merriam et al., 2005).
ADU LT LEARNING FROM A CONFUCIAN WAY OF
THINKING:YOUNGWHA KEE
The Confucian notions and perspectives on adult learning that I
present here are based on four basic books about Confucianism:
Confucian Analects (Sung, 1991a), Mencius (Sung, 1991d), The Great
Learning (Sung, 1991c), and The Doctrine of the Mean (Sung, 1991b).
Although The Great Learning focuses mainly on the Confucian way
of learning, the other three books based on Confucian philosophy
and ideas also contribute to our understanding of learning as pro-
posed by Confucius (551–479
BC), who is also called Kung-tzu.
According to Chu Hsi, a twelfth-century scholar of Confucian-
ism, the philosophy behind this conception of adult learning is to
imitate the virtues of another person. According to Chu Hsi, a per-
son who does not know how to act in a situation will follow the
example of one who does know. Imitation of the conduct of the
sages is true learning.
Confucius also expressed the concept of true learning with two
characters Hak and Seb,whichcanbetranslatedintotheoneword
learning in English. Kung-tzu taught the principle of learning as
Hak-Yi-Shi-Seub,whichreferstotheenjoymentoflearningthrough
daily experience. Seub, especially, has the literar y meaning of a
bird that is learning to fly by the continuo us practice of flapping
its wings in imitation of an example. Hak-Yi-Shi-Seub expresses a
constant symbolic relationship with the world around us to feed
226 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
off of—that is, learn from—the myriad situations we encounter as
we go through our lives.
According to The Great Learning, the adult learning process is
ahighlycomplexprocess,involvingcommitment,continuous
effort, and a holistic approach. This continuous learning process
is constructed by le arners through the inner self interacting with
nature. It is a project that cannot be completed in a limited time
frame. It emphasizes meditation to control oneself and internal
integration between self and nature. And it is extended through
continuous dialogues with others within the parameters of human
relationships. It is a holistic approach to learning: to become fully
human through self-rectification and spiritual study.
The purpose of adult learning is to enlighten the people, to
love the people, and to rest in “the highest excellence.” According
to The Great Learning, eight steps should be followed to reach the
highest excellence: investigation of things, extension of knowledge,
sincerity of will, rectification of the mind, cultivation of one’s per-
sonal life, regulation of the family, national order, and world peace.
Adult learning is a guide to becoming fully human. Adult learn-
ing, according to Confucianism, cannot be used as a tool for
achieving specific goals in a specific situation. For example, the
contents of learning are not related to vocational or skill acquire-
ment. Instead, adult learning is focused on spiritual development.
According to The Great Learning (Sung 1991c), adult learning
highlights both learning on one’s own and peer learning. Confu-
cian Analects (Sung, 1991a, p. 139) mentions that “there must be a
role model even when a few people take off on the road together.”
It emphasizes peer learning among adult learners. Moreover, Con-
fucian Analects says that teachers must wait until adult learners
understand by themselves; then, at this time, teachers must again
help learners’ understand through individual learning.
Finally, the relationship between teacher and stude nts is not
equal as it is in Western society. The teacher is respected by mem-
bers of society, and learners are asked to obey their teachers. This
comes from the Confucian idea expressed as gun (king), sa
(teacher), bu (parent), ilche (the same body) in Chinese charac-
ters. This means: teacher, parent, and king are treated equally and
have the same importance in one’s lives. This idea is still prevalent
in Confucian educational systems in Korea, Taiwan, and China.
LEARNING AND KNOWING:NON-WESTERN PERSPECTIVES 227
THE HINDU PERSPECTIVE:SWATHI NATH THAKER
Imagine, for a moment, that you are interviewing people for a posi-
tion and your next candidate is Indian. What characteristics come
to mind? What types of knowledge do you think this particular indi-
vidual possesses? Often when one thinks of an individual of Indian
origin, one imagines a person with a strong aptitude for math, sci-
ence, and technology. However, when one visits India, it is not tech-
nology that is readily apparent but rather a spiritual atmosphere
that emanates from the people of this country. It is not simply reli-
gion but rather a holistic view of life. This view of life combines both
cognition and spirituality to create individuals who view learning
and the devel o pment of knowledge not merely as the acquisition
of skills and facts but rather as a means to becoming unified beings.
As Dr. Merriam has noted, Western notions of learning have domi-
nated, and still dominate, the field of adult education, with issues
such as somatic learning and spirituality emerging only recently.
While much of the research and theory suggests that the mind and
body are split, a number of cultures around the world do not
believe in this dichotomy, and Hinduism is no exception.
Hinduism, which is said to be over four thousand years old,
defines itself according to the Vedas, the most ancient body of reli-
gious literature. Although much of this content has long been
unknown to most Hindus, it is still regarded as an absolute author-
ity, revealing the fundamental truth. While the connection between
mind and body is evident in these scriptures, the Vedas also chron-
icle the relationship between guru, or teacher, and student, which
is believed to be sacred and reve red. This connection between
instructor and pupil is prevalent in early writings, such as the
Mahabharat, an epic in itself, which contains a code of life, a phi-
losophy of social and ethical relations that offers spiritual strength.
The following story, contained within this literature, highlights the
sacred relationship of guru and student:
Ekalavya witnesses the archery skill of Drona and wishes him to be
his guru. However, Drona refuses, for a number of reasons, chief
among them because he already has a pupil, Arjuna, to whom he
has promised the title of greatest archer in the world. Disap-
pointed, Ekalavya takes it upon himself to secretly watch Drona
228 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
during his instruction. Through his absolute devotion to the art
and ceaseless practice, Ekalavya’s skills surpass those of Arjuna.
Arjuna’s dream is shattered and Drona inquires how the youth has
learned such an art. Though it can be argued that it was Ekalavya’s
devotion and determination that developed his success, he honors
Drona by kneeling before him. Drona becomes upset when he real-
izes that Ekalavya has been watching him, as he has a loyalty to
Arjuna. Thus, Drona asks Ekalavya for his right thumb as payment
for this “teaching,” which he immediately offers out of gratitude,
even though he knows he will no longer be able to practice
archery.
This story illustrates both sides of the connection between stu-
dent and master. Drona felt a strong bond to his disciple, Arjuna,
and helping him fulfill his dream of becoming the world’s great-
est archer. Thus, he asks Ekalavya for his thumb, knowing full well
that this will make it impossible for the youth to be an archer. In
turn, Ekalavya feels a deep reverence for Drona because he views
him as his master and guide. It is because of this respect that
Ekalavya freely offers his thumb. While this tale does represent the
notion of apprenticeship, because both Arjuna and Ekalavya were
seeking to master a specific skill, it also highlights how, in Hindu
philosophy, the guru-student relationship extends much further
than that. Though Hinduism does allow for individuation, its focus
is on spiritual growth, thus helping individuals to connect the mind
and body.
The values and beliefs of Hinduism, such as karma (the law of
cause and effect), are often learned not through readings but
through orator y. While religious scriptures such as the Mahab-
harat, Ramayana, and the Bhagavad Gita are now in written form,
much of their contents are taught through storytelling. Children
grow up hearing tales, such as the one told earlier, from their par-
ents and grandparents, that highlight the philosophical values of
Hinduism. In this culture, items do not necessarily need to be writ-
ten down in order to carry significance. Instead, the core under-
pinnings of Hinduism are passed from generation to generation
through an oral tradition. This is especially true in relation to the
Vedas, which are considered to be the heart of Hindu culture.
Though many can no longer read these scriptures (t he language
LEARNING AND KNOWING:NON-WESTERN PERSPECTIVES 229
of Sanskrit is a dying art), their message lives on in the stories that
families share. It is the recounting of these generational tales, and
not the written word, that keeps Hinduism alive. In addition, dance
and music are used to share the lessons that are contained in the
ancient texts. The use of these various art forms also helps keep
Hindu traditions alive.
Throughout life, Hindus strive to become learned in multiple
ways. It is not simply about developing cognitive skills, but rather
to discover oneself, because this is the only means and path to lib-
eration and wisdom. However, this self-discovery is not the end of
the spiritual journey but rather a stepping-stone to gaining a more
holistic understanding of the universe. Whereas Western belief
teaches that an indi vidual is empowered through himself or her -
self, Hinduism argues that true empowerment emerges through
an understanding of the sources of knowledge, not just its com-
ponents, thus leading to unity with the universe, which at times
requires a renouncing of the self and worldly possessions. This is
particularly poignant during the last stage of life, when individu-
als abandon their home and belongings and set forth on a pil-
grimage or seek sanctuary in an ashram, which is a spiritual hostel.
This type of journey still takes place today, because it is believed
that this passage leads to true enlightenment through unification
of the mind and body. Thus, life for a Hindu is not about the
acquisition of knowledge but rather about developing wisdom
through gaining an understanding of oneself in a holistic manner.
This notion of foregoing identity in order to reach a state of
higher understanding is powerful, and often neglected in Western
thought. There is a strong emphasis on individuation in the West
that is not readily apparent in Hinduism. The Hindu learner con-
tinually strives to understand the larger picture and his or her
connection to the universe as a whole. It can be argued that this
mentality allows learners to open themselves to varying sources of
knowledge. By allowing a variety of forms of knowledge, such as
through meditation and stories, and not relying solely on the
printed word, Hindu learners are able to obtain a level of spiritual
being that is often difficult for Western students. As the Western
educational system begins to value other ways of knowing, its learn-
ers will have an opportunity to focus less on the self and increas-
ingly on forming a unity with the world at large.
230 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
MAORI CONCEPTS OF LEARNING AND KNOWLEDGE:
B
RIAN FINDSEN
He aha te mea nui o te ao? He tangata, he tangata, he tangata. (What is
the most important thing in life? It’s people, it’s people, it’s people.)
This proverb from Maori traditions stresses the centrality of
people to any activity of living. Learning is no exception. Maori
learning has always been lifelong and lifewide, long before these
concepts became fashionable in adult education circles and
beyond. Ako, the Maori word for learning, necessarily entails his-
torical and cultural dimensions and is also the word for teaching.
Before Freire (1970) explained the concepts of teacher-student
and student-teacher, the term ako did not differentiate between
those who dispense knowledge and those who acquire it. Knowl-
edge is always a collective entity.
In this situation I need to state my positionality in relation to
the construction of Maori knowledge. As a New Zealander and stu-
dent of Maoritanga (things Maori), I offer an “insider” perspective;
as a Pakeha (European), I offer an “outsider” viewpoint, unavoid -
ably Eurocentric to a degree. I can never be bicultural in the same
way as a Maori person who is immersed in the dominant culture
and subject to its oppressive power relations; I choose as a mem-
ber of the dominant colonizing group to better understand Maori
concepts and perspectives.
The Treaty of W aitangi provides much of the policy context for
Maori self-determination and what counts as knowledge in officially
bicultural Aotearoa (the Maori word for New Zealand) today. In this
contemporary society, the treaty, signed in 1840 by 512 chiefs of the
Maori people and Governor Hobson, on behalf of the British
Crown, functions as a blueprint for relations between tangata
whenua (people of the land) and tauiwi (non-Maori), including rela-
tionships in the educational realm. Importantly, three principles
derived from the treaty are prominent in current government social
policy: protection (of taonga, or cherished possessions, such as lan-
guage), partnership (moving forward on an equal power basis), and
participation (the rights of Maori to active citizenr y, including
equality of educational opportunity and outcomes).
When discussing Maori concepts, traditional tribal structures
need to be analyzed to provide the basis for the social construction
LEARNING AND KNOWING:NON-WESTERN PERSPECTIVES 231
of knowledge. Maori trace their whakapapa (genealogy) back to the
Great Migration of the seven waka (canoes). Each waka claimed
geographically different parts of Aotearoa for iwi (tribes). Within
each iwi are hapu (subtribes) and within each hapu are whanau
(extended families). Hence, the whanau serves as a fundamental
unit for living and learning. Although iwi were originally concen-
trated in particular geographical areas, the reality now, after mas-
sive urbanization, is that Maori people are scattered through the
country though usually still anchored to their tribal identity. Knowl-
edge is a taonga, unevenly distributed, though highly valued; some
of it is tapu (sacred) and controlled traditionally by tohunga
(experts). While there is much in common among iwi, there are
also significant differences, r elated to marae (community sites for
hapu or iwi) protocol. Much knowledge is constructed and rein-
forced via hui (meetings) held on marae where local customs are
emphasized and whanau socialization occurs. However, especially
in urban settings, some of the traditional aspects of learning have
been diminished and new social practices established.
One of the prominent features of New Zealand life is the
increasing autonomy claimed by Maori in accord with tino ran-
gatiratanga (self-determination). This bid by Maori for greater con-
trol over their lives is mirrored in other parts of the world where
indigenous peoples are making serious efforts to reclaim political,
economic, and educational sovereignty. As Maori have been dis-
enfranchised from much of government-funded education (as evi-
denced by historical national statistics of underachievement), their
solution has been to rebuild Maori collective consciousness by
establishing their own sites of learning, where control is in their
own hands. Knowledge is defined and constructed by Maori for
Maori and learned in culturally appropriate ways. Kohanga reo (lan-
guage nests) began in 1981; here, preschoolers are taught accord-
ing to Maori customs in te reo (Maori language). Currently, over six
hundred kohanga reo exist. Following this initiative are sixty kura
kaupapa Maori (Maori elementar y-secondar y schools) and new
whare wananga (houses of learning for adults). Hence, a lifelong
education system, consisting of Maori education institutions, has
been established by Maori, assisted to a modest extent by the pub-
lic purse. The struggle has been hard but the rewards great.
In Maori education institutions, consistent with overarching
principles derived from the treaty, there are six subprinciples
232 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
adopted by prominent Maori educators (see Bishop & Glynn,
2003). They are as follows:
1. Tino ran gati ratang a (relative autonomy). Organizers of the
schools make all the required administrative, staffing, and ped-
agogical decisions.
2. Ta onga t uku iho (cultural aspirations). To be Maori is to be nor-
mal. Maori language and knowledge are valued and legitimated.
3. Ako (reciprocal learning). Teaching and learning are con-
nected to the rea l lives of Maori, cognizant of their life cir-
cumstances.
4. Kia piki ake I nga raruraru o te kainga (mediation of difficulties).
Participation in kura reaches into the homes of Maori, and
families are expected to participate in kura activities.
5. Whanau (extended families). Collectives of people work toward
a common goal.
6. Kaupapa (collective vision or philosophy). There is a collective
vision of what constitutes excellence in Maori education.
The fundamental essence of the kura kaupapa Maori is to assist
Maori families to problem-solve in a culturally suitable fashion and
to work alongside children in education and enhance their own
lifelong learning aspirations.
ADU LT LEARNING FROM AN ISLAMIC PERSPECTIVE:
M
AZANAH MUHAMAD AND MAZALAN KAMIS
The word Islam originates from three Arabic letters (Sim, Lam,
Mim), making the root word which means to be in peacefu l sub-
mission, to obey, to surrender, and peace. In the religious context
it means “total submission to the will of Allah and obedience to His
law.” Muslims draw upon the Qur’an as a primary learning source
and supplement it with the hadith, acollectionoftherecordedsay-
ings of Prophet Muhammad.
Islam is a comprehensive way of life and it pays special atten-
tion to education and knowledge seeking. In some aspects, the
Islamic perspective on learning differs from that of the West.
Differences include the purpose of knowledge, communal obliga-
tion, responsibility to share knowledge, and the teacher-student
relationship.
LEARNING AND KNOWING:NON-WESTERN PERSPECTIVES 233
Learning is considered sacred and obligatory for an individual
as well as for the community. It is a form of jihad, which means
struggle. In the ver y first verse of the Qur’an, the Prophet was
instructed to read: “Read! In the name of your Lord, Who has cre-
ated (all that exists). Read! And your Lord is the most generous.
Who has taught (the writing) by the pen. Has taught man that
which he knew not” (Qur’an 96:1–5).
In Islam, the purpose of education is to bring humankind
closer to God and His creation. Since God is “the source of knowl-
edge, by knowing more they felt they were drawing near to God”
(Husain & Ashraf, 1979, p. 11). The Qur’an also guides humans
to investigate the phenomena of nature, so that they will recognize,
worship, and ser ve Allah. The Islamic notion of education inte-
grates the rational, spiritual, and social dimensions of a person
(Cook, 1999). This notion is grounded in sincerity, where knowl-
edge gained is meant to guide practice and espouse humility. The
Prophet said: “Actions are but by intention and ever y man shall
have only which he intended.”
The emphasis on a communal learning obligation is unique
because it stresses the believers’ responsibility to society. Education
and the acquisition of knowledge are good only if “they ser ve to
engender virtue in the individual and elevate the whole commu-
nity” (Cook, 1999, p. 349). Learners and society benefit from
knowledge acquisition, “Are those who know equal to those who
do not know?” (Qur’an, 39:9).
Islam recognizes that both learning and teaching are equally
important. In his last sermon the Prophet said, “Let those who are
present inform those who are not.” In another hadith the Prophet
calls for a person to “be a scholar/teacher, . . . or be a student who
studies, or be a listener who listens to people who teach. Do not
fall into the fourth category: hater of the above.”
AteacherisalearnedpersonwhoisakeeperofGod’s
treasure—that is, knowledge. A teacher is like the sun, which being
itself luminous, sheds light: “The pass ing away of a whole tribe is
more tolerable than the death of one learned man” (Faris &
Ashraf, 2003). The student-teacher relationship is, therefore,
sacred. Thus, adab (discipline of body, mind, and spirit) must be
observed when one interacts with one’s teacher.
234 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Finally, learning is lifelong. The Prophet said, “Seek knowledge
from the cradle to the grave.” The Prophet was forty years old and
illiterate when the Qur’an was first revealed to him. A well-known
Islamic scholar, Al-Imam Shaffie, described a person who ceases to
learn as dead. Like a drop of water in the sea, one can never com-
plete acquiring knowledge, a notion supported by the Qur’an
(18:109). It is clear that age, gender, or ethnicity should not be a
barrier or a prerequisite for learning. Seeking, reflecting, and shar-
ing knowledge is noblest of all in Islam.
AFRICAN INDIGENOUS EDUCATION:GABO NTSEANE
Research on African traditional education (Morolong, 1996;
Mautle, 2001; Magagula & Maziboku, 2004) reveals that education
and learning are not recent interventions in traditional societies.
They had specific principles, methods, and social institutions to
foster learning. The literature also shows that a major principle of
African indigenous knowledge systems is that to learn is to live use-
fully and happily with one’s family, with one’s community, one’s
society, and the spirits of one’s ancestors—hence, the importance
of the words botho in Setswana or ubuntu in Zulu, whose literal
translation is “humanism of human beings collectively.”
Informality, collective learning, oral modes of instruction, and
acquisition of revealed knowledge through dreams and visions are
also important. Unfortunately, current adult education practices
have overlooked some of these important principles of African
pedagogy. It is argued that a creative adult education practice that
modernizes tradition but at the same time traditionalizes moder-
nity is required.
In the African context, education is supposed to help groups
of people reach the highest level of important societal values, such
as botho, or humanism. By being botho the individual then
becomes part of an empowered group of people who are honest,
accommodating, sharing, committed to saving lives at all costs, and
respecting of the young and the old. The opposite of botho is self-
ishness, greediness, and self-centeredness—characteristics not
good for humanism beca use they do not promote cooperation
between individuals, cultures, and nations.
LEARNING AND KNOWING:NON-WESTERN PERSPECTIVES 235
However, the values of ubuntu have been marginalized in edu-
cation because of the historical process of colonialism and a mate-
rialistic economy. The result is an education lacking in the ability
to respond to the needs and interests of indigenous communities.
Adult education has been accused of elevating technical rationality
over other forms of knowledge, human thought, and discourse.
Locally based knowledge is generated through a systematic
process of obser vi ng the local environment, experimenting with
solutions, and readopting previously identified solutions to chang-
ing environmental factors. It is acquired and shared through
empirically based observation, imitation, and continuous practice
through a phased childhood and adolescen ce. It encourages par-
ticipatory education through ceremonies and rituals, spiritual work,
recreation work, and intellectual training such as storytelling and
poetry. Knowledge is stored in cultural and religious beliefs, taboos,
folklore, or myths and an individual’s practical experience. The
lack of hierarchy and theoretical concepts allow easy sharing of
knowledge.
In oral societies such as in Africa, every normal person, besides
being required to be a productive worker, also plays the double
role of learner and teacher. A unique form of formal instruction
is the acquisition of revealed knowledge through the processes of
dreams and visions. For example, many herbalists in Botswana
claim that the secrets of their medicine and how it should be
administered were communicated to them mainly through dreams.
In the absence of literacy, Mautle (2001) observed that assess-
ment in Botswana included performing group tasks and judging
an individual’s character in relation to the overall group’s perfor-
mance. Real graduation occurred only after a group had success-
fully initiated the cohort that followed it. Accreditation was not in
the form of a certificate to an individual but rather the graduates
were given a name for their cohort and assigned a community-
based activity. The activity had to be relevant to the current needs
of the society, such as building a corral for stray cattle.
Although I advocate for the recognition of African indigenous
knowledge, I by n o means advoc ate for a complete uprooting of
the other cultural aspects of the current adult education curricu-
lum. Only good aspects of African indigenous knowledge systems
should be adapted.
236 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
COMMON THEMES ACROSS NON-WESTERN
AND
INDIGENOUS PERSPECTIVES
From this small sampling of non-Western and indigenous per-
spectives we can see a number of themes about learning that stand
in contrast with Western views. The four themes of interdependent,
communal, holistic, and informal learning highlight different
emphases in learning, rather than suggesting an either/or stance.
First, there is an emphasis on interdependence instead of inde-
pendence in learning. Western models of development and learn-
ing promote a m ov e m e nt toward being m o re independent; to be
in control of one’s life and learning, to be a productive member
of society, is, in fact, what it means to be “mature” in our society
(see Chapter Twelve). Andragogy, self-directed learning, and
Mezirow’s theory of transformational learning all focus on the indi-
vidual becoming an independent learner who relies mostly on him-
self or herself in the process.
This notion is in stark contrast to non-Western learning tradi-
tions as is obvious in all five of the preceding vignettes. Ide ntity,
self-concept, and self-esteem are developed and enhanced only in
relation to others. Reca ll Nah’s (2000) research into self-direc ted
learning in Korea mentioned earlier in this chapter wherein inde-
pendence is considered immature and self-centered. Commenting
on the African context, Fa s o k un , Katahoire, and Oduaran (2 0 0 5 ,
p. 10) note that while of course “no one is exclusively independent
or interdependent” and some balance “is struck by each society, in
most African cultures the individual gains significance from and
through relationships with others.”
Second, the notion of interdependence is linked to the com-
munal nature of learning in non-Western systems, rather than the
more isolated Western teaching-learning transaction. It is the
responsibility of all in the community to teach and to learn. In
commenting on seven traditions (African indigenous, Aztec, Native
American, Confucian, Hindu and Buddhist, Rom, and Islamic)
presented in his book, Reagan (2005) observes:
The concept of some adults being teachers and others (presumably)
being non-teachers is a somewhat alien one to many traditions. Fur-
thermore, it is interesting to note that in none of the cases examined
LEARNING AND KNOWING:NON-WESTERN PERSPECTIVES 237
here—even those with the most fully articulated formal educational
systems—was there any explicit, formal training for those who would
play teaching roles. The idea of teachers engaging in a profession,
with specialized knowledge and expertise not held by others, appears
to be a W estern, and indeed relatively recent, innovation. [p. 249;
italics in original]
Third, a holistic approach that includes the spirit, mind, body,
and emotional components of learning, or some combination of
these, is emphasized over the Western focus on the cognitive. In
non-Western traditions, education and learning are in the service
of developing more than just the mind. They are also to develop a
good person, a moral person, a spiritual person, one who not only
contributes to but also uplifts the community. Benally (1997)
speaks of learning in the Navajo tradition: “Western tradition sep-
arates secular and sacred knowledge and thus fragments knowl-
edge. Consequently, some learning is forgotten soon after
academic program requirements are met because it was never
grounded or connected to life processes” (p. 84). In contrast, “for
the Navajo, knowledge, learning, and life itself are sacred, insepa-
rable, and interwoven parts of a whole. The quality of each determines
the quality of the other” (p. 84; italics in original). Because devel-
opment of the whole person is imperative, instruction can take
many forms to access these different dimensions, such as stor y-
telling, poetry, ceremonies, dreams, meditation, and so on.
Afourththemethatcutsacrossnon-Westernperspectivesis
that learning is primarily infor mal, is e mbedded in everyday life,
and is lifelong. While we in adult education might recognize the
prevalence and power of learning that is integral to our daily lives,
most Westerners think of learning as that which occurs in a formal
teacher-led classroom dependent on books and curriculum mate-
rials. Formal assessment that often leads to some sort of certifica-
tion or credit is part of this structure.
In contrast, learning in non-Western settings is structured by
the community problem or issue needi ng attention, by accessing
resources, including people and materials that can assist in the
problem solving, and by “evaluating” the learning according to the
effectiveness of its application to the situation. This is not to say
that formal education has no place in non-Western systems; in
238 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
today’s world formal education has become a necessity. Rather,
“the common tendency in our own society to conflate and confuse
‘formal schooling’ with ‘educati on’—a tendency reflected in our
concern with formal certification and degrees rather than with
competence per se—has been far less common in non-Western tra-
ditions” (Reagan, 2005, p. 248). There appears to be more recog-
nition of and value placed on learning that is what we would call
informal in these non-Western traditions. In reference to Africa,
Fasokun, Katahoire, and Oduaran (2005) sum up this emphasis on
informal learning: “As in other parts of the world, informal learn-
ing by African adults involves learning through experience under
enabling conditions that facilitate the development of knowledge,
skills, attitudes, aptitudes, values and interests. This is done to
enhance performance, bring about change or solve practical prob-
lems” (p. 36).
In summar y, we have presented four themes or emphases in
non-Western learning systems that contrast with our Western per-
spective. Non-Western systems appear to place a greater emphasis
on interdependence as a value to be developed versus indepen-
dence; to link communal or community concerns with learning;
to see learning as a holistic activity with a spiritual aspect, in con-
trast to the cognitive emphasis of the West; and finally, to value and
recognize informal learning as legitimate.
SUMMARY
This chapter on non-Western perspectives of learning and knowing
has introduced the reader to other ways of thinking about learning
than is found in the rest of this book. The value of engaging with
other frameworks is that we are challenged to think about the pur-
pose of education and learning as well as question the nature of
knowledge production itself. Further, knowing something about
other systems of learning can both lead to applications in our prac-
tice and contribute to our own personal meaning-making.
As part of this chapter we also briefly discussed some impor-
tant concepts, including problematizing the Western/non-Western
dichotomy itself, defining culture, and considering the nature of
indigenous knowledge. These concepts and others frame our brief
foray into traditions of learning and knowing unfamiliar to most
LEARNING AND KNOWING:NON-WESTERN PERSPECTIVES 239
of us. In light of this unfamiliarity, we offered short introductions
to five non-Western perspectives: Confucianism, Hinduism, Maori,
Islam, and African indigenous knowledge.
The final section of the chapter presented four themes that
seem to span many systems of non-Western thought, themes that
contrast with Western perspectives. First, non-Western systems
emphasize interdependence versus independence. Second, and
related to the first, is that learning in these frameworks is communal
and in community, rather than an isolated activity. Third, a holistic
perspective that includes spiritual, embodied, and emotional com-
ponents of learning are given at least as much emphasis as purely
cognitive approaches. Finally, informal learning is recognized and
valued as much as, if not more than formal learning.
240 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
CHAPTER TEN
CRITICAL THEORY,
POSTMODERN, AND
FEMINIST PERSPECTIVES
Adult learning in North America has been most influenced by psy-
chology, with its focus on individual learners, their growth and
development, and their learning in and out of formal settings. In
this chapter, where we approach adult learning from a critical,
power relations framework, the camera moves from the individual
learner to an analysis of the context where learning takes place.
Considered are the larger systems in society, the culture and insti-
tutions that shape learning, and the structural and historical con-
ditions framing, indeed defining, the learning event.
The learning process itself is less of a focus than the economic,
historical, and sociocultural context in which that learning takes
place. Questioning and critiquing taken-for-granted worldviews,
structures, and institutions of society are the first steps in chang-
ing oppressive and nonemancipatory practices. Further, our
assumptions about the nature of knowledge—including what
counts as knowledge, where it is located (in the individual or in
society), and how it is acquired—are also challenged. These ques-
tions about knowledge are particularly important for adult educa-
tors because presumably the construction and acquisition of
knowledge are inherent in the teaching-learning transaction.
Because this approach critiques and raises questions about the
assumptions we make about the world around us, including those
underlying the practice of adult education, this stance is often
called critical, as in critical adult education.
241
Anumberofspecificphilosophicalandtheoreticalorientations
inform this approach to adult education and adult learning,
including Mar xism, critical theory, critical multiculturalism, criti-
cal race theory, postcolonialism, queer theory, postmodernism, and
feminist theory. Although some adult educators are clearly identi-
fied with a specific orientation, a number of others draw from sev-
eral theoretical perspectives. Hart’s (1992) analysis of work and
learning, for example, is anchored in Marxism, critical theory, and
feminist theo ry. Tisdell (1998) draws fro m multicultura li s m , fem-
inist theory, and poststructura lism in proposing a model of femi-
nist pedagogy for adult education classrooms. Hill (2004)
combines critical theor y and postmodernism in his analysis of
activism around sexual orienta tion and gender identity. Grace
(1996a, 1997) maintains that critical theory, feminism, and post-
modernism inform one another to the extent that common
themes or assumptions can be derived to guide adult learning prac-
tices. Further, many educators writing from several of these per-
spectives claim indebtedness to Paulo Freire’s (1970) work. The
noted Black feminist scholar bell hooks (1994, p. 46), for example,
speaks of coming to Freire’s work “just at that moment in my life
when I was beginning to question deeply and profoundly the pol-
itics of domination, the impact of racism, sexism, class exploita-
tion, and the kind of domestic colonization that takes place in the
United States. . . . Paulo was one of the thinkers whose work gave
me a language. He made me think deeply about the construction
of an identity in resistance.”
This chapter first provides a brief over view of some of the
major themes, concepts, and terms that characterize perspectives
derived from Marxist theory, critical theory, multiculturalism, crit-
ical race theory, postmodernism, and feminist theory. The chapter
then focuses on three perspectives where contributions to adult
learning have been most visible—critica l theory, postmodernism,
and feminist theory/pedagogy.
COMMON T HEMES
An understanding of adult learning and adult education from the
perspective of critique and empowerment mandates some famil-
iarity with basic concepts and terminology. In this section, we
242 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
discuss three themes that characterize this perspective: race, class,
and gender, which figure prominently in a critical analysis of adult
learning; power and oppression, both key concepts; and knowl-
edge and truth, which are construed in different ways depending
on the school of thought. These themes are, of course, highly
interrelated; it is not possible to talk about racism, classism, sex-
ism, and other “isms” without reference to power and oppression,
nor can power be considered apart from issues surrounding knowl-
edge construction. These themes are brought together later in the
chapter in the discussions of critical theory, postmodernism, and
feminist theory’s contributions to adult learning.
RACE,CLASS, AND G ENDER
Among the characteristics of people that provoke prejudice and
oppression in American society, race, class, and gender are three
of the most powerful and pervasive. The theoretical orientations
discussed in this chapter place race, class, and gender and their
interactions at center sta ge in an alyzing the power dynamics and
the distribution of resources in a particular context. The context
can be defined as broadly as society, as an institution in society, or
even as a specific adult education setting. The purpose in moving
these issues to the foreground and analyzing systems of power and
oppression, especially as they manifest themselves in adult educa-
tion, is to bring about a more informed and democratic practice.
Race
While discussions of race focus primarily on African Americans, it
should be noted that people other than White European Ameri-
cans are also marginalized in our society. Native Americans, His-
panics, and Asian Americans all must grapple with discrimination
and oppression based solely on their not being part of the White
mainstream (Lee & Johnson-Bailey, 2004). Colin and Preciphs
(1991, p. 62) define racism as “conscious or unconscious, and
expressed in actions or attitudes initiated by individuals, groups,
or institutions that treat human beings unjustly because of their
skin pigmentation. . . . Racism is expressed in attitudes, behaviors,
and institutions.” The social impact of racism (and sexism) in
America in economic terms is disturbing. The median income of
CRITICAL THEORY,POSTMODERN, AND FEMINIST PERSPECTIVES 243
White workers in 2003 was $24,318 compared to $19,794 for Blacks
and $17,974 for Hispanics (U.S. Bureau of the Census, 2004a). It
is also common knowledge that women of color are overrepre-
sented in low-skill, low-paid jobs, such as health aide and private
household worker.
That these disparities based on race also exist in the practice
of adult education is no surprise. Participation patterns alone have
consistently borne out the fact that Blacks and other people of
color are underrepresented in all types of adult education. Amstutz
(1994) has suggested three reasons why racism (and sexism) per-
sist in adult education despite well-intentioned efforts. First, she
sees a discrepancy between the rhetoric of adult edu cation that
speaks of empowerment and equal access, and actual behaviors
that more often than not are “unempowering” and “traditional.”
Second, most adult educators are themselves White and middle-
class, have had little interaction with minorities of any kind, and
have failed to examine their own beliefs, assumptions, prejudices,
and biases. Third, she believes that most adult educators have an
unwarranted faith in institutions, believing “that institutional prac-
tices are well meaning and that the policies under which their insti-
tutions operate are not biased” (p. 43).
The literature on multiculturalism has helped bring the issues
of race and cultural diversity to the attention of educators at all lev-
els. Even more recently, critical m ulticultura lis m has emerged as “a
term used to distinguish forms of multicultural education that
specifically focus on challe nging power relations based on social
structures of race or culture, gender, class, etc. and on challenging
the ‘isms’ that result from those power relations, as in racism, or
sexism” (Tisdell, 2005a, p. 163; italics in original).
Multiculturalism appears to be synonymous with what Guy
(2005) calls “culturally relevant adult education.” This educational
approach attempts to “incorporate learners’ cultural practices and
values in the teaching-learning process” (Guy, 2005, p. 180). Cul -
turally relevant adult education sees the micro social level of edu-
cational practice as it relates to “broader socio-cultural and societal
issues of power and difference” (p. 183).
For some, multiculturalism and even critical multiculturalism
do not go far enough in addressing the racism that permeates our
society. Critical race theory (CRT) takes a more radical perspective
244 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
in that it tries not only “to understand the relationships among
race, racism, power, privilege, and oppression, but to challenge and
transform these relationships” (Ianinska, Wright, & Rocco, 2003,
p. 176). Drawing from a number of disciplines, CRT acknowledges
that race, a socially constructed category, is “a fundamental orga-
nizing principle in U.S. society,” that racism is systemic, and that
“people of color have a unique voice in racial matters because of
their social position and experiences with oppression” (Jeris &
McDowell, 2003, pp. 188–189).
Ross-Gordon (1994) focuses on the intersections of race, class,
and gender in reviewing the multicultural and critical pedagogy
literature in order to extract elements of a multicultural peda-
gogy for adults. What this wide range of literature has in common,
Ross-Gordon believes, is “an emphasis on deconstruction of hege-
monic knowledge and structures, goals for emancipation of learn-
ers, and denial of claims to political neutrality for . . . any form of
education” (p. 315). Finally, she develops a composite of ten prin-
ciples for teaching and learning, including sharing power with
learners, fostering collaboration, challenging all forms of oppres-
sion, and placing the culture of the student in a central rather than
a marginal position. With regard to racism in particular, she finds
the “Afrocentric/anti-racist discourse . . . unique in its concern
with two concepts. One is the notion of centricity, that the student
must find his or her culture to be central (not marginal) within
the knowledge shared. Second is the emphasis on learning by
teachers (or un-learning) through . . . programs that educate them
to recognize and challenge racism, including their own” (p. 316).
In an approach similar to Ross-Gordon’s, McDowell (2003)
identified eleven themes from the literature on antiracist praxis
that adult educators can use t o inform their own antiracist orien -
tation. Some of her suggestions are as follows: becoming knowl-
edgeable about race and racism, attending to racial awareness,
interrogating White power, integrating racially diverse voices into
curricula, and acquiring skills to challenge racism.
As race and ethnicity shape learning transactions in educa-
tional settings, so too in the workplace. Ross-Gordon et al. (2005)
reviewed the work-related learning literature from the three
domains of continuing professional education, human resource
development, and workforce development with regard to concerns
CRITICAL THEORY,POSTMODERN, AND FEMINIST PERSPECTIVES 245
about race in each domain. While their findings varied somewhat
across domains, they were able to draw the following conclusions:
1. Institutionalized discrimination affects individual c aree rs and
program directions; (p. 379)
2. Personal determinatio n and resourcefulness, pee r and family
support, mentors, and social networks are especially important
to the career advancement of racialized minorities . . . ; (p.
380)
3. Whites are generally less aware of manifestations of racism and
benefits of White privilege (HRD and CPE) and in some cases
demonstrate resistance to examining these (CPE). . . . (p. 380)
4. A poin t of in t e r c onn e c t ion bet wee n HRD an d CP E is see n in the
degree to which literature focused on “cultural competence” was
focused on the “helping” professions and organizations—those
that require sensitivity to client perspectives in order to accom-
plish their “helping” goals/missions (p. 380).
Thus race not only permeates the workplace but all other
aspects of our society as well, including adult education practice.
Intertwined with race is socioeconomic class.
Class
When social class is the focus, the aim of the analysis and subse-
quent action is to bring about a change from a capitalist political
economy to a classless socialist form of government. Drawing
largely from Marxism, a class-based analysis emphasizes class strug-
gle, alienation, and revolution ar y activi ty. Workers find no con-
nection or fulfillment through work; rather, the individual worker
is but a cog in the production of goods and services, alienated from
the self as well as others and society in general. It will be only
through a revolutionary movement that this relationship between
the person and his or her world can be changed. Freire (1970, p.
61) points out that those who are alienated are considered “mar-
ginal,” “a pathology of the healthy society. . . . The truth is, how-
ever, that the oppressed are not ‘marginals,’ are not men [sic]
living ‘outside’ society. They have always been ‘inside’—inside the
structure which made them ‘beings for others.’ The solution is not
to ‘integrate’ them into the structure of oppression, but to transform
that structure so that they can become ‘beings for themselves.’” Thus
246 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
asocialistMarxistframeworkforadulteducationwouldhave,
Youngman (1986, p. 197) suggests, the dual aims of challenging
“the ideology and culture of capitalism” and developing “the gen-
eral knowledge and technical expertise necessar y to reorganise
production and society in a fully democratic way.”
Perhaps due in part to the collapse of Eastern European com-
munist and socialist states, strict Mar xist analysis is no longer in
fashion. Nevertheless, some adult educators argue for its continued
relevance (Collins & Collard, 1995; Schied, 1993, 1994; Y oungman,
1996, 2000). Schie d (1994) acknowledges that feminist and post-
modern thought have questioned making the working class “the
privileged agent of change” (p. 445); indeed, “the primacy of social
class has been strongly challenged by notions of gender, race, and
colonialism.” In spite of this, “the economic dislocation and the
exploitation of working people by international corporations is a
reality. It is not merely constructed or read or produced by our
theoretical perspective. This exploitation is real” (p. 446). Marxist
analysis, if “conceived as a moral stance . . . provides adult educators
awaytoplacetheirpracticeinsomekindofsocialcontext”(p.446).
Collins and Collard (1995) concur with Schied. A class-based eco-
nomic analysis is particularly relevant in today’ s world, they say, with
the “re-emergence of what amounts to class warfare in connection
with global economic restructuring” (p. 75). It is time “to make con-
nections between the home, the workplace, and the community—
between class and concerns around culture, gender and race”
(p. 75). This is in fact what Hart (1992, 1995) does in her Marxist-
feminist analysis of work, gender, and class. Youngman (1996, p. 7)
agrees, calling for a robust political-economic analysis: “The central
issue for a transformative political economy of adult education is
how to adequately conceptualize the interconnections between the
four main systems of domination in society, namely, those deriving
from imperialism, class, gender, and race-e t h n i c i t y. I t is clear that
while none of these systems is reducible to another (for example,
the basis of women’s oppression is different from that of class
oppression), they do affect each other (so that, for example,
women’s oppression has a class dimension).” Holst (2002), who also
argues for a reassessment of the Marxist tradition, is concerned that
new social movements around feminism, antiracism, and sexual and
environmental issues might eclipse the working-class struggle
against capitalism.
CRITICAL THEORY,POSTMODERN, AND FEMINIST PERSPECTIVES 247
Gender
While multiculturalists, Marxists, and critical theorists have brought
inequities based on economics and class to adult educators’ atten-
tion, feminist scholars have placed gender, and gender as it inter-
sects with race and class, at the forefront of a critical analysis.
Although all versions of feminist theory are concerned with the sta-
tus of women worldwide, theorists differ among themselves on two
counts: how the problem is framed and what needs to be done to
change the status of women. Tisdell’s (1995, 2005b) categorization
of feminist theories into individually focused theories, structural
theories, and postmodern theories offers a useful framework for
reviewing these theories.
As the category suggests, individually focused feminist theories
are concerned with women as individuals, how they have come to
internalize pa t r i a r ch y as the norm , and what ne e ds to be done to
obtain equal access, rights, and opportunities. Psychoanalytic fem-
inists, for example, maintain that the male domination of women
(patriarchy) is deeply rooted in men’s and women’s subconscious
and is perpetuated through gender socialization. Change cannot
come about unless people “deal with the patriarchy in their uncon-
scious” (Tisdell, 2005b, p. 254).
In contrast to an individual focus, structural feminist theories
frame the problem in terms of societal structures and institutions
that oppress women. Marxist feminists argue that the two systems
of capitalism and patriarchy, in conjunction with each other,
oppress women. “Socialist feminists,” Tisdell (2005b, p. 255)
explains, “would agree that two significant and interrelated systems
of oppression to women are capitalism and patriarchy, but they also
discuss the importance of examining other systems of oppression
such as racial oppression and the intersections of gender, race,
class, and sexual orientation in women’s lives.” Cultural feminists
extend this analysis to the experience of women of color who also
represent a particular cultural group, such as Latina, Black, and
Asian or Asian Americans (Tisdell, 2005b).
Postmodern theorists take issue with the unit of analysis, or
how the problem is framed by s tructuralists. One or even two sys-
tems of power and oppression do not adequately capture the real-
ity of women’s experience and oppression because “some groups
are more privileged than others within the particular structural
248 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
unit or units of analysis. Thus Marxism does not account for the
fact that men are more privileged than women; Marxist feminism
does not account for the fact that white women have more privi-
lege than women of color” (Tisdell, 1995, p. 61). Postmodernists
also take issue with the structuralists’ overemphasis on locating
power outside the individual. In a postmodern perspective, indi-
viduals have some power also — p o w e r to affect or resist the status
quo. Postmodern feminist theories thus “tend to account for mul-
tiple systems of privilege and oppression and their intersections,
along with people’s capacity for agency or resistance” (p. 61). In
this perspective, the “connections between individuals and social struc-
tures” (Tisdell, 2005b, p. 256; italics in original) and where one is
positioned vis-à-vis multiple structures are the focus of analysis.
POWER AND OPPRESSION
In addition to the intersections of race, class, and gender, a second
theme underlying these contemporary approaches is that social
inequities, including those found in education, stem from power-
based relationships: “Those wielding power can control others in
varying ways, getting them to engage in activities not in the power-
less’ s best interest” (Hansen, 1993, p. 2). And “because power is con-
structed in and through social interactions, it is always alterable and
disruptable, hence the importance of understanding and using
power in adult education” (Wilson & Nesbit, 2005, p. 454). One of
the major tasks of a critical analysis is to uncover and expose these
power relationships wherein the domination of one group’ s inter-
ests results in the oppression of other groups. Power and oppres-
sion are concepts that permeate the thinking and writing of radical
adult educators. As Nesbit (1998, p. 174) explains, “Radical educa-
tors regard the world and its constituent societies as full of contra-
dictions and marked by imbalances of power and privilege. Hence,
they regard such problems as poverty or illiteracy neither as isolated
incidents nor as manifestations of individual inadequacy, but as
results of larger social issues. Furthermore, individuals, as social
actors, both create and are created by their social worlds.” Freire,
for example, concluded that the Third World was “characterized by
social, political, an d economic oppression. . . . The various forms
of oppression constitute the concrete problems or contradictions
CRITICAL THEORY,POSTMODERN, AND FEMINIST PERSPECTIVES 249
that are the task of [a] revolutionary pedagogy” (Elias & Merriam,
2005, p. 155).
The identification of systems of power and oppression as a lens
through which to analyze society is a key component of critical the-
ory. Critical theor y originated in the 1940s with the German
philosopher Jürgen Habermas and the Frankfurt School. With the
advent of World War II, Habermas became disillusioned with Marx-
ism, offering instead a view of society that is more optimistic, one
that puts faith in the rationality of human beings to engage in cri-
tique and action to bring about a more just, free, and equitable
society. The aim of critical theory, Welton (1995a, p. 37) writes, is
“to help people to stop being passive victims who collude, at least
partly, in their domination by external forces. Critical theory’s lib-
erating project is to name the enemies of human freedom, and to
point to the possibility of freedom’s enlargement.” Inglis (1997, p.
4) goes a step further in suggesting that an analysis of power leads
to empowerment or emancipation : “Empowerment involves peo-
ple developing capacities to act successfully within the existing sys-
tem and structures of power, while emancipation concerns critically
analyzing, resisting and challenging structures of power.”
Of concern to those writing from this perspective is the appro-
priation of the “lifeworld”—our everyday personal interactions in
home, family, and community—by the “system.” The system is con-
ceived of as structures of power (institutions and organizations
such as government) or the means to power (such as money in a
capitalist economy, or knowledge in the information age). These
systems have not only “colonized” the lifeworld but are oppressive:
“Human beings as childrearers, partners, workers, clients, citizens,
and consumers struggle against the process of being turned into
objects of corporate and state management. Systemic imperatives,
then, threaten to disempower men and women who have the
capacity to be empowered, reflective actors” (Welton, 1993, p. 88).
To fight the hegemony of the system (which includes corporate,
government, legal, and media dimensions), citizens must engage
in rational discourse about sources of power, knowledge, and
oppression in the hope of redressing the current imbalance
between the power of the lifeworld versus the system. Adult edu-
cation can be a site for addressing power and oppression (Baptiste,
1998; Brookfield, 2005b; Rocco & West, 1998; Welton, 1995b).
250 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
KNOWLEDGE AND TRUTH
The various schools of thought that make up what in this chapter
we call a power relations perspective all address, to some extent,
the nature of truth and the construction of knowledge. Each of the
three major orientations discussed in the next section—critical the-
ory, postmodernism, and feminist pedagogy—has a somewhat dif-
ferent notion of knowledge and truth.
The primary spokesperson for critical theory, Jürgen Habermas,
proposed that there are three types of knowledge: technical, prac-
tical, and emancipator y. Technical knowledge has to do with the
world of facts, of material things that structure our world. This
knowledge can be easily verified through checking with docu-
ments, authorities, and so on. A statement such as “an adult can
obtain a high school diploma through making an acceptable score
on the GED” is technical knowledge. To say, however, that “a GED
diploma is just as good as a high school diploma” moves us into the
practical realm of knowledge, where communication with others—
dialogue—is necessary to establish validity. The validity or truth of
the claim is arrived at through dialogical consensus; interpretation,
judgment, and sincerity are important here. Finally, a question
such as “Why doesn’t the GED diploma have the same status in our
society as a high school diploma?” is emancipator y in nature
because it addresses the forces of society that empower or disem-
power some individuals over others; that is, one would ask who has
determined that a GED diploma has less status? Whose interests does
it serve to maintain this status differential? Not all knowledge, then,
serves the same interests, nor does all knowledge construction hold
the same potential for challenging the status quo or emancipating
the individual. Clearly, emancipator y knowledge has the most
power to address the oppressive forces in society.
From postmodernism comes the notion that there is no single
truth or reality independent of the knower. Postmodernism
criticizes the modern con ception of knowledge as a set of under-
lying principles that can explain behavior or phenomena across
individuals or settings. In the modern world, what constitutes
and what is accepted as knowledge is determined by power:
“Modernism privileges some ideas and people(s); it marginalizes
others” (Cunningham & Fitzgerald, 1996, p. 49). Since “the goal
CRITICAL THEORY,POSTMODERN, AND FEMINIST PERSPECTIVES 251
of postmodernism is diversity/pluralism and its ethic is tolerance,”
knowledge “is either nonexistent or relative, and contradictor y
notions can all be considered equally true if locally held” (p. 49).
Knowledge, then, is something that is part of the social and cultural
context in which it occurs; how an individual or a community con-
structs knowledge and the type of knowledge constructed are socio-
culturally dependent. This view of knowledge goes hand in
hand with how postmodernists view truth. There is no single, agreed-
upon truth; there are many truths. This view leads to one of post-
modernism’s major strategies: deconstruction. As Hemphill (2001,
p. 23) explains, if all truths are constructions, to deconstruct is “to
uncover its [the term or concept’ s] evolution, unpacking the inter-
ests it serves and marginalizes.” Further, postmodernism “encourages
us to be critical of how knowledge is organized—whether in terms of
broad disciplines or specific course curricula. All forms of organizing
knowledge . . . are contingent, occurring due to existing organiza-
tions and constellations of power in a given moment—and not given
in some cosmic hierarchy” (Hemphill, 2001, pp. 26–27).
Feminists who write from a poststructuralist or postmodern
perspective hold the same view about knowledge and truth. That
is, they assume there is no one Truth, an d each woman’s truth or
knowledge is relative to the sociocultural context of which she is
part. Feminist theor y encompasses two other views of knowledge
construction, however. The psychologically oriented feminist
literature has been heavily influenced by Belenky, Clinchy,
Goldberger, and Tarule’ s Women’s Ways of Knowing (1986). From their
interviews of 135 women, they identified five different ways women
construct knowledge, ranging from silence to constructed knowing
(see Chapter Thirteen). Their work suggests that knowledge is some-
thing that each individual constructs; the result of this process is a
sense of individual empowerment, of gaining a voice along with the
ability to effect change in their personal lives. In emancipatory fem-
inist models, in contrast, knowledge is less personal. Drawing more
from critical theory than psychology, these models “examine the
political and social mechanisms that have controlled the knowledge
production process and marginalized (or left out) the contributions
of women and people of color” (Tisdell, 1995, p. 70).
In summar y, assumptions underlying a power relations per-
spective on adult learning draw from a wide range of literature such
as Marxist and feminist theory, critical race theory, multiculturalism,
252 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
critical theory, and postmodernism. Any number of concepts and
assumptions inform this perspective, but we chose three interlock-
ing themes to set the stage for a discussion of contributions to adult
learning from critical theory, postmodernism, and feminist theory/
pedagogy. At the heart of all of these orientations is a critical assess-
ment of the forces of economics, class, race, and gender that lead to
systems of power and oppression. All also consider how knowledge is
constructed and how the nature of its construction can liberate or
dominate. We now turn to a more detailed discussion of critical the-
ory, postmodernism, and feminist pedagogy, three of the contem-
porary perspectives that have had the greatest impact to date on
adult learning.
CRITICAL THEORY AND ADU LT LEARNING
In contrast to andragogy and even transformational learning, most
practitioners in adult education are unaware of critical theor y’s
potential for examining practice or illuminating the nature of
adult learning. This is in part because the writing in this area is
dense and obtuse, and operationalizing the concepts involved is
difficult. Critical theory itself has been criticized for “asserting dom-
ination and reproducing a culture of silence in educational set-
tings” due to its “technical jargon, obscure references, and
ambiguous phrasing” (Pietrykowski, 1996, p. 84). In fact, we found
only one article on critical theory in a practice-oriented publica-
tion. In “John’s Story: An Exploration into Critical Theory in Edu-
cation,” deMarrais (1991) demonstrates how John’s failure to learn
to read can be understood as a systemic social problem rather than
one individual’s failure. The “system” in a critical theory analysis is
an institution (such as government or education) that functions to
reproduce the status quo, in particular the existing social class
structure. Awareness of this oppression can lead to resistance and
possibly change. Critical theory’s strength, as noted earlier, lies in
its critique of existing economic and social structures and resultant
power dynamics. However, “it is a discourse that often leaves prac-
titioners frustrated” (Finger, 2005a, p. 168) in suggesting workable
strategies for effecting change.
Anumberofadulteducationintellectualshavebroughtcriti-
cal theor y, and in particular Habermas’s version, to adult educa-
tion. Welton (1993, 1995b) has articulated the ways in which
CRITICAL THEORY,POSTMODERN, AND FEMINIST PERSPECTIVES 253
critical theory can inform adult education theory and practice. He
identifies sever al concepts from critical theory that have affected
and can continue to affect adult education: three types of knowl-
edge, ideal conditions for reflective discourse, institutions as learn-
ing communities, and the interplay of the system and the lifeworld.
The three types of knowledge discussed earlier in this chapter—
technical, practical, and emancipatory—present a framework for
understanding and critiquing adult education as a discipline and
as a field of practice. Collins (1991, 1995a, 1995b), for example,
finds the field of adult education to be overly concerned with tech-
nical knowledge (with the l e as t attention to emancipatory) at the
expense of social action designed to bring about a more just and
equal society. According to Collins, the field is too preoccupied with
“professionalizing,” with “the cult of efficiency,” and with “an eager-
ness to serve the conventional professions” (1995a, p. 79). This pre-
occupation with the technical has both distorted learning and
diverted adult educators from providing a “cont ext where sha red
commitments [practical knowledge] towards a socially more free,
just, and rational society will coalesce” (1991, p. 119). By this,
Collins means that adult educators are too concerned with how to
plan programs or arrange a classroom at the expense of consider-
ing why some adults do not have access to education, for example.
In a similar approach, Wilson (1993) and Wilson and Hayes
(2000b) use the tools of critical theory to trace the rise of techni-
cal rationality and professionalism represented in the field’s hand-
books. These handbooks, which are published approximately every
ten years, are encyclopedic compilations of essays describing the
field of adult education. For the field to become professionalized,
abodyofknowledgeneededtobecompiledwithwhichtotrain
adult educators. “This is what the discourse in the handbooks rep-
resents. Without this basis in a scientifically derived body of knowl-
edge, there would be no professional activity to transact in a service
economy” (Wilson, 1993, p. 14). It was not until the 2000 hand-
book (Wilson & Hayes, 2000a) that a more critical stance was taken
in assessing the body of knowledge in the field. Both Collins and
Wilson fear that the grip of professionalism and technical ratio-
nality prevents the field of adult education from attending to social
action and emancipatory interests.
Closely related to forms of knowledge is Habermas’s ideal con-
ditions for reflective discourse. Habermas has identified four
254 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
criteria or conditions that, if applied to interactions among adults,
should result in mature, rational, candid, “authentic” discussions:
comprehensibility, sincerity, truth, and legitimacy. Mezirow (1995,
pp. 52–53), who has adopted these conditions as central to his
transformative learning theory, explains how these conditions work
in discussions:
When we communicate or have doubts about the truth or authen-
ticity of the assertion, the truthfulness of the speaker, or the appro-
priateness of what is asserted in light of relevant norms, we often
seek the best judgment of the most informed, objective, and ratio-
nal persons we can find. We engage them in a special form of dia-
logue which Habermas refers to as “discourse.” Discourse involves
an effort to set aside bias, prejudice, and personal concerns and to
do our best to be open and objective in presenting and assessing
reasons and reviewing the evidence and arguments for and against
the problematic assertion to arrive at a consensus.
These criteria can form a basis for identifying the skills that
learners need to possess in order to engage in more authentic dis-
cussions. Mezirow and others realize that these are ideal condi-
tions; nevertheless, they give us a standard to work toward in adult
learning transactions.
Critical theory has also contributed to adult education in con-
sidering how institutions themselves can become learning com-
munities. According to Welton (1993, p. 89), “Habermas believes
that while all instit utions are educativ e, not all are true learning
communities. An institution, whether family, corporation, or state
agency, may be organized to block free and noncoerced learning
processes. Habermas encourages us to ask whether our institutions,
large and small, truly enable human beings to unfold their poten-
tials (cognitive, oral, technical, aesthetic) in their daily routine
interactions.” Strategies to build learning organizations are efforts
in this direction, as is the literature on classroom and planning
practices that engage an emancipator y agenda (see Ellsworth,
1989; Fenwick, 2005a; Gouthro, 2003; Schi ed, Carter, Preston, &
Howell, 199 7; Tisdell & Pe rry, 1997; Wi lson & Cervero, 2001). In
view of this thinking, Welton (1995b, p. 151) even argues that the
workplace has potential “as a site for emancipatory learning.” Crit-
ical adult educators have a “mandate . . . to argue and struggle for
CRITICAL THEORY,POSTMODERN, AND FEMINIST PERSPECTIVES 255
workplaces that open up space for non-coerced, free communica-
tion pertaining to the organization, control and purposes of work”
(p. 152).
Another contribution of critical theor y to adult education,
identified by Welton (1993), is the notion of the interplay between
the lifeworld and the system. As already noted, the lifeworld is the
informal, everyday interactions of daily life, and the system consists
of those structures based on money and power (corporations, gov-
ernment, education, and so on) that have an impact on the life-
world. These systems do more than intrude into the lifeworld; they
oppress. Collins (1991, 1995a) is particularly articulate about how
forces from the system, such as expertise, competency-based cur-
ricula, and much of workplace learning, have disempowered adults
in their lifeworlds. In his opinion, spaces in our ever yday world
where discussions of social and political issues and what can be
done about them could occur have been taken over by systems that
promote technical learning. Self-directed learning, for example,
has been touted for its value in creating “professionals.” But
the idea of “facilitating” self-directed learning, which Knowles rec-
ognized ordinary wide-awake adults already possess (“to be adult
means to be self-directing”), makes no more sense than comfort-
able pedagogical chatter about empowering people. For a critical
perspective on adult education the initial task is to identify social
structures and practices which (mis)shape social learning processes
and undermine capacities adults already possess to control their
own education. [Collins, 1994, p. 100]
For Collins (1991, p. 119), critical practice means being
engaged in “definable concrete projects for social change without
which talk of justice, eman c i pa ti o n , and equality becomes holl o w
rhetoric.”
Since the lifeworld and the system are interrelated, there is
some merit in focusing on the interaction of the two, from a pop-
ular movement standpoint or a systems perspective. “The juxtapo-
sition of lifeworld and system concepts is clearly significant in
enabling us to ‘think deeply and realistically about the systemic
blockages to the a chievement of a more fully democra tized soci-
ety’” (Collins, 1995b, p. 198). Hart’s (1995) analysis of the work-
place and the lifeworld of the family does just this, as does Hill’s
256 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
(1995, 1998) study of Pennsylvania citizens’ groups engaged in
environmental conflicts. The citizens’ groups and the government
regulatory agency “were both instrumental in community learn-
ing” and community conflict (1995, p. 163).
The most recent work in critical theory by an adult educator
is by Brookfield (2001, 2002, 2005a, 2005b). He proposes a criti-
cal theor y framework for a theor y of adult learning and educa-
tion. At the center of this theor y of adult learning is ideological
critique: “A critical theory of adult learning should have at its core
an understanding of how adults learn to recognize the predomi-
nance of ideology in their everyday thoughts and actions and in
the institutions of civil society” (2001, pp. 20–21). More specifi-
cally, there are seven “learning tasks” embedded in critical learn-
ing theor y:
1. Challenging ideology. This is “the basic tool for helping adults
learn to penetrate the givens of everyday reality to reveal the
inequity and oppression that lurk beneath” (Brookfield, 2005b,
p. 42).
2. Contesting hegemony. Hegemony is the notion that “people
learn to accept as natural and in their own best interest an
unjust social order” (Brookfield, 2005b, p. 43).
3. Unmasking power. “Part of becoming adult is learning to rec-
ognize the play of power in our lives and ways it is used and
abused” (Brookfield, 2005b, p. 47).
4. Overcoming alienation. “The removal of alienation allows for
the possibility of freedom, for the unmanipulated exercise of
one’s creative powers. As such, claiming freedom and over-
coming alienation are inextricably intertwined” (Brookfield,
2005b, p. 50).
5. Learn ing liber ation. Adults need to learn to liberate themselves ,
individually and collectively, from the dominant ideology.
6. Reclaiming reason. “A major c on cern of critical theory is to
reclaim reason as something to be applied in all spheres of life,
particularly in deciding values by which we should live, not just
in areas where technical decisions are called for” (Brookfield,
2005b, p. 56).
7. Practicing democracy. Adults must learn to live with the con-
tradictions of democracy, “learning to accept that democracy is
always a partially functioning ideal” (Brookfield, 2005b, p. 65).
CRITICAL THEORY,POSTMODERN, AND FEMINIST PERSPECTIVES 257
We have illustrated how critical theory can inform both adult
education theory and practice. However, as with any other theory,
there are points of debate and critique. The notion that critical
theory is a useful framework for better understanding adult learn-
ing has itself been critiqued. Ellsworth (1989), in her now classic arti-
cle on problems with applying an emancipatory, dialogic approach
to the classroom, found that “key assumptions, goals, and pedagog-
ical practices fundamental to the literature on critical pedagogy—
namely, ‘empowerment,’ ‘student voice,’ ‘dialogue,’ and even the
term ‘critical’—are repressive myths that perpetuate relations of
domination” (p. 298). In experimentin g with a college class on
racism, Ellsworth discovered that she and the students were ill
equipped to handle the unequal power relations in their own class-
room. She writes:
Our classroom was not in fact a safe space for students to speak out
or talk back about their experiences of oppression both inside and
outside of the classroom. . . . Things were not being said for a num-
ber of reasons. These included fear of being misunderstood
and/or disclosing too much and becoming too vulnerable; . . .
resentment that other oppressions (sexism, heterosexism, fat
oppression, classism, anti-Semitism) were being marginalized in the
name of addressing racism; . . . [and] confusion about levels of
trust and commitment surrounding those who were allies to
another group’s struggles. [1989, pp. 315–316]
Collard (1995) concurs with Ellsworth, arguing that discourse
(the conditions of ideal speech) “merely reintroduces an old elit-
ism under the guise of a communicativ e e thic” (p. 68). Further,
the ideal speech situation “tends to disregard difference and
exclude those who have no voice—i.e., it is implicitly hierarchical”
(p. 65). We also feel that while critical theory allows us to uncover
the use and abuse of power, it is a particularly challenging per-
spective to put into practice. How do we as adult ed ucators actu-
ally go about promoting rational discourse, or help adults “learn
to liberate themselves” (Brookfield, 2005b, p. 65), for example?
Despite these criticisms, critical theory remains a particularly
important underpinning to theory building in adult learning. For
example, Mezirow’ s theory of perspective transformation, discussed
in Chapter Six, draws heavily from Habermas. Critical theory has
258 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
also informed analyses of professionalization, power and oppres-
sion, and the dynamics of the teaching and learning transaction.
POSTMODERNISM AND ADU LT LEARNING
Uncertainty chara cterizes today’s postmodern world. As Giroux
(1992, p. 39) observes, “We have entered an age that is marked by
acrisisofpower,patriarchy,authority,identity,andethics.Thisnew
age has been described, for better or worse, by many theorists in a
variety of disciplines as the age of postmodernism.” Unlike the
modern world, which is characterized by “the scientific, industrial,
and social programs, institutions, actions, and artifacts generated
by the humanistic and Enlightenment search for the universal
foundations of truth, morality, and aesthetics” (Bagnall, 1995, p.
81), in the postmodern era, things are much more diverse, fluid,
illusionary, and contested, including the reality of the world itself.
Identifying oppression, “defining the enemy” (Newman, 1994),
and taking right forms of action are not so easy in a postmodern
world. As Plumb (1995b, p. 188) observes, adult education from a
“modern” world perspective “is poorly equipped to articulate how
it can persist as a meaningful emancipatory practice without rein-
scribing itself as an institution that suppresses heterogeneity and
difference.” Newman (2006) however, is one writer who takes up
this challenge, offering numerous strategies for social activists to
channel their frustration, dismay, and anger into defiant action.
In a postmodern world, everything is “contested,” up for grabs.
What has been or is considered true, real, or right can be ques-
tioned; there are multiple interpretations depending on where one
is standing and what factors are in juxtaposition with one another.
There are no absolutes, no single theoretical framework for exam-
ining social and political issues. Hence, critical theor y’s goal of
emancipation and overcoming oppression can itself be questioned
because it represents a “logic” that “does not tolerate difference”
(Pietrykowski, 1996, p. 90). At the same time, as Collins (1994, pp.
99–100) points out, postmodernism, in contrast to Habermasian
critical theory, leaves us with no means of choosing “sensibly
between one course of action and another. There is no truth to be
found, only a plurality of signs, styles, interpretations, and mean-
ingless process.” Therefore, postmodernism can leave us with two
almost diametrically opposed views. It can be seen as “offering a
CRITICAL THEORY,POSTMODERN, AND FEMINIST PERSPECTIVES 259
pessimistic, negative, gloomy assessment . . . of fragmentation, dis-
integration, malaise, meaninglessness” (Rosenau, 1992, p. 15). Or
it can be seen as hopeful—a world that is “nondogmatic, tentative,
and nonideological” (p. 16), one in which adult education can play
a major role.
Exactly how postmodernism can play a “major role” in adult
education is only recently being articulated. Kilgore (2004), for
example, begins by analyzing the nature of postmodern knowing,
including the notion of multiple truths, that meaning lies not in
text but in its interpretation, and that power, inextricably linked
to knowledge, is “something that we exercise rather than possess”
(p. 48). She goes on to point out that at the heart of a postmod-
ern pedagogy is a “shaking up [of] the social positions of teacher
and student and the power relationship between them. Such aspi-
rations will require us to consider the death of the teacher, the sub-
version of the student, and the diffusion of power” (p. 48).
Others have focused on the postmodern notion of the self and
its importance in adult learning. The self in postmodern thought is
not the unified, integrated, authentic self of modern times. Rather,
the self is multiple, ever chan ging, and some say, fragmented. As
Gergen (1991, p. 7) argues, “Under postmodern conditions, persons
exist in a state of continuous construction and reconstruction. . . .
Each reality of the self gives way to reflexive questioning, irony, and
ultimately the playful probing of yet another reality.”
Such a notion of self has implications for adult learning and
development. In an exploration of this question, Clark and Dirkx
(2000, p. 112) find the notion of a unitary self “a little like trying
to understand the universe by using a telescope with a fixed lens
and position.” Clark (1997, p. 111) argues that “learning from the
assumption of a unified self privileges the rational, agenic self and
thereby fails to recognize and to give voice to other dimensions of
the self.” A postmodern perspective of the self allows for “under-
standing, honoring, and fostering diversity” within the lives of our
adult learners (Clark & Dirkx, 2000, p. 112). By extension, adult
educators can be sensitive to “the noncognitive, emotive interests,
inclination, and preferences of . . . participants (Bagnall, 1999, p.
135). That is, aesthetic, spiritual, affective, and experiential aspects
of the self become as important as the rational. McLaren (1997, p.
25) writes that educators need to assist students in dealing with the
following questions of identity:
260 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
How has the social order fashioned me in ways with which I no
longer desire to identify? In what directions do I desire and why?
To what extent are my dreams and my desires my own? What will
likely be the consequences for me and others both like me and dif-
ferent from me? To what extent is society inventing me and by what
moral, epistemological, political, or transcendental authority is this
taking place? How am I to judge the world that made me and on
what basis can I unmake myself in order to remake the world?
In the face of such a fragmented world, relationships, con-
nectedness, and interdependence are the constants that hold us
together. Finger (1995, p. 116) is explicit about moving to a col-
lective action agenda to respond to
the new challenges. . . . Experts must join groups of learners work-
ing collectively with real people on concrete problems. . . . Teaching
and preaching ready-made solutions to individuals must be replaced
with collaborative, vertical, horizontal, and cross-disciplinary
learning. Such learning must be recognized as probably the only
“resource” still available to us to get through and out of the ever
accelerating vicious circle. This, of course, must be a collective and
collaborative effort, because there is no individual way out.
Postmodernists celebrate diversity among people, ideas, and
institutions. By accepting the diversity and plurality of the world,
no one element is privileged or more powerful than another.
Usher, Bryant, and Johnston (1997, p. 22) speak of the advantages
of this perspective:
Postmodernity has provided spaces for rising social groups such as
the new middle classes, for new postmodern social movements and
for hitherto oppressed and marginalised groups such as women,
blacks, gays, and ethnic minorities to find a voice, to articulate their
own “subjugated” knowledges and to empower themselves in a vari-
ety of different ways and according to their own specific agendas.
In this situation, education stops being a univocal, predictable real-
ity and consequently it makes no sense to speak of it simply as
either functioning to reproduce the social order or as implicit
social engineering, whether this be for domestication or liberation.
. . . Linked with this is the impact of a reconfiguration of education
away from its institutional and provider-led location.
CRITICAL THEORY,POSTMODERN, AND FEMINIST PERSPECTIVES 261
Plumb (1995a, p. 246) obser ves that although so much frag-
mentation and diversity can be disempowering, it is also what is
needed to challenge the equally disparate forces of oppression:
“No longer is it sufficient to foster the emergence of a particular
kind of identity sufficiently strong to overcome the inequitable
norms of capitalism”; rather, “critical adult education must inves-
tigate new ways that identity can still productively be mobilized in
the fragmenting environment of postmodernity.”
Postmodernism has been criticized for its pessimism, its
extreme relativism, its lack of a moral center. Furthermore, with
few exceptions (see Clark & Dirkx, 2000; Kegan, 1994; Kilgore,
2004; Tisdell, 1995), it comes up lacking on specific techniques or
strategies for dealing with the postmodern classroom or adult edu-
cation program. What postmodernism does offer adult education
is a respect for diversity, a moving of previously marginalized
groups into a position of equal value to other groups, and a cri-
tique (or deconstruction, some would say) of the categories by
which we have labeled aspects of our practice. What does it mean
to be categorized as illiterate in our society, for example? The mar-
ginalized groups identified by Usher, Br yant, and Johnston
(1997)—women, blacks, gays, and ethnic minorities—have not
found an advocate until very recently in critical theor y, which is
focused primarily on rationality, economics, class, and power. From
postmodernity’s challenges to modern, rational thought and soci-
ety comes a valuing of diversity and opportunities inherent in
uncertainty and nondogmatic practices. Postmodern discourses
“offer a path—albeit a frustrating and convoluted one—to under-
stand present and future phenomena that are no longer well suited
to modernist, rational explanations” (Hemphill, 2001, p. 27).
FEMINIST PEDAGOGY AND ADULT LEARNING
As the name implies, feminist pedagogy focuses on the concerns of
women in the teaching-learning tra nsaction. Fe minist peda gogy
is derived from feminist theor y, or more accurately, feminist
theories. There are, for example, liberal, radical, psychoanalytic,
Black, Marxist, and postmodern versions of feminist theory. Based
in feminist theor y, feminist pedagogy is “a method of teaching
262 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
and learning employing a political framework that involves
consciousness-raising, activism, and a caring and safe environment”
(Lee & Johnson-Bailey, 2004, p. 57).
However, just as there are many feminisms, there are also
numerous strands of feminist pedagogy that have been categorized
in various ways. Maher (1987), for example, has placed the various
perspectives into one of two categories: liberatory models and gen-
der models. Liberator y models draw from postmodernism and
Marxist and critical theory. From this perspective, the structures of
society, the systems that intrude on our lifeworlds, oppress through
their power and control. The structured nature of power relations
and interlocking systems of oppression based on gender, race, and
class are seen as being reinforced through education; that is, insti-
tutions of learning and the classroom itself reproduce the power
structures found in society at large. Liberatory pedagogy examines
how these systems of oppression are reproduced and resisted in
education. We ask, for example, why White males tend to domi-
nate a classroom discussion (reproduction), or why Black working-
class women shun formal education (resistance). Liberatory
feminist educators attempt to recover women’s voices, experiences,
and viewpoints and use these to make systems of privilege, power,
and oppression visible. Although influenced by Freire’s emanci-
patory praxis and Mar xist theory, liberatory feminists are critical
of the lack of attention in these approaches to gender and to inter-
locking systems of oppression based on gender, race, and class
(Gouthro, 2003).
In the gender model of feminist pedagogy, the focus is on how
female identity has been socially constructed to be one of nurturer
and how the individual woman can find her voice, becoming
emancipated in the personal psychological sense. Drawing from
psychoanalytic and humanistic psychology, educators from this
stance look to how the educational environment and the learning
transaction can be constructed so as to foster women’ s learning. In
this model, a connected approach to learning is advocated, where
life experiences are valued, where a woman can come to have a
voice, and hence, an identity. “If a woman is to consider herself a
real knower, she must find acceptance for her ideas in the public
world” (Belenky, Clinchy, Goldberger, & Tarule, 1986, p. 220). The
CRITICAL THEORY,POSTMODERN, AND FEMINIST PERSPECTIVES 263
public world begins with a safe classroom where members can sup-
port and nurture each other. This connected environment will
help women develop their own voices and see themselves as capa-
ble of being constructors of knowledge rather than just recipients.
In their book Knowledge, Dif ference, and Power: Essays Inspired by
Women’s Ways of Knowing (1996), Goldberger, Tarule, Clinchy, and
Belenky consider how to wed connected and separate knowing,
what collaborative knowing might look like, and how color, class,
and diversity affect women’s learning.
Tisdell (1995, 1996, 1998, 2000) has moved feminist pedagogy
for ward by forging a synthesis of the liberator y and gender mod-
els that promotes both personal emancipation and public action.
Tisdell first identifies four recurring themes in feminist pedagogy:
how knowledge is constructed, the development of voice, the
authority of the teacher and students, and dealing with differences.
She finds the liberatory model particularly strong on recognizing
differences based on race, class, and gender; nevertheless, such
theories “focus too much on structures, and do not account for the
individual’s capacity for agency, the capacity to have some control
outside of these social structures” (1996, p. 310). The gender or
psychological model, in contrast, because it tends to emphasize
similarities among women, does not much account for differences
among women or differenc es in power relations based on race,
class, sexual orientation, and so on. The way to take into account
all four themes, Tisdell proposes, is through a poststructural fem-
inist pedagogy, which weds the psychological orientation of the
gender model with the structural factors of the liberator y per-
spective. Tisdell (1996, p. 311) explains:
A synthesis of these models in the form of poststructural feminist
pedagogies would take into account both the intellectual and emo-
tional components of learning, the individual’s capacity for agency,
as well as the psychological and social and political factors that
affect learning. It would emphasize the importance of relationship
and connection to learning, but also account for the fact that
power relations based on a multitude of factors including gender,
race, and class are always present in the learning environment and
affect both how knowledge is constructed on the individual level as
well as the social and political factors that affect what counts as
“official” knowledge and how it is disseminated.
264 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Tisdel l’s post st ru c tu ra l fem i ni st pe da g og y mod el h as se ve ra l
implications for the teaching and learning transaction. First, it
speaks to differences among learners themselves: “Most women
and some men may have different learning needs from men who
represent the dominant culture” (1995, p. 73). Second, there
is attention given to the role of power in the construction of
knowledge itself—power’s role in how knowledge is shaped and
disseminated in the classroom, and in society at large. Third, a
poststructural pedagogy, or what Tisdell (1995) also calls positional
pedagogy, examines how “various positionalities—the gender, race,
class, sexual orientation—of both the participants and the instruc-
tor matter and have an effect on the learning environment”
(p. 75). Finally, this perspective problematizes the power and
authority of the teacher and considers the ramifications of redis-
tributing this power.
Tisdell’s poststructuralist feminist pedagogy model highlights
connections: connections between “the individual and the inter-
secting structural systems of privilege and oppression” and con-
nections between “one’s individual (constantly shifting) identity
and social structures” (1998, p. 146). She suggests how these con-
nections might lead to change in an adult learning setting:
As learners examine how social systems of privilege and oppression
have affected their own identity, including their beliefs and values,
the “discourse” is disrupted, thus shifting their identity, as well as
increasing their capacity for agency. For example, if one has
embraced societal prescriptions of particular gender roles (or race
roles, or sexual roles that are exclusively heterosexual), and one
becomes conscious of and examines the social construction of such
roles, one’s identity is likely to shift, and one could develop new
ways of acting in the world. One also begins to see that there are
different “truths” and perhaps not one “Truth,” and that social sys-
tems have allowed members of privileged groups to control what
has counted as “knowledge” in determining the official curriculum
through the politics of the knowledge production process. [Tisdell,
1998, p. 146]
Weiler (1996) identifies three issues from which a feminist ped-
agogy can be forged. The first is the role and authority of the
teacher. The tension between feminist teachers’ need “to claim
CRITICAL THEORY,POSTMODERN, AND FEMINIST PERSPECTIVES 265
authority in a society that denies it to them” (p. 139) and the shar-
ing of authority in the community of the classroom needs to be
addressed. Lee and Johnson-Bailey (2004) point out the complex-
ity of sharing authority when the instructor is both female and a
person of color: “Instead of sharing our limited power and author-
ity, we believe it is first essential to cla im our power and authority
in the class. Claiming this authority purposely is never easy, par-
ticularly when our students already see us as academic impostors
or feel threatened by our position” ( p. 62). Second, space needs
to be made for personal experience as a source of knowledge and
truth—how much space and what kind of space in regard to other
sources of knowledge need to be negotiated. Weiler cites the Black
lesbian feminist Audre Lorde in articulating the challenge of incor-
porating feelings, “those hidden sources of power from where true
knowledge and, therefore, lasting action comes,” into the discourse
around types of knowledge (cited by Weiler, 1996, p. 142). The
third issue for Weiler is the question of difference. There is no uni-
tary, universal women’s experience on which to base a pedagogy
of practice. Women who have been marginalized and oppressed
by the dominant society, by the dominant female norms, have
had ver y different experiences from those of the mainstream.
“The turning to experience thus reveals not a universal and com-
mon women’ s essence, but, rather, deep divisions in what different
women have experienced, and in the kinds of knowledge they
discover when they exami ne their own experience. The recogni-
tion of the differences among women raises serious challenges to
feminist pedagogy” (Weiler, 1996, p. 145). Brown, Cer vero, and
Johnson-Bailey’s (2000) study of race, gender, and teaching in the
adult education classroom underscores Weiler’s point. They found
that “the practices of African American women postsecondary
mathematics teachers are significantly affected by their race and
gender . . . dispel[ing] the myth of the universal teacher” (p. 286).
The work of Tisdell and Weiler is part of an expanding body
of literature in adult education that addresses various aspects of
adult teaching and learning contexts from a feminist pedagogy per-
spective. A number of writers have researched and presented guide-
lines for establishing collaborative and connected learning
environments. Stalker’s (1993b) feminist analysis of women teachers’
mentoring women learners centers on women academics’ location
266 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
in a patriarchal system. Stalker (1993a) also examined sexual harass-
ment in the adult learner–teacher re lationship a s a function of
unequal power, authority, and contr ol. Similarly, Jarvi s and Zukas
(1998) conducted a feminist analysis of teaching, research, and
supervision in adult education, and Bierema and Cseh (2003) ana-
lyzed human resource development research from a feminist per-
spective. Finally, Gouthro and Grace (2000) use “positional” models
of feminist pedagogy to analyze graduate women’s experiences in
adult and higher education. They conclude that these models can
bring about a more relevant graduate experience for women that
might include “changes in the goals and objectives graduate students
set for themselves, changes in the time it takes to finish graduate
school, altered student perceptions of the role and purpose of grad-
uate education, and altered research interests and job and career
ambitions” (p. 137).
With few exceptions, critical theory and postmodernism offer
little guidance on how to manage the teaching and learning
encounter to effect the theory’s desired ends. There is much more
in the feminist pedagogy literature, as the References indicate. Lee
and Johnson-Bailey (2004) suggest the following strategies: using
questioning and group debriefing, using technology to manage
sensitive discussions, claiming authority as the instructor, facilitat-
ing the process of understanding new and contradictory knowl-
edge, and selecting culturally diverse materials. Tisdell (1993, 1995,
1998) also includes the literature on multicultural education in
her suggestions for creating inclusive learning environments:
• Integrate affective and experiential knowledge with theoreti-
cal concepts.
• Pay attention to the power relations inherent in knowledge
production.
• Be aware that participants are positioned differently in rela-
tionship to each other and to the knowledge being acquired.
• Acknowledge the power disparity between the
teacher/facilitator and the students.
• Identify all stakeholders and their positionality in the educa-
tional program.
• Consider the levels of inclusivity and the levels of contexts
involved in the educational activity.
CRITICAL THEORY,POSTMODERN, AND FEMINIST PERSPECTIVES 267
• Consider how curricular choices implicitly or explicitly con-
tribute to challenging structured power relations.
• Adopt emancipatory teaching strategies.
•Beconsciousofthewaysinwhichunconsciousbehaviorcon-
tributes to challenging or reproducing unequal power relations.
• Build a community based on both openness and intellectual
rigor to create a democratic classroom. [Tisdell, 1995, p. 90]
In summary, of the three theoretical orientations of critical the-
ory, postmodernism, and feminist theory/feminist pedagogy
reviewed in the second half of this chapter, feminist pedagogy has
most directly addressed the practice of adult education and in par-
ticular the teaching-learning transaction in the classroom. Critical
theory and postmodern i sm focus more o n critiq ue and question-
ing of the status quo. A few writers have attempted what Grace
(1996a) calls “an eclectic theoretical scaffolding . . . using insights
from discourses including critical theory, feminism, and postmod-
ernism” (p. 145). His model is based on several assumptions nec-
essary for building an adult learning community. He suggests that
actual classroom practices must acknowledge personal experience
along with theoretical analyses through being sensitive to inter-
sections of power “where race, ethnicity, class, gender, sexual ori-
entation, ableness, and age impact learning, life, and work” (1996a,
p. 147), through conflict and dialogue, and through practices that
are inclusionary of the diversity of peoples and their knowledge.
SUMMARY
In this chapter we have presented an over view of several contem-
porary perspectives on adult learning, all of which deal with cri-
tique and power relations. The mound of writing and research, the
plethora of viewpoints, and the complexity and density of language
and concepts that make up this perspective have made this effort
adauntingone.Whatwehavedoneistosketchtheoutlines,name
some of the main concepts and players, and drawing from the
work of colleagues in adult education, show how this perspective
is shaping our understanding of adult learning and adult educa-
tion practice.
268 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
To this end, and drawing from Marxist theory, critical theor y,
multiculturalism, critical race theory, postmodernism, and femi-
nist theory, we briefly discussed three themes that characterize this
perspective. The first theme—race, class, and gender—leads to the
second theme—of how the intersections of race, class, and gender
affect the distribution of resources and power so that some groups
in our society are privileged and some are oppressed. The third
theme—knowledge and truth—considers the nature and con-
struction of knowledge as it relates to learning.
The second half of the chapter reviewed critical theor y, post-
modernism, and feminist pedagogy and their contributions to
understanding adult learning. Drawing from W elton’s (1993) frame-
work, several aspects of critical theory were discussed: Habermas’s
three distinct types of knowledge and the conditions necessary for
ideal discourse, how to make institutions sites for learning, and the
relationship between systemic forces based on money and power and
the everyday lifeworld of adults.
Postmodernism challenges the certainty and rationality that
characterize modernity. Uncertainty, diversity, and multiplicity can
be fragmenting and disempowering for some, energizing and pow-
erful for others. Postmodernity’s major contribution to adult edu-
cation has been to bring to the foreground previously oppressed
and marginalized groups.
Finally, feminist pedagogy—the application of feminist theory
to education—was reviewed with attention to adult education.
What Maher (1987) categoriz es as liberatory (foc using on social
structures) and gender (emphasizing the psychological) models
of feminist pedagogy were presented, followed by Tisdell’s (1995,
1996, 1998) synthesis of the two into a poststructural model of fem-
inist pedagogy. The work of adult educators in applying feminist
pedagogy to adult learning transactions and contexts was also
reviewed.
CRITICAL THEORY,POSTMODERN, AND FEMINIST PERSPECTIVES 269
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PART F OUR
L EARNING AND
D EVELOPMENT
The adult learner is at the center of all learning activities. Under-
standing how we as adults develop and change as we age, and how
developmental issues and the changes we encounter interface with
learning in adulthood, are important considerations in facilitating
meaningful learning. Equally informative is research that explores
those cognitive factors that affect learning, such as intelligence,
memory, brain functioning, and so on. Part Four of Lear ning in
Adulthood is a set of chapters that offer foundational work on learn-
ing theory in general and developmental perspectives in particu-
lar. Drawing from psychology, sociology, neurobiology, and
educational and developmental psychology, these chapters com-
pile material from a wide range of research and theor y and are
designed as a resource for the reader who wants to explore particu-
lar aspects of learning in more depth. While much of this litera-
ture is not specific to adults, we have selected topics that are
important to understanding adult learning, and wherever possible,
made those links.
Part Four opens with Chapter Eleven, which reviews five tradi-
tional theories of learning. Beginning with the earliest developed
orientation to learning, behaviorism, the chapter goes on to review
humanism, cognitivism, social cognitive learning theory, and con-
structivism. E a c h of these or i en t a t io n s , which all o f f er very differ-
ent explanations of learning, has something to contribute to our
understanding of the learning process. We examine each theory
in terms of its major proponents, its explanation of the learning
process, the purpose of education, the role of the learner, and the
influence it has had on adult education.
Research has shown that adults are often motivated to partici-
pate in learning activities by developmental issues and changes in
their lives. Chapter Twelve explores the developmental character-
istics of adults that are most clearly relate d to lea rning. In select-
ing the information from this large body of research that is most
relevant to learning in adulthood, we chose to cover four areas:
biological and psychological changes in adulthood, sociocultural
factors, and what we term the integrative perspective on develop-
ment. The biological perspective acknowledges the physical aging
process brought on by the natural mechanisms of aging as well as
environmental influences, health habits, and disease. For the most
part, there are few effects on adult learning from these biological
changes, except for those associated with deterioration of sight and
hearing, a slowing of reaction time, and disease, especially diseases
connected with the central ner vous system.
Psychological models of development, where the focus is on
internal, psychological change, can loosely be grouped into stage-
of-life or chronological age categories. Erikson’s famous stage the-
ory and Levinson’s model are discussed as exemplars of these
foundational psychological models. As with other areas of adult
learning, psychological perspectives on development have domi-
nated our thinking as adult educators about the linkages between
development and learning.
From the sociocultural perspective, change in adulthood is
determined more by contextual influences, such as social, eco-
nomic, and historical factors, than by internal mechanisms. Two
strands of work from this perspective are highlighted: first, the
importance of social roles and the timing of life events, and sec-
ond, the socially constructed nature of the concepts of race, gen-
der, ethnicity, and sexual orientation and how they shape
development. The integrative perspective acknowledges the inter-
sections among the biological, psychological, and sociocultural per-
spectives in framing develo pmental theory. To move to a richer
understanding of learning in adulthood, we suggest that adult edu-
cators use multiple lenses or perspectives on development instead
of relying on just a single paradigm of development.
272 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Chapter Thirteen explores cognitive development in adulthood—
that is, how adults’ thinking patterns change over time. Beginning
with a discussion of the pioneering work of Piaget (1972), we present
alternative theories and models of adult cognitive development,
including a contextual perspective, which has gained more promi-
nence recently. Dialectical thinking, characterized by the tolerance
for contradictions and ambiguity in ways of thinking about similar phe-
nomena in adult life, and wisdom, one of the hallmarks of mature
adult thought, are also discussed.
Chapter Fourteen focuses on the concept of intelligence.
Beginning with the early work on intelligence tests used to mea-
sure whether young men were “mentally fit” to serve in the armed
forces in World War I (Kaufman, 2000) and Thorndike’s studies of
intelligence and aging (Thorndike, Bregman, Tilton, & Woodyard,
1928), researchers and educators alike have sought to understand
the nature of adult intelligence and how it might be affected by
the aging process. This chapter traces the development of the con-
cept of intelligence, highlighting first the more traditional theo-
ries and approaches to the study of intelligence. The fundamental
question of whether intelligence declines with age has different
answers, depending largely on how intelligence and the parame-
ters of aging are defined, and the research designs and tests that
are used in these studies. Challenges to the traditional approaches
to intelligence have a promising potential for furthering the under-
standing of the nature of adult intelligence, providing that more
empirical work is completed to validate both the basic components
of these theories and the tests being developed to measure those
components.
Chapter Fifteen focuses on memor y and cognition and how
brain structures and func tioning affect lear ning. After review ing
how memor y works, the chapter expl ores the different comp o-
nents of memory—sensory, working, and long-term memory—and
how age may or may not affect an adult’s ability to remember.
Other important aspects of cognition are then discussed, includ-
ing the concepts of declarative and procedural knowledge, expert
versus novice learners, and the differences between cognitive style
and learning style. Although the major work in cognition has been
done primarily with children and computer modeling, many
LEARNING AND DEVELOPMENT 273
educators have generalized the findings to include learning in
adulthood but without the necessary verification studies. The final
area explored in Chapter Fifteen is one of the most fascinating
frontiers in the study of learning: the neurobiological basis of
learning. Although neurobiologists have provided captivating
descriptions of how the human brain is organized and functions,
only a few direct connections between what we have learned about
the brain and specific learning interventions for adults are being
explored. Rather, what we primarily have are tentative and often
tantalizing hypotheses about the neurobiology of learning.
274 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
CHAPTER ELEVEN
T RADITIONAL
L EARNING T HEORIES
Learning, so central to human behavior yet so elusive to under-
standing, has fascinated thinkers as far back as Plato and Aristotle.
Indeed, the views of these two philosophers underpin much mod-
ern research on learning conducted by psychologists and educa-
tors. The fact that so many people have thought about,
investigated, and written about the process of learning over the
years suggests the complexity of the topic. Learning defies easy def-
inition and simple theorizing. This chapter reviews some of the
main ways in which learning has been studied and delineates the
contributions these orientations have made to our understanding
of learning in adulthood.
Originally, learning was within the purview of philosophical
investigations into the nature of knowledge, the human mind, and
what it means to know. Plato believed that the physical objects in
our everyday world have corresponding abstract forms that we can
come to know through “introspection or self-analysis. . . . Only by
turning away from the physical impure world to the world of ideas,
pondered by the mind’s eye, can we hope to gain true knowledge”
(Hergenhahn & Olson, 2005, p. 31). Aristotle, in contrast, believed
that all knowledge comes through the senses; these sense impres-
sions can be pondered “to discover the lawfulness that runs
through them” (p. 32). Plato’s “rationalism” can be seen in Gestalt
and cognitive psychology; Aristo tle’s “empi ricism” is particularly
evident in early behavioral psychology. Later philosophers pre-
sented variations on these two basic positions, ranging from
Descartes’ separation of mind and body to Kant’s notion of innate
mental faculties.
275
It was not until the nineteenth centur y that the study of the
mind, of how people know, and by extension, of behavior became
“scientifically” investigated. Hergenhahn and Olson (2005, p. 42)
write that Hermann Ebbinghaus “emancipated psychology from
philosophy by demonstrating that the ‘higher mental processes’ of
learning and memor y could be studied experimentally” and that
many of his findings on learning and memory published in 1885
are still valid. Another pioneer, Wilhelm W undt, set up the first psy-
chological laboratory in Leipzig in 1879 and investigated how expe-
rience is assimilated into one’s previous knowledge structures.
Interestingly, Wundt felt that laboratory research was limited in its
usefulness for studying “products of the mind” such as “religion,
morals, myths, art, social customs, language, and law” and he spent
years studying these products “through naturalistic obser vation”
(Hergenhahn & Olson, 2005, p. 43). Thus, by the turn of the cen-
tury, systematic investigations into human learning were well under
way in Europe and North America.
In this chapter we first present a brief discussion of learning
and learning theories in general, and then we focus on five differ-
ent learning theories: behaviorist, humanist, cognitivist, social cog-
nitive, and constructivist. These theories deal with learning in
general; attempts to build theories of adult learning in particular
were examined in the chapters in Part Two.
LEARNING AND LEARNING THEORIES
Acommondefinitionoflearning,emanatingfrompsychologists
who investigated the phenomenon until the 1950s, is that learning
is a change in behavior. This defi nition, however, fails to capture
some of the complexities involved—such as whether one needs to
per form in order for learning to occur or whether all human
behavior is learned. As Hill (2002, p. 10) points out, “What is
learned need not be ‘correct’ or adaptive (we learn bad habits as
well as good), need not be conscious or deliberate (one of the
advantages of coaching in a skill is that it makes us aware of mis-
takes we have unconsciously learned to make), and need not
involve any overt act (attitudes and emotions can be learned as well
as knowledge and skills).” The notion of change, however, still
underlies most definitions of learning, although it has been mod-
ified to include the potential for change. And the idea that having
276 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
an experience of some sort, rather than learning as a function of
maturation, is important. Thus a reasonable definition of learning
would be as follows: Learning is a process that brings together cog-
nitive, emotional, and environmental influences and experiences
for acquiring, enhancing, or making changes in one’s knowledge,
skills, values, and worldviews (Illeris, 2000; Ormrod, 1995).
Learning as a process (rather than an end product) focuses on
what happens when the learning takes place. Explanations of what
happens are called learning theories, and it is these theories that are
the subject of this chapter. There are, however, many explanations
of learning, some more comprehensive than others, that are called
theories. How the knowledge base in this area is divided and
labeled depends on the writer. Hilgard and Bower (1966), for
example, review eleven learning theories and then note that they
fall into two main families: stimulus-response theories and cogni-
tive theories. Knowles (1984) uses Reese and Overton’s (1970)
organization, in which learning theories are grouped according to
two different worldviews: mechanistic and organismic.
Gredler (1997) exemplifies the difficulties in deciding which
“contemporary perspectives” are actual learning theories. She dis-
cusses seven “perspectives”: Skinner’s operant conditioning,
Gagne’s conditions of learning, cognitive learning principles,
Piaget’s cognitive-development theory, Vygotsky’s sociohistorical
theory, Bandura’s social-cognitiv e theor y, and Weiner’s theory of
motivation. However, three of these (Piaget, Vygotsky, and Weiner)
“technically are not categorized as learni ng theories” but “have
important implications for classroom practice” (p. 12).
Since there is little consensus on how many learning theories
there are or how they should be grouped for discussion, we have
organized this chapter according to orientations that present very
different assumptions about learning and offer helpful insights
into adult learning. With these criteria in mind, five basic orienta-
tions have been selected for discussion: behaviorist, humanist, cog-
nitivist, social cognitive, and constructivist. As Hill (2002, p. 190)
has observed, “For most of us, the various learning theories have
two chief values. One is in providing us with a vocabular y and a
conceptual framework for interpreting the examples of learning
that we obser ve. These are valuable for anyone who is alert to
the world. The other, closely related, is in suggesting where to look
for solutions to practical problems. The theories do not give us
TRADITIONAL LEARNING THEORIES 277
solutions, but they do direct our attention to those variables that
are crucial in finding solutions.”
In each of the five orientations e xamined in this chapter, the
following topics are covered: the major proponents, the view of the
learning process itself, the locus of learning, the purpose of edu-
cation, the role of the teacher, and the ways in which these theo-
ries are manifested in the practice of adult education. A summary
of this information can be found in Table 11.1 at the end of the
chapter.
B EHAVIORIST O RIENTATION
Behaviorism is a well-known orientation to learning that encom-
passes a number of individual theories. Developed by John B.
Watson in the early decades of the twentieth century , behaviorism
loosely includes the work of such people as Thorndike, Tolman,
Guthrie, Hull, and Skinner (Ormrod, 1995). What characterizes
these investigators is their underlying assumptions about the
process of learning. In essence, three basic assumption s are held
to be true. First, observable behavior rather than internal thought
processes is the focus of study; in particular, learning is manifested
by a change in behavior. Second, the environment shapes behav-
ior; what one learns is determined by the elements in the envi-
ronment, not by the individual learner. And third, the principles
of contiguity (how close in time two events must be for a bond to
be formed) and reinforcement (any means of increasing the like-
lihood that an event will be repeated) are central to explaining the
learning process (Grippin & Peters, 1984).
Edward L. Thorndike, a contemporary of Watson, is “perhaps
the greatest learning theorist of all time ” (Hergenhahn & Olson,
2005, p. 54). A prolific researcher and writer, “he did pioneer work
not only in learning theor y but also in the areas of educational
practices, verbal behavior, comparative psych ology, intelligence
testing, the nature-nurture problem, transfer of training, and the
application of quantitative measures to sociopsychological prob-
lems (e.g., he developed scales with which to compare the quality
of life in different cities).” In fact, the book Adult Learning pub-
lished by Thorndike and his colleagues in 1928 (Thorndike,
Bregman, Tilton, & Woodyard, 1928) was the first major report of
research on learning with adults.
278 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Thorndike’s most significant contribution to understand-
ing learning has come to be called connectionism, or the S-R theory
of learning. Using animals in controlled experiments, Thorndike
noted that through repeated trial-and-error learning, certain con-
nections between sensory impressions, or stimuli (S), and subse-
quent behavior, or responses (R), are strengthened or weakened
by the consequences of behavior. Thorndike formulated three laws
of learning to explain his findings: the Law of Effect, which states
that learners will acquire and remember responses that lead to sat-
isfying aftereffects; the Law of Exercise, which asserts that the rep-
etition of a meaningful connection results in substantial learning;
and the Law of Readiness, which notes that if the organism is ready
for the connection, learning is enhanced, and if it is not, learning
is inhibited (Ormrod, 1995). Although Thorndike himself and
later researchers modified these laws, they are nevertheless still
applied widely in educational settings.
Thorndike’s connectionism became refined and expanded on
by his contemporaries and by those who followed (for a detailed
discussion, see Hergenhahn & Olson, 2005; Ormrod, 1995). Work-
ing in Russia, Pavlov, for example, added concepts of reinforce-
ment, conditioned stimulus, and extinction to the basic notion of
the stimulus-response connection. Guthrie stated that one law of
learning based on contiguity is all that is needed to make learning
comprehensible: “Whatever you do in the presence of a stimulus,
you do again when that stimulus is re-presented” (Grippin &
Peters, 1984, p. 61). Important as the work of these and other
researchers was, behaviorism was most developed as a theor y of
learning by B. F. Skinner.
Skinner’s major contribution to understanding learning is
known as operant conditioning. Simply stated, operant conditioning
means “reinforce what you want the individual to do again; ignore
what you want the individual to stop doing” (Grippin & Peters,
1984, p. 65). Reinforcement is essential to understanding operant
conditioning. If behavior is reinforced or rewarded, the response is
more likely to occur again under similar conditions. Behavior that
is not reinforced is likely to become less frequent and may even
disappear. Within this framework, even something as complex as
personality can be explained by operant conditioning. Personality,
according to Skinner (1974, p. 149), is a “repertoire of behavior
imported by an organized set of contingencies”—in effect, a
TRADITIONAL LEARNING THEORIES 279
personal histor y of reinforcements. Skinner’s research concen-
trated on positive and negative reinforcement schedules, the tim-
ing of reinforcements, and avoi dance behavior. In e ssence, his
work indicates that since all behavior is learned, it can be deter-
mined by arranging the contingencies of reinforcement in the
learner’s immediate environment. Behaviorists since Skinner have
taken into account certain aspects of the human organism but still
emphasize that it is environment that controls behavior, “not some
mechanism within the individual” (Grippin & Peters, 1984, p. 71).
The behaviorist orientation has been foundational to much
educational practice, including adult learning. Skinner in partic-
ular has addressed the application of his theor y to educational
issues. As he sees it, the ultimate goal of education is to bring about
behavior that will ensure survival of the human species, societies,
and individuals (Skinner, 1971). The teacher’s role is to design an
environment that elicits desired behavior toward meeting these
goals and to extinguish undesirable behavior.
Several practices in education and adult education can be
traced to behaviorism. Since behaviorism focuses on the measur-
able, overt activity of the learner, behavioral objectives that specify
the behavior to be exhibited by le arners after some intervention
direct much instructional planning even today. Behavioral objec-
tives specify the conditions (or stimuli), the behavior to be per-
formed, and the criteria by which the behavior will be judged.
Closely linked to a behaviorist perspective is the demand at all
levels of education for accountability. The current No Child Left
Behind (NCLB) legislation is an example of efforts to make edu-
cation accountable. Enacted in 2001, NCLB mandated that stu-
dents, schools, districts, and states must be evaluated each year;
those schools that fail to meet certain standards will be penalized.
Another example of the accountability thrust in education is the
current federal push for “scientifically based” or “evidence-based”
practices; that is, fundi n g sou rc e s want relia b le evide n c e that an edu-
cational program or practice works. For example, the U.S. Depart-
ment of Education’s Institute of Education Sciences has called for
“the integration of professional wisdom with the best empirical evi-
dence in making decisions about how to deliver instruction” (Com-
ings, 2003, p. 2). For many policymakers, “the best empirical
evidence” consists of measurable, quantifiable changes in behavior
that can be tied to the educational inter vention. Evidence-based
280 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
practice has found its way into adult basic education (ABE), adult
English for speakers of other language s (ESOL), and adult sec -
ondary education (ASE). Literacy educators are being urged to use
quantitative research methodologies such as experimental and quasi-
experimental designs to assess the efficacy of their methods and
practices.
In adult education in particular, behaviorism is the philosophy
that most underlies adult career and technical education and
human resource development. The emphasis in vocational educa-
tion is on identifying the skills needed to perform in an occupa-
tion, teaching those skills, and requiring a certain standard of
performance of those skills. The National Skills Standards Board
(NSSB) determines the standards for skills needed in the work-
place (see http://www.nssb.org/). Vocational educational pro-
grams teach to those standards and students are evaluated by those
standards.
Human resource development (HRD) is most associated with
training to enhance on-the-job performance in the workplace. Per-
formance improvement, competency-based instruction, and
accountability are all part of this behavioral orientation to HRD.
Jacobs (1987), in particular, conceptualizes HRD as performance
improvement: “Human per formance technology is about engi-
neering . . . technologies . . . based on what is known about the
principles to change the outcomes of behavior” (p. 19). As Sleezer,
Conti, and Nolan (2003) point out, “HRD professionals who rely
on behaviorism and cognit ivism emphasize rewards, the stimuli
that learners receive from the environment, the systematic obser-
vation of behavior, and relating new information to previous learn-
ing” (p. 26). It should be noted that there are numerous educators
and HRD and technical education professionals who do not
ascribe to such a behaviorist orientation. Nevertheless, the behav-
ioral orientation to learning has had a profound effect on our edu-
cational system. It has also been challenged by theorists from two
radically different perspectives: humanism and cognitivism.
H UMANIST O RIENTATION
Humanist theories consider learning from the perspective of the
human potential for growth. This shift to the study of the affective
as well as cognitive dimensions of learning was informed in part by
TRADITIONAL LEARNING THEORIES 281
Freud’s psychoanalytic approach to human behavior. Although
most would not label Freud a learning theorist, aspects of his psy-
chology, such as the influence of the subconscious mind on behav-
ior, as well as the concepts of anxiety, repression, defense
mechanism, drives, and transference, have found their way into
some learning theories. Sahakian (1984) even makes the case for
psychoanalytic therapy as a type of learning theory.
Despite Freud’ s focus on personality, humanists reject the view
of human nature implied by both behaviorists and Freudian psy-
chologists. Identifying their orientation as a “third force,” human-
ists refuse to accept the notion that behavior is predetermined by
either the environment or one’s subconscious. Rather, human
beings can control their own destin y ; people are inherently g o od
and will strive for a better world; people are free to act, and behav-
ior is the consequence of human choice; people possess unlimited
potential for growth and development (Rogers, 1983; Maslow,
1970). From a learning theory perspective, humanism emphasizes
that perceptions are centered in experience, and it also empha-
sizes the freedom a nd responsibility to become what one is capa-
ble of becoming. These tenets underlie much of adult learning
theory that stresses the self-directedness of adults and the value of
experience in the learning process. Two psychologists who have
contributed the most to our understanding of learning from this
perspective are Abraham Maslow and Carl Rogers.
Maslow (1970), considered the founder of humanistic psy-
chology, proposed a theory of human motivation based on a hier-
archy of needs. At the lowest level of his famous triangle hierarchy
are physiological needs such as hunger and thirst, which must be
attended to before one can deal with safety needs—those dealing
with security and protection. The remaining levels are belonging
and love, self-esteem, and finally, the need for self-actualization.
This final need can be seen in a person’s desire to become all that
he or she is capable of becoming. The motivation to learn is intrin-
sic; it emanates from the learner. For Maslow self-actualization is
the goal of learning, and educators should strive to bring this
about. As Sahakian (1984) notes, learning from Maslow’s point of
view is itself “a form of self-actualization. Among the growth moti-
vations was found the need for cognition, the desire to know and
to understand. Learning is not only a form of psychotherapy . . .
but learning contributes to psychological health” (p. 438).
282 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Although self-actualization is the primary goal of learning, Maslow
posits other goals (Sahakian, 1984, p. 439):
1. The discovery of a vocation or destiny
2. The knowledge or acquisition of a set of values
3. The realization of life as precious
4. The acquisition of peak experiences
5. A sense of accomplishment
6. The satisfaction of psychological needs
7. The refreshing of consciousness to an awareness of the beauty
and wonder of life
8. The control of impulses
9. The grappling with the critical existential problems of life
10. Learning to choose discriminatively
Another major figure writing from a humanist orientation is
Carl Rogers. His book Freedom to Learn for the 80s (1983) lays out his
theory of learning, which he sees as a similar process in both ther-
apy and education. In fact, his “client-centered therapy” is often
equated with student-centered learning. In both education and
therapy, Rogers is concerned with significant learning that leads to
personal growth and development. Such learning, according to
Rogers, has the following characteristics (p. 20):
1. Personal involvement: The affective and cognitive aspects of a
person should be involved in the learning event.
2. Self-initiated: A sense of discovery must come from within.
3. Pervasive: The learning “makes a differe nce in the behavio r,
the attitudes, perhaps even the personality of the learner.”
4. Evaluated by the learner: The learner can best de termine
whether the experience is meeting a need.
5. Essence is meaning: When experi ential learning takes place,
its meaning to the learner becomes incorporated into the total
experience.
Quite clearly, Rogers’s principles of significant learning and
Maslow’s views have been integrated into much of adult learning.
Knowles’s theory of andragogy, with its assumptions about the adult
learner (see Chapter Four), and much of the research and writing
on self-directed learning (see Chapter Five) are grounded in
TRADITIONAL LEARNING THEORIES 283
humanistic learning theories. As Caffarella (1993, p. 26) observes
about self-directed learning, “The focus of learning is on the indi-
vidual and self-development, with learners expected to assume pri-
mary responsibility for their own learning. The process of learning,
which is centered on learner need, is seen as more important than
the content; therefore, when educators are involved in the learn-
ing process, their most important role is to act as facilitators, or
guides.”
In addition to andragogy and self-directed learning, Mezirow’s
notion of perspective transformation (see Chapter Six) also has
humanistic roots. In transformation al learning theory t he notion
of individual development is both inherent in and an outcome of
the process: “Meaning perspectives that permit us to deal with a
broader range of experience , to be more discriminating, to be
more open to other perspectives, and to better integrate our expe-
riences are superior perspectives” (Mezirow, 1990b, p. 14).
In summary, adult education that is lodged in humanistic psy-
chology is quite prevalent in the United States. Elias and Merriam
(2005) attribute its popularity to its compatibility with a democra-
tic political system and to adult education’s voluntary nature: “Edu-
cational activities must meet the needs of adult learners in order
to survive. Practical considerations thus necessitate an emphasis
upon individual needs and interests” (p. 144).
C OGNITIVE O RIENTATION
The earliest challenge to the behaviorists came in a publication in
1929 by Bode, a Gestalt psychologist. He criticized behaviorists for
being too particularistic, too concerned with single events and
actions, and too dependent on overt behavior to explain learning.
Gestalt (a German word meaning pattern or shape)psychologistspro-
posed looking at the whole rather than its parts, at patterns rather
than isolated events. Through the research of Gestaltists
Wertheimer, Kohler, Koffka, and later Lewin (Hergenhahn &
Olson, 2005; Ormrod, 1995), Gestalt views of learning rivaled
behaviorism by the mid-twentieth century. These views have been
incorporated into what have come to be labeled cognitive or
information-processing learning theories. Two key assumptions under-
lie this cognitive or information-processing approach: “(1) that the
memory system is an active organized processor of information,
284 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
and (2) that prior knowledge plays an important role in learning”
(Gredler, 1997, p. 144).
Perception, insight, and meaning are key concepts in cogni-
tivism for Gestalt learning theorists. According to cognitivists, “The
human mind is not simply a passive exchange-terminal system
where the stimuli arrive and the appropriate response leaves.
Rather, the thinking person interprets sensations and gives mean-
ing to the events that impinge upon his consciousness” (Grippin &
Peters, 1984, p. 76). Learning involves the reorganization of expe-
riences in order to make sense of stimuli from the environment.
Sometimes this sense comes through flashes of insight. Hergenhahn
and Olson (2005, p. 273) summarize the learning process accord-
ing to Gestalt psychology: “Learning, to the Gestaltist, is a cognitiv e
phenomenon. The organism ‘comes to see’ the solution after
pondering a problem. The learner thinks about all the ingredients
necessary to solve a problem and puts them together (cognitively)
first one way and then another until the problem is solved. When the
solution comes, it come s suddenly, that is, the organism gains
an insight into the solution of a problem. The problem can exist in
only two states: (1) unsolved and (2) solved; there is no state of partial
solution in between.” A major difference between Gestaltists
and behaviorists, therefore, is the locus of control over the learning
activity. For Gestaltists it lies with the individual learner; for behav-
iorists it lies with the environment. This shift to the individual—
and in particular to the learner’s mental processes—is characteris-
tic of cognitivist-oriented learning theories.
Acognitivepsychologistwhoclarifiedthefocusoninternal
cognitive processes was Jean Piaget (1966). Influenced by both the
behaviorist and Gestalt schools of thought, Piaget proposed that
one’s internal cognitive structure changes partly as a result of mat-
urational changes in the ner vous system and partly as a result of
the organism’s interacting with the environment and being
exposed to an increasing number of experiences. His four-stage
theory of cognitive development and its implications for adult
learning are discussed more fully in Chapter Thirteen.
Currently, cognitive learning theory encompasses a number of
perspectives, all of which take as their starting point the mental
processes involved in learning (Wilson & Keil, 1999). Examples of
specific areas of study include information-processing theories,
memory and metacognition, theories of transfer, mathematical
TRADITIONAL LEARNING THEORIES 285
learning theory models, the study of expertise, computer simula-
tions, cognition and culture, and artificial intelligence (see Chap-
ter Fifteen). Converging with cognitive learning theory are theories
of instruction that attempt to unite what is known about learning
with the best way to facilitate its occurrence. Ausubel, Bruner, and
Gagne provide good examples of how the understanding of men-
tal processes can be linked to instruction.
Ausubel (1967) distinguishes between meaningful learning
and rote learning. He suggests that learning is meaningfu l only
when it can be related to concepts that already exist in a person’s
cognitive structure. Rote learning, in contrast, does not become
linked to a person’s cognitive structure and hence is easily forgot-
ten. Ausubel’s views have also been labeled assimilation theory since
“most learning, especially in adulthood but in childhood as well,
consists of assimilating new experience into one’s existing cogni-
tive structure” (Hill, 2002, p. 138). He suggests the use of “advance
organizers” to prepare a person for new learning. Ausubel’s work
can be seen as an antecedent to current research on schema the-
ory whereby schemata—structures that organize the learner’s
worldview—determine how people process new experiences
(Anderson, 1996; Di Vesta, 1987; Ormrod, 1995).
Ausubel emphasizes the importance of the learner’s cognitive
structure in new learning. Bruner, whose views are often contrasted
with Ausubel’s, emphasizes learning through discovery. Discovery
is “in its essence a matter of rearranging or transforming evidence
in such a way that one is enabled to go beyond the evidence” and
as a result, reconstruct additional new insights (Bruner, 1965, pp.
607–608). According to Knowles (1984), Bruner’ s instructional the-
ory is based on a th eory about the act of learning that involves
“three almost simultaneous processes: (1) acquisition of new infor-
mation . . . ; (2) transformation, or the process of manipulating
knowledge to make it fit new tasks; and (3) evaluation, or check-
ing whether the way we have manipulated information is adequate
to the task” (p. 25).
Linking instruction to the acquisition and processing of knowl-
edge has probably been most thoroughly developed by Gagne,
Briggs, and Wager (1992). They contend that there are eight dif-
ferent types of kn owledge—signal lea rning, stimulus-respon se,
motor training, verbal association, discrimination learning, con-
cept learning, rule learning, and problem solving—each with
286 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
appropriate instructional procedures. Kidd (1973, p. 182) points
out that the work of Gagne and others has been an important
influence on the “learning how to learn” concept, which has been
explored in some depth by Smith, who has been particularly inter-
ested in applying it to adult learning (Smith, 1982, 1987; Smith &
Associates, 1990). According to Smith (1982, p. 19), “Learning
how to learn involves possessing, or acquiring, the knowledge
and skill to learn effectively in whatever learning situation one
encounters.” Three subconcepts are involved: the learner’s needs;
aperson’slearningstyle;andtraining,whichisanorganizedactiv-
ity, or instruction to increase competence in learning.
In addition to Smith’s work on learning how to learn, the cog-
nitive orientation can be seen in two other areas that have partic-
ular relevance for adult learning. First, interest in cognitive
development in adulthood has been the subject of recent research
(see Chapter Thirteen); second, the study of learning processes as
afunctionofage(seeChapterFifteen)drawsfromthecognitive
focus on learning. (See also Tennant & Pogson, 1995.)
In summar y, cognitively oriented explanations of learning
encompass a wide range of topics with a common focus on inter-
nal mental processes that are under the learner’s control. “Essen-
tial components of learning are the organization of the
information to be learned, the learner’s prior knowledge, and the
processes involved in perceiving, comprehending, and storing
information” (Gredler, 1997, p. 143). As Di Vesta (1987, p. 229)
observes, “Rather than seeking the general all-encompassing laws
for controlling and predicting behavior, as did the earlier grand
theories of learning,” cognitive learning theory “is directed toward
miniature models of specific facets of cognition, such as models of
discourse analysis, models of comprehension, ways of aiding under-
standing and meaningful learning, the nature of the schemata, the
memory system, the development of cognitive skills, and the like.”
S OCIAL C OGNITIVE O RIENTATION
This learning theory, which combines elements from both behav-
iorist and cognitivist orie ntations, posits that people learn from
obser v ing others. B y definition, s uch observations take place in a
social setting—hence the label obser vational or social learning
(Lefrancois, 1999). Specifically, “social cognitive lea rning theory
TRADITIONAL LEARNING THEORIES 287
highlights the idea that much human learning occurs in a social
environment. By obser ving others, people acquire knowledge,
rules, skills, strategies, beliefs, and attitudes. Individuals also learn
about the usefulness and appropriateness of behaviors by obser v-
ing models and the consequences of modeled behaviors, and they
act in accordance with their beliefs concerning the expected out-
comes of actions” (Schunk, 1996, p. 102). Just how the learning
occurs has been the subject of several investigations.
Miller and Dollard in the 1940s were the first to explore how
people learn through observation. Drawing from stimulus-response
and reinforcement theory, they argued that people do not learn
from obser vation alone; rather, they must imitate and reinforce
what they have observed. “If imitative responses were not made and
reinforced, no learning would take place. For them, imitative learn-
ing was the result of obser vation, overt responding, and rein-
forcement” (Hergenhahn & Olson, 2005, p. 339). These ideas are
totally congruent with the behaviorist orientation to learning. Not
until the 1960s, however, with the work of Bandura, did social
learning theory break from a purely behaviorist orientation.
Bandura focused more on the cognitive processes involved in
the observation than on the subsequent behavior. Central to his
theory is the separation of observation from the act of imitation.
One can learn from observation, he maintains, without having to
imitate what was observed (Lefrancois, 1999). In fact, the learning
can be vicarious: “Virtually all learning phenomena resulting from
direct experiences can occur on a vicarious basis through obser-
vation of other people’s behavior and its consequences for the
observer” (Bandura, 1976, p. 392). In addition to being cognitive
and vicarious, Bandura’s observational learning is characterized by
the concept of self-regulation. He contends that “persons can regu-
late their own behavior to some extent by visualizing self-generated
consequences” (p. 392).
Obser vati onal learning is influenced by the four processes of
attention, retention or memory, behavioral rehearsal, and motiva-
tion (Hergenhahn & Olson, 2005). Before something can be
learned, the model must be attended to; some models are more
likely than others to be attended to, such as those thought to be
competent, powerful, attractive, and so on. Information from an
obser vation then needs to be retained or stored for future use.
Retention can be through symbols or words: “Imaginally stored
288 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
symbols are pictures or mental images of past experiences, whereas
verbal symbols capture the complexities of behavior in words. Ban-
dura notes that conceptual representations often comprise both
images and verbal symbols” (Gibson, 2004, p. 197). Finally, the
modeled behavior is stored until a person is motivated to act on it.
More recently, Bandura has focused on self-efficacy, that is, our
own estimate of how competent we feel we are likely to be in a par-
ticular environment. This self-assessment influences how effective
we are in interactions with others and with our environment
(Lefrancois, 1999). Bandura’s approach first became known as
social learning theor y, but as his research and writing began to
emphasize cognitive components, it is now known as social cogni-
tive theory (Hergenhahn & Olson, 2005; Hill, 2002). As Bandura
himself explained in the preface to his book, Social Foundations of
Thought and Action: A Social Cognitive Theory (1986, p. xii), “The the-
oretical approach of this book is designated as social cognitive the-
ory. The social portion of the terminology acknowledges the social
origins of much human thought and action; the cognitive portion
recognizes the influential causal contribution of thought processes
to human motivation, affect, and action.”
Bandura’s theory has particular relevance to adult learning in
that it accounts for both the learner and the environment in which
he or she operates. Behavior is a function of the interaction of the
person with the environment. This is a reciprocal concept in that
people influence their environment, which in turn influences the
way they behave. This three-way interactive model of the learning,
the individual, and the environment is pictured by Bandura (1986)
as a triangle in which learning is set solidly in a social context.
The social situation is also central to Rotter’s (1954) theor y,
which includes strands from behaviorism, cognitivism, and person-
ality theory. Rotter’s theor y is framed by seven propositions and
attendant corollaries that delineate relationships among the con-
cepts of beha vio r, persona li ty, experien ce, and envir onm ent . Rotter ’s
theory assumes that “much of human behavior takes place in a
meaningful environment and is acquired through social interactions
with other people” (Phares, 1980, p. 406). Key to understanding
“which behavior (once acquired) in the individual’s repertoire will
occur in a given situation” (p. 407) are the concepts of expectancy
and reinforcement. Expectancy is the likelihood that a particular
reinforcement will occur as the result of specific behavior: “The way
TRADITIONAL LEARNING THEORIES 289
in which the person construes or psychologically defines the situa-
tion will affect the values of both reinforcement and expectancy,
thereby influencing the potential for any given behavior to occur”
(p. 408). “Rotter’ s theory says that when subjective beliefs contradict
prior experiences . . . people are more likely to act on the basis of
belief than experience” (Schunk, 1996, p. 107).
Several useful concepts emerge from social cognitive learning
theory. For example, the motivation to engage in adult learn-
ing activities might be partly explained by Rotter’s (1954) notion
of locus of control. Some people attribute their successes and fail-
ures to factors ov er which they feel they have no control—they
exhibit an external locus of control—whereas others attribute suc-
cesses and failures to personal, internal factors. An example of how
this might relate to motivation and participation in adult educa-
tion would be the case of someone who is out of work. This person’ s
unemployment might be blamed on factors over which he feels he
has no control such as “the economy,” outsourcing of jobs to
cheaper labor markets, lack of public transportation, or age, gen-
der, or skin color. Another person, whose locus of control is more
internal, might decide that her being unemployed is more likely
due to her inability to get along with coworkers, her lack of com-
puter skills, and so forth. This person is much more likely to
engage in learning activities to make herself more employable.
Another connection to adult learning is the importance of con-
text and the learner’s interaction with the environment to explain
behavior. That is, explanations of learning may nee d to focus on
more than overt behavior, mental processes, or personality . Bandura,
in fact, has advanced a model of triadic recipr ocality “in which behav-
ior, cognitive and other personal factors, and environmental events
all operate as interacting determinants of each other” (1986,
p. 18). Studying the interaction of all these factors may result in a
more comprehensive explanation of how adults learn. Moreover,
Bandura’s work on observational learning and modeling provides
insights into social role acquisition and the nature of mentoring,
atopicexploredindepthbyseveraladulteducators(seeCohen,
1995; Daloz, 1999; Galbraith & Cohen, 1995; Mullen, 2005).
Finally, Gibson (2004) makes a strong case for the influence of
social cognitive theory in HRD theory building, research, and prac-
tice. In the area of practice, for example, she points out the preva-
lence of behavior-modeling techniques in both formal classroom
290 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
situations and informal workplace interactions. Self-efficacy and its
relationship to training and development of employees and
employee socialization and on-the-job training are other areas of
practice where social cognitive learning theory is evident.
C ONSTRUCTIVIST O RIENTATION
Like some of the other theories a lready reviewed, constructivism
encompasses a number of related perspectives. Basically, a con-
structivist stance maintains that learning is a process of construct-
ing meaning; it is how people make sense of their experience.
Beyond that basic assumption, constructivists differ as to the nature
of reality, the role of experience, what knowledge is of interest, and
whether the process of meaning-making is primarily individual or
social (Steffe & Gale, 1995).
In an essay underscoring the variety of perspectives that are
labeled constructivist, Phillips (1995) identifies six major strands:
von Glaser feld’s work in math and science education, Kant’s
notions of knowledge and experience, feminist theorists’ views on
knowledge construction, Kuhn’s work on scientific paradigms and
revolutions, Piaget’s theory of cognitive development, and Dewey’s
assumptions about knowledge and experience. Where these
strands seem to converge is in the debate over the individual ver-
sus the social.
Driver and her colleagues (Driver, Asoko, Leach, Mortimer, &
Scott, 1994) frame the issue as one of personal versus social con-
structivism. Drawing heavily on Piaget, they state that learning as
an individual or personal activity involves a “progressive adaptation
of [an] individual’ s cognitive schemes to the physical environment”
(p. 6). Meaning is made by the individual and is dependent on the
individual’s previous and current knowledge structure. Learning
is thus an internal cognitive activity. Teaching from the personal
constructivism perspective involves providing “experiences that
induce cognitive conflict and hence encourage learners to develop
new knowledge schemes that are better adapted to experience.
Practical activities supported by group discussions form the core
of such pedagogical practices” (Driver et al., 1994, p. 6).
The social constructivist view, in contrast, posits that knowledge
is “con structed when individuals engage socially in talk and act i v -
ity about shared problems or tasks. Making meaning is thus a
TRADITIONAL LEARNING THEORIES 291
dialogic process involving persons-in-conversation, and learning is
seen as the process by which individuals are introduced to a cul-
ture by more skilled members” (Driver et al., 1994, p. 7). This
approach involves learning the culturally shared ways of under-
standing and talking about the world and reality. Vygotsky (1978)
is credited with developing the foundation of this view because he
proposed that learning is socially mediated through a culture’s
symbols and language, which are constructed in interaction with
others in the culture. Vygotsky’s work is also considere d founda-
tional to what’s known as activity theory (AT). Activity theory “con-
ceptualises learning as involving a subject (the learner), and object
(the task or activity) and mediating artifacts (for example, a com-
puter, laws)” (Issroff & Scanlon, 2002, p. 77). Activity theor y, or
what is better known as situated cognition in the United States
(Wilson, 2005), combines the individual and the social (including
culture and history) in understanding an activity such as learning.
Phillips (1995) posits that the various forms of constructivism
can be graphed on a number of continua or axes and in so doing
some would be close together on one dimension and far apart on
another. For example, the personal, more psychological, orienta-
tion of, say, Piaget would contrast with the social perspective of
feminist epistemologists. Other constructivists would be more in
the middle of this continuum in that they “believe that their theo-
ries throw light on both the question of how individuals build up
bodies of knowledge and how human communities have con-
structed the public bodies of knowledge known as the various dis-
ciplines” (p. 7). Cobb (1994, p. 13), for example, suggests viewing
mathematical learning as “both a process of active individual con-
struction and a process of enculturation into the mathematical
practices of wider society.” However, regardless of one’s position
on the contin uum, there are important pedagogi cal implicat ions
to be derived, “each of which has a degree of credibility that is
independent of the fate of the respective epistemologies” (p. 10).
All forms of constructivism understand learning to be an active
rather than passive endeavor. Consequently, learning occurs
through dialogue, collaborative learning, and cooperative learn-
ing. “One learns through engaging, incorporating, and critically
exploring the views of others, and new possibilities of interpreta-
tions are opened through the interactio n” (Gergen, 1995, p. 34).
292 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
This view, of course, is quite congruent with what we know about
adult learning.
Writing from a predominantly social constructivist perspective,
Candy (1991, p. 275) discusses how this view translates to adult
education: “Becoming knowledgeable involves acquiring the sym-
bolic meaning structures appropriate to one’s society, and, since
knowledge is socially construc ted, individual members of society
may be able to add to or change the general pool of knowledge.
Teaching and learning, especially for adults, is a process of negotia-
tion, involving the construction and exchange of personally rele-
vant and viable meanings” (italics in original).
Much of our adult learning theory is constructivist in nature.
For example, “the constructivist view of learning is particularly
compatible with the notion of self-direction, since it emphasizes
the combined characteristics of active inquiry, independence, and
individuality in a learning task” (Candy, 1991, p. 278). Transfor-
mational learning theory (see Chapter Six), especially as presented
by Mezirow, focuses on both the individual and social construction
of meaning. Perspective transformation is a highly cognitive
process in which one’s meaning schemes and meaning perspec-
tives undergo radical change (Mezirow & Associates, 2000). This
change is mediated through personal reflection and dialogue with
others. The central role of experience in adult learning is another
point of connection. Andragogy and other models of adult learn-
ing see life experience as both a resource and a stimulus for
learning; constructivism too begins with the learner’s interaction
with experience.
Finally, much of what the field of adult learning draws from sit-
uated cognition is constructivist in nature (see Chapter Seven).
Concepts such as cognitive apprenticeship, situated learning,
reflective practice, and communities of practice are found in both
adult learning and constr uctivist literature. Two adult educat ion
practice arenas in particular where constructivist and situated cog-
nition concepts are having an impact are in continuing profes-
sional education (Ferr y & Ross-Gordon, 1998) and human
resource development (Stamps, 1997). As Wegner (cited by
Stamps, 1997, pp. 38–39) explains, “What is shared by a commu-
nity of practice—what makes it a community—is its practice. The
concept of practice connotes doing, but not just doing in and of
TRADITIONAL LEARNING THEORIES 293
itself. It is doing in a historical and social context that gives struc-
ture and meaning to what we do. . . . Learning is the engine of
practice, and practice is the history of that learning. Indeed, prac-
tice is ultimately produced by its members through the negotiation
of meaning.”
S UMMARY
Learning, a process central to human behavior, has been of inter-
est to philosophers, psychologists, educators, and politicians for
centuries. Since the late nineteenth century, the systematic inves-
tigation of this phenomenon has resulted in many explanations of
how people learn. This chapter has reviewed some of these theo-
ries. Because there are dozens of learning theories and volumes
written describing them, we have explored different orientations
to learning, any of which might include numerous learning theo-
ries. The behaviorist, humanist, cognitivist, social cognitive, and
constructivist orientations were chosen for their diversity and for
their insights into learning in adulthood. Table 11.1 summa rizes
these five orientations. Since each is based on different assump-
tions about the nature of learning, the strategies one might use to
enhance learning will depend on one’ s orientation. Instructors and
program developers can use this review of major learning theories
to identify their own theory of learning and discover the strategies
for facilitating learning that are most congruent with their theory.
In brief, behaviorists define learning as a change in behavior.
The focus of their research is overt behavior, which is a measurable
response to stimuli in the environment. The role of the teacher is
to arrange the contingencies of reinforcement in the learning envi-
ronment so that the desired behavior will occur. Findings from
behavioral learning theories can be seen in training and vocational
adult education.
In contrast to behaviorism is the humanistic orientation to
learning. Here the emphasis is on human nature, human poten-
tial, human emotions, and affect. Theorists in this tradition believe
that learning involves more than cognitive processes and overt
behavior. It is a function of motivation and involve s choice and
responsibility. Much of adult learning theory, especially the con-
cepts of andragogy and many of the models of self-directed learn-
ing, are grounded in humanistic assumptions.
294 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
TABLE 11.1. FIVE ORIENTATIONS TO LEARNING.
Aspect Behaviorist Humanist Cognitivist Social Cognitive Constructivist
Learning theorists Guthrie, Hull, Maslow, Rogers Ausubel, Bruner, Bandura, Rotter Candy, Dewey,
Pavlov, Skinner, Gagne, Koffka, Lave, Piaget,
Thorndike, Kohler, Lewin, Rogoff,
Tolman, Watson Piaget von Glaserfeld,
Vygotsky
View of the learning Change in behavior A personal act Information Interaction with Construction
process to fulfill processing and observation of meaning
development (including of others in a from
insight, memory, social context experience
perception,
metacognition)
Locus of learning Stimuli in external Affective and Internal Interaction of Individual
environment developmental cognitive person, behavior, and social
needs structure environment construction
of knowledge
Purpose of learning To produce To become To develop To learn new To construct
behavioral change self-actualized, capacity and roles and knowledge
in desired direction mature, skills to learn behaviors
autonomous better
continued
TABLE 11.1. Continued
Aspect Behaviorist Humanist Cognitivist Social Cognitive Constructivist
Instructor’s role Arrange environment Facilitate Structure content Model and guide Facilitate and
to elicit desired development of learning activity new roles and negotiate
response of whole person behaviors meaning-
making with
learner
Manifestation in • Behavioral • Andragogy • Learning how • Socialization • Experiential
adult learning objectives • Self-directed to learn • Self-directed learning
• Accountability learning • Social role learning • Transforma-
• Performance • Cognitive acquisition • Locus of tional learning
improvement development • Intelligence, control • Reflective
• Skill development • Transforma- learning, and • Mentoring practice
• HRD and training tional learning memory as • Communities
related to age of practice
• Situated
learning
Also in contrast to behaviorists, researchers working from a
cognitivist perspective focus not on external behavior but on inter-
nal mental processes. Cognitivists ar e interested in how the mind
makes sense out of stimuli in the environment—how information
is processed, stored, and retrieved. This orientati on is especially
evident in the study of adult learning from a developmental
perspective. The major concerns are how aging affects an adult’s
ability to process a nd re trieve information and how it affects an
adult’s internal mental structures.
The fourth orientation discussed here is social cognitive learn-
ing. This perspective differs from the other three in its focus on
the social setting in which learning occurs. From this perspective,
learning occurs through the observation of people in one’s imme-
diate environment. Furthermore, learning is a function of the
interaction of the person, the environment, and the behavior. Vari-
ations in behavior under the same circumstances can be explained
by idiosyncratic personality traits and their unique interaction with
environmental stimuli. Social learning theories contribute to adult
learning by highlighting the importance of social context and
explicating the processes of modeling and mentoring.
Finally, constructivism, representing an array of perspectives,
posits that learners construct their own knowledge from their expe-
riences. The cognitive process of meaning-making is emphasized
as both an individual mental activity and a socially interactive inter-
change. Aspects of constructivism can be found in self-directed
learning, transformational learning, experiential learning, situated
cognition, and reflective practice.
TRADITIONAL LEARNING THEORIES 297
CHAPTER TWELVE
ADULT DEVELOPMENT
At age eighty, John reflects on the many changes he has experi-
enced. Although his eyes are now clouded by cataracts, he remem-
bers when family and friends nicknamed him “Eagle-Eye Johnny”
because of his excellent eyesight. He also recalls his friends’ sur-
prise when he married at age forty and went on to have two chil-
dren. He explains, “I guess I was a late bloomer. Having kids in my
forties kept me young, though.” John recollects that his priorities
have changed over time. In high school and college, he wanted to
“be [his] own man” and after college he focused on his career.
John recalls, “In my mid-thirties, I realized that I wanted to give
back to the community. I also wanted to be married and have a
family.” John continues to give back to people in his small town by
visiting people in the nursing home and sponsoring a support
group for men who have had heart surgery. John admits that lately
he has spent more time “remembering the good times.” He con-
tinues, “I’ve had a good life. In some ways, I’m still the same per-
son I was at twenty. For example, I’ve always valued being
organized and efficient. In other ways, I’ve changed a lot.”
The concept of development is most often equated with
change. Development has been defined as “systematic change
within an individual or a group of individuals that results from a
dynamic interaction of heredity and environmental influences”
(Lerner, 1998, as cited in Bee & Bjorkland, 2004, p. 14). However,
it is important to remember that there is a sense of both stability
and change in development (Bee & Bjorkland, 2004). For exam-
ple, John’s sense of organization has been a constant in his life.
However, his values have changed somewhat. In the next section
298
we will briefly introduce the approaches to development that wres-
tle with the importance of nature and nurture in the develop-
mental process, including biological, psychological, sociocultural,
and integrated perspectives.
FOUR A PPROACHES TO A DULT
DEVELOPMENT
The biological perspective acknowledges the role of nature in our
development. It recognizes that “we are physical beings” and that
change in our physical being can be “driven by natural aging, the
environment, our own health habits or by an accident or disease
process” (Clark & Caffarella, 1999, p. 5). The psychological per-
spective “focuses on how we develop as individuals and examines
primarily internal development processes” (p. 5). Psychological
models of development have been used to explore faith develop-
ment (Fowler, 1981), moral development (Kohlberg, 1976), iden-
tity development (Erikson, 1968; Loevinger, 1976), and intellectual
development (Perry, 1999). The sociocultural approach posits that
adult development cannot be understood apart from the histori-
cal context in which it occurs (Miller, 2002). The influence of soci-
ety is taken into account in this perspective. The integrative
approach to development combines several influences on adult
development. For example, Bronfenbrenner’s (2001) ecological
model delineates changes that occur in people as the result of their
interaction with peers or the interaction between a person’s work-
place and community.
We discuss the four approaches to adult development in this
chapter. First, we explore biological aging and its impact on learning.
Next, we examine psychological models of development, including
Erikson’ s (1963, 1978) psychosocial model and Levinson’ s (Levinson,
Darrow, Klein, Levinson, & McKee, 1978; Levinson & Levinson, 1996)
model of personal development, among others. Third, we discuss
how sociocultural factors affect development, including the influence
of the timing of life events and the influence of race, class, and gen-
der on development. The last section of the chapter presents inte-
grative models of development, which demonstrate a more holistic
approach.
ADULT DEVELOPMENT 299
BIOLOGICAL D EVELOPMENT
Biological aging is a fact of life, although rarely a welcome one in
American culture. Anti-aging products abound because people are
fascinated with maintaining a youthful appearance. The top ten
facial moisturizers (some of which advertise antiwrinkle proper-
ties) sold at supermarke ts, drugstores, and discount stores pro-
duced $262.8 million in sales in 2004, and professional skin care
products sold at spas and salons netted an additional $285 million
(“Beauty at Ever y Age Is the Maxim,” 2005). Antiwrinkle creams,
hair color, sexual enhancement medications, and laser treatments
temporarily keep the signs of aging at bay. Yet, people cannot
escape the inevitability of biological aging.
Biological development refers to the physical and biological
changes that occur ove r the life span. In this section, we discuss
biological aging. We briefl y explore theories of primary aging. In
addition, we discuss age-related changes in vision, hearing, and the
central nervous system.
Although life expectancy has increased from 49.2 years in 1900
to 76.5 years in the United States in 2000 (Guyer, Freedman,
Strobino, & Sondik, 2000), our capacity to live longer does not
mean we have been able to halt the primary process of aging—
those time-related physical changes governed by some kind of mat-
urational process, as in vision and hearing, for example—that
happen to all of us (Bee & Bjorkland, 2004). Theories as to why pri-
mary aging occurs are plentiful, but all theories need further
research. One theory asserts that cellular damage occurs during
“the normal metabolism of oxygen” and this cellular damage builds
up with age (Bee & Bjorkland, 2004, p. 61). Some scholars blame
physical aging on the cell’s lessening ability to repair daily breaks
in DNA strands (Bee & Bjorkland, 2004; Carey, 2003). A third the-
ory asserts that primary aging is related to “how many calories
we metabolize per day” (Bee & Bjorkland, 2004, p. 63). Bee and
Bjorkland note, “This theory is based on the premise that the hypo-
thalamus serves as a glandular clock of some kind that measures
age in the number of calories metabolized by the body” (p. 63).
Although life expectancy has increased, the human life span, usu-
ally given as 110 to 120 years, has not changed. Rather, our increased
longevity stems from overcoming some of the problems related to
secondary aging—aging that occurs due to “the . . . changes that are
300 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
the result of disease, health habits or environmental influences” (Bee
&Bjorkland,2004,p.60).Thesechangesdonothappentoeveryone
and can often be prevented. Improved nutrition, hygiene, discover-
ies in the medical and mental health fields, and lifestyle changes have
accounted for most of this increased longevity.
It is important to note, however, that racial and ethnic health
disparities have an impact on longevity. Black men are more
likely to suffer from prostate, lung, colorectal, and stomach cancer
than White men, and Black men and women are more likely than
their White counterparts to suffer from hy pertension (“Health
Disparities Experienced by Black or African Americans,” 2004).
Numerous factors, including access to preventive ser vices and
racial discrimination, contribute to these disparities. In a study of
three hundred thousand Medicare patients, research completed
with Black patients found that they received different treat ment
than Whites (Schneider, Zaslavsky, & Epstein, 2002). Blacks were
less likely than Whites to receive beta-blockers after a heart attack
or aftercare following a hospitalization for mental illness. The
researchers controlled for income, education, and quality of
the clinic the patients visited.
While racial and ethnic disparities in health care persist, bio-
logical aging affects us all. However, decline in the actual func-
tioning of the major biological systems is slow. The fourth and fifth
decades tend to be the physiological turning point for most adults,
although the effects of these changes may not be felt until the sixth
or seventh decade of life (Bee & Bjorkland, 2004). The most obvi-
ous changes are changes in appearance. Suddenly, we notice our
skin is not as firm and elastic as it once was. Our hair may become
increasingly gray and turn white or we may experience hair loss.
Yet these changes, although noticeable, really have little effect on
our physical functioning. Less obvious are the more pervasive inter-
nal changes. For example, most adults begin to experience
changes in vision, cardiovascular systems, bones and connective
material, respiratory system, and reproductive function (for
women) sometime in their forties or early fifties.
Although it appea rs that we will all experience many major
changes in our physical beings at some point in our lives, the effect
of these changes on our capacity to learn is largely unknown. In
fact, many of these changes may prove to be ver y minor, except
in cases of underlying disease processes. We will briefly discuss
ADULT DEVELOPMENT 301
physical changes that have been shown to affect learning in adult-
hood: age-related changes in two of the senses and changes in the
central nervous system. In addition, vision and hearing disorders
common to older adulthood are discussed.
SENSES
Deterioration in the ability to see and to hear can create problems
with the learning process. Specific changes in vision are well doc-
umented (Pesce, Guidetti, Baldari, Tessitore, & Capranica, 2005;
Stuen & Faye, 2003). One of the most notable changes is in the
ability to perceive small detail on the printed page and computer
screen. A loss of close vision begins for many people between the
ages of forty and fifty and results primarily from the lens becom-
ing larger and denser and losing elasticity (Meisami, Brown, &
Emerle, 2003; Stuen & Faye, 2003). This problem can be corrected
by eyeglasses or various types of surger y. A second major sight-
related change concerns light. As people age, the pupil of the eye
becomes smaller and allows less light to enter the eye (Stuen &
Faye, 2003). Hence pe ople need more illumination to see both
near and far (Bee & Bjorkland , 2004; Marsh, 1996). These latter
changes make people less responsive to sudden changes in illumi-
nation, such as oncoming headlights. In addition, “peripheral
vision, depth perception, color vision, and adaption to the dark
also become poorer and sensitivity to glare increases” with age
(Lefrancois, 1996, p. 505).
In addition to age-related vision changes, there are age-related
vision disorders. Cataracts are the most common of these age-
related eye conditions; in this condition, there is a clouding of the
lens that reduces passage of light (Meisami, Brown, & Emerle,
2003; Stuen & Faye, 2003). Cataract surgery is a common remedy
for this condition. A second common eye malady is age-related
macular degeneration, which “is the leading cause of vision loss
among people over age 60” (Stuen & Faye, 2003, p. 9). Seeing
detail and reading become difficult. Caucasians and people with
light eye color are more at risk for this disease than African Amer-
icans or people with dark eye color. A third age-related eye disease
is glaucoma, usually caused by very high eye pressure, which results
in damage to the optic ner ve and causes damage to peripheral
vision and sometimes blindness. Treatment includes surgery and
302 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
eyedrops. Those of African ancestry, individuals with diabetes, and
people with a history of glaucoma in the family are at increased
risk for the disease (Stuen & Faye, 2003).
While changes in vision happen primarily at set periods in life,
hearing loss is a progressive but gradual process throughout adult-
hood generally starting in the thirties (Bee & Bjorkland, 2004).
Most adults do not notice any discernible change until their fifties
and sixties, when sounds, especially in the high-frequency range,
become more difficult to hear (Kline & Scialfa, 1996). Males suf-
fer this type of hearing impairment more often than females (Bee
&Bjorkland,2004).Byagesixty-five,over25percentofadultshave
ahearingdifficulty,andformalesoverageseventy-fiveapproxi-
mately 50 percent experience hearing loss (Bee & Bjorkland,
2004). The basic cause appears to be from “gradual changes in the
inner ear” that result in structures in the inner ear becoming less
responsive to sound (Rados, 2005, p. 22).
Some hearing deficits can be compensated for with the use of
hearing aids. However, most older adults who could benefit from
hearing aids do not use them because they do not feel the need,
do not want to be associated with a device that makes them “look
old,” or simply cannot afford them. Other devices to assist hearing
include hardwire systems, infrared systems, or FM devices (Montano,
2003). In addition, cochlear implants, which directly stimulate the
auditory ner ve through wires inserted in the cochlea, appear to
improve the life of those with significant hearing difficulties
(Meisami, Brown & Emerle, 2003).
Tinnitus, a ringing noise in the head or ears with no external
stimuli present, is another common hearing disturbance in older
adults (Whitbourne, 2005). Thirty-five to fifty million Americans
experience this hearing impairment and two to three million are
debilitated by this symptom (Ahmad & Seidman, 2004). Men are
more commonly affected than women. The use of antibiotics,
aspirin, and anti-inflammatory medications may contribute to tin-
nitus (Whitbourne, 2005). Other causes for the disturbance
include injuries or infections of the ear, neck injuries, head
trauma, stress, seizure disorders, possible nutritional deficiencies,
and metabolic disturbances (Ahmad & Seidman, 2004).
Except for major degenerative and other disease processes, cor-
rective measures, such as the wearing of eyeglasses and teaching
people to find alternative ways of communicating, can help ensure
ADULT DEVELOPMENT 303
the best use of the vision and hearing that remain. Further,
advances in technology such as closed ca ptioning of lectures and
discussions (Schmidt & Haydu, 1992) and computer programs that
assist low-vision individuals to read texts, help older adults navigate
new learning in both formal and informal settings. Both teachers
and learners must see to it that the educati onal envir onment is
conducive to all adult learners, ensuring, for example, that rooms
are adequately illuminated and acoustics are good.
THE C ENTRAL N ERVOUS SYSTEM
Consisting of the brain and the spinal cord, the central nervous
system forms the primary biological basis for learning. We continue
to learn how changes in this system may affect cognitive function-
ing (Bee & Bjorkland, 2004). Research on the aging brain has
shifted from seeing “aging as an inevitable process of brain dam-
age and decline” to aging as “a complex phenomenon character-
ized by reorganization, optimization and enduring functional
plasticity that can enable the maintenance of a productive—and
happy—life” (Reuter-Lorenz & Lustig, 2005, p. 249). For example,
instead of seeing the decrease in brain cells as a sign of inevitable
cognitive decline, we now know that although we lose brain cells
or neurons through the aging process, the remaining neurons
increase their connections with each other. This plasticity of the
brain allows the aging brain to maintain much of its function (Bee
&Bjorkland,2004;Timiras,2003).Further,brainscanshaveshown
that deficits in one area of the brain may be compensated for in
other areas (Cabeza, Anderson, Locantore, & McIntosh, 2002;
Reuter-Lorenz & Lustig, 2005). In addition, older adults may also
maintain higher levels of brain activity to compensate for deficits.
However, higher levels of brain activity may not, for some, neces-
sarily represe n t compensation but i n e f fi c i e n t processing (Reuter-
Lorenz & Lustig, 2005).
A consistent finding related to changes in the central nervous
system concerns declining reaction time as people age (Bee &
Bjorkland, 2004; Schaie & Willis, 2002). Reaction time is usually
measured as the time it takes a person to complete a psychomotor
task such as putting together a puzzle or responding to a specific
stimulus by hitting a lighted button. Although “it is not true that
all elderly people are markedly slower than young people . . . ,
304 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
on the average people over the age of 65” react less rapidly
(Lefrancois, 1996, p. 506). Numerous explanations have been
posited for this change, such as possible sensory deprivation (Baltes &
Lindenberger, 1997) or changes in actual brain activity
(Baltes & Lindenberger, 1997; Schaie & Willis, 2002). Factors such
as the nature of the task and a person’s familiarity with it also affect
reaction time. In addition, physical activity seems to improve reac-
tion times in older adults (Schaie & Willis, 2002).
In sum, while our life expectancy in the United States has
increased from 49.2 years in 1900 to 76.5 years in 2000—although
racial disparities in health care affect longevity for African
Americans—the human life span remains at approximately 110 to
120 years. Regardless of race, changes in vision, hearing, and reac-
tion time are an inevitable part of the aging process. However, new
technologies such as cochlear implants and laser surger y for
cataracts help older adults remain active and they can continue
learning well into old age. In addition, technology has demon-
strated the brain’ s elasticity. Older adults who show deficits in one
area of the brain may compensate for it in other areas.
PSYCHOLOGICAL D EVELOPMENT
Most of the work in adult development has been driven by the psy-
chological tradition and focuses on the individual’s internal process
of development. A myriad of models concerning faith develop-
ment (Fowler, 1981), identity development (Erikson, 1963), and
self-development (Gould, 1978; Josselson, 1996; Kegan, 1994) have
been based on this perspective. In this view, little attention is paid
to the society’s influence on the person’s development. The psy-
chological perspective also underlies models used to explain race
identity development (Helms, 1990), gay identity development
(Cass, 1979), and more recently, biracial identity develop-
ment (Henriksen & Trusty, 2004). In short, the psychological
model of development, which explores the internal experiences
of the individual, continues to be a favorite of developmental
psychologists even among those studying socially constructed
identities of race and gender.
In this next section, we will touch on two foundational psy-
chological models of development: namely, Erikson’s model of
psychosocial development and Levinson’s model of personal
ADULT DEVELOPMENT 305
development will be discussed. In addition, Helms’s model of
White identity development, Henriksen and Trusty’s recursive
Black-White biracial identity development model, and Cass’s gay
identity development model will be explored.
Models of psychological development fall into two main cate-
gories. In stage theories, there is a stepwise upward movement, but
it is not necessarily tied to chronological age (for example, Erikson,
1963, 1978; Fowler, 1981). These scholars assert that these stages
are hierarchical in nature and therefore build on one another.
There is disagreeme nt about what causes the movement between
stages and whether this movement is upward only to higher stages
or whether it is back and forth across stages. Age-graded models, in
contrast, tie specific ages to particular tasks (for example, Levinson
et al., 1978; Levinson & Levinson, 1996).
ERIKSON’S PSYC HO SO C IA L DEVELOPMENT MODEL
Erikson’s (1963) psychosocial developme nt model is representa-
tive of the stage-related view of development. Considered “the most
influential view of adult development proposed thus far” (Bee &
Bjorklund, 2004, p. 33), Erikson’ s theory consists of eight stages of
development, each representing a series of crises or issues to be
dealt with over the life span. At each stage, there is a choice
between opposites—one negative and the other positive—and it is
imperative that persons achieve a favorable ratio of positive over
negative prior to moving to the next stage. In young adulthood,
the successful resolution between intimacy versus isolation results
in love. In middle adulthood, resolving the tensions between gen-
erativity and self-absorption allows people to care for others; in
older adulthood, resolutions between integrity versus despair pro-
vide the capacity for wisdom. Although Erikson tied his fifth
stage—identity versus identity confusion—primarily to the period
of adolescence, researchers in adult development have also
included the examination of this stage as part of their research
on adults (for example, Josselson, 1987). Erikson maintains that
as adults we may revisit earlier stages to resolve or re-resolve con-
flicts from earlier periods in different ways. For example, because
of the loss of a spouse, we may need to work again through issues
of both intimacy and identity. In addition, Erikson, Erikson, and
Kivnick (1986) go on to suggest that vital involvement in old age
306 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
and interdependence among people allow adults to complete the
life cyc le successfully and le ave a positive legacy for the next gen-
eration.
Erikson’s theory continues to stimulate discussion and
research. One recent work, for example, seeks to realign his eight
stages into a decade-by-decade formulation (Capps, 2004), in
essence making Erikson’s model an age-based one, rather than
stage-of-life; generativity would then be most prominent in one’s
sixties, and ego integrity the task for the seventies. In terms of
research, Westermeyer (2004) has recently reported on a thirty-
two-year longitudinal study applying Erikson’s theor y to healthy
men. In 1959, ninety-four male students completed a seven-
hundred-item questionnaire assessing dimensions of Erikson’s
theory. After thirty-two years, eighty-six of the original ninety-four
were assessed again. Fifty-six percent of the participants had
achieved generativity, the appropriate task for adults in their late
fifties. Likewise, Norman, McCluskey-Fawcett, and Ashcraft (2002)
assessed developmental differences between women in their sixties
and women in their eighties. The young-old group more so than
the old-old women “identified with the positive aspects of Erikson’ s
developmental stages such as fidelity, wisdom, and satisfaction with
their lives, work, and accomplishment” (pp. 37–38). The authors
speculated that the older women were dealing with widowhood,
physical limitations and decreased resources, which may have
caused them to revisit earlier issues of trust and identity.
LEVINSON’S AGE-GRADED M ODEL
Levinson and his c olleagues (Levinson & Levinson, 1996; Levin-
son et al., 1978) provide an often-quoted description of an age-
graded model. Levinson and Levinson (1996), for example, from
their studies of both men and women, sugges t that people e v o l v e
through an orderly sequence of stable and transitional periods that
correlate with chronological age. One’s life structure, that is, “the
underlying pattern or design of a person’s life at any given time”
(p. 22), tends to be established and maintained during stable peri-
ods and then questioned and changed during transitional periods.
For example, the authors indicate that the early life transition
occurs between the ages of seventeen and twenty-two. This is fol-
lowed by the entr y into the life structure at age twenty-two to
ADULT DEVELOPMENT 307
twenty-eight, foll owed by the age thirty transition, which occurs
from the ages of twenty-eight to thirty-three, and the culmination
of the life structure occurring between ages thirty-three and forty.
The model ends with the era of late adulthood, starting at age
sixty.
Among the components of this changing life are marriage and
family, occupation, friendships, religion, ethnicity, and community.
The “central components are those that have the greatest significance
for the self and the life. They receive the greatest share of one’s
time and energy, and they strongly influence the character of the
other components” (Levinson & Levinson, 1996, p. 23).
Although Levinson and his colleagues hold that both men and
women follow these alternating sequences of structure building
and transitional periods, the se periods “operate somewhat differ-
ently in females and males” (Levinson & Levinson, 1996, p. 36),
largely because of gender splitting, which “refers not simply to gen-
der differences but of a splitting asunder—the creation of a rigid
division between male and female, masculine and feminine, in
human life” (p. 38). They elucidate four forms of gender splitting:
(1) public sphere (male)/domestic sphere (female), (2) within
marriage breadwinner (male)/homemaker (female), (3) “men’s
work”/“women’s work,” and (4) splitting of the psyche as male and
female.
This framework of relating development to specific age peri-
ods has led a number of educators to propose a link between age-
appropriate tasks and behavior and the fostering of learning
activities for adults. Havighurst (1972) was one of the earliest writ-
ers to link these ideas into what he termed the teachable moment. The
idea of the teachable moment is grounded in the concept of devel-
opmental tasks—tasks that arise at a certain period in a person’s
life, such as selecting a mate, starting a family, and getting started
in an occupation. Although the time frame and some of the tasks
Havighurst suggested are somewhat dated, the idea of specific life
tasks giving rise to a teachable moment is not. Knowles (1980, p.
51) has also viewed developmental tasks as producing “a ‘readiness
to learn’ which at its peak presents a ‘teachable moment’” and out-
lines his own list of “life tasks” for young, old, and middle-aged
adults.
308 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
OTHER M ODELS
The psychological paradigm has been embraced by some who have
constructed models of racial identity development and sexual iden-
tity development. While some of these models implicitly recognize
the influence of society on racial and sexual orientation identity
development, they still primar ily focus on the experience of the
individual, with little mention of society’ s influence on these types
of development. For example, Helms (1990, 1995) proposes a
process model of White racial identity that consists of two phases:
abandoning racism and creating a nonracist identity. The process
of abandoning racism is as follows (Helms, 1990): Initially, Whites
are oblivious to racism, until they encounter an incident or series
of incidents that alert them to racism. During the disintegration
stage, they recognize that racial discrimination exists and may
experience confusion or guilt because of their White privilege.
During reintegration they often believe there is an element of truth
to negative stereotypes about people of color. They avoid associat-
ing with or may even act violently toward people of color. As Whites
focus on developing a nonracist identity, they traverse through a
pseudo-independent stage where they begin to recognize that Whites
are not superior to people of color, but they may still perpetuate
the idea of White superiority through their actions or behaviors,
while in the immersion/emersion stage individuals encourage others
to abandon racism and come to terms with their Whiteness. In the
last phase, autonomy, they abandon racism and commit to its erad-
ication on a personal and societal level. Maintaining this perspec-
tive is a continual process (Richardson & Silvestri, 1999).
Biracial identity development has received more attention from
researchers in the past fifteen years (Bowles, 1993; Collins, 2000a,
2000b; Herring, 1995; Pinderhughs, 1995). Research has explored
conflicts about dual racial identity, self-esteem and identity, and
identity development, among others (Rockquemore & Brunsma,
2002). Like Helms’s model, the focus of a recent biracial identity
development model constructed by Henriksen a n d Trusty (2004)
is on the experience of the individual, with less explicit attention
given to the impact of society on this development. Their model of
recursive Black-White biracial identity development, developed
ADULT DEVELOPMENT 309
from interviews with biracial women, describes six periods that indi-
viduals undergo during their biracial identity development. These
periods are neutrality, acceptance, awareness, experimentation, transition,
and rec og ni ti on . During the neutrality period, individuals are
unaware of racial differences (Henriksen & Trusty, 2004). Accep-
tance occurs when people realize that they are racially differen t
from others and that they “[do] not have a racial reference group”
(p. 72). This difference and the lack of a racial reference group pro-
mote feelings of isolation during the awareness period. People “try
to fit into one part of their racial identity” (p. 72) by ass oci at in g
mostly with Blacks or Whites in an effort to find where they fit in
(Henriksen & Trusty, 2004). During transition, women realize they
cannot identify as Black or White. Last, the recognition period is
one of acceptance of their biracial identity.
Early models of sexual identity development also relied on the
psychological paradigm. Cass’s (1979) foundational model of gay
or lesbian identity development is one of the most well-known. Cass
proposes a six-stage model. The first stage, identity confusion, is
marked by feelings of confusion as an individual begins to realize
that he or she may be gay or lesbian. This is followed by the iden-
tity comparison stage, when the person begins to realize that he or
she is gay or lesbian but denies the identity on some level. During
the second stage, the individual may believe that his or her attrac-
tion to the same sex is temporar y. In the third stage, identity tol-
erance, the person becomes more open to the idea of a gay or
lesbian identity but does not yet fully embrace the identity. Iden-
tity acceptance occurs during Stage 4. Individuals have increased
contact with other gays or lesbians and evaluate them more posi-
tively. This is followed by the identity pride stage, where the per-
son discloses the identity to others and may be more immersed in
the gay or lesbian subculture. Last, the gay or lesbian identity is
synthesized into one’s self.
Even recent models of women’s midlife development have
used a psychological perspective (Barrett, 2005; Josselson, 2003;
Tangri, Thomas, Mednick, & Lee, 2003). Implicit in these devel-
opmental stages is the influence of society on midlife women, but
the focus is still on the internal experiences of the women. Howell
and Beth (2002) interviewed eleven women (seven Caucasian and
four African-American) between the ages of forty and sixty in an
urban environment to understand their midlife experiences. A
310 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
three-stage (nonlinear) process emerged: Rejecting Midlife Stereo-
types, Exploring Midlife Realities, and Adjusting Attitudes, Behaviors,
and Circumstances. Rejecting Midlife Stereotypes included an aware-
ness of midlife c hanges and a denial of the label “middle-a ged”
(which they associated with negative stereotypes) as applying to
themselves (Howell & Beth, 2002). In Stage 2, the denial of being
middle-aged gave way to the second stage, Exploring Midlife Real-
ities, where women mourned midlife losses, including losses in
relationships due to divorce, death, or estrangement, their chang-
ing bodies, and concern about finances. Participants also clarified
their values as a result of their losses and looked for role models
that they felt were successfully negotiating midlife changes. Dur-
ing the third stage , Adjusting Attitudes, Behaviors, and Circ um-
stances, women acted on their newfound values.
AsecondstudyexpandedthefindingsoftheHowellandBeth
2002 investigation. The study concentrated on midlife development
in lesbians. It revealed that while lesbians experienced some of the
same stages as heterosexual women, there were differences. For
example, because of the “coming out” process that the women jour-
neyed through earlier in their lives they had “a stronger sense of
who they were and were less concerned with what oth e r s thought
of them” (Howell & Beth, 2004, p. 133). They were much less con-
cerned about ageism than their heterosexual counterparts. The ear-
lier coming out process for participants equated with the Rejecting
Midlife Stereotypes stage for heterosexual women. For example,
both groups of women struggled with self-esteem. In addition, both
groups coped with social rejection. Lesbians felt rejected by some
members of society because of their sexual orientation. Middle-aged
heterosexual women felt rejected by others because they were grow-
ing older. They experienced ageism (Howell & Beth, 2004). Les-
bians experienced losses in the Exploring Midlife Realities stage but
“they experienced grief with the pragmatism of individuals who had
already been through many difficult experiences” because many
had experienced losses during the coming out process (p. 143).
Stage 3, Adjusting Attitudes, Behaviors, and Circumstances, was sim-
ilar for lesbians and heterosexuals.
How do psychological models of adult development relate to
learning? Educators who accept that their job is to help learners
achieve the highest level of development possible could encour-
age students to examine their assumptions, and facilitate critical
ADULT DEVELOPMENT 311
reflection on these assumptions (Daloz, 1986, 1999; Levine, 1989;
Mezirow, 2000). Through mentoring and learning activities
designed with development in mind, facilitators can enable the
“transformational journeys” of their students (Daloz, 1986, p. 16).
In sum, psychological models of development explore the
internal experiences of the individual. Models of psychological
development primarily fall into two categories. For stage theorists,
there is a stepwise upward movement, but it is not necessarily tied
to chronological age (for example, Erikson, 1963, 1978; Fowler,
1981), nor is it always linear (Howell & Beth, 2002). Age-graded
models tie specific ages to particular tasks (for example, Levinson
et al., 1978; Levinson & Levinson, 1996). Despite the knowledge
that society affects adults’ development, the psychological model
continues to be popular.
SOCIOCULTURAL FACTORS
The sociocultural perspective on adult development acknowledges
how the social world in which we live influences our development
(Dannefer, 1996; Gardiner & Kosmitzki, 2005; Shaffer, 2005). This
perspective recognizes that factors such as age, race, gender, eth-
nicity, socioeconomic status, and sexual orientation affect how soci-
ety defines us. We offer two salient strands of work from the
literature on the sociocultural perspective on adulthood that pro-
vide us with different ways of looking at adult development. We
examine how adult social roles and the timing of life events affect
development. We then review how socially constructed notions of
race, ethnicity, gender, and sexual orientation affect development.
SOCIAL ROLES AND THE TIMING OF LIFE EVENTS
The earlier work on the sociocultural dimensions of adulthood
focused on the taking of social roles and the notion of the timing
of life events. Social roles are defined as both positions and asso-
ciated expectations determined primarily by normative beliefs held
by society (Bee & Bjorkland, 2004). Examples of these various roles
include parent, spouse, worker, child, and friend. Changes in one’ s
social position re sult from modifications of these roles (such as
redefining the role of parent when both parents assume employ-
ment) and the taking on of new roles (such as wife to widow or
312 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
paid worker to retired person). These changes may be initiated by
the individual or by others; a parent might ask an older child to
take on the role of worker to help pay for her college expenses, for
example, or changes in legislative policy might give a specific
group in society, such as minorities or women, more or perhaps
less control over their own lives.
Research on role transitions has migrated from a “life problem”
approach to a “life trajectory” approach (Ferraro, 2001, p. 316).
Early research on role transitions in the United States in the 1950s
through the mid-1970s focused on loss of roles, such as the loss of
the worker role after retirement. It was thought that such losses led
to disengagement from society. Studies in the 1970s and 1980s
moved from a concentration on role loss and gain to one of role
transitions as life circumstances change (Bee & Bjorkland, 2004;
Ferraro, 2001). More rigorous research designs and longitudinal
studies on role transitions brought to light the complexities of role
transition outcomes. Role transition outcomes could be positive or
negative instead of solely negative. In the 1990s, research began to
focus on the place of role transitions and role salience in the life
course. Scholars investigated “how role trans iti o n s are both influ-
enced by earlier life experiences and shape subsequent paths of per-
sonal adjustment” (Ferraro, 2001, p. 315). In research on role
salience (Krause, 1999; Reitzes, 2003), people have multiple roles
or identities, such as mother, sister, parent, or worker, which are
arranged hierarchically according to their salience. The role’s
importance or salience is determined by how much the person val-
ues that role and how detrimental the loss of the role would be to
aperson’sself-concept.Thisspotlightonsocialroleshasfostereda
number of research traditions in such areas as career development
and marriage and family roles (see Bee & Bjorkland, 2004; Berger,
1998; Ferraro, 2001; Kalmijin, 2004).
The scholarship on the timing of life events, which is exempli-
fied by the work of Neugarten and others (Neugarten, 1976, 1979;
Neugarten & Datan, 1973), suggests that “ever y society is age-
graded, and ever y society has a system of social expectations
regarding age-appropriate behavior. The individual passes through
asociallyregulatedcyclefrombirthtodeathasinexorablyashe
[sic] passes through th e biological cycle: a succession of socially
delineated age-statuses, each with its recognized rights, duties and
obligations” (Neugarten, 1976, p. 16). Although the timing of
ADULT DEVELOPMENT 313
events has changed somewhat and the deadlines for completing
such events have become more variable since Neugarten com-
pleted h er original work, being “off-time” or “on-time” rega rding
certain major life events still holds merit (Bee & Bjorkland, 2004;
Pinhey & Pinhey, 2002). It is not the events themselves that neces-
sarily precipitate crisis or change. Life events that occur “off-time,”
such as going through menopause at an early age, becoming a wid-
ower at age thirty, or having children la te r in life, can be stre ssful
(Bee & Bjorkland, 2004; Pinhey & Pinhey, 2002). From this van-
tage point, the study of adult development then becomes a study
of life events construed from socially constructed beliefs, whereas
in the psychological tradition, the focus is on the life events them-
selves as markers and processes.
The idea that learning in adult hood is relat ed to appropriate
role taking, as defined by society’s expectations, has a long history
in adult education, from the early citizenship education programs
for immigrants to today’s workplace learning programs. Several
writers have suggested that programs be developed related to the
social roles of adults. Some thirty years ago, Kidd (1973) and Knox
(1977), for example, explored how changes in social roles can be
related to learning activities. In particular, Kidd (1973) outlined a
taxonomy suggested by Malcolm Knowles at a UNESCO seminar
in Hamburg in 1972 that takes into account not only roles but also
the competenci e s related to t ho se roles. The i m p l i e d assumption
underlying this taxonomy is that learning programs could be built
to address these competencies for adults going through role
changes or wishing to become more comp etent in their current
roles (for example, family member, worker, and citizen). Even
learning on our own may be driven by what society expects of us,
such as learning parenting skills or taking care of aging parents.
For the most part, adult educators have developed programs
around role taking to the age-normative times of life events and
have not taken into account those people who are “off-time.” More
recently there has been some change in this thinking. For exam-
ple, hospice programs, which both offer support and teach care-
takers how to care for dying people, do not discriminate whom
they will serve based on either the age of the patient or the age of
the caretaker.
314 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
SOCIALLY CONSTRUCTED NOT I O N S O F RACE ,
E
THNICITY,GENDER, AND SEXUAL ORIENTATION
Researchers have been especially interested over the past two decades
in the socially constructed notions of race, ethnicity, gender, and sex-
ual orientation as they relate to adult development (Alderson, 2003;
Cross & Vandiver, 2001; Ponterotto, Casas, Suzuki, & Alexander, 2001;
Worthington, Savoy, Dillion, & Vernaglia, 2002). Discussing these dif-
ferent constructs in relation to development is challenging because
they often overlap and have been given differ ent meanings by
researchers. For example, some people use the terms race and
ethnicity interchangeably, whereas others clearly distinguish between
these two concepts. What makes it even more difficult to establish the
connection between these ideas and development is the intersection
of various positionalities, that is, where one stands or where one’s
“position” is in relation to others. As Kincheloe and Steinberg (1993,
p. 302) write: “We are never independent of the social and historical
forces that surround us—we are caught at a particular point in the
web of reality. The post-formal project is to understand what that
point in the web is, how it constructs our vantage point, and the ways
it insidiously restricts our vision.” A person’s race, class, gender, and
sexual orientation, among other positionalities, intersect to influence
the development of that person. For example, a middle-class White
lesbian may face different developmental challenges than a wealthy,
heterosexual Black man b ecause of their different po s itionalities.
There has been increasing interest in examining these intersections
and their impact on adult development (Bowman et al., 2001;
Etter -Lewis & Foster, 1996).
Most approaches to Black identity development appear to be
sociocultural. Black identity development models take three
approaches: mainstream, underground, and multidimensional.
The mainstream approach focuses on how racial identity can be
viewed in relation to other identities. This view of Black identity
development emphasizes coping with the stigma associated with a
marginalized identity but does not examine “the qualitative mean-
ings associated with particular ethnic and racial identity” (Sellers,
Smith, Shelton, Rowley, & Chavous, 1998, p. 21). The under-
ground approach recognizes the importance of history and culture
ADULT DEVELOPMENT 315
in the “experiential meaning associated with being Black” (p. 21).
The multidimensional approach combines the mainstream and
underground perspectives.
Cross’s (1971) theory exemplifies an underground approach
to Black identity development and offers several propositions. First,
Black racial identity contains two dimensions: “a personal identity
component (PI) and a reference group component (RGO)”
(Cross & Vandiver, 2001, p. 380). Second, the “core of the theory
is on the various ways Black people make sense of themselves as
social beings” (p. 380). Third, the theory addresses how Black iden-
tity is “enacted in everyday interactions with Black and White peo-
ple” and while there are four stages that contain a total of eight
“identity exemplars” (p. 375), Cross recognizes the myriad ways
people experience their Nigrescence.
Cross’s model has grown from five identity stages (Cross, 1971)
to multiple identity clusters at each of four stages (Cross & Vandiver,
2001). The four main stages are pre-encounter, encounter, immersion-
emersion, and inter nalization. An individual in the pre-encounter
stage generally does not interact with Black culture or problems. In
the encounter stage, the individual may have an experience or
series of experiences that “shatter the relevance of the person’s cur-
rent identity and worldview, and at the same time provide some hint
of the new direction the person must now take” (Cross, 1995, p.
105; italics added). Generally, this new worldview is followed by
Stage 3, immersion-emersion, where the individual immerses him-
self or herself in Black culture. The last stage, internalization, is
marked by an “inner peace,” and the person’s idea of Blackness
“tends to be more open, expansive, and sophisticated” (Cross, 1995,
p. 114). Furthermore, an internalization-biculturalist engages in
Black issues and is committed to Black concerns but he or she also
enjoys aspects of the dominant culture (Cross & Vandiver, 2001).
An internalization-nationalist stresses the Afrocentric perspective.
The internalization-multiculturalist feels a part of the Black com-
munity but appreciates many cultures and “prefers solutions . . . that
address multiple oppressions” (p. 376).
As noted, mainstream and underground perspectives are com-
bined in the multidimensional approach to racial identity devel-
opment (Sellers et al., 1998). Racial identity is composed of four
elements: racial salience, racial centrality, racial regard, and racial
ideology. Racial salience “refers to the extent to which one’s race is
316 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
arelevantpartofone’sself-conceptataparticularmomentorin
aparticularsituation”(p.24).Centrality concerns how central race
is to the person’s self- definition. Racial regard refers to how posi-
tively or negatively a person feels about his or her race. This
includes how the individual believes others view African Americans
as well as how he or she feels about being African American. Ide-
ology “is composed of the individual’s beliefs, opinions, and atti-
tudes with respect to the way she or he feels that the members of
the race should act” (p. 27). Various ideologies include that of the
nationalist, oppressed minority, assimilationist, and humanist. Peo-
ple with a nationalist ideology “stress the uniqueness of being
Black,” while oppressed minority ideologists compare the oppres-
sion faced by Blacks with other groups and support building coali-
tions with other groups in an effort to fight oppression (p. 27). The
assimilationist emphasizes similarities between cultures and works
within the existing power structure to change the system, while the
humanist “emphasize[s] the similarities among all humans” and is
concerned with oppression of all people and global issues such as
hunger and environmental issues (p. 28).
The sociocultural approach to development is not limited to
scholars who investigate racial identity development. Researchers
have also used this approach to explore gay sexual identity devel-
opment. For example, Cox and Gallois’ s (1996) social identity per-
spective on gay and lesbian identity development explicitly
acknowledges the importance of society in the construction of a gay
or lesbian sexual identity. Their model, grounded in social identity
theory, “examines the identity processes which occur within the
individual . . . [and] e xplores the effect that the larg er social and
societal forces have on these processes” (p. 10) . Identity develop-
ment involves two processes: self-categorization and social compar-
ison. Cox and Gallois (1996) assert that people can possess a
personal identity (self-categorization) that is not part of their social
identity. In short, people can self-categorize as gay or lesbia n but
not have a gay or lesbian social identity. They note that when peo-
ple adopt a gay or lesbian social identity they may use several strate-
gies in order to address the stigma, which include putting down
heterosexuals. For example, they may call heterosexuals “breeders”
(p. 21) in order to feel better about being gay or lesbian.
A second model of gay identity development takes an ecologi-
cal approach (Alderson, 2003). This model examines the myriad
ADULT DEVELOPMENT 317
influences that help or hinder the person in the process of claim-
ing a gay identity. In the Before Coming Out stage, influences that
can ser ve as catalysts to continue the process or can hinder the
process include parents, culture, church, peers, and society. These
influences continue in the During Coming Out phase, when a per-
son experiences conflicting emotions, lea rns new be haviors, and
works at reducing his or her own internalized homophobia. In the
Beyond Coming Out phase, the person commits to the gay iden-
tity, has integrated the gay identity with other parts of the self, and
has reintegrated into the heterosexual world (Alderson, 2003).
Numerous scholars, primarily over the past decade, have
acknowledged the importance of the socially constructed notions
of race, ethnicity, gender, and sexual orientation to understanding
learning in adulthood and the teaching-learning transaction
(Hayes & Colin, 1994; Flanner y & Hayes, 2001; Lee & Johnson-
Bailey, 2004; Johnson-Bailey & Cervero, 1998; Maher & Tetreault,
1994; Mojab, 2005; Tisdell, 1995). Lee and Johnson-Bailey (2004)
examine their experiences as teachers of color in the White acad-
emy. While explaining their feminist classroom practice, they
unearth issues of racism, sexism, and power in the classroom and
its effect on the teaching-learning transaction. They write, “In those
early days, we were often the only women of color in a sea of white
women and men who felt free to vocalize their surprise that we
were their instructors and to ask openly whether or not we
belonged in that environment” (p. 56). In another study, Johnson-
Bailey and Cervero (1998) compared graduate student perceptions
of a White male full professor and a Black female assistant profes-
sor. Race had an impact on the messages students received from
each professor. The White professor, who discussed race as a cen-
tral topic in his class, was not seen as having an agenda associated
with race. His compe tence and fairness to students was not ques-
tioned. In contrast, the Black professor, who did not discuss race
as a central topic in class, was seen as having a racial agenda and
her fairness and c ompete nce were questioned ( Johnson- Baile y &
Cervero, 1998). Tisdell (1995), among others, has pointed out the
important role that power plays when introducing socially con-
structed notions of race, ethnicity, gender, and sexual orientation
into formal and even nonformal programs of adult learning.
Tisdell ob serve s that “wh at coun ts as know ledg e in a p arti cula r
learning context—and decisions about what gets included in the
318 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
curriculum for a given learning activity—are decisions made with
attention to the politics of this particular educational context and
to what is seen as ‘real’ knowledge relevant to this educational con-
text” (p. 11). Teaching strategies that allow participants to connect
the material to their own life experiences, allow for reflective time,
confront differences, and bring together theory and practice seem
to provide useful starting points for doing this (Caffarella, 1992;
Wlodkowski & Ginsberg, 1995).
To summarize, the sociocultural approach to adult development
acknowledges how the social world influences our development. This
perspective recognizes that the intersection of various positionalities
affects how society defines us. In addition, the social roles we take
on and the timing of life events such as marriage and having chil-
dren affect our development. Cross and Vandiver’ s (2001) model of
Black identity development and Cox and Gallois’s (1996) model
of gay and lesbian identity development were two models that were
highlighted that come from the sociocultural paradigm.
INTEGRATIVE PERSPECTIVES
There have been attempts to respond to the call for a more inte-
grated theory of adult development by combining two or more of
the perspectives reviewed in this chapter. Four models of adult
development—those proposed by Baltes (1982, 1987), Magnusson
(1995), Perun and Bielby (1980), and Bronfenbrenner (2001) are
illustrative of this wave of theory building.
Baltes (1982, p. 18) introduced one of the earlier compre-
hensive models that emphasized a “multicausal and interactive
view” of adult development. Drawing on the work of Havighurst,
Neugarten, and others, he hypothesized that biological and envi-
ronmental forces constitute the basic determinants of develop-
ment. These are then influenced by three major sets of factors:
normative age-graded influences (forces normally correlated with
age), normative history-graded influences (events that are widely
experienced by one age group of people), and nonnormative
influences (factors significant to one particular person). The inter-
action of these influences results in developmental changes over
the life span. Baltes hypothesized that the relative significance of
the three developmental influences ma y vary at different points
in the life span—“for example, age-graded influences may be
ADULT DEVELOPMENT 319
especially important . . . in old age, whereas history-graded non-
normative influences may predominate in early and middle adult-
hood” (Baltes, 1982, p. 22).
Within this life-span perspective, writes Bee (1996, p. 74), Baltes
and his colleagues assume “there is lawfulness to the changes we see
in adult life. . . . Our task . . . is to uncover and understand the
nature of that lawfulness. They do not assume that the specific path-
ways followed by adults will necessarily all be the same; they do not
assume that all pathways lead toward either decline or toward
higher efficacy. They do assume that the underlying lawfulness will
create many surface patterns.” Baltes has also stressed the need for
new “development-specific” research methodologies to address the
more interactive and complex models of adult development.
One response to Baltes’s concern about methodology is an
integrative model proposed by Magnusson (1995). Grounded in
four basic assumptions, Magnusson argues that his model “can
serve as a general theoretical framework for planning, implemen-
tation, and interpretation of empirical research on specific aspects
of individual development” (p. 19). His four assumptions are as
follows (pp. 25–29):
1. The i ndividual f unctions an d develops as a total integrated
organism. Development does not take place in single aspects,
taken out of context. . . .
2. T he in div idua l fu ncti ons a nd de vel ops i n a co ntin uou sly
ongoing, reciprocal process of interaction with his or her
environment. . . .
3. At each specific moment, individual functioning is determined
in a process of continuous, reciprocal interaction between
mental factors, biological factors, and behavior—on the indi-
vidual side—and situational factors. . . .
4. The individual develops in a process of continuous reciprocal
interaction among psychological, biological, and environmen-
tal factors. . . .
What is key to this model is that “individuals do not develop in
terms of single variables but as total integrated systems. In this per-
spective, all changes during the life span of a person are charac-
terized by lawful continuity” (p. 39). Magnusson emphasizes that
his model “does not imply that the whole system of an individual
320 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
must be studied at the same time. The essent ial function of the
model is that it enables us to formulate problems at different lev-
els of the functioning of the total organism, to implement empiri-
cal studies, and to interpret the results in a common, theoretical
framework” (p. 50).
The third model we discuss is not widely known, but we have
found it useful in framing development from the integrative per-
spective. Perun and Bielby (1980) view adulthood as “consisting of
alargenumberoftemporalprogressions—sequencesofexperi-
ences or internal changes, each of which follow some timetable”
(Bee, 1996, p. 75). Pictured as a set of disks, similar to machine
gears rotating on a central rod, each disk represents a part of the
developmental picture: physical changes, changes in nuclear fam-
ily roles (like m arr ying and having children), c hanges in other
family roles (such as death of a parent), changes in work roles, and
changes in emotional and personal tasks of adulthood (Perun &
Bielby, 1980). Each of these gears or disks moves at different rates
for different people, “thus creating a unique pattern for each
adult” (Bee, 1996, p. 76). For example, one person may delay hav-
ing children until her early forties so she can establish herself in a
career, while another may start a family in her teens and then start
acareeronceherchildrenaregrown.Thefirstpersonwouldhave
speeded up her career or work progression while slowing down her
family life cycle, while the second person would have done just the
opposite. In addition, the entire developmental process is embed-
ded in historical time, which also affects the developmental pro-
gression in each of the major areas.
In this model, developmental changes come from two sources.
The first is the basic changes that happen during each of the tem-
poral progressions, some of them inevitable and others chosen.
Second, asynchrony, which “occurs when one or more dimensions
is off-time in relation to others” (Perun & Bielby, 1980, p. 105), trig-
gers other changes. For example, when a person’s spouse or part-
ner dies in early adulthood, the nuc lear family roles and possibly
the work roles often change dramatically, especially if there are
minor children involved. Bee (1996, p. 77) has outlined a number
of “intriguing and potentially useful implications or expansions of
this model.” Among these are that the rate of movement along any
of the temporal dimensions may be influenced by gender, race,
class, ethnicity, and sexual orientation.
ADULT DEVELOPMENT 321
Last, Bronfenbrenner’s (2001) bioecological systems theor y
delineates five layers of the environment or systems that influence
development. Although his emphasis was on child development,
his theory has implications for adults. The microsys te m includes the
“activities, roles, and interpersonal relations” in the person’s imme-
diate environment, which include the home, school, peers, and
workplace (Bronfenbrenner, 2001). The mesosystem is defined as
the relationships between these microsystems. An example of a
mesosystem is the relationship between a person’s workplace and
the community. The exosystem is a larger social system in which the
person may not function directly but which has an effect on his or
her microsystem. For a child, this may be the relationship between
the home and the parent’s workplace. For an adult, this may be the
relationship between the child’s school and a community group
(Bronfenbrenner, 2001). The fourth system is the macrosystem,
which contains the cultural values, mores, and laws that affect the
previously mentioned systems. For example, if the cultural belief
is that women should marry and raise children, opportunities for
aspiring career women may be limited and affect their develop-
ment and standing in society. Last, the chronosystem refers to the
influence of time as it relates to the person’s environment and sub-
sequent development. Examples include the timing of historical
events such as the Depression or personal events such as the tim-
ing of a parent’s death.
Although application of these integrated models to learning
in adulthood has been limited, the message conveyed by the the-
orists is clear: to understand development in adulthood fully, one
must move beyond explanations fostered only by one or two per-
spectives. Educators of adults must be mindful of the impact of
single-perspective theories “on shaping and maintaining conven-
tionally held views about what it means to be a mature and healthy
adult” (Tennant, 1988, p. 65). The psychological perspective, which
has been used as the major lens through which educators of adults
have viewed development, can be widened to include the other
lenses of biological, sociocultur al, and integrated perspectives.
Tennant and Pogson (1995) obser ve that “the raw material[s] in the
process of development are the organism, with its constitutionally
endowed equipment, and the social environment, with its histori-
cal and cultural formations. Development thus proceeds through
aconstantinteractionbetweenthepersonandtheenvironment.
322 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
[Further], because development is contested, and because differ-
ent versions of development serve the interests of different groups,
it is as much a political as it is a psychological construct” (pp.
198–199). Therefore, it is important to foster a multiperspective
focus in our study and practice of how adult development theory
is linked to learning in adulthood.
SUMMARY
Adult developmental theor y and research offer a rich array of
material from which numerous implications can be drawn about
learning in adulthood. This chapter has reviewed the develop-
mental characteristics of adults from four perspectives: biological
aging, psychological change, the influence of sociocultural factors
on development, and the integrative paradigm. With regard to bio-
logical aging, all adults experience some changes as they age. Many
of these changes vary from person to person and may have little
effect on learning thanks to advances in technology. Psychological
changes in adulthood have been charted by a number of
researchers. The sequential models of development of Erikson and
Levinson are representative of those that attempt to delineate the
common themes of a dul t life according to what phase or stage of
life one is in.
From the sociocultural perspective, change in adulthood is
determined more by sociocultural factors, such as social roles, race,
and gender, than by individual maturation. Two strands of work
from the sociocultural perspective were described, and implica-
tions for this work for adult learning were addressed. Discussed
first was the importance of social roles, such as parent, worker, or
friend. Social roles are determined primarily by societal expecta-
tions and change over time. Adult educators have often designed
programs tied to social roles, such as parenting classes or work-
shops on retirement. Society still determines at what age we ought
to be engaged in which life events, although some would argue
that the age nor ms for events are much more flexible than they
were in the past.
Addressed next was the socially constructed nature of the con-
cepts of race, gender, ethnicity, and sexual orientation and how
defining these concepts as social constructions versus individual
traits has affected the way we think about adult development.
ADULT DEVELOPMENT 323
Research in this area has exploded in the past fifteen years. Rep-
resentative theories on racial and sexual identity development were
discussed.
The chapter concluded with a description of integrated per-
spectives on development with salient examples of theorists who
have in cluded the biologica l, psychologi cal, and sociologica l per-
spectives in their models of adult development (for example,
Baltes and Magnusson). To understan d fully how adult develop-
ment is linked to adult learning, we suggested that educators of
adults move to multiple explanations of what adulthood is all
about, rather than rely on just one or two paradigms. We especially
need to acknowledge perspectives beyond the psychological lens
that has driven our research and practice on learning in adulthood
for the past three decades. The more we know about adult learn-
ers, the changes they go through, and how these changes motivate
and interact with learning, the better we can structure learning
experiences that both respond to and stimulate development.
324 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
COGNITIVE DEVELOPMENT
IN
ADU LTH OOD
Andrew lives his life certain that for every situation there is a “right
way” and a “wr o ng way” to view it. He sees the world in absolutes.
According to Andrew, the taking of a human life for any reason is
wrong. Hence, he is against such things as capital punishment,
abortion, and assisted suicide. In contrast, for his sister Marie,
everything is relative. Abortion, the death penalty, and assisted sui-
cide may be appropriate in particular situations, according to
Marie. Andrew and Marie represent different ways of thinking
about the same issue. Scholars continue to be fascinated with the
myriad of ways people think and whether adults’ thinking patterns
change with age. If so, what might these changes in thinking pat-
terns look like over the adult life span?
The study of pathways of adult cognitive development—that is,
how thinking patterns change over time—is often linked to a com-
bination of factors, primarily the interaction of maturational and
environmental variables. As in other research traditions on learn-
ing, the major studies on cognitive development have been pri-
marily carried out with children and adolescents. When this
research is extended to adulthood, the underlying assumption has
often been that adults move toward a final stage of cognitive devel-
opment, however that is defined, or if that stage has been attained,
work at maintaining that stage. Still other theoris ts have posited
models of cognitive development that may be unique to adulthood.
Explored first in this chapter is the foundational work of Piaget
(1972) and how scholars have used and extended this work. W e then
discuss alternative conceptualizations of cognitive development that
325
are linear or categorical in nature (for example, Belenky, Clinchy,
Goldberger, & Tarule, 1986; Perry, 1999). This discussion is followed
by an exploration of dialectical thinking and models that are repre-
sentative of this form of thinking. Then, the contextual perspective
on cognitive development and key theorists who represent this
perspective are presented. Last, wisdom—the hallmark of adult
thinking—is discussed. Representative conceptions of wisdom,
including those of Holliday and Chandler, Sternberg, and Bassett,
are reviewed.
FOUNDATIONAL WORK ON
COGNITIVE DEVELOPMENT
When we speak of cognitive development, Jean Piaget immediately
comes to mind. Although Piaget’ s work is entirely focused on child-
hood cognitive development, his theory has provided the founda-
tion for work with adults. Piaget proposed four invariant stages of
cognitive development that are age related. These stages represent
“qualitatively differ ent ways of m aking sense, underst anding, and
constructing a knowledge of the world” (Tennant, 1988, p. 68). In
Piaget’s view, children’s thought processes move from innate reflex
actions (sensory-motor sta ge, birth to two years), to being able to
represent concr e te objects in symbo l s and words (pre o p e r a t i o n a l
stage, two to seven years), to an understanding of concepts and
relationships of ideas (concrete operational stage, seven to eleven
years), to an ability to reason hypothetically, logically, and system-
atically (formal operational stage, twelve-plus years). Piaget con-
tended that normal children have the capacity to reach this final
stage of formal operations between the ages of twelve and fifteen,
which he later revised upward to ages fifteen to twenty (Piaget,
1972). It is this final stage, characterized by the ability to think
abstractly, that characterized the apex of mature adult thought for
Piaget.
Piaget’s model has its limitations in that it accepts “a mecha-
nistic worldview that is caught up in a cause-effect, hypothetico-
deductive system of reasoning. Unconcerned with questions of
power relations and the way they structure our consciousness, for-
mal operational thinkers accept an objectified, unpoliticized wa y
of knowing that breaks a social or educational system down into its
326 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
basic parts in order to understand how it works. . . . [F]ormal
thought operates on the assumption that resolution must be found
for all contradictions” (Kincheloe & Steinberg, 1993, p. 297).
Those who came after Piaget (neo-Piagetians) have challenged
some aspects of Piaget’s principles. First, they recognize that these
qualitative changes (for example, moving from concrete opera-
tional thought to formal operational thought) may not occur for
all aspects of thinking, but rather tend to be “local and domain spe-
cific in nature” (Knight & Sutton, 2004, p. 49). This explains why
people can use concrete operations in one context and formal
operations in another.
Second, several neo-Piagetian scholars have found evidence of
postformal thought (see Arlin, 1975; Sinnott, 1998). Knight and
Sutton (2004) note, “Whereas Piagetian formal operational think-
ing implies the ability to think systematically within a set of logical
parameters, a more advanced level involves an individual’s ability not
only to think logically but also to reflect on this logical thinking”
(p. 51). People who possess postformal thought believe the follow-
ing: First, they know that all knowledge is incomplete and subjective.
However, they recognize that they must act despite the limits of their
knowledge. They understand that there is not one “Truth” but many
“truths” and they commit to one set of beliefs knowing that there
are many. Further, they understand that contradiction and subjec-
tivity are inherent in all logical and objective observations (Sinnott,
1998). They go beyond problem-solving behaviors, as is common
in formal operations where they see k a solution to a problem, to
problem-fi nding behaviors, characterized by “creative thought vis-à-vis
‘discovered’ problems” (Arlin, 1975, p. 603). In short, formal oper-
ational thought “presume[s] logical consistency within a single log-
ical system” (Sinnott, 1998, p. 25). In contrast, postformal operations
“presume somewhat necessarily subjective selection among logically
contradictory formal operational systems, each of which is inter-
nally consistent and absolute” (p. 25).
In addition to recognizing the existence of postformal opera -
tional thought, neo-Piagetians focus on the importance of context
in learning and development. In his later work, Piaget acknowl-
edged that learning and development were more dependent on
context than previously thought (Knight & Sutton, 2004). How-
ever, neo-Piagetians concentrate on the specific context in which
COGNITIVE DEVELOPMENT IN ADULTHOOD 327
the learning occurs and assert that “new learning is most robust in
the context in which it was constructed” (p. 51). The further away
apersongetsfromthecontextinwhichthelearningwascon-
structed, the more difficult it is to access the learning that
occurred.
So, how has Piaget’s theory enhanced our understanding of
cognitive development in adulthood? Tennant (1988, p. 77) noted
Piaget’s most salient contributions:
• The emphasis on qualitative rather than quantitative develop-
mental changes in cognition (and his related “structuralist”
approach to cognitive development)
• The importance attached to the active role of the person
in constructing his or her knowledge (with the implication
that learning through activity is more meaningful [than pas-
sive learning])
• A conception of mature adult thought (that is, formal
operations)
With the discover y of postformal operational thought, neo-
Piagetians have further expanded our understanding of cognitive
development. They have helped us recognize that cognitive devel-
opment occurs into adulthood (Knight & Sutton, 2004). Further,
the importance of contextual support such as “familiar materials,
opportunities for practice, analysis [and] interaction with others”
(p. 52) for adult learners cannot be underestimated. The more
types of support adult learners have, the more likely they are to
perform at high levels and to retain the learned information. Con-
versely, if they are not given the support or challenged to think at
higher levels, the understanding and retention of material will be
lower (Knight & Sutton, 2004).
Neo-Piagetian theories offer several implications for adult edu-
cators. First, students come to our classes at different cognitive lev-
els and thus interpret our course material and activities in different
ways. They operate at different levels during aclassperiod.Inaddi-
tion, assert Knight and Sutton (2004), older students have a higher
level of functioning than younger students and can access their
optimal levels more easily than younger students. They add, “Con-
sequently, in the college classroom, the cognitive gap is even wider
328 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
than a simple comparison of optimal levels would suggest. There-
fore, we add even more complex challenges to the educator of
adults” (p. 57).
In sum, Jean Piaget’s four stages of cognitive development pro-
vided the foundation for other models of cognitive development.
Neo-Piagetians augmented Piaget’s original theory in the follow-
ing ways: First, they recognized that people could use formal oper-
ational thought in one context and concrete operational thought
in another. Hence, cognitive change was not systemwide but local-
ized. Second, they introduced the idea of postformal thought; that
is, there is development past formal operations. These discoveries
have implicati o n s for adult ed uc a to r s . Adult educators now know
that cognitive development occurs in adulthood and that learning
affects this development. In addition, the importance of context
in adult learning is acknowledged.
LINEAR AND CATEGORICAL MODELS OF
ADULT COGNITIVE DEVELOPMENT
There are other models of cognitive development that differ from
Piaget’s and yet are also linear or categorical in nature. These writ-
ers come from a variety of disciplines and interests (for example,
college student development, women’ s development, psychology),
but all have the same interest in exploring how adult thinking
changes over time. A discussion of a number of these linear or cat-
egorical models of cognitive development follows.
Perry’s Developmental Scheme
Perry’s (1970, 1999) map of cognitive development is per haps the
best known and has been used the most often in the study of young
adults, most of whom have been college students. Based on a study
of the thinking patterns of Ivy League, White male college students,
Perry proposed a model of cognitive development consisting of
nine positions, each position representing a qualitatively different
way of interpreting learning experiences. Perry purposely chose the
word position over stage because “the notion of ‘position’ is happily
appropriate to the image of ‘point of outlook’ or ‘position from
which a person views his [sic] world’” (Perry, 1999, p. 54). As in
COGNITIVE DEVELOPMENT IN ADULTHOOD 329
Piaget’s work, each position is conceptualized as hierarchical and
sequential and moves from relatively simple thinking patterns to
highly complex ways of perceiving and evaluating knowledge. Peo-
ple move from viewing knowledge in “dualistic” terms, as either
right or wrong, to an acceptance of knowledge and values as “rel-
ativistic”—that is, the context of the knowledge is as important as
the knowledge itself. Perr y places as much emphasis on the tran-
sitions between each position as on the positions themselves and
observes: “Perhaps development is all transitions and ‘stages’ [are]
only resting points along the way” (1981, p. 78). Some examples
of Perry’s proposed positions and the transitions between them are
outlined as follows (see Perr y, 1970, 1981, 1999 for a complete
description):
Position 1: Authorities know, and if we work hard, read every word,
and learn the Right answers, all will be well.
Transition between Positions 1 and 2: But what about those Others I
hear about? And different opinions? And uncertainties? Some
of our own Authorities disagree with each other or don’t seem
to know, and some give us problems instead of answers.
Position 2: True Authorities must be Right, the Others are frauds.
We remain Right. Others must be different and wrong. . . .
Transition between Positions 5 and 6: But if everything is relative, am
I relative too? How can I know I’m making the Right Choice?
Position 6: I see I’m going to have to make my own decisions in an
uncertain world with no one to tell me I’m Right. . . .
Transition between Positions 8 and 9: Things are getting contradic-
tory. I can’t make logical sense out of life’s dilemmas.
Position 9: This is how life will be. I must be wholehearted while ten-
tative, fight for my values yet respect others, believe my deep-
est values are right yet be ready to learn. I see that I shall be
retracing this whole journey over and over—but, I hope, more
wisely. [Perry, 1981, p. 79]
Within this schema one can see shades of the conceptually
complex notions of dialectical thinking, which is discussed later in
this chapter, as well as the major theme of becoming more rela-
tivistic in one’s thought patterns as one matures.
330 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Each position is descriptive of individual cognitive growth, and
in addition, Perry’s positions have also been used to describe how
people view instructors’ roles and their own roles as learners.
Learners at the lowest positions, for example, tend to view instruc-
tors as authority figures; their job as learners is to filte r out the
right answers from the material presented. Those at the higher end
of the continuum view knowledge in a contextual sense and search
for relationships between ideas; they see instructors more as
guides.
The increasing diversity of the college student population has
prompted scholars to investigate the generalizability of Perr y’s
scheme with various student populations. Zhang (1999, 2004)
investigated the applicability of Perry’s scheme to both American
and Chinese college students. He conducted five studies between
1994 and 2000 using the Zhang Cognitive Development Inventory
(ZCDI), which is based on Perry’s schemes. In the five studies that
he conducted, he found that Chinese college students’ cognitive
development was opposite that of Perry’s scheme. That is, students
traversed from a more relativistic viewpoint toward a more dualis-
tic viewpoint. In the two studies in which Americans were included,
the dualistic-relativistic-commitment progression did not hold for
American students in the second study, but it did in the first.
Zhang (2004) hypothesized that changing American values may
explain why Perry’s order of cognitive development was not evi-
dent. He indicated that mainland China’s approach to higher edu-
cation, which limits students’ opportunities for making choices,
may explain why students in the study moved toward more dualis-
tic thinking. He cautioned, however, that these conclusions were
not final and recommended that qualitative research procedures
and longitudinal studies would give a richer picture of Chinese stu-
dents’ cognitive development. Likewise Johnson (2000) noted that
Perry’s scale, normed on White, traditional-age college students,
did not account for cultural differences between Whites and
African Americans.
Most of the work using Perry’s schema with older adults has
produced contradictor y results. Lavallee, Gourde, and Rodier
(1990) and Wilson (1996) found that the majority of their respon-
dents were at Positions 3 or 4 (multiplicity) on Perr y’s scheme,
while Cameron’ s (1983) subjects were primarily at Position 2 (dual-
ist). In a cross-sectional study, Hood and Deopere (2002) found
COGNITIVE DEVELOPMENT IN ADULTHOOD 331
that “as age increased, r e l a t i v i sm scores tended to decrea se ” even
when researchers controlled for intelligence and education (p.
233). This finding reinforces the stereotype that older people are
more set in their ways and “less capable or willing to handle com-
plexity in their thought processes” (p. 233). In addition, the find-
ings of Wilson (1996) and Lavallee, Gourde, and Rodier (1990)
differed on the imp ortance of the level of education in terms of
reaching higher levels of cognitive developme nt. Wilson (1996)
and Hood and Deopere (2002) found that those with a higher
education scored higher on Perry’s scale while Lavallee, Gourde,
and Rodier (1990) concluded that level of education had little
effect on the cognitive development of their subjects.
In sum, Perry’s cognitive development model, based on the
thinking patterns of White, Ivy League traditional-age college stu-
dents, suggests that individuals move from dualistic (right-wrong)
thinking toward dialectical thinking, where students are able to
hold contradictory notions in their mind. Recent studies have indi-
cated that the model may not account for cultural differences
(Johnson, 2000; Zhang, 2004). Further, some studies show that
older adults may show more dualistic thinking than younger adults
(Hood & Deopere, 2002; Wilson, 1996).
THE REFLECTIVE JUDGMENT MODEL
King and Kitchener, like Perry, have also constructed a stage model.
Influenced by the developmental traditions of Perry (1970), Piaget
(1972), and Kohlberg (1981), they examine the development of
“epistemic assumptions” or “reflective thinking from late adoles-
cence through adulthood” (King & Kitchener, 2004, pp. 5–6). The
authors focus on how people mak e judgments about complex or
“ill-structured” problems that “cannot be defined with a high degree
of completeness, and . . . cannot be solved with a high degree of cer-
tainty” (p. 5). Examples include such controversial issues as “the
accuracy of news reporting, the creation of human beings, and
the safety of nuclear power” (pp. 10–11).
According to this complex stage model, people move through
seven stages, with the final two stages encompassing the more
mature thinking patterns of what King and Kitchener call reflective
thinking (King & Kitchener, 1994, 2004). In Stages 1, 2, and 3
(labeled prereflective thinking), people assume that knowledge comes
332 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
from authority figures or is gained through personal experience.
Individuals in these stages do not see problems as ill-structured,
but rather view all problems as having complete and right answers.
In Stages 4 and 5 (quasi-reflective reasoning), people define knowl-
edge in terms of uncertainty and are more subjective in their think-
ing. Although they understand that ill-defined problems exist, they
have trouble dealing with the ambiguity of those problems and
tend to respond in very individualistic ways. In the final two stages
of thinking (Stages 7 and 8), knowledge is no longer a given.
Rather, knowledge, especially knowledge used to solve life’s ill-
structured problems, may have to be constructed by the person,
and this knowledge must be understood in the context in which it
was generated. Decisions and judgments people make, although
they must be grounded in relevant data, should remain open to
evaluation and reevaluation (King & Kitchener, 1994, 2004). It is
important to note that individuals do not fit neatly into one par-
ticular stage. People can use Stage 4 reasoning and can also evi-
dence Stage 3 epistemic assumptions. King and Kitchener note
that the development of reflective thinking is more like “waves
across a mixture of stages, where the peak of the wave is the most
commonly used set of assumptions” (King, Kitchener, & Wood,
1994, p. 140).
The sample for their original ten-year longitudinal study con-
sisted of male and female students. The sample included twenty
high school juniors, forty twenty-one-year-old college juniors, and
twenty doctoral students whose average age was twenty-eight (King
&Kitchener,2002).Subsequentstudieshaveincludednonstudent
adults. As the result of thousands of interviews, King and Kitchener
(2004) have come to the following conclusions: “(a) There are
striking differences in people’s underlying assumptions about
knowledge or epistemic assumptions; (b) these differences in
assumptions are related to the way people make and justify their
own judgments about ill-structured problems; and (c) there is a
developmental sequence in t he patter ns of responses and judg-
ments about such problems” (p. 5).
A great deal of research has been completed using the reflec-
tive judgment model (see King & Kitchener, 1994, 2002). Research
has centered on validating whether the stages in the model form a
developmental sequence. In addition, scholars have examined the
impact of education, gender, and ethnicity on reflective judgment
COGNITIVE DEVELOPMENT IN ADULTHOOD 333
and the relationship of reflective judgment to other intellectual and
personality constructs (King & Kitchener, 2002). As previously
noted, there appears to be a developmental sequence to the model.
Further, there is a trend for older, more educated participants to
score higher on the reflective judgment model than younger, less-
educated individuals. Results on differences in reflective judgment
by gender are mixed. King and Kitchener caution readers that
“samples differ on many variables beyond gender (such as ability
and educational level), and [we] suggest that these should be
examined when interpreting gender differences” (p. 49).
There has been scant research on reflective judgment and eth-
nicity. Two studies that examined ethnicity (Latino-Latina and
African American) revealed similar reflective judgment scores to
Whites (King & Kitchener, 2002). King and Kitchener report,
“Prior studies have show that RJ [reflective judgment] is related to
but not the same as academic aptitude, verbal ability, formal oper-
ations, or traditional measures of critical thin king” (200 2, p. 50).
There also appears to be some overlap with Belenky et al.’s (1986)
Women’s Ways of Knowing, but “only to the extent that the Belenky et
al. interview asks epistemic questions and scores for that category”
(p. 51). Regarding the relationship between reflect ive judgment
and personality constructs, there seems to be moderate correla-
tions between RJ and tolerance for diversity. Kozak (1996, as cited
in King & Kitchener, 2002) found that people wit h higher reflec-
tive judgment scores “can access their feelings in the process of
decision making, but aren’t ruled by their feelings” (p. 53). The
authors conclude that although personality variables may be
related to reflective judgment, reflective judgment is a separate
construct.
Recent research utilizing the reflective judgment model
includes an investigation of the relationship between personality
traits and reflective judgment among female undergraduates and
graduates in teacher education programs (Friedman, 2004), the
epistemological development of Finnish adults (Pirttilä-Backman
& Kajanne, 2001), and the reflective judgment scores of seminar-
ians over time (Dale, 2005). In the study concerning the episte-
mological development of Finnish adults, fifty-nine adults were
inter viewed in the mid-1980s and again in the early 1990s using
King and Kitchener’s Reflective Judgment Interview. Participants
ranged in age from twenty-four to fifty in the follow-up interviews.
334 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Their post–high school education included graduation from a
vocational institute or university in the technical, medical-nursing,
or social science fields. Formal education contributed to “epistemic
development . . . through middle adulthood” (Pirttilä-Backman &
Kajanne, 2001, p. 90). In addition, being exposed to a variety of
information and diverse associations with others appeared to pro-
mote epistemic development in adulthood.
There seem to be similarities between the Perry scheme and the
model developed by King and Kitchener. For example, both start with
the assumption that people progress from a dualistic to a relativistic
form of thinking. However, King and Kitchener incorporate the idea
of knowledge construction in their model while Perr y focuses on
expanding his ideas of using relativistic thinking in a responsible way.
Although a great deal of research has been completed using the
reflective judgment model, few studies have been completed with
adults outside the higher education setting. Attention to adult pop-
ulations outside of the higher education setting would increase the
generalizability of the reflective judgment model and would expand
the understanding of people’ s personal epistemology.
WOMEN’S WAY S O F KNOWING
In reaction to the early work of Perry (1970), Kohlberg (1973), and
others in which primarily male samples were used, researchers
became more interested in hearing the voices of women on devel-
opmental issues. The most prominent and often-quoted study on
cognitive development using a sample of women is the work of
Belenky, Clinchy, Goldberger, and Tarule: Women’s Ways of Know-
ing (1986). These researchers inter viewed women from diverse
social and ethnic backgrounds from two major settings: different
types of academic institutions and parenting classes. From their in-
depth interviews of 135 women of different ages, classes, and eth-
nic backgrounds, “based on the theoretical and empirical work of
Perry, Kohlberg, and Gilligan” (p. 14), Belenky et al. grouped
women’s perspectives on knowing into five major categories:
1. Silence—apositioninwhichwomenexperiencethemselvesas
mindless and voiceless and subject to the whims of externa l
authority. (They are passive, feel incompetent, and are defined
by others.)
COGNITIVE DEVELOPMENT IN ADULTHOOD 335
2. Received knowledge— aperspectivefromwhichwomenconceive
of themselves as capable of receiving, even reproducing, knowl-
edge from the all-knowing external authorities but not capable
of creating knowledge on their own. (They listen to the voices
of others; their world is literal and concrete, good or bad.)
3. Subjective knowledge— aperspectivefromwhichtruthandknowl-
edge are conceived of as personal, private, and subjectively
known or intuited. (The locus of truth shifts to the self; intu-
ition is valued over logic and abstraction; here women begin to
gain a voice. Half the women in the study were in this category.)
4. Procedural knowledge—apositioninwhichwomenareinvested
in learning and applying objective procedures for obtaining and
communicating knowledge. (This position takes two forms:
separate knowing—the self is separate from the object of dis-
course, making it possible to doubt and reason—and connected
knowing—there is intimacy and equality between the self and
the object of discourse, based on empathetic understanding.)
5. Constructed knowledge—apositioninwhichwomenviewall
knowledge as contextual, experience themselves as creators of
knowledge, and value both subjective and objective strategies
for knowing. (This stage is characterized by the development
of an authentic voice.)
These categories, which are not necessarily fixed or universal,
move from the simple to the complex—from having no voice, to
being able to value and create different ways of knowing that are
contextual in nature. Although these authors do not assert that the
categories constitute specific stages of cognitive development, they
appear to present them as such, and some people continue to
interpret them in this way (Goldberger, 1996b).
Reflecting on fifteen years of research, Clinchy (2002) lent
some additional insight to a couple of positions. She realized the
Silence position was much more common than previously realized,
regardless of class. She also noted that the categorization of women
into five broad categories did not allow for subtle distinctions
between women in that category. For example, she indicated that
most Received Knowers in their sample were young college stu-
dents or older, poor women. Clinchy stated, “Received K nowing
may take a different form among, say, a sample of prosperous
336 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
middle-aged people. . . . Received Knowing cannot be quite the
same for a first-year student in an elite college . . . and a fifty-year-
old with minimal formal education” (pp. 68–69).
Scholars see similarities and differences between the Women’s
Ways of Knowing (WWK) positions and other epistemological mod-
els. Clinchy (2002) states that there are parallels between Perry’s
(1970) dualistic position and Women’s Ways of Knowing position of
received knowledge. In both cases, the knowers see “the world in
terms of black and white, right and wrong” (Clinchy, 2002, p. 66).
Likewise, subjective knowledge has similarities to Perr y’s (1970)
multiplicity position, and WWK’s constructed knowing is similar to
Perry ’s Position 5—relativism (Clinchy, 2002). However, Baron
(2003), who used “factor, correlational, and comparative analysis”
to assess the relationships between Perr y’s scale and WWK, found
that “the two theories are largely independent of each other” (p. x).
Baron believes that Perry does not address “the concept of know-
ing in relationship and caring” while WWK explicitly acknowledges
these factors (p. 55). Further, Perry presents his theory in a sequen-
tial fashion, whereas the WWK authors do not see cognitive devel-
opment as a linear progression.
WWK’s final category of constructed knowing seems compara-
ble with the findings of King and Kitchener (1994, 2004) and
Baxter Magolda (1992; Baxter Magolda’s work is reviewed in the
following section). For example, King and Kitchener (2004) speak
to the importance of contextual knowing and constructing one’s
own knowledge as characteristic of their final two stages, and
Baxter Magolda (1992) stresses the integration of relational
(subjective) and impersonal (objective) knowing as key to what she
terms contextual knowing. These appar ent similarities add con-
firmation to the work of Belenky and her colleagues and are in line
with their original interpretations of their research.
As with other epistemological models, scholars have several crit-
icisms of the WWK theor y. First, they argue th at it is essentialis t
rather than constructivist. Clinchy refutes this criticism, saying, “We
did not argue that the positions we described applied only to
women, although we speculated that for various reasons, the posi-
tions might take somewhat different form in men” (2002, p. 79). Sec-
ond, critics note that the theor y does not take into consideration
“the role of social positionality and oppression in the construction of
COGNITIVE DEVELOPMENT IN ADULTHOOD 337
knowledge” (Goldberger, 1996b, p. 8). Goldberger agrees that this
is a weakness of the theor y, but says th ey have “listened to and
learned from women of color and other culture theorists . . . , [and]
have become much more alert to the situational and cultural deter-
minants of knowing and to the relationship of power and knowl-
edge” (p. 8). Cultural differences were also not explored in the
WWK theory. However, the influence of culture on knowing has
become of interest to the authors as the result of subsequent con-
versations. Last, the theory is thought to “endorse . . . the superi-
ority of antirationalist, subjectivist epistemologies” (p. 9).
Goldberger (1996b) replies that the authors value both connected
and separate knowing and do not champion one above the other.
The WWK theory has generated much discussion around issues
of gender and epistemological development. Clinchy (2002, p. 85)
recommends that future research examine “development within
rather than across domains” in the form of longitudinal case stud-
ies in order to get a better understanding of what factors promote
epistemological development.
EPISTEMOLOGICAL REFLECTION MODEL
Marcia Baxter Magolda (1992) originally developed the episte-
mological reflection model to demonstrate the epistemological
reasoning of college students. Later, she extended her work to
young adults beyond their college experience. Like others who
have studied cognitive development, Baxter Magolda’s work is
grounded in the assumption that ways of knowing are socially con-
structed and context bound.
Baxter Magolda (1992, p. 29) followed a group of seventy pre-
dominantly White male and female college students over five years,
interviewing them yearly, and discovered “four qualitatively differ-
ent ways of knowing, each characterized by a core set of epistemic
assumptions”: absolute knowing, transitional knowing, independent
knowing, and contextual know ing. Students told stories of moving
from being certain about what they knew, to uncertainty, and
finally to being able to integrate information from diverse points
of view in order to apply that knowledge in a particular context.
Baxter Magolda noted that only a small percentage of students
used contextual knowing while in college. Like Perry’s (1999) and
338 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
King and Kitchener’ s (2004) work, Baxter Magolda provides excel-
lent descriptions of what this work means for practice in highe r
education.
Unlike the work on the Perry (1981) and King and Kitchener
(1994) schemes, Baxter Magolda found patterns of thinking within
each of the ways of knowing that were gender related. Baxter
Magolda (2004) explains, “I use the term gender related to convey
that women or men in the project used one pattern more but the
patterns were not exclusive to one gender” (p. 34). For example,
in the absolute knowing category, two patterns emerged: listening-
recording and mastery. Women focused on listening and record-
ing information to learn from authorities while men were more
likely to use the mastery pattern, which meant they participated in
class and actively showed their mastery of material (Baxter
Magolda, 2004).
Baxter Magolda (2004) extended her original study and fol-
lowed students for another two years after they graduated from col-
lege. She found tha t when her participants exhibited contextual
knowing, their ways of knowing were no longer gender related.
Rather, as they took on different adult roles, their patterns of think-
ing within this contextual framework became more integrated.
More specifically, the patterns of relational and impersonal modes
of knowing, which characterize contextual knowing, were used in
an integrative fashion: “Contextual knowing required connecting
to others and to the subject to be known, yet at the same time
required standing back to analyze the situation” (pp. 37–38). (Her
descriptions of contextual knowing echo somewhat the descrip-
tions of “constructed knowledge” described by Belenky, Clinchy,
Goldberger, & Tarule, 1986.) However, Baxter Magolda was puz-
zled at recent college graduates’ need to continue to “look to
external sources for guidance” despite their advanced epistemo-
logical positions (Baxter Magolda, 2004, p. 38). She stated, “On
leaving college, longitudinal participants did what they had been
taught to do best—follow authorities’ leads to manage uncertainty”
(p. 38). She continued to interview participants “for 12 years after
their college graduation” (p. 39) and found that participants put
external authority in perspective as they began to author their own
lives. Baxter Magolda (2004) explained, “Becoming the author of
one’s life meant taking responsibility for one’ s beliefs, identity, and
COGNITIVE DEVELOPMENT IN ADULTHOOD 339
relationships. The internal voice became the coordinator of
meaning-making in all three dimensions of development” (p. 40).
As a result, people opened themselves to change and ambiguity
and authored their own epistemologies.
From these longitudinal interviews with undergraduates,
Baxter Magolda and King (2004) developed a learning partner-
ships model where they “identified conditions that promote self-
authorship” (p. 41). The authors listed three assumptions and
three key principles of educational practice. The assumptions were
as follows: First, environments that promoted self-authorship con-
veyed “knowledge as complex and socially constructed” (p. 41).
Individuals had to grapple with multiple interpretations and ambi-
guity. Second, these environments recognized that “self is central
to knowledge construction” (p. 42). Third, “authority and exper-
tise were shared in the mutual construction of knowledge” (p. 42).
These assumptions were demonstrated by educators and employ-
ers in connection with the three principals of educational practice.
The first principle was “validating learners’ capacity to know” (p.
42). Employers and teachers solicited students’ opinions and
demonstrated that knowledge is constructed. Second, employers
situated learners’ experiences. Employees’ knowledge was used as
a“basisforcontinuedlearninganddecisionmaking”(p.43).The
last principle, “mutually constructing meaning” (p. 43), was shown
when experts and learners constructed knowledge together to
arrive at more complex understandings of the material.
THE TRANSCENDENCE VIEW
A very different view of cognitive development has emerged from
scholars writing from the perspective of transpersonal psychology.
Washburn (2000), among others (see Wilber , 1990), has extended
models of cognitive development beyond the rational level by iden-
tifying deeper structures in the mind that undergird higher or
transpersonal levels of consciousness. An important component of
these theories is Consciousness of human beings, with a capital C,
which denotes “the un limited reservoir from which we dra w per-
sonal, ego-centered awareness. Our individual Consciousness is an
infinitesimal spark within the eternal flame of Universal Con-
sciousness” (Nuernberger, 1994, p. 96). When we allow ourselves
to move beyond our own individual limits of time and space—our
340 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
individual Consciousness—a whole ne w world of expanded Con-
sciousness with limitless boundaries, almost mystical in nature, is
open to us.
Washburn (2000) cites several characteristics of transpersonal
cognition. First, our consciousness goes beyond ourselves or our
egos. We are more open to images. Second, transpersonal cognition
is not only a cognitive occurrence but includes “feeling, instinct . . .
asenseofbeinginthemidstoforinfusedbyanawesomeenergy”
(p. 204). This energy amplifies our awareness. Third, transpersonal
cognition is initially unstable and becomes more stable as it devel-
ops. In short, transpersonal cognition is a deep awakening. Wash-
burn writes, “As Socrates put it, wisdom cannot be taught; we must
awaken to it, and this awakening is not an isolated cognitive event
but is, rather, a transformation of our whole being” (p. 207).
Wilber’s (1986) model of transpersonal cognitive develop-
ment has nine stages. The last two levels illustrate well the
transpersonal nature of the theory. The subtle level, Level 7, is
based on “a truly trans-rational structure . . . not emotionalism or
merely felt meaning . . . or hunch” (Wilber, 1982, p. 30). Rather,
phrases such as illumination of the spirit, intuition as an elemental
sense, and mystical awareness characterize the thinking of this devel-
opmental level. The eighth level, the causal state, indisputably
moves individuals beyond themselves. As described by Wilber
(1983, p. 97), “This is total and utter transcendence and release
into Formless Consciousness, Boundless Radiance. There is here
no self, no God, no final-God, no subjects, no thingness, apart or
other than consciousness as such.”
In reviewing these and other theoretical models of adult cog-
nitive development, what becomes apparent is there are two themes
that many of these theories address: first, higher stages of cognitive
development in some models suggest the presence of dialectical
thinking in adulthood—that is, the acceptance of inherent contra-
dictions and alternative truths—and second, context, including the
acceptance of cultural differences, is critical in determining what
thinking patterns in adulthood really mean. The discussions of
dialectical thinking have a long history in adult cognitive develop-
ment, beginning with the work of Riegel (1973) and others. In con-
trast, viewing the contextual dimensions of development is more
recent. Both of these themes, and representative work illustrating
the themes, are discussed in the next two sections.
COGNITIVE DEVELOPMENT IN ADULTHOOD 341
DIALECTICAL THINKING
Our modern world is rife with contradictions and paradoxes. We
have the capability to clone cells, with the possibility for great
advances in medicine and many other areas, yet at the same ti m e
we fear what might be constructed with this technology. We erad-
icate one dreaded disease and other vicious diseases take its place.
We can replace most body parts at will, but ethically cannot decide
who should get the limited supply of these parts. And the list keeps
expanding to the point where Kegan (1994), among others, views
us literally “in over our heads” in responding to a world of contin-
uous change and disparities.
Conflict and contradictions in adult life are not new phenom-
ena; rather, they may just be more apparent now because we can
often see and hear them up close through televisio n and other
technological formats. In addition, what used to be intensely per-
sonal, such as the beginning and the end of life, has also become
public knowledge. Should a woman be allowed to decide to abort
an unwanted child? Who has the right to end someone’s life?
These are just a few of the questions debated in the public forum.
In responding to life’s inhe rent con tradictions and complexities,
anumberofauthorshavepositedthatdialecticalwaysofthinking
must become part of the way adults think. In essence, thinking in
adialecticsenseallowsfortheacceptanceofalternativetruthsor
ways of thinking about similar phenomena that abound in every-
day adult life. One might abhor killing, for example, and yet
silently applaud the gentle person who switches off the life-support
system of her spouse who is suffering beyond relief from a termi-
nal illness.
One of the earliest and most thoughtful theorists to describe
dialectical thinking was Riegel (1973, 1975, 1976). According to
Riegel (1973, p. 350), “[D]ialectic conceptualization characterizes
the origin of thought in the individual and in society [and] repre-
sents a necessary synthesis in the development of th ough t toward
maturity.” In describing the dialectic thought process, Riegel
(1973, 1975) proposed a corresponding mode of dialectic opera-
tions to stand beside Piaget’s formal system. The key to this alter-
native system is the inclusion of the dialectic, or the acceptance of
inherent contradictions and ambiguities in thought processes, at
all developmental levels and not just as part of the more mature
342 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
thought of adulthood. “The skills and competence in one area of
concern, for instance in sciences, might be of the type of formal
dialectic operations, while in everyday business transactions, might
be of the type of concrete dialectic operations,” and so on (Riegel,
1973, p. 365). Riegel’s basic assumptions are that people do not
have to pass through any of the Piagetian levels to reach the higher
levels of thinking within the dialectic framework and that people
can operate simultaneously on all levels. In proposing this system,
Riegel (1973, p. 366) argued that people are not only ready to live
with life’s inherent contradictions and ambiguities but will accept
“these contradictions as a basic property of thought and creativity.”
Unlike Riegel, however, some writers view dialectical thought
as evolving from the formal stages Piaget proposed. Benack and
Basseches (1989, p. 98), for example, in exploring dialectical think-
ing as a postformal stage of thought, have developed a “dialectical
schemata framework” consisting of twenty-four schemata repre-
senting different “moves in thought that dialectical thinkers tend
to make.” These schemata were abstracted from “writings reflect-
ing dialectic world-outlooks” (Basseches, 1984, p. 72) and inter-
views with college students and professors about the nature of
education. Basseches claims that “some of the dialectical schemata
describe ways of introducing dialectical perspectives on existence
and knowledge into processes of inquir y. Others describe ways of
maintaining dialectical movement within one’s own thought” (p.
73). Based on his research, Basseches has suggested that there are
actually four phases to the development of mature dialectical
thinking. (See Basseches, 1984, and Benack & Basseches, 1989, for
a full description of these phases.)
Kegan (1994), framing his work from both a psychological and
contextual approach, proposes a level-of-consciousness model that
incorporates dialectical thinking as part of the highest level of con-
sciousness. His assumption in proposing this model is that the “hid-
den curriculum” of modern life necessitates different ways of
thinking and “a new conception of consciou sness thresholds individ-
uals may have to reach in order to satisfy contemporar y expecta-
tions of love and work” (p. 11). Through examples of real-world
demands on our private lives (parenting and partnering) and our
public lives (work, dealing with differences, healing, and learning),
Kegan (1994) explains how our thinking must continue to evolve
through several levels of consciousness in order to navigate our
COGNITIVE DEVELOPMENT IN ADULTHOOD 343
complex lives. First, adults need to discern how to use their men-
tal capacities in social situations. This form of thinking moves
adults from the concrete world (having a point of view), to abstrac-
tions (being able to build inferences and hypotheses), to abstract
systems (conceiving relations between abstractions), and finally to
dialectical thinking (testing of paradoxical and contradictory for-
mulations). Dialectical thinking thus becomes the hallmark of
mature adult thinking.
Kegan argues that this pressing demand for dialectical think-
ing comes from our need as adults to respond to what he terms
“culture’s curriculum”—that is, the mental demands the post-
modern world places on us. Kegan, like Riegel and Kramer, also
views contradictions and paradoxes as inevitable and at the heart
of the dialectical process. He then adds a new framework to this
process: trans-systems thinking. What is key in this trans-systems
way of thinking is that the parties or systems in conflict move
beyond trying to “win” for their position, even the most desired of
outcomes—the “win-win” position. Rather, what is needed is the
recognition that “the other side will not go away, [and] probably
should not. The conflict is potentially a reminder of our tendency
to pretend to completeness when we are in fact incomplete”
(Kegan, 1994, p. 319). Therefore, we must acknowledge and value
the thought processes that brought about these conflictual rela-
tionships, knowing they are often based in fundamental ideological
differences. We need to work within these relationships, miserable
as that might be, to advance our ways of thinking and working.
In working together, the parties or systems in these conflictual
relationships must then focus on transforming who they are versus
trying to solve the conflict. As Kegan (1994, p. 345) goes on to
observe:
This view does not mean that the challengers are co-opted into the
status quo. It means that the old status quo is replaced by a new sta-
tus quo. It does not mean that blacks can come into the office only
if they act white. It does not mean that women’s experience is
included in the curriculum simply by changing pronouns and mak-
ing a “Michael” example into a “Mary” example. It means that for-
merly marginalized people will come into the office, and they will
344 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
have their own distinctive way of seeing things, setting the agenda,
getting the goals accomplished; and it means that these ways will be
recognized, acknowledged, and respected, provided that some
common ground can be found where all contending “cultures” in
their wholeness and distinctness can stand. This common ground
becomes, in effect, a new status quo and a new ideology, but a
much more wholesome one.
From his longitudinal work, Kegan (1994) has found that most
people do not even enter the fourth level of consciousness until
their forties. Kegan sees our expanded life span as a wonderful
opportunity to develop our consciousness to this fifth level. From
Kegan’s perspective, “Highly evolved people do not mate and cre-
ate highly evolved children. The evolution of human conscious-
ness requires long preparation. We may gradually become ever
more ready to engage the curriculum of the fifth order because we
have found ways to increase the number of years we live” (p. 352).
Some studies on dialectical thought include the vie w that cul-
ture shapes the process. Peng and Nisbett (1999) describe differ-
ences between Western and Eastern thought. First, they delineate
three principles to Chinese dialectical epistemology. First is the prin-
ciple of change, which says that reality is a dynamic, flexible process.
Existence does not consist of two categories: life and death. Instead,
life is a “constant passing of one stage to another” (p. 743). Second
is the principle of contradiction, which says that reality is full of con-
tradictions. “Two sides of any contradiction exist in an active har-
mony, opposed but connected and mutually controlling” (p. 743).
Third is the “principle of relationship or holism” (p. 743). Every-
thing is connected and an entity is more than the sum of its parts.
Next, Peng and Nisbett maintain that Western thought rests on laws
of formal Aristotelian logic. The law of identity dictates that every-
thing is what it is. A equals A. The law of noncontradiction says that
“no statement can be both true and false” (p. 744).
Peng and Nisbett (1999) selected Chinese and American
dialectical and nondialectical proverbs for American and Chinese
undergraduates to read. A dialectical proverb, for example would
be “Beware of your fri e n ds , not your en e m i e s , ” which contradicts
the very definition of friendship (p. 744). A nondialectical proverb
COGNITIVE DEVELOPMENT IN ADULTHOOD 345
might be “One against all is certain to fall” (p. 744). Americans pre-
ferred nondialectical American proverbs, while the Chinese
preferred dialectical Chinese proverbs. In a separate study, Chi-
nese and American undergraduates were asked to read vignettes
and suggest resolutions to the conflicts. Americans suggested non-
dialectical solutions more often than their Chinese counterpar ts,
while Chinese proposed dialectical solutions more often than their
American colleagues. Peng and Nisbitt determined that Western-
ers take a more analytic approach to problems, while Easterners
have a more holistic approach.
Caroline Ho (2004) takes issue with these findings in her dis-
sertation. She examined the dialectical reasoning of 196 Chinese
Canadians and European Canadians. She found no difference
between groups in dialectic reasoning ability, suggesting that
“dialectical thinking skills may be more universal; however, the
“tendency to display those skills may be more culture specific”
(p. ii).
Nisbett’s 2003 book, The Geography of Thought: How Asians and
Westerners Think Differently . . . and Why, explores these cultural dif-
ferences in detail. He contends that that we do think quite differ-
ently, in part because of the Greek heritage of the West versus the
Confucian-Chinese philosophy of the East:
The ancient Greeks were fond of categories and used them as the
basis for discovery and application of rules. They also believed in
stability and understood both the physical and social worlds in
terms of fixed attributes or dispositions. These are not unrelated
facts, nor is it a coincidence that the ancient Chinese were uninter-
ested in categories, believed in change, and understood the behav-
ior of both physical and social objects as being due to the
interaction of the object with the surrounding field of forces. . . .
[For example], there is the whiteness of the horse or the whiteness
of the snow in ancient Chinese philosophy, but not whiteness as an
abstract, detachable concept that can be applied to almost any-
thing. [pp. 152–153]
Clearly, there are intriguing questions yet to be explored about
the role of culture in cognitive development—and “if the nature
of thought is not everywhere the same” (Nisbett, 2003, p. 211),
then what are the implications for educators?
346 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
THE CONTEXTUAL PERSPECTIVE
When we read through the many theories of cognitive develop-
ment, some of us might resonate better than other people with
these theories. We may wrestle with ideas presented in various the-
ories and reflect later on how powerful being exposed to different
ways of thinking has been. Acknowledging the contextual factors
of cognitive development—that is, taking into account how social,
cultural, economic, and political forces shape the development of
adult thinking—completes the picture. Our theories and models
need to be altered and perhaps totally revamped when these con-
textual aspects are seriously considered by scholars studying adult
cognitive development. The work of Labouvie-Vief (1992) and the
work of Goldberger (1996a) are used to illustrate how scholars con-
sider context as central to cognitive development.
Labouvie-Vief (1980, 1984) was one of the earlier scholars to
acknowledge the importance of contextual factors in cognitive
development. Labouvie-Vief challenged the more accepted notion
at that time that the perfection of formal logic was the ultimate
goal of adult th inking. Rather, Labouvie-Vief contends that a dif-
ferent form of thinking must be integrated into one’s model of
adult cognitive development: “While the theme of youth is flexi-
bility, the hallmark of adulthood is commitment and respons ibil-
ity. Careers must be started, intimacy bonds formed, children
raised. In short, in a world of a multitude of logical possibilities,
one course of action must be adopted. This conscious commitment
to one pathway and the deliberate disregard of other logical
choices may mark the onset of adult maturity” (1980, p. 153).
Therefore, what may have been conceived of as a regression in
later life to Piaget’s notion of concrete thought patterns is, rather,
apositiveadaptationtotherealitiesofadultlife.Onekeyfactorin
being able to adapt to these new ways of thinking is the ability to
accept and even thrive on contradiction. This in turns leads
to acceptance of the notion of inherent relativity of knowledge and
the ability to be self-regulating in choosing one’s worldview.
Labouvie-Vief (1990, p. 256), expanding on her earlier work,
postulates that “it may be variables related [more] to one’s social
context than to one’s age that account for particular develop-
mental gradients” in cognition. Therefore, if one wishes to discover
COGNITIVE DEVELOPMENT IN ADULTHOOD 347
changes and patterns in cognitive development, it might be more
fruitful to examine groups of people who share pertinent life events
and experiences versus people of a certain chronological age group.
For example, age has been most often cited as the marker by which
cognitive declines are measured. Labouvie-Vief (1990) instead asks
the question of whether a major life eve nt, such as retirement,
“could be the cause of the ubiquitous decline in cognitive function-
ing” (p. 263). In posing this framework, Labouvie-Vief is echoing the
sentiments of those studying personal and intellectual development
from a sociocultural or contextual perspective.
In more recent work, Labouvie-Vief has examined the rela-
tionship between cognitive complexity and cognitive-affective inte-
gration (Labouvie-Vief & Diehl, 2000). A person’s cognitive
complexity was shown by tests that measured cr ystallized intelli-
gence (cultural knowledge), fluid intellige nce (on- the-spot rea-
soning not dependent on experience but tied to how fa st we can
respond to stimuli), and reflective cognition (the complexity
of thought demonstrated in thinking about oneself). Cognitive-
affective integration was demonstrated by the level of a person’s
coping strategies and defense mechanisms as shown by answers to
the California Psychological Inventory–based coping and defense
scales. The study showed an interconnection between cognitive
complexity and cognitive-affective integration. Those who were
more “culturally advantaged and of higher cognitive complexity
are more likely to show integrated coping” (p. 501). However,
for those who “feel a sense of vulnerability vis-à-vis their family of
origin, the two domains may be somewhat disconnected” (p. 501).
In short, the study demonstrated the importance of environment
on cognitive-affective integration.
Goldberger (1996a), from interviews with approximately sixty
bicultural individuals, primarily women, living in the United States,
has added different dimensions of meanings to all of the original
categories of knowing that she and Belenky, Clinchy, Goldberger,
and Tarule (1986) had described. Goldberger found that the posi-
tion of “not knowing,” that of silence, for example, is a much more
complicated phenomenon than was described in Women’s Ways of
Knowing. Rather, how silence is defined can be culturally deter-
mined and is actually a positive way of knowing for some. In Amer-
ican Indian cultures, “silence is taught [as something to be
348 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
respected] within their tribal groups. . . . Allaq [a member of the
Inuit nation] remembers the ‘nic e silence’ of many children in a
room, listening as the elders told stories. Hard Rider [a member
of the Canadian West Coast Dtidahy band], struggling to learn
from his grandfather how to be a tribal leader, had already recog-
nized the advantages of silent and respectful listening” (Gold-
berger, 1996a, p. 343). Goldberger also highlights the importance
of silence for others, such as Afric an-A meric an women, as a tacti-
cal strategy for “negotiating life in white communities or work-
places” (p. 345). This distinction of types of silence has led
Goldberger to differentiate between those who are truly silenced
“by oppressive and demeaning life conditions who feel powerless,
mindless, and truly without words . . . from individuals who resort
to strategic or culturally and ritually endorsed silence, but who may
have other well-developed ways of acquiring, even constructing
knowledge” (p. 346). In reframing the original categories from a
contextual perspective, Goldberger views them more as strategies
for knowing than as “person types” to which individuals are
assigned based on their response patterns. In conceptualizing
these categories as knowing strategie s , one can then explore how
contextual factors limit or expand our ways of knowing and allow
us to speak of different uses or even meanings of each of the ways
of knowing.
In this review of the work of Labouvie-Vief, Goldberger, and
others on the contextual perspective of cognitive development, two
important points become apparent.
First, the majority of the mainstream theory in adult cognitive
development is “based largely on the findings from a mainly White,
well-educated U.S. population” (Hofer & Pintrich, 1997, p. 89).
There is a paucity of studies that incorporate people of color or
different social classes or that examine cross-cultural differences.
It appears from studies where the contextual aspect is acknowl-
edged that people from varying backgrounds may define and value
knowledge quite differently. Goldberger (1996a), for example,
shares three stories from bicultural women living in the United
States: Kat, a South American–born woman of mestizo background
who is a counselor; Allaq, a Native Alaskan of the Inuit people and
ahealthworker;andToshi,anAfrican-Americanprofessorrecently
granted tenure:
COGNITIVE DEVELOPMENT IN ADULTHOOD 349
Kat: My grandmother [who is a shaman] would teach me the differ-
ence between thinking that you know something and knowing it.
She would take me out into the woods and have me sense becom-
ing things. Not just looking and describing what I saw. I had to be
the tree, I had to be the rock, I was the bird. Some of that [kind of
knowing] is helped with the sacred medicine plants. They allow
one to open up many different channels and get all the informa-
tion possible. Whereas [simply] thinking about something feels like
it is a very narrow band, a very narrow channel.
Allaq: As a child, I learned a lot just listening to the elders. They
talked about the way of living of the Yupik people. . . . Knowledge is
part of the soul. You have to learn it spiritually in every aspect of
life—spiritually, mentally, emotionally, physically, socially, as a
whole person. Yugarag is passed through generations. . . . In my
world everything is interrelated. Everything interrelates.
Toshi: Black people have a different way of relating to the world.
Even intellectually active black people. And that way is more expe-
rientially related than cognitively related. We think less about some-
thing but react more. I like being able to go from my experience,
rather than having to think about it. As a Black person, I don’t have
to hold it in. I can express it. [pp. 336–337]
What is evident in these stories, and those from other writers
(for example, Goldberger, Tarule, Clinchy, & Belenky, 1996;
Reybold, 1997), is tha t culture and personal experience shape
what and how people develop their distinctive ways of knowing.
The second point regarding the contextual perspective, as
observed by Goodnow (1990, p. 82), is that social context is not, as
it is often presented, “a relatively benign, neutral, or free market”
commodity. Rather, the social world in which we live “takes an
active and managing interest in the ideas people acquire” (p. 93).
This active and managing interest manifests itself in two ways
related to adult cognitive development. The first is that the domi-
nant culture may subvert ways of knowing it does not value.
Because these ways of knowing may not be valued by the dominant
culture, they may be hidden or lost, and worse, viewed as illegiti-
mate or not needed in our modern world. And second, scholars
350 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
themselves may choose to study only the development of the ways
of knowing that they are familiar with and value. This bias will con-
tinue to block the construction of alternative models and theories
that acknowledge contextual factors as a critical aspect of adult cog-
nitive development.
WISDOM:THE HALLMARK OF
ADULT THINKING
Wisdom is often seen as the pinnacle or hallmark of adult think-
ing. It is something we all speak about and sometimes yearn for as
we face the many challenges of adult life. Should we tell our
teenage grandchildren they are making horrendous decisions?
Should we make a major career change, especially if it means los-
ing our financial security? What do we say to a very dear friend who
is dying of cancer? Questions like these haunt many of us, and we
wish we had the wisdom of the elders to make the “right” decisions.
Yet this notion of wisdom conti nues to be a fluid and elusive idea
that is most often characterized by the acceptance of ambiguity as
one of its many virtues.
Wisdom is not a new concept; it has been discussed through
the ages by great philosophers and theologians of all backgrounds
and persuasions. Psychologists and educators have defined and
studied wisdom from a variety of perspectives. Robinson (1990)
noted that the definition of wisdom has changed over time, dif-
fering in ancient Greek, traditional Christian, and contemporary
conceptions. Baltes and Smith (1990) define wisdom as expertise
in everyday life, while Kramer and Baccelar (1994) link wisdom to
being able to think in a dialectic way, while Becvar (2005) states
that “being wise has to do with higher awareness,” one which allows
us to acknowledge the “many possible paradigms, worldviews, real-
ity tunnels and epistemologies, each of which is a plausible expla-
nation of the way the world really is” (p. 29). Therefore, the
problems we face as adults are value- and context-specific, and wis-
dom then becomes a process versus a state of being. And Sternberg
(1996b, p. 276) has noted the importance of the social-interaction
nature of wisdom, which stresses “that wisdom by definition will
hardly ever be found in an individual, but rather in cultural or
COGNITIVE DEVELOPMENT IN ADULTHOOD 351
social interactive products.” These and other definitions point to
the complexity of the concept. Most rese archers do agree, how-
ever, that wisdom is the province of adulthood, although older is
not always equated with wiser.
Researchers and writers on wisdom have attempted to delin-
eate its major components and its relationship to the aging
process. Holliday and Chandler (1986), for example, have sought
to provide empirical parameters for the term wisdom in three inter-
locking studies. They first collecte d general descriptions of wise
people from which they formulated the basic description of wis-
dom in a second study. In the third phase of their research, they
“examined the influence of the wise pro totype on people’s infor-
mation processing strategies” (p. 44). The 458 subjects in their
study represented all age cohorts of adults: young, middle-aged,
and older. They concluded that wisdom is a multidimensional con-
struct consisting of more than objective and context-free aspects
of thought. In their view, “Wise people must be able to solve
problems—but not in an abstract sense. The type of problems that
wise people presumably deal with appear to have strong practical
and emancipator y components. That is, wisdom problems are
problems endemic to life and to the human condition. . . . Conse-
quently, the problems typically involve or center on values” (p. 90).
In a somewhat different way, Sternberg (1986b, pp. 177–178)
sought to discover people’s conceptions or implicit theories of wis-
dom by exploring “the nature and the interrelationships of intel-
ligence, wisdom, and creativity.” Through a series of studies with
both laypersons (community volunteers and students) and spe-
cialists (college professors from a variety of disciplines), Sternberg
found that people not only have implicit theories about intelli-
gence, wisdom, and creativity but use them to evaluate others.
Moreover, he found differences in the way laypersons and special-
ists perceived each of the three constructs, including the notion of
wisdom.
Laypersons perceived the wise individual to have much the
same analytic reasoning ability one finds in the intelligent person.
“But the wise person has a certain sagacity that is not necessarily
found in the intelligent person. He or she listens to others, knows
how to weigh advice, and can deal with a variety of different kinds
of people. . . . The wise individual is especially well able to make
clear, sensible, and fair judgments and is perceived to profit from
352 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
the experiences of others and . . . learn from others’ mistakes, as
well as from his or her own” (p. 186). The specialists, in contrast,
tend to emphasize certain aspects of wisdom as more critical than
others. The art professors, for example, “emphasize insight, know-
ing how to balance logic and instinct . . . and sensitivity,” while the
business professors emphasize such things as “maturity of judg-
ment, understanding of the limitations of one’s own actions . . .
and appreciation of the ideologies of others” (pp. 186–187).
Sternberg conclu des that the three major constructs o f intelli-
gence, wisdom, and creativity are indeed distinct and yet interre-
lated, and moreover, that we must pay as much attention to wisdom
and creativity as we do to intelligence.
Sternberg and associates, using the findings from this 1986b
study, have expanded on this e arlier work through an e xpansive
research program over the last twenty years to further delineate
the nature of wisdom (Sternberg, 2000a; Sternberg & Jordan,
2005, Sternberg & Lubart, 2001; Sternberg et al., 2000). Sternberg
has often linked this research, which is both theoretical and empir-
ical, to his study of intelligence, a nd more specifically to h is tri-
archic, successful, and practical theories of intelligence (see
Chapter Fourteen). Sternberg’s current theory of wisdom “views
successful intelligence and creativity as the basis for wisdom”
(2003b, p. 152). Termed the balance theory of wisdom, Sternberg
contends that wisdom is mediated by the values that underlie
achieving the common good. Thus wisdom is “about balancing var-
ious self-interests (intrapersonal) with the interests of others (inter-
personal) and of other aspects of the context in which one liv es
(extrapersonal). Wisdom also involves creativity, in that the wise
solution to a problem may be far from the obvious” (p. 152).
In a recent handbook on wisdom, edited by Sternberg and
Jordan (2005), Sternberg (2005a) takes a different view of wisdom
through his discussion of the absence of wisdom, or what he has
characterized as foolishness. His message is very clear—“the costs of
foolishness can be very high” (p. 349), especially from the actions
of people who possess incredible power and wealth. Their foolish-
ness has led us into wars, polarizations among those who could
make a positive difference, and inconceivable hardships for peo-
ple worldwide. It is Sternberg’s content ion, as echoed in his ear-
lier work, that being bright does not necessary equate with being
wise. Rather, based on his balance theory of wisdom, he not only
COGNITIVE DEVELOPMENT IN ADULTHOOD 353
views wisdom as a continuous balancing act among individuals,
groups, and societal interests “but also of three possible courses of
action in response to this balancing: adaptation of oneself and oth-
ers to existing environments; shaping of environments to render
them more compatible with oneself or others; and selection of new
environments” (pp. 346–347). What is critical is taking action, as
echoed earlier by Sternberg (2003b) and will be seen later in this
chapter in the work of Bassett (2005) and Thorpe (2005)—in “wis-
dom, one seeks a common good, realizing this common good may
be better for some than for others”(Sternberg, 2005a, p. 345).
Bassett (2005) also has developed a model of wisdom. This
model, the Emergent Wisdom model, is based on in-depth inter-
views with twenty-four adults whom she describes as “thoughtful,
insightful people of public distinction from many walks of life” (p.
6). Using a grounded theor y approach, the model that emerged
from these interviews comprises four major components: discern-
ing, respecting, engaging, and transforming. Discerning includes
the cognitive functions of wisdom, meaning that wise people have
“the ability to distinguish often quite subtle variations in different
qualities and characteristics of others” (p. 7). Or as one of her
respondents observed: “Wise people are able to look at the ‘under-
lying forces and not be distracted by surface symptoms’” (p. 7).
Respecting is an affective function that allows adults to express “a
kind of caring for the other, even another we might not agree with,
feel empathy for, or ‘love.’ Respect manifests gratitude and an
expanded sphere of considerati on” (p. 9) for both other people
and the many interconnected parts of the environments where we
live. Engaging means that we push ourselves to action, do things we
never thought we could do and in some cases are afraid of doing.
Engagement displays itself “in the wider world as committed action
for the common good, what is good for many of us, not just me
and the people like me” (p. 9). Transforming is a reflective process
that allows us to think more deeply about “the fundamental pat-
terns and relationships, expanded spheres of consideration, and
actions” (p. 10) that are often associated with the common good.
This domain allows us to live with ourselves, even with the “many
possible, plausible, and competing worldviews and epistemologies”
we are confronted with as we move through life. In essence, “the
self becomes understood not as a unit seeking stability, but rather
354 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
as a process where the sub-parts constantly shift, adjust, and change”
(p. 11; italics in original). In addition, included in the model for
each dimension are “proficiencies (skilled behaviors), a main man-
ifestation and several learning prompts or developmental stimuli
whose practice can lead to wisdom” (p. 7).
Bassett (2005) views this model or “map of wisdom” not as a
single path to follow but as a “spiral, circling ever wider and
deeper” (p. 10). Therefore, we can keep moving forward, survive,
and perhaps even thrive again, through even the most perplexing
and painful situations, like the loss of a child, or being left with
nothing from nature’s wrath of earthquakes, tsunamis, and hurri-
canes. Do these type s of challenges we all face as adults leave us
wiser? Not necessarily so . Ho wever, by embracing the Emergent
Wisdom model, we may find a deeper acceptance of paradox and
recognition of the interdependence of all living systems—“in short,
the whole mystery of the world and of wisdom” (p. 11).
Thorpe (2005), in her essay on wisdom, asks different kinds of
questions: “Does wisdom ever appear in the same place as violence
and madness? What if madness came to town—and we had to deal
with it?” (p. 34). Could we—or would we, especially those of us who
are warm, well-fed, and relaxed—“have good sense, unusual dis-
cernment and judgment, in the face of firsthand violence or would
we too be swept away in the hysteria?” (p. 34). Often we look for
answers to these questions from great men and women through-
out the ages, but she asks if the response to these questions really
comes more from ordinary people, without aspiration, who find
themselves in extraordinar y situations. To answer these questions
she followed the stories of three ordinary men who lived during
the 1800s who found themselves embroiled in extraordinary times.
What she discovered in their stories were numerous themes about
wisdom that were a part of each of their stories. A sampling of
these themes contains ideas that are both similar and different to
what we have discussed previously in our discussion of wisdom.
• Wisdom is not the same thing as peace, serenity, or personal insight.
When madness is flying all about, no one is peaceful, serene,
nor afforded the luxury of inner contemplation. . . .
• Wisdom is neither moderation nor relativism. It is not about giving
equal weight to all perspectives, nor about compromise.
COGNITIVE DEVELOPMENT IN ADULTHOOD 355
[Rather,] it is seeing beyond the immediate positions and
knowing what is beyond them that is more fundamental—and
more permanent. . . .
• Wisdom cannot be identified through benchmarks of time and place.
The standards of time and place do not predict or denote wis-
dom. However, the little streams of wisdom that people leave
in other times and places grow into rivers that change the
benchmark over time towards systems that work better.
[Thorpe, 2005, pp. 41–42; italics in original]
Thorpe concludes “that wisdom appears when we most need
it” (p. 43). If wisdom could not appear in times of war, madness,
and polarization, those “tiny rivulets of sanity” that save us and soci-
ety from exploding into oblivion would not be forthcoming.
Despite the different perspectives from which wisdom has been
studied and the lack of consensus on its precise dimensions, sev-
eral points of agreement have emerged. Wisdom is grounded in
life’s rich experiences and therefore can be developed throughout
our adult lives. Although book learning may be a part of develop-
ing wisdom, it is not a requirement. Rather, being able to respond
well to the pragmatics of life seems to form the core of being wise.
Moreover, wisdom seems to consist of the ability to move away from
absolute truths, to be reflective, and to make sound judgments for
the common good related to our daily existence, whatever our cir-
cumstances.
Recently, Sternberg (2005b) published a comprehensive review
of the literature on the relationship between wisdom and age. He
presents a number of conclusions with respect to this question.
First, there is no single position on the relationship between age
and wisdom—studies have reported it decreasing with age, increas-
ing with age, and remaining stable with age. He also concludes that
“there are almost certainly widespread individual differences in the
trajectory of wisdom”; wisdom appears to lie “in situational rather
than personal variables” and research results depend on how wis-
dom is defined and measured (p. 20). Finally, he concludes that
while research suggests that people have the ability to become
more wise, “whether wisdom actually will develop depends not so
much on age as upon cognitive variables, personality variables, and
life experiences” (p. 21).
356 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
In reflecting on this study of wisdom and how it might enrich
learning in adulthood, we are struck by obser vations made by
Dychtwald and Flower (19 89) about “the third age”—that part of
life beyond age sixty, a time of life that more and more people are
experiencing as healthy and vital individuals. Dychtwald and
Flower contend that this third age allows for the “further develop-
ment of the interior life of the intellect, memory, and imagination,
of emotional maturity, and of one’s personal sense of spiritual iden-
tity” (p. 53). It is a time for people to give back to society through
their wisdom, power, and spirituality “the lessons, resources, and
experiences accumulated over a lifetime” (p. 53). They then quote
Monsignor Fahey, the director of Fordham University’s Third Age
Center: “People in the third age should be the glue of society, not
its ashes” (p. 53). Their conclusion is clear and dramatic: “Think
about it. We know even with the best care overall fitness will
decline gradually over the years. While the strength of the senses
is weakening, what if the powers of the mind, heart, and the spirit
are rising? If life offers the ongoing opportunity for increased
awareness and personal growth, think how far we could evolve,
given the advantage of extra decades of life!” (p. 52). Their obser-
vations of using our later years to further develop our cognitive
thinking abilities are similar to Kegan’s (1994), discussed earlier.
In incorporating the concept of wisdom in our thinking about cog-
nitive development, mature adult cognition is more than just
abstract logic, complex reasoning, and dialectical thinking; it also
encompasses the ability to think, feel, and act “wisely” in life.
SUMMARY
Cognitive development refers to the change in thinking patterns
that occurs as one grows older. Much of the earlier work on cogni-
tive development in adulthood has been grounded primarily in the
work of Piaget. One line of research has focused on how Piaget’s
stages play out in adulthood. A more fruitful research tradition,
grounded in Piaget’s work, has been the conceptualization of adult
stages of cognition beyond that of formal operations, such as the
work of Arlin (1975). Other researchers have posited entirely new
schemes of adult cognitive development. These alternative theories
range from the traditional stage theories of development, such as
COGNITIVE DEVELOPMENT IN ADULTHOOD 357
the work of Perr y (1970, 1999) and King and Kitchener (1994,
2004), to those theories that bring in new voices (Belenky, Clinchy,
Goldberger, & Tarule, 1986; Goldberger, Tarule, Clinchy, & Belenky,
1996) and different ways of framing development, represented by
Baxter Magolda (1992, 2004) and Labouvie-Vief (1980, 1990;
Labouvie-Vief & Diehl, 2000).
In the review of the many theories of adult cognitive develop-
ment, two major themes became apparent: dialectical thinking is
important and contextual fa ctors are critical in deter mining how
we develop our thinking patterns as adults. Dialectical thinking, as
represented by the work of Riegel (1973) and Kegan (1994), allows
for the acceptance of alternative truths or ways of thinking about
the many contradictions and paradoxes that we face in everyday
life. To be able to engage in dialectical thinking is viewed by some
as the only way to navigate our postmodern world successfully.
Bringing in the contextual perspective on adult cognitive devel-
opment acknowledges that the world around the thinker makes a
difference in how adults develop their thinking patterns. Social,
cultural, economic, and political forces help shape both how we
think and what kind of knowledge we value.
The chapter concluded with a discussion of wisdom, often
regarded as the hallmark of mature adult thinking. Although it has
been discussed over the ages by the great philosophers and the-
ologians, this area of study has received little attention in the lit-
erature on cognitive development and learning in general.
Representative conceptions of wisdom, including those of
Holliday and Chandler (1986), Sternberg (1996b, 2003b, 2005a),
and Bassett (2005), were reviewed. Despite the different perspec-
tives from which wisdom is viewed, scholars seem to agree that
wisdom involves special types of experience-based knowledge and
is characterized by the ability to move away from absolute truth, to
be reflective, to take action for the common good, and to make
sound judgments related to everyday life.
358 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
INTELLIGENCE AND AGING
One of the authors of this book vividly remembers her mother
coming home after a trip into town, “just fit to be tied.” She was
thoroughly disgusted with how she had been treated by a bank
employee. The employee had insinuated that as a “little old lady”
there was no way she could understand her different account
options. As this mother reflected on her experience, still in an
angry mood, she said, “I may be old and little, but I have not lost
my mind and neither am I stupid.” This powerful myth—that
adults lose their intellectual ability as they age—still prevails, even
in the literature on intelligence and aging. However, over the past
twenty-five years other scholars have put to rest that myth, backed
up with a strong knowledge base that substantiates that for most
adults intellectual functioning is alive and well throughout most of
their lifetimes.
Intelligence is defined in a number of ways. From the per-
spective of the casual observer, intelligence is often equated with
“being smart”—that is, being able to act intelligently when dealing
with everyday life. But there is another definition of intelligence
that many adults have carried with them since their elementar y
school days: intelligence is a specific measurement of their ability
to learn. While not actually knowing their IQ scores, many adults
have vague recollections of being labeled an “average,” “above-
average,” or “below-average” student. Worse still are the memories
of using IQ tests to be placed in a “slow” reading or math group,
while watching a best friend be put in the “high” group. Although
the concept of inte lligence affects the lives of many adults, both
through earlier and current experiences, what intrigues us is that
educators of adults have given little attention to the study of intel-
ligence in adulthood.
359
In this chapter, we first discuss the more traditional approaches
to and theories of intelligence, focusing on those traditions that
continue to have a very strong influence on intelligence in adult-
hood. We then argue that these traditional approaches continue
to be foundational in how scholars both study and interpret the
effect of aging on intellig e n c e. Next, we explore the more recen t
challenges raised by scholars to these traditional approaches. In
this section we examine key theoretical and empirical work that
has promise for expa nding how a dult intelligence is conceptual-
ized and in the future could have a significant effect on our basic
understanding of aging and intelligence. The chapter concludes
with a discussion of three ideas about intellectual functioning in
adulthood that are particularly intriguing and useful for educators
of adults.
TRADITIONAL A PPROACHES TO
INTELLIGENCE
There are two reasons why it is important to understand what are
often termed “the traditional approaches” to intelligence. The first
is that the different lenses these researchers use “come not only
from ideological biases affecting what is said, but also from what
defines the concept of intelligence” (Sternberg, Lautrey, & Lubart,
2003, p. 3). And second, many of the ideas from these traditions
still dominate the thinking and practice related to how intelligence
is viewed, and hence, often unbeknownst to us, frame our practice
as educators of adults.
Three areas within the more traditional approaches have been
foundational in our thinking about adult intelligence: the biologi-
cal approach, the individual differences approach, and the cogni-
tive processes approach. Described more in depth in the next two
subsections are the first two approaches. The third tradition, the cog-
nitive processes approach, exemplifie d by the work of Piaget and
Vygotsky, arises “from the construction of cognitive structures that
materialize as a function of the interaction of the organism with the
environment” (Sternberg, Lautrey, & Lubart, 2003, p. 3). While
Piaget’s (1952) work called our attention primarily to our biological
maturation, Vygotsky (1978) was most interested in how the social
environment around us influenced our intellectual development.
360 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Although both of these authors and their colleagues are often
quoted in the literature on adulthood, very little empirical work with
adults has been completed from this tradition (see Chapter Thirteen).
THE B IOLOGICAL A PPROACH
Although the biological approach to intelligence is not often d i s-
cussed by educators of adults, “nearly everyone believes that intel-
ligence resides in the brain, and is virtually synonymous with brain
power” (Richardson, 1999, p. 180). If we can only discover where
in the human brain “intelligence resides” and how it fits into the
way the brain operates, we will have the key to exactly what intelli-
gence is. Tracing this rationale further, with this knowledge at some
point the brain could be manipulated so that all humans could
both become smarter and stay that way throughout their lives.
Unfortunately, the knowledge we have gained about “the smart
brain” has little practical application and is tentative at best. Rather,
what scholars over the past two or three decades “have produced
is an outpouring of interesting new facts and ideas. But it has to be
admitted that psychologists and neuroscientists have not yet man-
aged to weave these into a clear, or clearly agreed theory about how
the brain produces, or is otherwise involved in human intelligence”
(Richardson, 1999, p. 181) . This search for the biological corre-
lates of human intellige nce is still strong, but it also needs to be
more theoretically driven (Haier, 2003; Vernon, Wickett, Bazana,
& Stelmack, 2000).
Another avenue in the biology of intelligence couples it with
the genetics of intelligence. This interest has been stimulated by
those who assert that intelligence is an inheritable quality, and that
people are born high ly intelligent, “just so-so,” or way below the
mean for functio n i n g normal l y in society. There is no agreement
in the current literature on the influence that genetic factors have
on intelligence. Rather, there is a very wide spread of variations,
with estimates ranging from 20 to 80 percent (Bronfenbrenner,
2005). Even among researchers who argue that “genes play a size-
able part in influencing differences in mental ability between peo-
ple” (Dear y, 2001, p. 88), there is scant knowledge about what
these genes are. However, with the ever-widening interdisciplinary
approach to the study of human genetics, there are those who
INTELLIGENCE AND AGING 361
predict that we will discover, at some point in the future, the
genetic composition of intelligence (Grigorenko, 2000). If indeed
these specific genetic markers are able to pinpoint intelligence,
there will be a need to carefully consider both the practical and
ethical issues that would be involved with such a discovery.
THE I NDIVIDUAL D IFFERENCES APPROACH
The individual differences approach has and continues to have an
enormous impact on the study of adult intelligence. In many ways
this tradition has ser ved the field well. First, scholars from this
approach have provided a systematic means for studying individ-
ual differences. Second, “the theories embedded within this tradi-
tion have proved to have many and diverse applications. [In
addition] they have provided a model for how theor y and mea-
surement can evolve in synchrony” (Sternberg, Lautrey, & Lubart,
2003, p. 2).
Grounded in the psychometric tradition, viewing the concept
of intelligence from this approach assumes that intelligence is a
measurable construct. Although testing for individual differences
in intelligence is most often done with children and adolescents,
this form of testin g still has a significant influence on how adults
continue to be sorted, left out, or included in educational, work,
and even living situations. Using the psychometric approach there
are two primary ways that individual differences in intelligence are
conceptualized: general intelligence (or the “g” factor) and mul-
tiple factors (Embretson & Schmidt McCollam, 2000).
Jensen (2002) observes that in “the state of the art in the field
of psychology, a clear conclusion is warranted: That is, a century
of research on intelligence suggests there are abilities and
processes in intellectual func tioning that are truly genera l, very
strong in their affect and always present” (p. 5). Numerous schol-
ars agree with Jensen’s view that the g factor is alive, well, and thriv-
ing, and tests that measure this factor are used in numerous
settings with adults (Deary, 2001; Sternberg & Grigorenko, 2002).
The central tenant of theory building and research related to the
gfactoristhataperson’sperformanceononeormorescales
can be explained as a single underlying ability (Sternberg &
Grigorenko, 2002). Therefore, scores from diverse tests or subscales
362 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
can be combined to form a general intelligence quotient, com-
monly known as the g factor.
Spearman (1904, 1927) and Binet (1916) are representative of
the early researchers who sought to understand the nature of intel-
ligence as a single well-defined construct. The first massive use of
intelligence testing with adults using the g factor as the norm was
with men entering the army in World War I. As large numbers of
recruits needed to be tested quickly, two IQ tests were developed
(Kaufman, 2000). The practical consequences of the development
of these tests were many. For example, “IQ tests [using the g fac-
tor] were found to be useful for adults, not just children; were per-
ceived to be valuable for high functioning people, not just the
lower extreme,” and the data analysis from huge samples (almost
two million) led to intense controversies, from “cries of racism and
inferiority, to debates about the value of IQ tests and their social
implications” (Kaufman, 2000, p. 446). Examples of often-quoted
current scholars who study the g factor are Carroll (1993), Jenson
(2002), Humphreys and Stark (2002), and Petrill (2002, 2003).
The more prevalent use of IQ tests with adults to measure indi-
vidual differences is with those that include multiple factors of
intelligence, such as spatial ability, perceptual speed, numerical
ability, verbal relations, words, memory, and induction. Of the ear-
lier theorists who advocated this point of view, Horn and Cattell
(1966, 1967) have had the widest influence on conceptualizing
intelligence as multiple factors. In addition, their work has been
foundational to the study of intelligence in adulthood. The Horn-
Cattell theory viewed intelligence as consisting of two broad areas:
fluid intelligence (Gf) and crystallized intelligence (Gc). The fluid
arena captured those tasks that “demanded new problem solving
with minimal dependency on school learning or acculturation”
(Kaufman, 2000, p. 460), and was therefore viewed as more innate
and dependent on a neurophysiological base. In contrast, the crys-
tallized domain was viewed as education dependant and more asso-
ciated with accumulated information.
Horn (1985, 1989) expanded this Gf-Gc theory by shifting his
focus to a group of eight to ten abilities, with the measure of each
being “purer” and with no overlap between the factors. “From cur-
rent Horn theory, tasks are only categorized as Gf if they empha-
size reasoning ability and as Gc if they stress comprehension and
INTELLIGENCE AND AGING 363
knowledge base” (Kaufman, 2000, p. 460). In addition, Horn
(1985, p. 289) changed one of the basic assumptions of this the-
ory, which is that “there are good reasons to believe that Gf is
learned as much as Gc, and that Gc is inherited as much as Gf.”
Instead, he believes that both types of intelligence can be nurtured,
at least until ver y old age. This assertion has led researchers to
study whether fluid intelligence, which was thought to be primar-
ily innate, can be either restored (if loss has been shown) or
strengthened as people age (Lohman & Scheurman, 1992; Schaie
&Willis,1986;Willis&Schaie,1994).Schaie(1996b)hasprovided
a clear and cogent summary of this work.
Psychometric tests using the multiple factors methods are most
often used with adults in assessing people in the workplace for job
placement, in clinical settings for appropriate treatment plans, and
in the military, where a certain score is required for entry. In addi-
tion, these types of intelligence tests have been used in research to
determine how intellectual abilities change as people age. The
three tests that measure multiple factors of intelligence most often
used in both researc h and practice with a dults are the Kaufman
Adolescent and Adult Intelligence Test (KAIT; Kaufman &
Kaufman, 1993), the Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale, which is
now in its third edition (the W AIS-III), and the Primary Mental Abil-
ities (PMA) test, the most recent version being the Schaie-Thurston
Adult Mental Abilities Test (STAMAT; Schaie, 1979, 1985). Each of
these tests appears to primarily assess mental abilities, such as ver-
bal and reasoning ability, related more to formal schooling than
everyday intelligence (Dear y, 2001; Sternberg et al., 2000). In a
challenge to this idea, Schaie and others (Schai e, 1996b; Willis &
Schaie, 1986) found that, at least in later adulthood, certain pri-
mary mental abilities do predict competent behavior in specific
situations—for example, “competence in active situations was pre-
dicted by spatial ability and inductive reasoning, and competence
in passive situations was predicted by verbal abilities” (Schaie &
Willis, 1986, p. 290). Therefore, to these researchers, the findings
suggest “a strong relationship between the ‘building blocks’ of intel-
ligence and abilities on real life tasks” (p. 290).
Two of these intelligence tests, the Kaufman Adolescent and
Adult Intelligence Test (Kaufman & Kaufman, 1993) and the
Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale-Third Edition (Wechsler, 1997),
364 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
are examples of measures that have been primarily constructed
using the work of Horn and Cattell. Within the KAIT framework
(Kaufman & Kaufman, 1993), fluid intelligence “measures a per-
son’s adaptability and fle xibility when faced with new problems.”
Crysta llized intelligence evaluates “the acquisition of facts and
problem-solving ability using stimuli that are dependent on formal
schooling, cultural experiences, and verbal conceptual develop-
ment” (Kaufman & Kaufman, 1993, p. 7).
The WAIS-III is designed for adults ages sixteen to eighty-
nine. The WAIS-III, like its predecessors (the WAIS-R and the
WAIS), consists of six regular verbal subtests and five mandatory
per formance tasks. Several of the WAIS-III subtests are often
grouped together for measuring Horn’s expanded concepts of
fluid and cr ystallized intelligence. Like the KAIT, the WAIS-III
also may present problems in the testing of the elderly, and more
specifically those seventy-five and above. However, “The WAIS-III
is likely to follow in the footsteps of the WAIS-R, which has pro ven
itself as a leader in the field of adult assessment” (Kaufman, 2000,
p. 459).
The third test of adult intelligence, the Primary Mental Abili-
ties test, is often associated with the work of Schaie and colleagues
on intelligence and aging (Schaie, 1979, 1985, 1996a). The under-
lying assumption of the PMA test, originally developed by
Thurstone and Thurstone (1941), is that intelligence is actually sev-
eral distinct abilities. Purported to measure five relatively indepen-
dent factors, the PMA test battery consists of five subtests: (1) verbal
meaning, which is the ability to understand ideas expressed in
words; (2) space, describing the ability to think about an object
in two or three dimensions; (3) reasoning, involving the ability to
solve logical problems; (4) number, the ability to handle arithmetic
problems; and (5) word fluency, concerning the speed and ease
with which words are used.
As we demonstrate in the next section, the individual differ-
ences approaches to intellectual development continues to domi-
nate how scholars have argued whether adults lose or per haps even
gain in intellectual abilities as we age. Central to this discussion of
linking age and intelligence is whether adults, and especially older
adults, will be as intellectually capable in their sixties and seventies
as they were in their twenties and thirties.
INTELLIGENCE AND AGING 365
AGE AND INTELLECTUAL A BILITIES
“The study of the depth and breadth of inter est in intellectual
changes during adulthood has increased dramatically in recent
decades” (Dixon, 2003, p. 152). The fundamental question tha t
researchers have struggled with over the years is: Does intelligence
decline with age? In their pioneering work in this arena,
Thorndike, Bregman, Tilton, and Woodyard (1928) were among
the first scholars who challenged the fundamental notion that
learning ability peaks very early in life. Using primarily laboratory
or schoolroom tasks, Thorndike measured the speed of the per-
formance of people from ages fourteen to fifty on a variety of tasks,
from memorizing poetry to acquiring an artificial language (Kidd,
1973). Thorndike et al. (1928, pp. 178–179) concluded from their
many studies that “in general, teachers of adults of age twenty-five
to forty-five should expect them to learn at nearly the same rate
and in nearly the same manner as they would have learned the
same thing at twenty.” In reflecting on Thorndike’s work, Kidd
(1973) noted two major contributions. The first was to raise the
age of onset of the downhill slide of a person’s ability to learn from
twenty years of age to forty-five; second, and even more important,
Thorndike “helped to stimulate colleagues to reject traditional
views and formulas” (p. 79) about learning in adulthood.
Naturally, this question related to whether intelligence declines
with age is of no small interest to current scholars and also to many
adults who wonder if in fact they will become less “with it” as they
age. Responses to this question are mixed and often have been
controversial. They range from the contention that intelligence
definitely enters a process of irreversible decline as we age (though
that age does differ from scholar to scholar) to those who
argue that intelligence is relatively stable through the adult years,
with substantial changes occurring very late in life. Underlying these
highly diverse responses are issues of universality, directionality, and
reversibility in intellectual functions over the life span. Do changes
in intelligence “occur generally or differently in normal aging
adults?” (Dixon, 2003, p. 153). Are these changes progressive or
regressive in nature? And what is the potential for adults to alter
or compensate for any of these changes? One way to respond to
366 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
these underlying questions is through understanding how schol-
ars who study intelligence and aging define the concept of intelli-
gence, delineate the parameters of aging, and select the designs
and measures they use in this research.
CONCEPT OF I NTELLIGENCE
In looking at the concept of intelligence we can see how the dif-
ferent ways this construct is defined provide different responses to
the questions of directionality and reversibility of intelligence. As
noted earlier, although there is no universal agreement as to what
constitutes intelligence, the study of intelligence and aging is
deeply rooted in the individual differences approach. Because this
approach assumes that intelligence is a measurable construct,
when we speak of intelligence and a ging our observations come
primarily from a comparison of test scores. These tests are
designed to investigate a specific theor y or theories and factors
thought to be the major components that constitute intelligence.
For example, the PMA test defines intelligence as five relatively dis-
tinct measures of psychological competence, versus a single gen -
eral intelligence factor.
From Schaie’s perspective, when intelligence is defined as a
unitary property, the research tends to confirm that intelligence
does indeed decline with age, although again the point of depar-
ture for that decline often varies (Schaie & Willis, 1986). Yet when
intelligence is viewed as consisting of multiple factors, the response
tends to be that some of our abilities decline, while others remain
stable or even increase (Baltes, 1993; Berg, 2000; Dixon, 2003;
Schaie, 1996b).
Other authors, including Baltes and Schaie, have added impor-
tant properties to their definitions of intelligence. Two of those
properties—plasticity and compensation processes—are key in
addressing the issue of whether adults can in some way change the
course of their intellectual development. Again, these added prop-
erties need to be placed in the context of the data sources used, which
are primarily empirical studies based on traditional intelligence tests.
Plasticity refers to the ability for people to change and ye t also
maintain a certain durability as they age. Research on “the plasticity
INTELLIGENCE AND AGING 367
of intelligence has focused on the modifiability of intelligence
through intervention” (Berg, 2000, p. 122). Dixon (2003) asserts
in his review of literature related to intervention research that “it
is possible to train normal older adults to perform better on chal-
lenging cognitive tasks” (p. 156). He contends that researchers
have demonstrated that older adults can improve their perfor-
mance on intelligence tests through self-directed practice and for-
mal training on higher-level tasks. In addition, those adults who
have received this formal training can also perform more effec-
tively on some cognitive tasks in everyday life. Based on these stud-
ies, Dixon goes on to observe: “Theoretically this implies that some
degree of normally observed decline in intellectual aging may be
the result of disuse and that potential for improvement may be pre-
sent in older adults” (p. 157).
Compensation is among the most promising expansions to the
nature of intelligence. Embedded in the individual differences and
in the information processing approaches to intelligence, compensa-
tion refers to ways that adults adapt to losses in cognitive processes
that may affect their intellige nce as they age, and can take many
forms. For example, adults can invest more time and effort in a task,
learn new ways to perform the same task, and adjust their goals and
criteria for success to accommodate any losses or deficits. For exam-
ple, one of the authors has a ninety-one-year -old friend who has cho-
sen to live in her own apartment rather than in another, alternative
living arrangement available to her in the complex where she lives.
Due to severe arthritis this woman can no longer use her hands to
complete many household tasks, so, instead, she has learned to do
these tasks, like making a bed, with her feet. She has also chosen
to play bridge every day versus only twice a week so she does not lose
her competitive edge, and she makes sure she takes a cocktail before
dinner in a common lounge with other residents to maintain her
contact with those who live in the same area. “Compensation may
occur automatically at the level of the brain or may be trained delib-
erately in impaired individuals” (Dixon, 2003, p. 157).
PARAMETERS OF AGING
The question of directionality—that is, whether we gain or lose our
intellectual abilities as we age—is also addressed when we discuss
how scholars define the parameters of aging. Whether or not one
368 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
believes intelligence declines with age depends on the ages of the
adults included in the study. Are we talking about adults in early,
middle, or later adulthood? In reviewing data on early and middle
adulthood, our response would be that intelligence does not
decline with age. In fact, some intellectual functions, no matter
what testing procedures are employed, seem to increase over the
course of the years. Our response to whether intelligence declines
in later adulthood is not as clear-cut (Bal t e s , 1993; Schaie, 1996a,
2005). Most agree that some decline in functioning occurs between
age sixty and the early seventies, but the precise nature of that
decline, and more important, its practical effect on learning abil-
ity are still in question.
In line with this observation, although there have been numer-
ous studies of older adults (Schaie & Hofer, 2001), only a few have
addressed the intellectual abilities of healthy adults after age 70.
In one longitudinal comparison of subjects ranging in age from 73
to 99, researchers found that although many of the subjects
showed some decline in abilities, more than half displayed no such
changes, even at the older ages (Field, Schaie, & Leino, 1988). In
amorerecentstudyofeighteenpeoplebetweentheagesof100
and 106, these “centenarians reported rich late-life learning expe-
riences, the majority of [which] occurred through social interac-
tions” (Fenimore, 1997, p. 57).
RESEARCH D ESIGNS AND MEASURES
The questions that surround the issues of directionality and uni-
versality are important issues raised by those who discuss how
research designs and measures affect our thinking about intelli-
gence and aging. The research designs employed in investigations
of changes in intelligence over the life span also are a major point
of discussion in the literature. Results from the two most often used
designs, cross-sectional and longi tudina l, usually provide very dif-
ferent findings. Data from cross-sectional studies, which compare
onetime test scores of different age groups (for example, twenty-
year-olds and sixty-year-olds) predominately show that as we age
our intelligence declines (Schaie, 1994, 1996a; Schaie & Hofer,
2001). Findings from longitudinal studies, however, usually sup-
port a very different conclusion. Based primarily on readministra-
tion of intelligence tests over time and to the same group of
INTELLIGENCE AND AGING 369
people, various longitudinal investigations demonstrate that intel-
lectual abilities of groups of older people are remarkably stable
over time (Rabbitt, Donlan, Brent, McInnes, & Abson, 1993;
Schaie, 1996b, 2005).
Cross-sectional designs only allow inferences about differences
of intellectual abilities for specified age groups, such as adults in
their twenties and those in their sixties. In addition, even in the
claims that are made based on these data there are numerous lim-
itations inherent to this design. For example, cohort differences,
such as level of formal education and health status, may cloud
results. In addition, “as the 20th centur y progressed, the whole
population’s scores on some well-known mental tests were improv-
ing when compared with same-age people generations earlier”
(Deary, 2001, p. 104), which further confounds these cross-
sectional comparisons between the young and the old.
In contrast, longitudinal studies permit scholars to draw a
broader picture of intellectual development through the adult life
span. By providing informat ion on both cohort-age-specific and
individual differences in adults as they age, they allow researchers
to explore more complex issues and questions. For example,
researchers are able to address whether there are individu al dif-
ferences or similarities in intellectua l abilities as adults age. They
also are able to investigate how other factors, such as health, social
interactions, and psychological attributes, may contribute to the
continued stability or decline in intellectual functioning. As with
cross-sectional designs, longitudinal studies also have built-in lim-
itations, such as selective attrition and dropout, and retaking the
same or similar performance tests over time. In addition, “effects
thought to be age-dependent must be carefully disaggregated from
those due to historical limited events and environmental impacts”
(Schaie & Hofer, 2001, p. 56).
In response to the limitations and problems associated with
both cross-sectional and longitudinal designs, researchers have
adopted alternative designs to control for some of the biases inher-
ent when only a cross-sectional or longitudinal design is used.
Schaie and his associates, as part of the Seattle Longitudinal Study,
provide the best e xample of the work using one of these alterna-
tive designs (Schaie, 1994, 1996b, 2005; Schaie, Willis, & O’Hanlon,
1994). The primar y varia bles for this study were the five factors
that represent the primar y mental abilities of adults. The data for
370 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
the study were colle cted from more than five thousand subjects
over a thirty-five-year period in six testing cycles. With six cross-
sectional studies, in addition to longitudinal data, the researchers
were able to do a number of different forms of analysis. In essence,
the cross-sectional data showed a typical pattern of intellectual
decline, while the longitudinal data suggested little if any decline
of any practical consequence until after the mid- to late sixties.
Even “this decrement is modest until the 80s are reached, and for
most individuals it is not a linear phenomenon but occurs in stair-
step fashion” (Schaie, 1994, p. 308). Schaie and others attributed
the differences in findings betwee n the two research designs to
cohort variation—differences between the generations versus dif-
ferences in the ages of subjects. These cohort variations are, in
turn, attributed to higher educational levels of succeeding gener-
ations and overall better nutrition and health care.
In addition to p r ov i di n g answers to th e question of dir e ct io n-
ality, the findings from the Seattle Longitudinal Study and studies
of like nature (Schaie & Hofer, 2001) also offer helpful insights
into whether these changes in intelligence as we age are universal
or occur differently in normal aging, and are progressive or regres-
sive in nature. Schaie and his associates, for example, “emphasized
that considerable individual differences exist in both degrees of
intellectual declin e and the age of onset” (Dixon, 2003, p. 153).
Seven variables were identified that reduce the risk of cognitive
decline in old age: absence of cardiovascular and other chronic
diseases, living in favorable environmental circumstances, sub-
stantial involvement in activities, maintenance of high levels of per-
ceptual processing speed into old age, being married to a spouse
of high cognitive status, and rating one’s self as satisfied with one’s
life. We would conjecture that health, economic means, and feel-
ing good about life are central to continued intellectual vitality and
that the other variables might just be a plus, or perhaps go with
having economic means.
In exploring the other side of the question—which factors pre-
dict earlier-than-average decline—four were identified: significant
decrease in being flexible in one’s approach to life, low educa-
tional attainment, being male, and a low satisfaction with life suc-
cess (Schaie, 1994). Except for gender, of course, some of these
variables may be amenable to change using the typical interven-
tions recommended to offset and even possibly restore decreases
INTELLIGENCE AND AGING 371
in intellectual capabilities (Dixon, 2003). They may also suggest
different kinds of inter ventions, like personal counseling and
enrolling in formal educational programs.
Most research on the effects of intelligence and aging has been
conducted using either the Weschler scales (WAIS-III or the ear-
lier WAIS-R) or a form of the PMA test. One big question, still
strongly debated today, is whether either of these two measures,
and others of this nature, capture more than the academic or
“mental abilities” versus intelligence in everyday life. Sternberg and
associates (Sternberg, 2000b; Sternberg et al., 2000) would respond
with a resounding no, although Sternberg does see the value of
tests of this nature used in concert with measures of practical intel-
ligence. Scholars like Gardner (1999b, 2003) and Tennant and
Pogson (1995) would argue that these tests do not capture the
more complex nature of intelligence.
Asecondquestionraisedonbothofthesetests,andotherslike
them, has been their inclusion of timed items. All of the PMA sub-
tests, and about half of the subtests in the WAIS-III are timed. Are
timed tests, particularly ones involving perceptual motor functions,
valid measures of adult intelligence, especially for older adults? Some
scholars strongly argue that speeded tests should be eliminated in
assessing adult intelligence, whereas others make compelling aug-
ments that timed items should be included, because mental speed
is a critical component of intellectual functioning (Deary, 2001).
In summar y, our answer to the fundamental question “D oes
intelligence decline with age?” leads us back to our discussions of
the concept of intelligence, age parameters, and research designs
and measures. With these factors in mind, our response to this
question is that intelligence may decline, remain relatively stable
until late adulthood, or even be enhanced as we age. One school
of thought contends that intellectual functioning is a process of
irreversible decline in the adult years, although the hypothesized
onset and the extent of that decline are still unknown. The major-
ity of those who argue this position are relying on data from cross-
sectional studies or are firmly entrenched in the belief that
intelligence is an inheritable trait.
Others say that intelligence is relatively stable through the
adult years, with substantial intellectual changes occurri ng only very
late in life, and then primarily “in abilities that were less central to
the individual’s life experience and thus perhaps less practiced”
372 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
(Schaie, 1996b, p. 2). In essence, we have enough brain capacity to
do almost anything we choose, until serious illness or when we are
in highly challenging, complex, or stressful situations. Still others
argue that intelligence declines in some respects, remains stable in
others, and may even increase in some functions, depending on a
person’s educational level, life experiences, overall health, and out-
look on life (Dixon, 2003; Kaufman, Kaufman, Chen, & Kaufman,
1996; Raykov, 1995). Those who assert the latter two points of view
primarily point to longitudinal or mixed-design studies on aging
and intelligence and define intelligence as multifaceted.
As will be discussed in the next section, it is hoped that more
recent and future research on different approaches to adult intel-
ligence will provide further insight into whether the individual dif-
ferences approach can continue to be used as the best predictor
of how intelligence changes with age. Or, might these alternative
ways of thinking about adult intelligence possibly provide a clearer
and perhaps even a more complex picture of the effects of aging
on intellectual functioning?
CHALLENGES TO THE MORE TRADITIONAL
CONCEPTS OF INTELLIGENCE
Major challenges about the nature of intelligence have been made
by a number of scholars in the past twenty years. These critiques
have come from numerous sources, but they center on three main
issues. The first is the major focus on the individual, and more
specifically, differences between individuals as measured by psy-
chometric tests. Second, there is, in the words of Sternberg, Lautrey,
and Lubart (2003), “a fighting for the ‘truth’ . . . with the underly-
ing notion . . . that only one model or theory could be correct” (p.
11). Third, the majority of these traditional ways of thinking about
intelligence in adulthood do not take into account “real-world” or
“everyday” intelligence. Theorists who advocate that the basic
nature of intelligence has to be reframed most often view intelli-
gence as a combination of biological, psychological, social, cultural,
life experiences, and environmental factors. Rather than focusing
on just one or two of these frames, scholars from this tradition
argue that intelligence consists of multiple domains and most often
is conceived as an interaction among three or more of them.
INTELLIGENCE AND AGING 373
Tennant and Pogson (1995) have provided a thoughtful trea-
tise on why these challenges to intelligence have been overlooked
for so long, especially by scholars representing Western culture.
They assert that “historically, Western culture has taken a lower view
of manual work than of cognitive activity” (p. 37), which has led to
“the exaltation of the theoretical or contemplative over the practi-
cal” (p. 39). More specifically, they cite the attributes of verbal,
abstract, and complex thinking as far more valued than either those
of concrete and sensual thought or the active use of knowledge.
In discussing these alternative ways of defining the nature of
intelligence, we focus on Gardner’ s theory of multiple intelligences
(the MI theory); practical intelligence, illustrated by the work of
Sternberg and his colleagues; and emotional intelligence. We also
explore the way culture affects how intelligence is viewed. We
chose these specific theories and studies to illustrate these alter-
native stances because educators of adults have gravitated to these
viewpoints of intelligence, considering them more applicable to
adult learners.
GARDNER’S THEORY OF MULTIPLE INTELLIGENCES
Gardner is representative of theorists who broke away from the psy-
chometric tradition of intellige nce during the early 1980s. From
Gardner’s perspective, the concept of intelligence has been too
narrowly limited to the realm of logical and linguistic abilities, pri-
marily by the way intelligence has been measured. He argues that
“there is persuasive evidence for the existence of several relatively
autonomous human intellectual competencies that can be fash-
ioned and combined in a multiplicity of adaptive ways by individ-
uals and cultures” (Gardner, 1993, pp. 8–9). From a number of
unrelated sources, such as studies of prodi gies, brain-damaged
patients, and normal children and adults, Gardner originally iden-
tified seven different forms of intelligence, with an eighth added
in the mid-1990s. The original seven forms of intelligence include
“not only the standard academic ones of linguistic, logical-mathe-
matical, and spacial (the visual skills exhibited by a painters or
architect) but also musical, “bodily-kinesthetic,” and two “personal”
intelligences involving a fine-tuned understanding of oneself and
others” (Levine, 1987, p. 54). Gardner’s eighth form of intelli-
gence, naturalist intelligence, takes us to a different realm. The
374 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
intelligence of naturalists is in recognizing and categorizing nat-
ural objects and patterns in their environment. This type of intel-
ligence is exemplified in the work of formal scientists, such as
biologists and environmentalists, but also people who are highly
skilled in applying “folk taxonomies,” such as natural healers, and
other abilities, like farming and hunting (see Gardner, 1983,
1993, 1999b, for a complete description of his eight intelligences).
Gardner has also discussed another possible form of intelligence—
“existential intelligence.” Adults who exhibit existential intelligence
capture and ponder “the fundamental questions of existence”: spir-
itual leaders and philoso phical thinkers are among such people
(Gardner, 1999a, p. 22). Gardner has not yet added this form of
intelligence to his current eight due to its perplexing nature and
its distance from the other intelligences. “At the most, I am will-
ing, Fellini-style, to joke about ‘8 and 1/2 intelligences’” (Gardner,
1999b, p. 66).
In introducing the theory of multiple intelligences, Gardner
(1993) emphasized that the idea has a rich histor y, recognized
even in early Greek times. He makes only two strong claims about
the theory. The first is that all humans possess all of these intelli-
gences: indeed, they can collectively be considered a definition of
Homo sapiens, cognitively speaking. The second claim is that just
as we all look different and have unique personalities and differ-
ences, we also have different patterns of intelligence (Gardner,
1999a). Therefore, in Gardner’s framework, our tendency to label
people as being generally bright, average, or dull just does not fit.
Rather, a person may exhibit high intelligence in one or more
areas, such as music and math, and yet demonstrate only average
intelligence in other respects. In other words, you can be very tal-
ented in specific areas and have some or little capacity in others.
In addition, Gardner views MI theory as presenting a critique of
the predominant model of “psychometrics-as-usual” in measuring
intelligence. Therefore, although scholars have made some
attempts to develop and use tests that measure multiple intelli-
gences (for example, Rosnow, Skleder, Jaeger, & Rind, 1994;
Shearer & Jones, 1994), Gardner (1995) himself argues that any
assessments of multiple intelligences must be “‘intelligent fair’; that
is, in ways that examine the intelligence directly rather than
through the lens of linguistic or logic al intelligence (as ordinary
pencil and paper tests do)” (p. 202).
INTELLIGENCE AND AGING 375
When Gardner proposed his MI theor y, he was interested in
both promoting theory building on the nature of intelligence with
his fellow psychologists and having scholars examine the educa-
tional implications of his theory. His work has stirred a great deal
of theoretical debate among scholars, but what Gardner was unpre-
pared for was the almost overwhelming positive response among
educators of preschool and elementary-school-age children, which
then spread even to the secondar y and college levels (Gardner,
1993, 1995, 1999b; Rosnow, Skleder, Jaeger, & Rind, 1994; Shearer
&Jones,1994).Forexample,MItheorywasalmostimmediately
put into practice and whole curricula for school-age children have
been developed using the theor y. The conclusion that Gardner
(1999a) himself has reached “is that the MI theory is best thought
of as a tool rather than an educational goal” (p. 21).
The use of MI theory has been much more limited in applica-
tions to situations of adult life. Gardner (1999b) noted that, more
recently, “a growing number of businesses have been attracted to
the themes of MI: as input to the human resources department, as
ameansforcreatingormarketingproducts,orastrainingfora
more effective learning environment” (p. 202). But Gardner also
cautions that, although there are some applications to individuals
and perhaps even to organizations, in the work world “what is
important is whether people can do their jobs, not what particular
intelligences they happen to be applying” (p. 198).
One example of a highly systematic use of the MI theory has
been with programs of adult literacy. The Adult Multiple Intelli-
gences (AMI) study was a project under the auspices of the
National Center for the Study of Adult Learning and Literacy
(NCSALL) at Harvard University (Viens & Kallenbach, 2004). In
Phase 1 of the study, ten teachers of ESOL, ABE, GED, or diploma
preparation programs from five New England states “took on the
challenge to help their students identify and use diverse pathways
to learning English, basic skills, and content utilizing the MI the-
ory” (p. ix). One result of their work was a draft sourcebook for
adult literacy teachers who wanted to learn about and use MI the-
ory in their classrooms. In Phase 2, twelve additional adult literacy
teachers from four diverse locations around the United States
piloted a first draft of this sourcebook. One of the most important
outcomes of that pilot study is Multiple Intelligences and Adult Liter-
acy: A Sourcebook for Practitioners (Viens & Kallenbach, 2004). This
376 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
sourcebook provides a very clear description of MI theor y and its
promises and challenges; useful resources on how to develop vari-
ous learning strategies that can tap into students’ strengths; and
“stories” from students and teachers, some of whom found using
the MI theor y very helpful as part of the learning process and
others who found it rather cumbersome to their central tasks.
We do see significant value in integrating Gardner’s MI theory
into our research and practice of lea rning in adulthood. But we
are also well aware that there is a major need for more systematic
validation studies of the basic dimensions of the MI theor y, and
more specifically, whether this theory is applicable to adults, and if
so, for whom, where, and how. We recommend paying heed to
Gardner’s (1995 ) po sitio n th at t here is no “ sing le ed ucat iona l
approach based on the MI theory, [and] that educators are in the
best position to de termine the uses to whic h MI theor y can and
should be used” (p. 206).
PRACTICAL I NTELLIGENCE
Sternberg and his associates have been the most active and prolific
scholars responding to the challenge to reframe the concept of
intelligence. Like Gardner, they too have broken from the tradi-
tion of framing intelligence as primarily a measure of what they
have come to call “academic intelligence” to one that includes
problem solving for everyday life. More specifically, they argue that
“the problems faced in everyday life often have little relationship
to the knowledge and skills acquired through formal education or
the abilities used in classroom activities” (Sternberg et al., 2000, p.
32). Consider, for example, an adult who returns to school to earn
his RN license. He does ext remely well in his classes and clinical
experiences. Yet he finds through his first job as a nurse in an acute
care hospital that his overall performance is less than adequate.
He has great difficultly keeping up with all the demands of the doc-
tors and the needs of his patients, and even worse, he panics in
emergency situations.
The theoretical framework used most often by Sternberg and
his associates, and also by other scholars who study practical intel-
ligence, is the triarchic theory of intelligence. According to
Sternberg (1985, 1986a, 1988), th e triarchic t heory is composed
of three subtheories: a componential subtheory, describing the
INTELLIGENCE AND AGING 377
internal analytical mental mechanisms and processes involved in
intelligence; an experiential subtheory, focusing on how a person’ s
experience combined with insight and creativity affects how she
thinks; and a contextual subtheor y, emphasizing the role of the
external environment in determining what constitutes intelligent
behavior in a situation. The first part of the subtheory, the mental
mechanisms of intelligence, is posited as universal: “Although indi-
viduals may differ in what mental mechanisms they apply to a given
task or situation, the potential set of mental mechanisms under-
lying intelligence is claimed to be the same across all individuals,
social classes, and cultural groups” (Sternberg, 1986a, pp. 23–24).
The other two parts of Sternberg’s theor y, which emphasize the
experience of the learner and the real-world context, are seen as
having both universal and relativistic components. The universal
aspect has to do with areas being studied within each of these sub-
parts of the theory (such as the processes of automation, environ-
mental adaptation, and shaping). These processes are seen as
important no matter what the cultural milieu or the person’s expe-
rience with the tasks or situations chosen to measure these aspects.
The relativistic nature of these parts of the theory comes from the
recognition that what constitutes intelligent behavior is not the same
for all groups of people. As Sternberg puts it, “Parts of the theory are
culturally universal, and parts are culturally relative” (1986a, p. 24).
Sternberg and colleagues are still in the process of validating
an empirical test of the triarchic theory of intelligence. A revised
version of Sternberg’s Triarchic Abilities Test (STAT) has been
developed, focusing on additions to the measurements used for
creative and practical intelligence. In addition to the presentation
of problems through verbal, quantitative , and figural representa-
tions, they have added other types of items. For example, they are
now asking participants “to write and tell stories or captions for car-
toons, and [to solve] everyday problems presented in films, and by
an office-based situational judgment inventory” (Sternberg, 2003a,
p. 61). Studies of this revised edition are still in progress, and it is
our understanding that the STAT is still not being used beyond the
experimental phase of test validation (Brody, 2003; Sternberg,
2003a; Sternberg, Castejón, Prieto, Hautamäki, & Grigorenko,
2001). In addition, we could locate only one study in which adults
were the audience for this continuing evaluation of the STAT
(Sternberg, 2003a).
378 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
Sternberg (1997, 2003b) has expanded on the triarchic theory
further through his research on “successful intelligence.” His view
of successful intelligence is grounded in the same basic compo-
nents as those in his tri archic theor y, although these underlying
components are labeled a bit differently, and also, the basic mean-
ing of those components has changed somewhat. “To be success-
fully intelligent is to think well in three ways: analytically, creatively,
and practically” (Sternberg, 1997, pp. 126–128). Sternberg high-
lights that it is not enough just to have these three abilities; rather,
people are successfully intelligent when they are able to choose
how and when to use these abilities effectively. For example, stu-
dents in graduate programs often develop research studies that
meet the test of being highly analytical in nature. Nonetheless, the
problems they choose to study may not be important to their fields
(lack creative intelligence) or have little practical significance
(something valued in educational research).
Sternberg and associates (Sternberg, 1996b, 1997; Sternberg
et al., 2000; Sternberg & Horvarth, 1999; Wagner, 2000) have fur-
ther delineated one of the three components that compose the
theories of triarchic and successful intelligence by exploring in
more depth the concept of contextual or practical intelligence.
These scholars argue that tacit knowledge is a central component
of practical intelligence. Tacit knowledge is defined as “knowledge
that reflects the practical ability to learn from experience and to
apply that knowledge in the pursuit of personally va lued goals”
(Sternberg et al., 2000, p. 104). In their opinion, it is this tacit
knowledge that allows adults to successfully adapt to, select, or
shape real-world environments.
Sternberg et al. (2000) present a clear and cogent discussion
of how tacit knowledge has been measured with adults, ranging
from critical incidents and simulations to the initial development
and testing of tacit knowledge inventories. The research on build-
ing tacit knowledge inventories was conducted with a variety of
adult populations (for example, academic psychologists, business
managers, people who enroll in general leadership training pro-
grams, and military leaders). Among their findings are “that indi-
viduals who exhibit the ability to acquire and use tacit knowledge
are more effective in their respective performance domains”
(Sternberg et al., 2000, p. 223). In addition, “although the acqui-
sition of tacit knowledge appears to be influenced, to some extent,
INTELLIGENCE AND AGING 379
by ‘g’ and by the amount of experience, tacit knowledge invento-
ries are not simply new measures of these constructs” (p. 223).
Overall, Sternberg et al. conclude that “tacit knowledge appears to
reflect a single underlying ability, which [they] label practical intel-
ligence” (p. 223). Sternberg et al. do caution that although there
is excitement about the promise of this new generation of mea-
sures of practical intelligence, they “are the first to admit that exist-
ing evidence for the new measures does not yet match that
available for traditional cognitive-academic tests. Consequently, the
use of both kinds of measures explain more variance in perfor-
mance than reliance on either kind alone” (p. 224).
The work of Sternberg and his colleagues has provided the
most useful insights over time into different ways of framing intel-
ligence in adulthood. First, although the work discussed is more
widely used with children, the theory building, research, and appli-
cations have also been used with a variety of adult groups in sys-
tematic ways. Therefore, there is a twenty-year research history that
provides a different level of credibility to this work than to that of
Gardner, or, as we next explore, to the concept of emotional intel-
ligence. For educators of adults it provides rich evidence that adult
intelligence is much more than academic abilities and measures
on the more traditional IQ tests, but also encompasses what many
of us have believed it to include all along: ever yday or practical
intelligence. Second, Sternberg and his colleagues have provided
us with initial inventories of both successful and pract ical intelli-
gence. Although, as was discussed previously, additional validation
studies need to be completed on these inventories, we hope that
at some point they will be as accepted as the current traditional
battery of tests of intelligence in adults. And finally, Sternberg and
his colleagues have added their voices to those who have said that
intelligence can be taught (see Grotzer & Perkins , 2000, for an
over view) and offer resources that can be used with adults in the
instructional process (for example, Sternberg, 1986a, 1988, 1997).
EMOTIONAL I NTELLIGENCE
The term emotional intelligence became almost a household word
with the publication of Goleman’s popular book Emotional Intelli-
gence (1995). Goleman’s suggestion that “emotional intelligence
can be as powerful and at times more powerful than IQ” (p. 24)
380 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
created excitement especially among practitioners. Grounding his
work in the new discoveries of the emotional architecture of the
brain, Goleman asserts that we have two ver y different ways of
knowing—the rational and the emotional—which are, for the most
part, intertwined and “exquisitely coordinated; feelings are essen-
tial to thought, thought to feelings” (p. 9). Yet, in Goleman’ s beliefs,
it is the emotional mind—in his terms, emotional intelligence—
that is the major determiner of success in life. His model of
emotional intelligence has five primary domains, which he attrib-
utes to the earlier model of Salovey and Mayer (1990): knowing
one’s emotions, managing one’s emotions, motivating oneself, rec-
ognizing emotions in others, and handling relationships. Goleman
believes that self-awareness of one’s feelings is the key to emotional
intelligence, but one must also be attuned to the emotions of
others.
Both Salovey and Mayer’s (1990) and Goleman’s (1995)
descriptions of how adults might display their emotional intelli-
gence are similar to Gardner’s concep t of person al intelligence.
For example, all the authors speak to the need for people to make
personal connections and be empathetic as well as to have access
to their own internal feelings. In addition, their ideas about emo-
tional intelligence are echoed in Sternberg’s list of the character-
istics and attributes of people who display successful intelligence.
Although Goleman’s work has been quoted and used most
often as a base for practice with both children and adults, there is
little if any empirical evidence to support the majority of his basic
assertions about emotional intelligence. Rather, as obser ved by
Mayer, Salovey, and Caruso (2000) and Brody (2004), Goleman’s
very strong claims on emotional intelligence are based primarily in
proprietary research and not published in peer-review journals. In
addition, Goleman ascribes his five-domain model of emotional
intelligence as one that was conceptualized by Salovey, citing an ear-
lier work of Salovey and Mayer (1990), as his source. However, in
our review of the original source for that model it was our observa-
tion that Goleman’ s model is not a good representation of the work
of either the original model Salovey and Mayer proposed (1990) or
of their more recent work (Mayer & Salovey, 1997; Mayer, Salovey, &
Caruso, 2000). In essence, the Mayer and Salovey model has four
branches: “(a) perceiving emotions, (b) using emotions to facilitate
thought, (c) understanding emotions, and (d) managing emotions”
INTELLIGENCE AND AGING 381
(Mayer & Salovey, 1997, as cited by Salovey & Pizarro, 2003, p. 263).
Although some of the language is similar to that of Goleman’s
description of emotional intelligence, the actual meanings are quite
different. First, Mayer and Salovey’s work is situated in a rich body
of both theory and research. Second, the Mayer and Salovey model
has become foundationa l for some hig h l y sop h i s t ic a t e d wor k on
emotional intelligence that both these authors and other scholars
continue to revise and use in their research (Mayer, Salovey, &
Caruso, 2000; Palmer, Gignac, Manocha, & Stough, 2005; Salovey
& Pizarro, 2003).
In addition to the work completed on building theories and
models of emotional intelligence, there is also work done in devel-
oping measures of this construct (Bar-On, 1997; Simmons &
Simmons, 1997; Mayer, Salovey, & Caruso, 2002, 2003). The
Mayer-Salovey-Caruso Emotional Intelli gence Test (MSCEIT) has
received the greatest scrutiny. For example, Palmer, Gignac,
Manocha, and Stough (2005) have recently complet ed a psycho-
metric evaluation of the MSCEIT Test Version 2. Two major con-
clusions resulted from their study: (1) “the reliability of the
MSCEIT at the total scale, area, and branch levels was found to be
good” (p. 1); and (2) there is a need for the “addition of valid
items to the current subscales, as well as the creation of more sub-
scales in general” (p. 21).
Still others have explored the practical application of emo-
tional intelligence in the workplace (Weisinger, 1998; Opengart,
2005; McEnrue & Groves, 2006). Opengart (2005) conducted a lit-
erature search on two very different but related concepts: emo-
tional intelligence and emotional work. She concluded that
employees need to have both the capacity to act in emotional sit-
uations (that is, emotional intelligence) and in-depth knowledge
of how their specific place of employment allows for the expres-
sion of emotion and in what ways. McEnrue and Groves (2006)
have provided an excellent review and critique on current tests on
emotional intelligence used in the workplace. They are advocating
using the MSCEIT “on the basis of its psychometric properties and
HRD application potential” (p. 38) as the test of choice at this
time, although they acknowledge the test is still under going fur-
ther refinement.
Even though the writings and research on emotional intelli-
gence in adulthood have made us think about the importance of
382 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
emotion to learning, we need to be mindful that this concept of
intelligence has little empirical evidence to support it as a separate
construct of intelligence. Therefore, we should not consider emo-
tional intelligence as a given fact, nor design programs that teach
others how to develop and use a certain “type” of emotional intel-
ligence. Rather, we should continue to critically explore the many
ways that emotional intellige nce has been presented and reflect
on how these might enhance our practice as educators of adults.
We move next in this section to a discussion of the contextual
perspective of intelligence. There is some overlap among researchers
who include contextual components in their theories and models.
Representative theories and models of intelligence where this over-
lap can easily be seen are successful intelligence (Sternberg, 1997),
practical intelligence (Ste rnberg et al., 2000; Wagner, 2000),
and emotional intelligence (Mayer & Salovey, 1997; Salovey &
Pizarro, 2003)
THE CONTEXTUAL PERSPECTIVE OF INTELLIGENCE
Acknowledging the contextual dimension of intelligence in adult-
hood moves our thinking beyond the realm of individual learners.
Inside the broad framework of this perspective, two main threads
emerge. The first thread is that intellectual abilities lie at the inter-
section of the mind and the many changes we experience over
time in our everyday lives. For example, many of us have wondered
why some people can be successful in more than one employment
setting, even when those settings are radically different, while oth-
ers fail miserably when they change their places of employment,
even when they are doing similar work. One explanation that is
often given is tha t people who su cceed across settings have the
capacity to scan and adapt to new environments. Unless an indi-
vidual is able to understand and actively participate in new situa-
tions, a contextual theorist would obser ve, being cognitively
competent internally may make little, if any, difference in that per-
son’s success in most realms. In essence, the contextual perspec-
tive captures the adaptive functions of intelligence—being able to
act intellectually in a number of different contexts, based on the
accumulation of both generalized and specialized knowledge and
abilities (Berg, 2000). Berg (2000) advocates that this process of
adaptation should be dynamic, in which individuals’ intellectual
INTELLIGENCE AND AGING 383
“abilities and processes as well as the context are simultaneously
shaped” (p. 127). Berg also obser ves that research on the inter-
section of the mind and our everyday experiences within the con-
textual framework “is in its relative infancy compared with the work
on individual abilities and processes that reside within the indi-
vidual” (p. 128).
The second thread in the contextual framework is based on
the assumption that intelligence often has different meanings to
different social, ethnic, and cultural groups (Davidson & Downing,
2000; Luttrell, 1989; Serpell, 2000; Sternberg, 2004). As Davidson
and Downing (2002) state: “What is considered to be intelligent
behavior in one culture is sometimes thought to be rather idiotic
in other cultures” (p. 40).
In line with this thinking, Kohl de Oliveira (1995, p. 245)
notes: “Individuals, growing up in their cultural setting s, develop
their own conceptions about intellectual competence, acquisition
and use of cognitive abilities, and organization of these abilities
within different situations.” For example, respondents in Luttrell’s
study (1989, p. 37) of working-class Black women and White
women judged people as intelligent by their ability “to cope with
everyday problems in an everyday world.” In other words, they saw
using common sense as an important intellectual skill. But even in
their definitions of common sense, each group described the for-
mulation and value of this commonsense know-how ver y differ-
ently. White women valued the commonsense knowledge of
working-class men, such as manual and craft knowledge, more
highly than their own intuitive knowledge springing from their
domestic responsibilities. In contrast, Black women viewed as
important the knowledge and abilities they gained through care-
taking and domestic work. In addition, working-class Black women
considered their racial identity and relationships with “extended
kin” and the Black community as critical to both what they knew
and how they used this knowledge.
Serpell (2000) has raised a very different kind of cultural issue:
the culture of academic scholars who possess incredible power over
those who try to break out of the mainstream way of conceptualiz-
ing and studying intelligence. More specifically, he addresses how
a“culturallyparticular”conceptionofintelligence,inthiscaseone
that is dominant in contemporary Western, industrialized societies,
continues to be the prevailing view of how intelligence is defined
384 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
and researched. Troubling are Serpell’s (2000) observations, simi-
lar to ones made earlier in this chapter, that this cultural paradigm,
for example, “informs the development of most of the standard-
ized tests in the United States, which in turn have emerged from a
tradition that has dominated the design of intelligence tests else-
where around the world” (pp. 567–568). In his discussion of an
editorial with fifty-two signatures published in the journal Intelli-
gence (Gottfredson, 1997), Serpell critiques three significant cul-
tural themes raised in the editorial that, from the perspective of
the editorial’s signatories, drive the majority of the research in
intelligence: “decontextualization, quantification, and biologiza-
tion” (Gottfredson, 1997, as cited by Serpell, 2000, p. 568). We
agree with Serpell’s intriguing critique of these themes, and also
offer our own observations. We find the first theme especially prob-
lematic because there are re searchers, especially in the last two
decades, who have argued that historical, sociocultural, and
biographical contexts are central to the study of intelligence in
adulthood (Schaie, 1994; Sternberg, 2003b; Sternberg et al., 2000).
We also question the second theme of whether all forms of intelli-
gence can or even should be quantifiable. In addition, although
the biological perspective, the third theme, may hold great
promise for a better understanding of intelligence, we cannot state
for sure that this knowledge will be useful in our practice as edu -
cators of adults.
Other scholars have crossed the boundaries of Western culture,
through cross-cultural studies, to gain a clearer understanding of
how culture affects the way intelligence is defined. Sternberg et al.
(2000), for example, describe a number of studies Sternberg and
others conducted in Asia and Africa. The groups studied were quite
varied in their backgrounds, countries of origin, and the type of
environments in which they lived, ranging from adults residing in
cities in Taiwan to villagers in rural areas of Africa. Although the
populations differed in so many aspects, there was one main simi-
larity among these groups—a stronger emphasis in both African
and Asian cultures on social aspects of intelligence “to a much
greater extent than in the conventional Western view” (p. 17). Even
though this greater emphasis existed, “these cultures still recognize
the importance of the cognitive aspects” (p. 17) of intelligence.
Issues of race, ethnicity, and social class, in addition to culture,
are also studied. Kohl de Oliveira (1995, p. 262), for example, in
INTELLIGENCE AND AGING 385
her longitudinal study of how adults in a favela (squatter settle-
ment) in the city of São Paulo, Brazil, understand intelligence is
one example of a study that takes into accoun t social class as well
as culture. She found that her respondents “characterized intelli-
gent people as those who are able, basically, to ‘make things,’ to
create concrete products with their own hands: build houses, do
woodwork, do mechanical work, paint, make objects in straw,
ceramics, and so on.” These people, who were living in a squatter
settlement, defined intelligence as the ability to cope with their
everyday lives, which in essence meant possessing the skills to make
things with their own hands and having the ability to learn easily
and quickly things that could assist them in their daily survival.
Sternberg (2004), as editor of a recent handbook, The Interna-
tional Handbook of Intelligence, has provided us with a wide variety of
examples of cross-cultural studies on intelligence from many
regions of the world. He includes studies that focus on theor y,
research, and testing in the Nordic countries, Israel, Turkey, and
Japan. In addition, other authors explore whether it is possible to
study intelligence without using the concept of intelligence, if dili-
gence can make people smart, and the validity and usefulness of
local versus universal models and theories of intelligence.
INTELLIGENCE,AGING, AND A DULT
LEARNING
Among the many new ideas about intellectual functioning in adult-
hood, four surface as the most intriguing and useful to educators.
The first is that the individual differences approach to intelligence
continues to be the dominant paradigm in the study of adult intel-
ligence. In essence, most of our knowle dge about inte lligence in
adulthood, including the effects of the aging process on intelli-
gence, is still grounded in the more traditional measures of IQ.
Our hypothesis, as stated earlier, is that many educators of adults
may not be aw a re of the enor m o u s influence that i n t e l lige n ce , as
defined from the individual differences approach, has had on
adult lives. For example, some adults were tracked into ability
groups early in their schooling days through these types of IQ tests,
which may have life time effects on how they and others perceive
their ability to learn. In addition, other educators and adults alike
386 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
have believed for a long time that, as adults age, they really cannot
think as well as they once did. For these people this premise may
be a “fact of life” that becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, no matter
what evidence is presented to the contrary.
The second development is the expansion of alternative con-
ceptions of adult intelligence. Adults are especially attracted to the
work of Gardner on multiple intelligences and Sternberg’s notion
of practical intelligence, because these ideas resonate with their
adult lives. These alternative perspectives on adult intelligence
have great potential for assisting adult educators and learners to
think differently about what it means to be intelligent. For exam-
ple, “unschooled adults” often view themselves as not very bright.
Yet, in telling stories of some of their favorite activities they often
describe hobbies or other tasks that are quite complex and require
higher-order thinking. Assisting these individuals in understand-
ing what practical intelligence is all about might change their own
self-image as learners.
Third, Sternberg (1996c, 1997) has also challenged us to think
in very different ways about how individuals and the circumstances
in which they find themselves interact to shape intellectu al func-
tioning in adulthood. He offers a novel illustration to help us gain
aclearerpictureofwhathemeansby“themindincontext”:the
“luck” and “whoops” factors (Sternberg, 1994b). Each of us is born
with different gifts and into different circumstan ces. Some of us
are lucky enough to find ourselves in places where our gifts have
been prized and nurtured (the luck factor), while others, no mat-
ter what their individual efforts, are never recognized or are
blocked by circumstances beyond their control (the whoops fac-
tor). As the world around us becomes more complex, so does the
entanglement of the whoops with the luck factors. What may be
termed a luck factor one day may often without warning become
a whoops factor the next. The truly intelligent adult must be able
to grapple with these often paradoxical situations, which can
become highly frustrating and even daunting to those caught up
in tragic events. We think of the many families who were left
homeless and jobless as a result of Hurricane Katrina. Many of
them have had to progress up a ver y steep learning curve to get
back on their feet, often in circumstances that were at best tolera-
ble, but often horrible. Those who have made their way back to a
INTELLIGENCE AND AGING 387
life of some normalcy are excellent examples of adults who display
high levels of intellect—and also, perhaps, have a little luck along
the way.
Fourth, researchers such as Schaie (1994, 1996a, 1996b) and
Sternberg (1986a, 1986b; Sternberg et al., 2000) are creating a
clearer understanding of how adults can both retain and even
enhance their intellectual abilities as they age. These researchers
view adult intelligence as consisting of a number of factors or com-
ponents. Sternberg, for example, identifies people who really
“shine”—that is, are highly intelligent—as those who can weave
their academic know-how, however it was learned, their creativity,
and their “street smarts” into meeting life “head-on,” no matter the
circumstances. Based on this definition, very different strategies
for keeping one’s intelligence intact are needed than when intel-
ligence is viewed primarily as academic or mental ability. There-
fore, based on the var ying definitions of intelligence, adult
educators need to think carefully about which intellectual abilities
might be the most useful for adults, both young and old, to have
addressed by educational interventions.
To ensure that they continue to maintain their intellectual
functioning, learners themselves can take part in both informal
and formal educational programs aimed at keeping their intellec-
tual capacities intact. Adult educators can offer formal learning
experiences, grounded in a solid knowledge base about intelli-
gence and aging, while also providing advice to learners on useful
resources they might consult. In addition, Peterson and Masunaga
(1998) and Ramey and Ramey (2000) advocate that we need to
expand our role in educational policies related to learning in
adulthood, and more specifically, in policies that speak directly to
the intellectual functioning of adults. A basic assumption that influ-
ences Ramey and Ramey’s commitment in this arena is that all cit-
izens in a democratic society are responsible for acting intelligently
in their roles as voters, members of governing boards, and spokes-
people for specific causes related to intellectual functioning in
adulthood. Examples of specific issues are to ensure that IQ tests
used as part of a major policy initiat i ve for adults are appropria t e
and valid and that public funding is adequate to meet the needs
of older adults for specific interventions to maintain their intel-
lectual capacities.
388 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
SUMMARY
In this chapter we discussed the more traditional approache s to
intelligence, including the biological, the individual differences,
and the cognitive processes approaches, which have been founda-
tional to our thinking about adult intelligence. The most often
used paradigm among these traditional approaches is the individ-
ual differences approach, which assumes that intelligence is a mea-
surable quantity. First conceptualized from this approach as a
single factor of general ability, the cons truct has broadened to
include the notion tha t there are multiple factors of intellectual
ability, such as those proposed by Horn and Cattell (1967), and
Thurstone and Thurstone (1941). Commonly used tests of adult
intelligence that fit into this psychometric tradition include the
Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale and the Primary Mental Abili-
ties test. The three is s ue s that have surfaced with the use of these
types of tests are what they measure, the inclusion of timed items,
and the social and policy implications of IQ scores.
The question of whether adults retain their intellectual abili-
ties as they age has not yet been definitively answered. Set primar-
ily within the individual differences perspectives, three key factors
on which the age and intelligence controversies center are defin-
ing the concept of intelligence, delineating the parameters of
aging, and choosing which research designs and tests to use to
measure inte ll i g e n ce . Some researchers contend that intellec t u a l
functioning is a process of irreversible decline. However, most
scholars agree that intelligence either remains relatively stable
through the adult years, with substantial intellectual changes
occurring only ver y late in life, or that intelligence declines in
some respects, remains stable in others, and may even increase
in some functions, depending on a person’ s educational level, life
experiences, and overall health. In addition, a number of variables
reducing the risk of intellectual decline in old age have been iso-
lated, such as liv ing in favor able circumstances and maintainin g
substantial involvement in activities.
Challenges to the individua l differences approach have come
primarily from scholars who question whether what is measured as
intelligence through this tradition present s a comprehensive pic-
ture of intellectual abilities, has any relationship to real-world or
INTELLIGENCE AND AGING 389
practical intelligence , and the effects that context has on intelli-
gence. Three of the most prominent theorists who represent this
alternative view of intelligence are Gardner (1999b), Sternberg
(1985, 1997, 2003b), and Mayer and Salovey (1997). The contex-
tual perspective on intelligence, which often includes the notion
of practical and emotional intelligence, recognizes the importance
of the intersection of the mind and the outside world as critical in
gaining a clearer understan ding of intelligence. Acknowledging
this perspective means that intelligence has been defined differ-
ently by people of varying cultural backgrounds, social classes, and
ethnicity.
The chapter concluded with an exploration of four ideas about
intellectual functioning in adulthoo d that are particularly impor-
tant for educators of adults: the continued predominance of the
individual differences approach to the study of intelligence in
adulthood; the expansion of alternative conceptions of adult intel-
ligence; how individuals and the circumstances they find them-
selves in interact to shape intellectual functioning in adults; and a
clearer understanding of how adults can retain and enhance their
intellectual abilities, including the roles learners and adult educa-
tors can play using instructional and policy interventions.
390 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MEMORY,COGNITION,
AND THE BRAIN
One of the predominant views about adult learning is that learn-
ing is an internal process; it involves something happening inside
our heads. Cognitive scientists, primarily from the discipline of psy-
chology, have had the longest histor y of research in this arena.
What cognitive scientists do is “attempt to discover the mental func-
tions and processes that underlie observed behavior” (Bruer, 1997,
p. 10). These mental functions and processes include, but are not
limited to, the study of how people receive, store, retrieve, trans-
form, and transmit information. Neurobiologists, in contrast,
“study the anatomy, physi o l og y, and patholo g y of the nervous sys-
tem” (Taylor, 1996, p. 301), including the brain and related
systems. They are primarily interested in the structures of the brain
and how the brain actually works, including its electrical and chem-
ical systems. With more recent technological advances, like mag-
netic resonance imaging (MRI) and positron emission tomography
(PET), neurobiologists are generating actual pictures of how the
brain operates.
Care must be taken in using work from both the cognitive and
neurobiological sciences to talk about learning in adulthood,
because the majority of studies in these two areas have been done
with children (in the cognitive sciences) or with animals and peo-
ple with severe brain damage (in the neurosciences). Still, there
are some intriguing ideas that have informed the study of adult
learning from both perspectives. With the advent of more sophis-
ticated technology and a trend in the sciences toward interdisci-
plinary research, the knowledge base in these two areas has already
expanded immensely. Although at this stage most of what we know
391
about memor y and how our brains function is laborator y-based,
this ever expanding knowledge base has enormous potential for
the study of adult learners and the way we practice our craft.
The work with adult populations related to cognition has been
primarily in the area of memory and aging. This chapter first high-
lights that work, presenting an overview of the information pro-
cessing framework. Next, we explore the concept of knowledge
structures or schemas, the effect of prior knowledge and experi-
ence on learning, and cognitive and learning styles. These three
topics, which are grounded in the cognitive sciences, are impor-
tant for educators of adults to understand. Key ideas relating to
neurobiology and learning are then reviewed. A description of how
the brain has been viewed differently through the ages is followed
by a discussion of the structures and the functions of the brain. As
part of this discussion we describe how cognitive psychologists, neu-
robiologists, and scientists from other disciplines have joined forces
in the study of the brain, with the result being a new field of study:
cognitive neuroscience. We explore next connecting what we know
about the brain to our practice as adult educators. The chapter
concludes by raising some intriguing questions of what we are dis-
covering about the brain from the perspective of the cognitive neu-
rosciences and how this knowledge might change the way we think
about adult learning and our practice as adult educators.
HUMAN MEMORY
Fear of memory loss is a common concern of people as they age.
Parents often obser ve how much more easily their children can
remember such simple things as telephone numbers and com-
puter access codes, while many older adults seem to remember
childhood events vividly but sometimes have difficulty remem-
bering the names of people they just met. These observations and
images foster the idea that memory loss is a normal result of aging
and thus is something we all must accept. Are these perceptions of
memory loss accurate, and if so, what effects do they have on learn-
ing in adulthood? Often, memor y functions are equated with
learning or are seen as one of the primary mental processes asso-
ciated with learning (Hoyer & Roodin, 2003). If adults do suffer
392 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
major changes, especially decline, in their memory functions, it
follows that the learning process may also be impaired. To under-
stand how memor y can be affected by th e aging process , we first
need to examine how the process of memory from the cognitive
framework is conceptualized.
Since the 1960s, human memory has been studied primarily
from the information processing approach. The mind was until
recently visualized as a computer, with information being entered,
stored, and then retrieved as needed. Conceptualizing where peo-
ple store or file what they learn, termed the structural aspect of mem-
ory, was the first major focus of study from this perspective. Three
categories have been traditionally used to describe the different
structures of memor y: sensor y memor y, short-term memor y, and
long-term memor y. More recently there has been a movement
away from dividing up the structure of memory in such a defini-
tive manner. This change in thinking has stemmed primarily from
the study of working memory, and our knowledge of how the brain
functions, which is discussed later in this chapter. Working mem-
ory has been conceptualized in three different ways: as part of long-
term memory, as part of or the same as short-term memory, or as
the mediator between sensory memory and either long- or short-
term memory (Anderson, 2005; Ormrod, 1999). For the purposes
of our discussion, we discuss human memory within the framework
of sensory, working, and long-term memory. What is important to
keep in mind when discussing memory as a process is that the dif-
ferent forms of memor y do not exist in specific “places” in the
brain, but rather are metaphors for each of the main processing
components.
Sensory memory, also called the sensor y register, “holds incom-
ing information long enough for it to undergo preliminary cogni-
tive functioning” (Ormrod, 1999, p. 179). Primarily through the
senses of vision, hearing, and touch, images, sounds, and vibrations
are entered into our memory systems. Sensory memory has a very
brief storage time of only milliseconds before it either enters our
working memor y system or is lost. Working memory, or what some
label short-term memory, entails “the active and simultaneous pro-
cessing and storing of information” (Hoyer & Roodin, 2003, p.
277). Hoyer and Roodin compare working memory to a desktop:
MEMORY,COGNITION, AND THE BRAIN 393
During the course of a day, new pieces of information (memos,
reports, work requests, and maybe empty pizza boxes) constantly
accumulate on an individual’s desk. The individual has to deter-
mine (1) which information is the most important, (2) which
pieces of information require further processing, (3) which pro-
cessing strategy to use, and (4) which pieces of information are
cluttering up the desktop and should either be discarded or stored.
Working memory tasks require individuals to simultaneously select,
coordinate, and process incoming information. [pp. 277–278]
The storage capacity of working memor y is estimated to be
from five to thirty seconds. Long-term memory, however, has an enor-
mous capacity for storage and is that part of the memory structure
that retains information for long periods of time. “It includes mem-
ory for specific events and general knowledge that has been
gleaned from those events over the years” (Ormrod, 1999, p. 192).
Long-term memory has been conce ptualized as the most compli-
cated component of the memor y system, and therefore has
received the most attention in the research literature.
In recent years our understanding of long-term memor y has
moved from viewing it as one monolithic system “to one that is less
hierarchical, involving several different kinds of memory, each play-
ing a significant role” (Taylor, 1997b, p. 263). Most of the research
on long-term memory has involved explicit (or declarative) mem-
ory, which is “the term used to describe knowledge that we can
consciously recall” (Anderson, 2005, p. 234). “This form of mem-
ory is more sensitive and prone to interference, but it is also invalu-
able, providing the ability for personal autobiography and cultural
evolution” (Taylor, 1997b, p. 263). Implicit (or nondeclarative)
memory, in contrast, “concerns memories that we are not con-
scious we have” (Anderson, 2005, p. 234). Although these memo-
ries are developed unconsciously and thus form a hidden world we
know little about, “people are influenced by [these types of mem-
ories] without any awareness they are remembering” (Schacter,
1996, p. 161). Classic examples of implicit memories are riding a
bike, using a computer keyboard, and the “acquisition of rules
often found in grammar [involving categorical knowledge]. Gram-
mar is a particularly good example of implicit memory, where peo-
ple have acquired abstract rules, but are unable to articulate what
guides their speech and writing” (Taylor, 1997b, p. 264).
394 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
How we process information is integrally related to the cogni-
tive processes involved in memor y. Usually the memory process
is divided into three phases (Anderson, 2005; Ormrod, 1999;
Schacter, 1996). The encoding or acquisition phase is the initial
process in which the information is entered into the system. Filing
this material for future use is termed the storage or retention phase.
The final phase, retrieval, describes how we get material out of stor-
age when needed. Two of the most common methods of retrieval
are recall, or bringing forth “to-be-remembered” information, and
recogn itio n, which involves choosing from a group of possible
answers. As we well remember from our school testing days of essay
versus multiple-choice exams, recalling the “correct” answer is con-
sidered to be more difficult than recognizing the correct answer
among other possibilities presented (Hoyer & Roodin, 2003).
Research has demonstrated that as we get older, we have more
problems encoding and retrieving memories; the actual retention
or storage of our memories remains fairly constant, however.
Memory from the information processing perspective works as
follows: Information from our environment is registered within
sensory memor y through our visual, auditor y, and tactile senses.
Material is then selectively transferred or encoded into working
memory. The control system of selective attention determines what
is important enough to be moved into working memory. There is
considerable flexibility with what can be done with the informa-
tion in working memory. It “can be used as a cue to retrieve other
information from long-term memory, it can be elaborated, it can
be used to form images, it is used in thinking, it can be structured
to be placed in long-term or secondar y memor y, or if nothing is
done with it, it can be discarded” (Di Vesta, 1987, p. 211).
Because the functions of working memory are complex and its
time and capacity are limited, two major control processes are used
to sort and file the data: chunking and automatization. Chunking
essentially is organizing the information in groups or patterns (a
phone number in three chunks: 970-351-2119, for example),
while automatization allows for a chunk of information to become
so familiar that a person can handle it without recall thinking
(Ormrod, 1999). The material structured in working memory for
long-term memory is then encoded into that memory bank for per-
manent storage. Because individuals organize information received
in different ways, attending to different cues, and associating
MEMORY,COGNITION, AND THE BRAIN 395
similar pieces of information together, what is stored is not likely to
be exactly what was received. “As a result, several people witnessing
the same event often store very different things in their long-term
memories” (Ormrod, 1999, p. 208). This type of processing is some-
times referred to as deep processing versus the shallow processing
done at the working memor y level. The information is then
retrieved as needed from this long-term storage.
MEMORY AND AGING
Agreatdealofresearchfromtheinformationprocessingframe-
work has been conducted on the topic of memory and aging. The
general consensus from that work is that certain memory functions
do decline with age. Nevertheless, a number of authors have cau-
tioned that because of methodological considerations and the vari-
ables being studied, this work must be interprete d with care. The
great majority of it has focused on comparing young adults (usually
college students) with older adults by using cross-sectional designs.
These two factors combined make it difficult to generalize across
age groups because of subject and cohort bias. Subject bias comes
from using people in a study who do not necessarily represent the
general population (such as college students versus the broad pop-
ulation of young adults). Cohort bias or effect “is any difference
between groups of adults of varying ages that is due not to any mat-
uration or developmental process, but simply to the fact that the
different age groups have grown up under different historical and
cultural circumstances” (Bee & Bjorklund, 2004, p. 10). In addition,
although the focus of th e research i s memory and aging , some of
the authors of these memory and aging studies do not define older
adult, not even in terms of age ranges (Naveh-Benjamin, Hussain,
Guez, & Bar-On, 2003; Rodgers & Fisk, 2001). Rodgers and Fisk, for
example, provide a very through review and critique of the litera-
ture on understanding how age may affect the role of attention in
older adults. However, except for one of many studies included in
their review, they neither describe nor critique the study partici-
pants. What is especially interesting, but also ironic, is that in that
particular study the age range of the older adult group was from
fifty to eighty. Moreover, most of this research has been conducted
primarily in laboratory settings using memory tasks and activities,
396 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
such as repeating back nonsense words and lists of random num-
bers. The primary criticism leveled against this type of research on
memory is that these tasks and skills are generally artificial and
taken out of the context of everyday life. A response to this criticism
in recent years has been to design “ecologically valid” research
that takes into account the ever yday learning demands of adults
(Anderson, 2005; Hoyer & Roodin, 2003; Langer, 1997; Rodgers &
Fisk, 2001). With these limitations in mind, we offer a summary of
this research on memory in adulthood.
SENSORY AND WORKING MEMORY
In general, few clearly defined changes have been found in sen-
sory memory as people age. Because there are fairly major changes
with age in both vision and hearing, one would expect to see these
changes reflected in sensor y memor y. If you do not hear some-
one’s name in an introduction, for example, there is no way it can
be registered for recall later. However, it is often difficult with test-
ing procedures to distinguish between age-related physio logical
decline in the senses themselves, especially hearing, and actual
decrements in the process of sensory memory.
Working memory, in contrast, is more problematic as we age,
especially “if people are asked to do anything with the information
they are holding in short-term memory—to rearrange it, or recall
it in some order other than the one in which it was given, or repeat
back only the words of a particular type” (Bee & Bjorklund, 2004,
p. 143). Bee and Bjorklund suggest three reasons for a decline in
working memory. One possibility is that older adults “don’t have
the mental energy or attentional resources that younger people do
and their short-term memory system becomes overloaded as tasks
become more complex” (p. 143). A second possibility is that older
adults do not employ the same strategies for dealing with working
memory tasks as do younger people. The third commonly cited
reason for this decline in working memor y is that older adults
appear to process materials more slowly, especially ones that are
more complex in nature. One of the explanations for this slowing
of the processing of information seems to be the “older adults ’
capacity to simultaneously perform a cognitive task while trying to
remember some of the information for a later memory task”
MEMORY,COGNITION, AND THE BRAIN 397
(Smith, 1996, p. 241). In other words, it appears to be more diffi-
cult for older adults to both respond immediately to whatever stim-
ulus triggered working memory and store pertinent information
in long-term memor y. Finally, older adults are less likely to even
attempt to deal with “irrelevant and confusing information” (Bee &
Bjorklund, 2004, p. 143).
LONG-TERM M EMORY
As with working memor y, age deficits are also more commonly
found in long-term memor y. Three major differences have sur-
faced in long-term memor y for older versus younger learners:
changes in the encoding or acquisition of material, the retrieval of
information, and the speed of processing. Few changes have been
noted in the storage or retention capacity of long-term memor y
over the life span.
The question that often sur faces in reviewing the process
related to long-term memor y is whether it is more difficult for
adults as they age to get information into the system (to encode it)
or to get it out (to retrieve it). The response to this question
appears to be both. It is not yet clear which part of the process cre-
ates more difficulty (Bee & Bjorklund, 2004; Ormrod, 1999).
Encoding problems are most often associated with the organiza-
tion of information. Specifically, older adults appear to be less effi-
cient at organizing new material. Possible explanations of why
organization is a problem relates to the amount and type of prior
knowledge they already possess. While it is clear that the more we
can relate new information to already stored information, the bet-
ter we will remember it, it may also be that “storage of new infor-
mation sometimes affects previously learned information. . . .
Learners sometimes distort new material to fit their existing beliefs.
Yet in other situations, a new piece of information may help learn-
ers recognize that something they stored earlier is inaccurate or
that two previously learned pieces of information are related in a
way they have not previously recognized” (Ormrod, 1999, p. 228).
Further, information that is so at odds with a person’ s belief system
may be ignored. In other words, this type of information may never
enter long-term memory because it is incompatible with what the
person already knows.
398 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
On the retrieval side, changes are most often noted in the
recall versus recognition of information. In tests of recall, for exam-
ple, major differences have been demonstrated for older and
younger people, whereas in recognition activities, the differences
are small or nonexistent, although the retrieval time may be slower.
However, if older adults “are given some type of environmental sup-
por t such as strategy instructions at encoding or cues at retrieval
(or both), their recall performances increase and approach the
levels of the younger adults’ recall ability” (Bee & Bjorklund, 2004,
p. 143; italics in original). Another aspect of retrieval that is often
taken as a given is that older persons can retrieve “ancient memo-
ries” better than younger people, along with the accompanying
myth that older people can clearly remember events in their dis-
tant past but have trouble recalling recent events. Rather, it
appears that this reversal of memory strengths—remote memories
are stronger than recent memories—may be a natural phenome -
non that occurs at all ages, not just with older people. Further, we
all “possess varying amounts of knowledge in selected domains of
work, sports, hobbies, music, and other areas. Access to such knowl-
edge is unaffected by aging. Individuals maintain their ability to
use well-learned knowledge, strategies, and skills throughout mid-
dle age and into old age (Rybash, Hoyer, & Roodin, 1986). Tests
of factual knowledge (e.g., vocabular y or news events) typically
show no decline from young adulthood to old age (Hoyer &
Touron, 2002)” (Hoyer & Roodin, 2003, p. 295).
In summary, in r elation to long-term memor y it appears that
older adults may not acquire or retrieve information as well as do
younger adults, nor org anize information as effectivel y. This line
of research may have limited generalizability because of the
research designs, the subjects, the memory activities tested, and
the separation of the research from the real world of the adult
learner.
MEMORY IN C ONTEXT
In response to some of the criticisms of memory research just cited,
adifferentapproachhasbeentakenbyplacingmemorytasksin
the context of everyday adult lives, called functional memory by some
researchers. This strand of research, which fosters what has been
MEMORY,COGNITION, AND THE BRAIN 399
termed ecological validity, has received little attention, primarily
because it is affected by so many different variables and is still con-
sidered controversial by som e researchers. The term ecological
validity assumes that the tasks being studied are meaningful to the
person and accurately reflect real-life adult experiences. The se
studies use a variety of memory tests, from “memory for text” for-
mats, which include re vie ws of sentences, paragrap hs, and stories
versus single words and symbols, to memory skills for ever yday
activities, such as keeping appointments and remembering what
items to buy at the grocery store (Anderson, 2005; Knopf, 1995;
Ormrod, 1999). These studies also address some of the other con-
cerns voiced by scholars of the contextual approach, such as the
person’s ne eds and motivation, the specificit y of the task, and sit-
uational variables. Other factors that might affect differences in
memory are the person’s “attitudes, interests, health status, intel-
lectual abilities, and style of le a rning” (Hoye r & Roodin, 2003, p.
302). However, in sum, the extent to which noncognitive factors
such as health and level of education affect age and memory is not
as clear; the effect of cognitive factors such as speed of processing
have more research support (Hoyer & Roodin, 2003).
FOSTERING M EMORY CAPACITY AND SKILLS
The assumption underlying the research on memory is that mem-
ory capacity and skills form one of the keys to how adults learn.
Formal memory training, the most structured approach to build-
ing memory skills, has been shown to be useful in helping older
adults cope with memory deficits (Bee & Bjorklund, 2004; Hoyer
&Roodin,2003).Thistraininghasmostoftenfocusedonthe
teaching of encoding strategies, such as practicing rehearsal infor-
mation or using mnemonics (devices for helping people improve
their memory; Carney & Levine, 1998).
Adult educators have suggested ways to integrate training in
memory skills into formal learning programs for adults: providing
both verbal and written cues, such as advance organizers and over-
heads, when introducing new material to learners; using mnemon-
ics and rehearsal strategies; and giving opportunities to apply the
new material as soon after the presentat ion as possible. Adults
learning on their own may also find it helpful to use memory aids
in their learning activities. These can come in many forms, from
400 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
structured checklists for learning a new skill to personal note tak-
ing on items of interest. Bee and Bjorklund (2004) report on a
study by Burack and Lachkman (1996) that there were no signifi-
cant differences between young and older adults for those who
made lists in word recognition and recall tests. Interestingly, par-
ticipants who were told they could use their lists, but were “actu-
ally not allowed to use them” benefited as much as subjects who
made lists and used them—“suggesting that the activity of list mak-
ing improves memory even when the list is not available at recall”
(Bee & Bjorklund, 2004, p. 145).
Cognitive psychologists, in addition to their work on memory
and aging, have provided us with a number of other important con-
cepts related to learning in adulthood. Three of those concepts—
knowledge structures, the role of prior knowledge and experience,
and learning and cognitive styles—are discussed next in the
chapter.
KNOWLEDGE STRUCTURES
Within the cognitive framework, the emphasis is on what learners
know versus how they behave. This knowing involves both the
acquisition of knowledge, discussed in the section on human mem-
ory, and the actual structure of that knowledge (Anderson, 2005;
Bruer, 1993). In this perspective, considerable importance is
placed on prior knowledge as well as on new knowledge being
accumulated. Since it is assumed that most adults have a greater
store of prior knowledge than children, understanding the role
that this knowledge plays in learning is critical. In thinking through
the possible connections of prior knowledge to learning in adult-
hood, the concept of schemas provides a useful framework.
Schemas “represent categorical knowledge . . . [that is,] what spe-
cific things tend to have in common” (Anderson, 2005, p. 158). “Peo-
ple often form schemas about events as well as objects; such event
schemas are often called scripts. . . . For example, what things usually
happen when people go to a doctor’s office?” (Ormrod, 1999, p.
255). These schemas, which may be embedded within other schemas
or may stand alone, are filled with descriptive materials and are seen
as the building blocks of the cognitive process. Schemas are not just
passive storehouses of experience, however; they are also active
processes whose primary function is to facilitate the use of knowledge.
MEMORY,COGNITION, AND THE BRAIN 401
We all carry around with us our own individualized set of
schemata that reflect both our experiences and our worldview.
Therefore, as adult learners, each of us comes to a learning situa-
tion with a somewhat different configuration of knowledge and
how it can be used. For example, some participants in a workshop
on diversity in the workplace may bring to that experience firm
beliefs that achieving diversity is a worthwhile goal based on their
positive experiences with women and people of color. Others may
not believe in the principle of diversity at all, and view it as an easy
way for “some people” to get hired. And still others may be down-
right angry, believing they have either been discriminated against
or passed over for a promotion because they were of the “wrong
color” or gender. Therefore, each learner in the workshop not only
comes with different schema sets but also departs having learned
very different things—even thou gh all were exposed to basically
the same material.
In categorizing schema types, two kinds of knowledge are most
often distinguished: declarative knowledge and procedural knowl-
edge. Anderson (1993) describes declarative knowledge as “factual
knowledge that people can report or describe”; procedural knowl-
edge, by contrast, “is knowledge people can only manifest in per-
formance” (p. 18). We may be able to describe two or three
different models for instruction (declarative knowledge), for exam-
ple, but when we tr y to put these models into action (procedural
knowledge), we may fail miserably. Because the question is open
whether learning facts or knowing how to perform comes first, the
scenario just described could also be reversed: a person may be an
excellent instructor and yet have no specific knowledge of instruc-
tional models.
Educators, however, are well aware that most learning in adult-
hood goes far beyond the simple memorization of facts. The expec-
tation is that adults will be able to put those facts to good use in
their everyday living, whether as workers, parents, spouses, friends,
and so on. Therefore, the processes of tuning and restructuring of
information, as well as both declarative and procedural knowledge,
become vital in adult learning. The general processes of problem
solving and critical thinking are good examples of the importance
of these constructs. Specifically, in most problem-solving situations,
we are trying to fit new ideas (declarative knowledge) and ways of
402 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
acting (procedural knowledge) into earlier patterns of thinking and
doing (our current schemas). If we are unable to change our ear-
lier thought patterns (that is, fine-tune or restructure them), our
chances of being able to frame and act on problems from a differ-
ent perspective are remote, if not impossible.
Cognitive scientists also cite the importance of metacognition,
defined as “people’s knowledge of their own learning and cogni-
tive processes and their consequent regulation of those processes
to enhance learning and memor y” (Ormrod, 1999, p. 319). A
related term, metamemory, refers to the self-ratings of memor y per-
formance, or the self-appraisal or self-monitoring of memory.
“Some studies have found that older persons’ metamemor y is
mostly accurate, whereas other studies have found that older adults
exaggerate their memor y failures (Hertzog & Hultsch, 2000)”
(Hoyer & Roodin, 2003, p. 274). Researchers have speculated,
though, that the disc r epa ncie s between people’s opinion of the ir
memory performance and their actual ability may be largely due
to older adults assuming memory loss or failure as they age.
PRIOR KNOWLEDGE AND EXPERIENCE
Many writers, as discussed in Chapter Seven, have spoken about
the importance of a cknowledging adults’ prior knowledge a nd
experience as integral to the learning process. In exploring the
role of prior knowledge and experience in learning, two ideas are
important: the amount of prior knowledge and experience and the
nature of that knowledge and experience.
In terms of the amount of prior knowledge and experience
one possesses, the difference between those who know a great deal
about what they are experiencing (termed experts) and those who
know ver y little (novices) is key. A person can be an expert in a
variety of areas, from growing tomatoes to skiing. According to
Sternberg and Horvath (1995, p. 10), “Perhaps the most funda-
mental difference between experts and novices is that experts
bring more knowledge to solving problems . . . and do so more
effectively than novices.” In addition, experts are able to solve prob-
lems faster and in a more economical way, have stronger self-
monitoring skills, and are able to view and solve problems at a
deeper level than novices (Ferry & Ross-Gordon, 1998; Sternberg &
MEMORY,COGNITION, AND THE BRAIN 403
Hor vath, 1995; Tennant & Pogson, 1995). Similar to Ferr y and
Ross-Gordon, Sternberg and Horvath, and Tennant and Pogson,
Anderson (2005) has obser ved that experts “learn to perceive
problems in ways that enable more effective problem-solving pro-
cedures to apply” (p. 295). Further, experts learn strategies to orga-
nize problem solving that are “optimally suited to problems in a
particular domain” (p. 295). And “as people become more expert
in a domain, they develop a better ability to store problem infor-
mation in long-term me mory and to retrieve it” (p. 302). Finally,
“no one develops expe rtise without a great deal of hard work . . .
[and] the difference between relative novices and relative experts
increases as we look at more difficult problems” (p. 280).
As Anderson (2005) and others have pointed out, being an
expert is related to certain domains or subject matter areas. Edu-
cators have often observed that being an expert in one area does
not necessarily translate into being an expert in another, no mat-
ter what the learner’s motivation or background. Many graduate
students, for example, although very perceptive and advanced in
their own fields of study, may have a great deal of trouble com-
pleting statistical and advanced research design courses that are
quantitatively based. This issue is especially true of students who
are not mathematically inc lin ed. Moreover, some people become
experts in carpentry or tracing genealogy, while others view these
tasks as beyond their capabilities.
Therefore, in helping adults connect their current experience
to their prior kn owledge a nd exper ience, we need to be knowl-
edgeable about the amount of prior knowledge they possess in a
particular area and design our learning activities accordingly. For
example, in teaching a group of expert instructors of adults, it
probably does little good to outline just one instructional model,
even when this model is the newest and supposedly the most com-
plete model. They will probably think of every exception under the
sun as to why this model will not work with all of their learners. It
would make more sense to ask these instructors to look at alterna-
tive models, including this new model, and then have them
problem-solve which of these models or parts of these models have
worked best for them in what type of situations. By following this
plan, the participants’ level of expertise would be acknowledged,
they would be asked to think more deeply about the many situa-
tions they have faced in teaching, and they would need to use their
404 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
problem-solving abilities related to their prior knowledge and
experience as instructors.
It would be helpful, in addition, to know how the transition
between being a novice and being an expert takes place in order
to facilitate learning from prior knowledge and experience. To this
end, Anderson (2005), Lajoie (2003), Pillay and McCrindle (2005),
and Sternberg and Horvath (1995), among others, have provided
comprehensive descriptions of the development of expertise that
are useful in designing learning activities to assist adults in moving
along the continuum from novice to expert. Although there are dif-
ferences among these authors’ portrayals of expertise, there are also
anumberofcommonalitiesintheirdescriptionsofwhatconstitute
its main dimensions. Using primarily the framework of expert
knowledge in the professions (for example, teaching, veterinari-
ans) these scholars agree that experts:
• Require extensive knowledge in one or more specific domains
(content areas).
• Recognize the importance of the sociocultural context of their
work, including, as applicable, their own professions.
•Arechallengedbycomplexandnovelsituationsandproblems.
• Process complex information quickly.
• Arrive faster at more creative and accurate solutions.
Additional research is needed to distill further the main dimen-
sions of expertise, which would be helpful to educators in planning
programs that would assist novices not to become just “more expe-
rienced novices” but indeed experts in areas that are significant to
who they are and also significant to the common good.
In an example of what such a program might encompass,
Lajoie (2003) has identified two different approaches to fostering
expertise development. The first, dynamic assessment, is “defined
as a moment-by-moment assessment of learners during problem
solving so that feedback can be provided in the context of the activ-
ity” (p. 22). This approach, framed in the concept of situated cog-
nition, was explored in more depth earlier in Chapter Seven.
Second, Lajoie advocates “making the expertise trajectory visible
to learners through models of expertise, feedback, or examples
that promote the active transfer of knowledge and self-monitoring.
This requires openness on the part of experts to share what they
MEMORY,COGNITION, AND THE BRAIN 405
know, rather than having novices “learn the ropes” by trial and
error, although that might be part of the learning process. For
example, in some professions many of the experts do not have the
time to share their expertise with novice learners on any mean-
ingful level, nor are the organizations they work for willing to
change the workday to allow for that time. Unfortunately, there are
also experts in ever y field who are unwilling to pass along their
“trade secrets” because doing so might erode their power and dom-
inant positions in their organizations.
COGNITIVE STYLE AND LEARNING STYLE
Another important aspect of cognition related to learning in adult-
hood is the notion of cognitive style. Cognitive s t yles are character-
ized as consistencies in information processing that develop in
concert with underlying personality traits. They are reflected in
“how individuals typically receive and process information”
(Joughin, 1992, p. 4) and encompass the ways people see and make
sense of their world and attend to different parts of their environ-
ment. Some people tend to look at problems from a global per-
spective, while others are more interested in taking in the detail
(Flannery, 1993). The latter types, which Flannery labels analytical
information processors, want information in a step-by-step manner and
tend to perceive information in an abstract and objective manner.
In contrast, “the global learners process information in a simulta-
neous manner. The ideas or experiences are seen all at once, not
in any observable order” (Flannery, 1993, p. 16). In addition, global
learners perceive information in a concrete and subjective manner.
Anumberofcognitive-styledimensions,includingtheconcepts
of global and analytical processing styles, have been ide ntified
through research (Cassidy, 2004; Joughin, 1992; Messick, 1996).
The outstanding feature of these varying dimensions is their ten-
dency to be bipolar. In contrasting people’s cognitive styles, we
tend to label people as being at either end of the continuum, and
for the most part, cognitive styles are considered relatively stable.
Although a great deal of research has been conducted on cog-
nitive styles, much of it has been done with children, and “no style
has led to clear implications with respect to adult learning” (Joughin,
1992, p. 4). Therefore, it is still unclear how this work may relate to
helping adults learn more effectively. Hiemstra and Sisco (1990)
406 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
have conjectured that knowledge about cognitive styles might assist
instructors in predicting how learners are “likely to form typical
learning tasks such as remembering, selecting, comparing, focusing,
reflecting, and analyzing” information (p. 241). In addition,
Flannery (1993) has asserted that “teaching, texts and structures can
be adapted to teach to different” cognitive styles (p. 19).
Arelatedyetsomewhatdifferentphenomenonistheconceptof
learning style. The literature describing cognitive and learning style is
rather confusing; some authors use the two terms interchangeably,
others view cognitive style as the more encompassing term, and
still others see learning style as the more inclusive term. Clearly there
is no common definition of learning style, nor is there a unified theory
on which this work is based (Cassidy, 2004; Desmedt & Valcke, 2004;
Hall & Moseley, 2005). Learning style “attempts to explain learning
variation between individuals in the way they approach learning tasks”
(Toye, 1989, pp. 226–227). More specifically, Cranton (2005, p. 362)
defines learning styles as “preferences for certain conditions or ways
of learning, where learning means the development of meaning, val-
ues, skills, and strategies.” Although this definition and other paral-
lel definitions of learning style are quite similar to cognitive style, it
appears that the real difference between these two concepts lies in
the emphasis placed by learning style researchers on the practical
learning situation versus the more general notion of how people per-
ceive, organize, and process information. Therefore, those who study
learning style usually place the emphasis on both the learner and
the learning environment. Desmedt and V alcke (2004, p. 459), after
reviewing the voluminous literature on cognitive style and learning
style, summarize the differences as follows:
Most cognitive style models are developed in laboratory or clinical
settings to explain individual differences in cognitive processing,
and they are applied in various fields. The recurrent features of the
concept seem to be stability, pervasiveness, bipolarity and a strong
interdependence with personality.
The learning style models are developed and used in various educa-
tional contexts to explain and accommodate individual differences
in learning. Learning styles are generally defined as relatively stable
and consistent. It is however acknowledged that the characteristics
of the learning environment and learning experiences influence
their development.
MEMORY,COGNITION, AND THE BRAIN 407
Cranton (2005, p. 362) has identified “at leas t six approaches
to learning style in the adult education literature: (a) experience,
b) social interaction, c) personality, d) multiple intelligences and
emotional intelligence, e) perceptions, and f) conditions or
needs.” The experience, personality, and the perception prefer-
ences approaches have received the most attention in the litera-
ture in adult education, as well as the various learning style
instruments that are associated with each of these approaches. The
experience approach addresses the issue that “learners have dif-
ferent styles or preferences when it comes to making meaning out
of and learning from experiences” (pp. 362–363). Kolb’ s Learning
Style Inventory, which is the most often used instrument t o assess
learning styles in adult education, classifies learning styles into four
different categories: accommodators, divergers, convergers, a nd
assimilators (see Kolb, 1984, and Kolb & Kolb, 2005, for a more
complete description of each style). The personality approach is a
more encompassing way of assessing learning style in that its gives
abroaderandmorein-depthpictureofindividuallearners.The
Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (Myers, 1985, as cited by Cranton,
2005) is the most often used measure to assess learning styles based
on psychological type preferences. Learners’ visual, auditory, and
kinesthetic learning preferences are the central focus of the per-
ceptions approach to determining learning styles. Often practi-
tioners think that this approach constitutes what they mean by
learning styles.
It is also important to acknowledge that learning styles may be
in part culturally based. Anderson (1988, p. 4), for example, asserts
that “it would seem feasible that different ethnic groups, with dif-
ferent cultural histories, different adaptive approaches to reality,
and different socialization practices, would differ concerning their
respective learning styles.” He goes on to observe that “there is no
such thing as one style being ‘better than another,’ although in our
country [the United States] the Euro-American style is projected
by most institutions as the one which is most valued” (p. 6).
Anderson characterizes the Euro-American style as primarily field-
independent, analytic, and nonaffective, which to him reflects
primarily male and acculturated minority views. In contrast, he
views a non-Western style (meaning such groups as American
Indians, African Americans, and many Euro-American females) as
408 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
field-dependent, relational and holistic , and affec t i ve. Bell’s (1994 )
research with African Americans confirms some of Anderson’s
thinking on learning styles. Bell’s findings support “a holistic
African American learning style . . . which consistently reflects a
relational style. . . . The relational style has been defined as a pref-
erence for a whole-to-parts (rather than parts-to-whole) analysis of
information, a perceptual vigilance for person social cues over object
cues, and a preference for contextually ‘rich’ over contextually
‘sterile’ (abstract) learning/problem-solving structures” (p. 57). As
learning style inventories are primarily Euro-American in their ori-
entation, researchers “need to question the usefulness of conducting
cross-cultural compassions using assessment strategies based on
Western conceptualizations of learning style” (Cranton, 2005, p. 365).
Despite the lack of uniform agreement about which elements
constitute a learning style, it seems apparent that learning-st yle
inventories, unlike most cognitive-s tyle instruments, have proved
useful in helping learners and instructors alike become aware of
their personal learning styles and their strengths and weaknesses
as learners and teachers. What must be remembered in using these
instruments, however, is that each inventory measures different
things, depending on how the instrument’s author has defined
learning style. In using the variety of learning-style inventories avail-
able, it is important that learners understand how the author(s) of
the instrument has conceptualized learning style. It is also impor-
tant to remember that “learning style instruments are best used as
tools to create awareness that learners differ and as starting points
for individual learners’ continued investigation of themselves as
learners” (Hiemstra & Sisco, 1990, p. 240). For those who use
learning style instruments regularly as part of their education and
training must impress upon their learners that their learning styles
are not the only, nor necessarily “the best way” for them learn. In
addition, they also need to dispel the myth tha t these styles are
“fixed and” change v er y little. This careful use of learning-style
inventories, especially in making programming decisions about
learners, is especially crucial. James and Blank (1993, p. 55) have
observed that “although various authors claim strong reliability and
validity for their instruments, a solid research base for many
of these claims does not exist.” Their analysis is confirmed by
Cassidy’s (2004) recent review of more than twenty learning
MEMORY,COGNITION, AND THE BRAIN 409
style measures. For each instrument Cassidy presents the model or
theory upon which it is based, a description of the measurement
itself, and comments about the instrument and research con-
ducted on the instrument. He concludes that “what is necessary is
further empirical work to provide evidence to assess the validity of
many of the proposed models” (p. 440). Coffield, Moseley, Hall,
and Ecclestone (2004, as cited by Della Porta, 2006), using similar
procedures as Cassidy (2004), found that just three instruments,
the Allison and Hayes Cognitive Style Index, Apter’s Motivational
Style Profile, and Vermunt’s Inventor y of Learning Styles came
close to demonstrating “both internal consistency and test-retest
reliability and construct and predictive validity” (Coffield et al.,
2004, p. 56, as cited by Porta, 2006). Della Porta went on to observe
that “most surprising is the fact that some of the most widely used
instruments, including the Myers-Briggs’ Type Indicator and Kolb’ s
Learning Style Inventory did not meet the minimum criteria for a
psychometric instrument” (p. 10).
Sternberg (1994a, 1996a) has proposed a new term, thinking
styles, which seems very similar, if not identical, to learning styles.
Sternberg (1994a) defines a thinking style as “a preferred way of
using one’s abilities. It is not in itself an ability but rather a pref-
erence. Hence, various styles are not good or bad” (p. 36).
Although Sternberg has described his theor y of thinking styles
primarily in the context of children, and more specifically child-
hood education, many components of his theor y would also be
useful in understanding the thinking patterns of adults. His work
on thinking styles is grounded in ten general characteristics of
styles, such as “styles can vary across tasks and situations, people
differ in strengths of stylistic preferences, styles are socialized,
and styles can var y across the life span—they are not fixed”
(Sternberg, 1996a, pp. 349–350). He uses the concept of mental
self-government, patterned after the kind of governments and
government branches that exist worldwide, to describe his the-
ory of thinking styles: “Acc ording to this theor y, people can be
understood in terms of the functions, forms, levels, scope, and
leanings of government” (p. 351). Sternberg (1994a, p. 39)
emphasizes the importance of taking into account people’s think-
ing styles in designing learning programs and cautions that most
instructors are best at teaching people “who match their own
410 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
styles of thinking and learning . . . and tend to overestimate the
extent to which their students share their own styles.”
In summary, scholars studying learning from a cognitive per-
spective have added a great deal to our knowledge about learning
in adulthood. Some of the major contributions described thus far
in this chapter a re our understanding of memory and how a ging
may affect memory processes, how our knowledge is organized into
schemas, what effect prior knowledge and experience have on
learning, and the concepts of cognitive and learning style. We
reviewed in Chapter Seven another view of learning, situated cog-
nition, to which cognitive scientists have also contributed. We now
turn to a discussion of one of the ne west research arenas related
to adult learning: the neurobiology of learning.
NEUROBIOLOGY AND THE BRAIN
It is hard not to miss the latest goings-on in brain research. Stories
about what researchers are finding about how our brain functions
abound in popular outlets, such as Time, Newsweek, and our daily
papers and newscasts. For example, Time magazine in 2004 and
2005 carried three ver y different stories about how brain imaging
could assist “corporate America” and politicians to better get their
messages across (McCarthy, 2005), what a brain “in love” looks like
(Fisher, 2004), and how the brains of men and women differ in size
and the processing of emotion (Ripley, 2005). Although these
stories are certainly interesting, the data for these stories come
from experiments in laborator ies. Thus, much of our knowledge
about the brain is currently only in the form of working hypothe-
ses. On a more serious note, what we might learn from scientists
who study the physical functions of the brain and its related sys-
tems has the possibilit y of moving our understanding of learning
significantly for ward. For example, recent research has shown
“how a particular protein in the brain is responsible for convert-
ing short-term memories into long-term memories (Frankland
et al., 2001)” (Hoyer & Roodin, 2003, p. 300). Viewing the devas-
tation of the memor y and learning capacity of a person with
advanced Alzheimer’s disease or a massive stroke brings home to
each of us the innate and yet almost mystical ways in which the
brain functions.
MEMORY,COGNITION, AND THE BRAIN 411
DIFFERING VIEWS OF THE B RAIN
Restak (2000) observes that when we “speak of the mind—mak-
ing up our mind, improving our mind, changing our mind—we
are actually referring to activities carried out by our brain” (p. 6).
However, this assumption that the brain and the mind are one
and the same has not always been the way that philosophers, reli-
gious scholars, and scientists c onceptualized the mind-body rela-
tionship. “The ancient Egyptians thought so little of the brain
matter that they made a practice of scooping it out . . . of the
dead leader before packing the skull with cloth before burial.
This pr actice was grounded in the belief that “consciousness
resided in the heart” (Shreeve, 2005, p. 4). Aristotle, and a legacy
of medieval thinkers, shared a ver y similar belief in that they
“attributed all life forces to the heart and considered the brain
to be nothing more than a cooling system for the blood” (Restak,
2000, p. 6).
In contras t, the Greek physician Hippocrates, considered the
Father of Medicine, argued that the brain was the centrality of all
thought. In his words, “Not only the pleasure, our joy, and our
laughter but also our sorrow, plain, grief, and tears arise from the
brain and the brain alone. With it we think and under stand, see
and hear, and we discriminate between . . . what is pleasant and
unpleasant, and between good and evil” (Hippocrates, as cited by
Restak, 2000, p. 8). The meaning of the phrase “the brain is cen-
ter of our thinking” took on many forms, involved many winding
roads, detours, and blind alleys, and has become a continuous
journey, joined by scholars from many disciplines. For example,
scientists a nd philosophers debated whether the actual brain tis -
sues, which can be seen, or the fluid-filled cavities, which lie deep
within, are more relevant to the operation of the brain; others
believed that a person’s character could be determined from
bumps and other irregularities of the skull (phrenology). In addi-
tion, research focused on what parts of the brain are “in charge”
of specific behavioral and cognitive functions, which originated
in latter part of the eighteenth centur y, remains a hot topic of
debate among scholars (Albert & Killiany, 2001; Albright &
Neville, 1999; Restak, 2000).
412 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
THE STRUCTURES AND FUNCTIONS OF THE BRAIN
The way the brain is structured and functions has captured, as
noted earlier, the notice of the general public, in addition to study
among the scientific community. “For good reason, the brain is
sometimes hailed as the most complex object in the universe. It
comprises a trillion cells, 100 billion of them neurons linked in net-
works that give rise to intelligence, creativity, emotion, conscious-
ness and memor y” (Fischback, 1992, p. 51). Since the 1950s, the
study of the structures and functions of the brain, including how
underlying electrical and chemical processes carry messages
throughout the brain, has been dominated by neurobiologists, cog-
nitive psychologists , a nd physicians. Althou gh most of this w ork
until recently has used animals as subjects, there have also been
studies of people with a wide range of brain disorders. The studies
on humans have relied primarily on what could be observed dur-
ing brain surgery, the behavior and abilities of people with severe
brain damage, or postmortem examinations. With the advent of
noninvasive imaging techniques, researchers are also beginning to
include healthy humans as subjects (Albert & Killiany, 2001).
These newer noninvasive techniques allow scientists “to see
into the brain,” with little risk to humans, whether they are well or
in need of medical care. “These imaging techniques can loosely be
divided into two basic types: structural scans and functional scans.
The structural scans, us ing computerized tomography (CT) and
magnetic resonance imaging (MRI), “produce highly detailed
images of the brain” (Albert & Killiany, 2001, p. 163). With the
more advanced forms of these technologies the images produced
“look very similar in detail to that . . . seen on postmortem exami-
nation of brain tissue. . . . Functional scans, on the other hand, pro-
vide an indication of the activity of the brain, but do not tend to
produce anatomical detail” (p. 163). Protein emission tomography
(PET) and functional MRI (fMRI) are the scanning procedures
used most often to gather functional data about the brain.
Although these newer scanning methods have shown that “while
it’s true that certain areas [of the brain] are specialized for specific
purposes, this organ can only be understood as one highly com-
plex and integrated functional unit” (Restak, 2000, p. 25). For
MEMORY,COGNITION, AND THE BRAIN 413
example, rather than each hemisphere of the brain operating sep-
arately, when the processing of information “within each hemi-
sphere commences, the hemispheres rapidly send signals back and
forth” (Robertson, 2005, p. 21). The result is a lot of “cross-talk”
among the neurons rather than a direct response from one side or
the other. “The la rge association cortex [the corpus callosum] is
responsible for this information flow from one part of the brain to
another” (Restak, 2000, p. 25).
These newer forms of technology have also allowed us to gain
aclearerpictureofthearchitectureofthebrain.Oneofthemost
striking structures of the brain “are the large, seemingly symmet-
ric cerebral hemispheres” (p. 48) that sit on a central core or base.
The two hemispheres are connected by the corpus callosum, a
large band of nerve fibers that, as just described, allows the two
hemispheres to collaborate on many tasks.
Other structures of the brain that have generated more interest
in recent years are those connected to emotion. “Emotion was
largely neglected by neuroscience during most of the twentieth
century, but it is now the focus of intense scrutiny, and not a
moment too soon considering its importance in human lives. The
neurobiological underpinnin g of the emotions have begun to be
elucidated and it has become clear that the brain handles differ-
ent emotions with the help of different components” (Damasio,
2000, p. 14). These components [structures] include the amygdale,
the ventral and medial prefrontal cortex, and the hypothalamus.
This “discovery offers important clues in the investigation of dis-
eases such as depression and mania” (p. 16). In addition, Damasio
argues that gaining further knowledge about what the interactions
are among these parts of the brain underscore “the degree to
which emotion and feeling are inextricably interwoven with the
mechanisms that ensure the maintenance of life” (p. 16).
Pert (1997), although in agreement with Damasio’s basic
assumptions, has challenged researchers on the idea that the brain
is the only part of us that can gather, process, and share informa-
tion related to emotions. Based on her findings that chemical sub-
stances and the ir receptor s are found in the body’s nerves of all
kinds, she argues that emotions could be stored and mediated by
other parts of the body. This fairly recent discovery is important for
appreciating how memories are stored not only in the brain but in
414 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
a psychosomatic ne tw or k that “can extend out to the very surface
of our skin” (Pert, 1997, p. 143). This recognition that emotion and
memory are clearly linked—whether these functions are based pri-
marily in the brain or thr oughout our bodies—could have enor-
mous implications for how we understand learning in adulthood.
Three other structures—the hypothalamus, the pituitary gland,
and the pineal gland—control bodily functions, such as tempera-
ture regulation, hormone production, and sleep and wakefulness.
In addition, two other crucial structures form the central core or
base of the brain. These are the medulla, which contributes to the
control of central life functions (including respiration, circulation,
and digestion), and the cerebellum, which coordinates movement
and plays a vital role in the processing of information (Restak,
2000). We hypothesize that all of these deeper structures of the
brain, depending on their operational effectiveness, could affect
how adults learn.
There has also been a change in the last twenty-five years, albeit
aslowone,ofaddingcognitivescientiststothemixofresearchers
who study brain functions, including the addition of the new field
cognitive neuroscience. “The term alone suggests a field that is
pregnant and full of promise. It is a large field of study, uniting
concepts and techniques from many disciplines, and its boundaries
are rangy and often loosely defined. At the heart of cognitive neu-
roscience, however, lies the fundamental question of knowledge
and its representation by the brain—characterized not inappro-
priately by William James (1842–1910) as ‘the most mysterious
thing in the world’ (James, Vol. 1, 216)” (Albright & Neville, 1999,
p. li.). Thus, rather than relying on either neurobiology or cogni-
tive sciences, the promise of connecting what we know about how
the brain functions and learning comes primarily from the merger
of the two sciences. Bruer (1997) has used the metaphor of the
bridge to illustrate this point. On the one hand, we have a “well-
established bridge” of knowledge about learning from the cogni-
tive sciences. On the other hand, we have a newer bridge between
cognitive psychology and neuroscience. “This newer bridge is
allowing us to see how mental function maps onto brain struc-
tures.” When neuroscientists are able to “provide useful insights
for educators about instruction and educational practice, those
insights will be the extensive traffic over the second bridge” (p. 4).
MEMORY,COGNITION, AND THE BRAIN 415
Even though the cognitive neurosciences have amassed an
amazing amount of information about the structures and functions
of the brain, this information has generated more questions than
answers. As Albright an d Neville (1999) observe, “[T]he applica -
tions of new experimental techniques [in this case, more sophisti-
cated, noninvasive imaging techniques] have often raised more
questions than they have answered. But such are the expansion
pains of a thriving science” (p. lvii). In addition, because the pri-
mary research in this field is laboratory-based and involves experi-
mental designs, direct applications of this knowledge to
educational practice may still be in the far future. Rather, the
breakthroughs that have been made as a result of research in the
cognitive neurosciences appear to relate more indirectly to learn-
ing in adulthood. For example, Shreeve (2005 ) tells th e fascinat-
ing story of how, before removing a cancerous tumor from a young
woman, the physicians and a neuropsychologist needed to find the
exact “address” for Corina’s language abilities. In doing so they had
agoodchanceofbeingabletoretainherlanguagefunctions,
which are a vital dimension of the learning process. However, this
search is not an easy one because “every person’ s brain is as unique
as their face” (p. 9). In this case the surger y was a marvelous suc-
cess, and as the main surgeon observed: “Corina’s brain is the most
beautiful object that exists, for it allows her to perceive beauty, have
a self, and know about existence in the first place” (p. 8).
CONNECTIONS TO LEARNING IN A DULTHOOD
Connecting what we know about the brain and related systems to
learning in adulthood is at best a set of working hypotheses.
Although some educators have tried to make ver y direct correla-
tions by devising what they term brain-based learning programs (for
example, Caine & Caine, 1994; Jensen, 2000), we still have a long
way to go before we can make any really useful linkages that are
theoretically and empirically sound. This gap between the theo-
retical and empirical knowledge of how the brain and related sys-
tems work and practical applications of that knowledge has created
a number of questionable educational practices.
Two main practices have sur faced related to how educators
have applied this knowledge to their practice. The first is the
416 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
applications some educators have made based on supposed factual
knowledge about the brain. As Bruer (1997, p. 4) argues, “Currently
we do not know enough about brain development and neural func-
tion to link that understanding directly, in any meaningful, defensi-
ble way, to ins truction and educational practice.” He goes on to
obser ve that even neuroscientists, “while interested in how their
research might find application outside the laboratory and clinic,
are more guarded in their claims. Often they are puzzled by the neu-
roscientific results educators choose to cite, by the interpretations
educators give those results, and by the conclusions educators draw
from them” (p. 4). For example, one of these applications of brain
research to learning in adulthood has been educators designing pro-
grams that purport to increase the functions of the left or right
brain. By the end of these programs, sponsors claim that participants
will have fully developed their untapped potential of the right or left
brain. Although, indeed, there is localization of functions that dif-
ferent parts of the brain support, more current research definitely
debunks the myth that our brains are divided neatly into two halves,
with the left brain being the seat of logic while the right brain houses
our creative a nd artistic abilities. In fact, there are no definitive
maps, as discussed earlier, that provide guides to which of the many
structures of the brain controls what. Rather, what has been hypoth-
esized is that it is the interactions among various structures that may
be the key to understanding how our brain functions.
The second practice is the linking of specific instructional tech-
niques to the knowledge we have of the brain. Vella (2002), for
example, bases her argument for “teaching as dialogue” in the
notion of quantum learning. She defines quantum learning as
learning “which uses all of the neural networks in the brain,
putting them together in personal ways to make significant mean-
ing” (p. 73). Although we are intrigued with her discussion of the
principles and practices that are necessary for the dialogue
approach to learning to work well, we can see no real connections
between how she defines quantum learning as a neurological func-
tion and the actual outcomes of what she terms quantum learning.
As educators of adults we would be on more solid ground if we pro-
vided excellent descriptions of different kinds of learning
processes, as Vella did, rather than attributin g those processes to
unproven neurological assumptions about learning.
MEMORY,COGNITION, AND THE BRAIN 417
NEW D IRECTIONS AND DISCOVERIES
Until the theoretical and empirical knowledge from the cognitive
neurosciences on the brain have moved out of the laboratory and
into the context of everyday life, educators of adults would be bet-
ter off not using our limited knowledge of the brain as a source of
information for understanding adult learning. Because these types
of arguments are not yet available, we suggest that information of
this nature be framed as hypotheses or new discoveries that may
someday lead to a greater understanding of learning in adulthood.
However, research into the link between cognitive neuroscience
and learning in adulthood offers some promising discoveries and
new directions that may well have direct links to adult learning. A
sampling of some of these intriguing ideas and questions are sum-
marized as follows:
• Could our increasingly fast-paced lives have the potential to
limit our capacity in our information processing systems to the
point that they will create bottlenecks in our ability to process
information? More specifically, Marois (2005) focuses on three
areas in which our capacities as learners could be negatively
affected: conscious visual perception, short-term memory, and
action and decision making.
• Are there actual differences in male and female brains that
affect both what and how we learn (Baron-Cohen, 2005)? If so,
how might taking these differences into consideration change
our current practices as educators?
•Willbraininjurynolongerbeconsideredhopelessbased
“on the plasticity model of brain function and repair”
(Restak, 2000)? Is so, what are the roles of adult educators
in assisting these adults to become the normal learners they
once were?
• Do the techniques that Buddhists have employed for over
twenty-five hundred years “to guide their mental state away
from destructive emotions and towards a more compassionate,
happier frame of being” change how the mind works
(Shreeve, 2005)? If so, how can using these techniques change
our way of thinking and being as educators of adults?
418 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
• Are there interdependent relationships that exist between
emotion and reason, exhibited in how the brain functions,
that are crucial components of how adult learn? If so, what are
the impacts of these relationships on learning, and how can
adult educators best facilitate these impacts?
In closing, one of the authors remembers well a lecture given
by Professor Houle in the early 1980s at a meeting of the Com-
mission of Professors of Adult Education. Houle was a very strong
believer that all adults could learn. In this lecture he related a per-
sonal story that had changed these beliefs. Two of his colleagues
at the University of Chicago had recently been diagnosed with
Alzheimer’s disease. What he recognized, with great sadness, is that
there are times in the lives of adults when they cannot lea rn and
that the foundations of our knowledge of adult learning need to
add another dimension. Houle urged adult educators to join
hands with the biological sciences to expand our understanding
of learning in adulthood. Houle’ s argument, given over twenty-five
years ago, has indeed proven prophetic, and it promises in the
future to enhance our understanding of learning in adulthood and
our practice as educators.
SUMMARY
The internal workings of the learning process have fascinated sci-
entists for decades. Researchers from the cognitive sciences have
the longest history of research in this important arena, and more
recently scholars from the neurobiological sciences are offering
new hypotheses about how the brain and related systems are
involved in learning. Perhaps the most exciting new arena of study,
with the greatest potential for expanding our knowledge base of
the internal processes of learning, are the combined efforts of cog-
nitive scientists and neuroscientists working together to address
how and where learning happens in the brain.
Cognitive scientists, primarily from the discipline of psychol-
ogy, describe how people receive, store, retrieve, transform, and
transmit information. Most of this work has focused on memor y
and aging, with the resulting conclusion that there are some
MEMORY,COGNITION, AND THE BRAIN 419
apparent losses as people age in both worki n g and long- t e r m mem-
ory. How this loss affects the everyday learning activities of adults is
still an unanswered question, although we know that most older
adults take a longer time to process complex information. Other
important aspects of cognition reviewed in this chapter are the con-
cepts of schemas, the effect of prior knowledge and experience on
learning, and cognitive and learning-style theories. The concept of
schemas has provided a useful framework for thinking about both
the forms of knowledge (declarative and procedural) adults have
accumulated over time and how that knowledge is transformed and
used. In exploring the effects of prior knowledge and experience
on learning, the concepts of novice and expert learners were
stressed. The differences between cognitive and le arning styles
were discussed as well, with the resulting observation that learning
styles seem to be a more useful concept. The learning-style inven-
tories, although many have questionable reliability and validity
from a research standpoint, appear to have proved effective in help-
ing both learners and instructors gain some basic understanding of
their strengths and weaknesses as learners and instructors.
Cognitive neuroscience, a new field that bridges the gap
between the cognitive sciences and neurobiology, as well as added
other disciplines to the mix, has provided some fascinating descrip-
tions of how the brain is organized and functions. Especially with
the newer imaging techniques, such CT, PET, and fMRI scans, we
can catch glimpses of how our brains are structured and operate
during differing types of learning episodes. Direct connections
between what we see and have learned about the brain and learn-
ing interventions are yet to come. What we have now are tentative
hypotheses about the neurobiology of learning.
With this caveat in mind, we described how the brain has been
viewed differently throughout the ages, and discussed how the
brain is structured and organized and information is exchanged
inside the structures of the brain. We then commented on how
educators have tried to apply this knowledge, with limited, if any,
success because of the lack of definitive knowledge about the rela-
tionships between brain functioning and learning. We concluded
by outlining some intriguing questions being raised about the
brain from the perspective of the cognitive neurosciences and how
this knowledge could inform the way we think about adult learn-
ing and our practice as adult educators.
420 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
REFLECTIONS ON
LEARNING IN
ADULTHOOD
This book is testimony to the fact that we know quit e a lot about
learning in adulthood. Each chapter speaks to some aspect
of learning, whether it be the conte xt, the learner, the proces s,
or some combination of these factors. In the process of reviewing
and reflecting on all of this material, we arrived at our own
understanding of learning in adulthood. This last chapter is
our opportunity to articulate what we ourselves have learned about
this phenomenon.
Many who have written on the topic of adult learning have
tried to delineate principles summarizing what has been learned
from research or obser ved in practice and axioms that can be
applied to practice. Knowles’s (1980) assumptions underlying andra-
gogy, discussed in Chapter Four, are a good example of a set of
principles about adult learners that has implications for practice.
Others have advanced similar lists, often with a distinctive orien-
tation. Smith (1982) distinguishes the learning process from the
learners. He presents six obser vations about learning, such as
“learning is a personal and natural process” and “learning has its
intuitive side” (p. 35), and notes four critical characteris tics of
adult learners: a different orientation to education and learning,
an accumulation of experience, special developmental trends, and
anxiety and ambivalence. In a popular version of this approach,
Zemke and Zemke (1995) in an update of their 1981 article, listed
“thirty things we know for sure about adult learning” dividing these
421
“thirty things” into the three categories of adult motivation, cur-
riculum design, and classroom practice. MacKeracher (1996), who
makes sense of adult learning through looking at the complex
interaction of cognitive, affective , physical, social, and spiritual
aspects of learning, offers practical advice to both learners and
facilitators for enhancing the learning activity. Learners, for exam-
ple, should “trust the process,” be willing to take risks, and be
“open to new ideas and experiences” (p. 243). Instructors should
be reflective, passionate, responsive, a nd “keep in mind that you
are a model for learners whether you want to be or not” (p. 253).
Afewmorerecentpublicationsreflecttheorientationofthe
authors. For example, Taylor, Marienau, and Fiddler’ s (2000) book
focuses on developmental goals for adult learners, including
toward knowing as a dialogical process, toward a dialogical rela-
tionship to oneself, toward being a continuous learner, toward self-
agency and self-authorship, and toward connection with others.
Writing from a critical theory perspective, Brookfield (2005b) has
identified the following “series of learning tasks” that are central
to becoming critical learners:
Learning to recognize and challenge ideology that attempts to por-
tray the exploitation of the many by the few as a natural state of
affairs, learning to uncover and counter hegemony, learning to
unmask power, learning to overcome alienation and thereby accept
freedom, learning to pursue liberation, learning to reclaim reason,
and learning to practice democracy. [p. 39]
We considered doing a meta-analysis of the principles, con-
cepts, and characteristics found in these sources as well as those
delineated elsewhere in this book and in some of our own work.
That undertaking, however, would probably have resulted in
another set of principles that would not truly capture what we have
come to understand abo ut learning in adulthood. Furthermore,
there is some question in our minds as to the usefulness of any one
set of principles for guiding either research or practice. If, as we
have tried to bring out in previous chapters, learning in adulthood
is embedded in its context, a single set of principles is not likely to
hold true for the wide-ranging diversity of learners and learning
situations.
What we have done, therefore, is to step back and think about
422 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
how learning in adulthood can be distinguished from learning in
childhood. This was, after all, the question that stimulated much
of the research, writing, and debate in the field’s early efforts to
distinguish itself from other subfields of education. Our answer, in
essence a summary of the book, is that learning in adulthood can
be distinguished from childhood in terms of the learner, the con-
text, and to some extent, the learning process. Furthermore, it is
not just that differences can be seen in these areas. Equally impor-
tant, the configuration of learner, context, and process together
makes learning in adulthood distinctly different from learning in
childhood. In this chapter we first explore these differences and
then discuss how we ll our understanding of the phenomenon is
addressed by theory and practice. Finally, we speculate on the next
steps in furthering our understanding of adult learning.
THE LEARNER
The focus on the individual learner, grounded primarily in the psy-
chological paradigm, drove research and practice in adult learn -
ing until the 1990s. Representative lines of inquiry from this
perspective include the ways we have traditionall y framed the life
experiences of individual lear ners, the linking of the psychologi-
cal frame of development to learning, much of our research on
motivation and participation, the information processing frame-
work of cognition and memory, and the neurobiology of learning.
The comparatively richer life experiences of individual adults
have been cited by nearly all writers as a key factor in differentiat-
ing adult learning from child learning. As Kidd (1973) noted over
thirty years ago, “Adults have more experiences, adults have dif-
ferent kinds of experiences, and adult experiences are organized
differently.” It is these experiences that set adults “off from the
world of children” (p. 46). If accumulated life experiences differ-
entiate children from adults, they also differentiate one adult from
another. A group of sixty-year-olds will have less in common than
a group of twenty-year-olds.
Experience is an assumption “that can arguably lay claim to be
viewed as a ‘given’ in the literature of adult learning” (Brookfield,
1986, p. 98) . Knowles (1980, p. 44) conceives of it in terms of a
“growing reservoir of experience” that functions as “a rich resource
for learning.” It also establishes a person’ s self-identity: “Adults derive
REFLECTIONS ON LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD 423
their self-identity from their experience. They define who they are
in terms of the accumulation of their unique sets of experiences.”
And “because adults define themselves largely by their experience,
they have a deep investment in its value” (p. 50).
Experience, however, can be quite varied as Fenwick (2003,
p. 13) points out, including the following:
Direct embodied experience, an immediate encounter in the here-and-
now, planned or unplanned, involving us physically, emotionally,
sensually, mentally, and perhaps spiritually; . . . vicarious experience
[in which we] . . . imagine ourselves immersed in the encounter. We
sometimes are exposed to simulated experience, adirectexperience
planned to be like something real. . . . We can experience through
reliving apastencounter....Thereisalsocollaborative experience, join-
ing others in a shared community of experience whose meaning is
constructive together amid conversation and joint action. . . .
[Finally], introspective experience, such as mediation or dreaming, or
reading, are powerful forms of experience occurring in a special
psychic space. . . . All of these dimensions suggest different ways to
understand whatever is construed to be learning in each context.
Whatever the type of experience, it functions in several ways
that are particular to adult learning. First, as Knowles observed,
adult learners themselves become important resources for learn-
ing. Adults can c all on their expe riences in the f ormulation of
learning activities, as well as serve as resources for others in a learn-
ing event. Second, the need to make sense out of one’s life expe-
riences is often an incentive for engaging in a learning activity in
the first place. Third, the actual engagement of past experiences
with learning is somewhat different for adults than for children.
An adult’s major use of experience in learning is on reintegrating
or transforming meanings and values, while children tend to use
their experiences in accumulating new knowledge and skills. As
Mezirow (2000, p. 5) points out, “[L]earning is understood as the
process of using a prior interpretation to construe new or revised
interpretation of the meaning of one’s experience as a guide to
future action.” Finally, it should be noted that an adult’s past expe-
riences can become obstacles to new learning. Some may have to
unlearn negative attitudes toward learning, old ways of doing
things, prejudicial views, and so on.
The arena of development from a psychological perspective is
424 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
another way in which adults are differentiated from children.
While it is true that both adults and children are involved in
developmental processes, the nature of the processes is qualita-
tively different. This difference can be clearly illustrated with
Havighurst’s (1972) developmental tasks for different life stages.
From infancy through adolescence, the tasks reflect physical mat-
uration (learning to walk, getting ready to read) or preparatory
activities needed for future adult roles. Beginning with the tasks of
young adulthood, there is a shift to functioning well as an adult—
bringing up young children, managing a home, achieving adult
civic and social responsibilities, and so on. Erikson’s (1963) life
stages also reflect a shift from childhood dependence to adult-
oriented dilemmas. In the first five stages of infancy through ado-
lescence, the child deals with establishing trust, autonomy, initiative,
industry, and identity. Adults struggle with intimacy, generativity, and
integrity, characteristics manifested in adult roles of spouse, par-
ent, worker, and citizen. In at least one developmental theory, the
notions of adult e xperience and deve lopment converge. Part of
Kohlberg’s (1973) theory of moral development stipulates that one
cannot attain the higher stages of development until one has expe-
rienced irrevocable moral decision making. Fowler (1981), whose
stages of faith build on Kohlberg’s idea, also maintains that later
stages cannot be attained until adult life. Even some models of cog-
nitive change and development assume an accumulation of expe-
rience with age. Mezirow (1991, p. 193), for example, asserts that
“transformations likely to produce developmentally advanced
meaning perspectives usually appear to occur after the age of
thirty,” while Kegan (1994) asserts that most people do not even
enter the highest levels of consciousness until their forties.
In addition to a sequential stage-phase view of development, life
events and transitions differentiate adult learning from child learn-
ing. Many of the life events and transitions that adults face are pecu-
liar to adulthood and require adjustments—adjustments often
made through systematic learning activity. It is these transitions and
life events that are likely to result in significant, meaningful learn-
ing (Merriam & Clark, 2006) . The y are also what motivate many
adults to seek out learning. Aslanian and Brickell (1980), for exam-
ple, found that 83 percent of adult learners in their study were
involved in learning to cope with a transition. The transitions were
primarily career related (56 percent), followed by family life tran-
REFLECTIONS ON LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD 425
sitions (35 percent). “To know an adult’s life schedule,” they con-
cluded, “is to know an adult’ s learning schedule” (pp. 60–61).
There is little doubt that there is a strong link between the
motivation to participate in a learning activity and an adult’s life
experiences and developmental issues. From studies of participa-
tion and motivation that document that adult roles, especially that
of worker, are prime motivators for learning, to Mezirow’s (1991)
process of perspective transformation that is precipitated by a “dis-
orienting dilemma”—that is, one’s familiar patterns of coping with
life events prove ineffective—learning in adulthood is a function
of social roles and developmental issues.
Research on human memory and how the brain functions also
has the learner center stage in understanding learning. From these
perspectives learning has been conceived as something that pri-
marily goes on inside the heads of individual learners. Through
studying memor y we continue to tr y to decipher how adults
receive, store, transform, and retrieve information and how these
processes are affected as we age. We have even tried to see if we
could improve these processes through formal learning activities,
and more recently, by using various forms of pharmaceutical inter-
ventions. One of the most intriguing knowledge bases on which to
draw about learning in adulthood in the last few years is neurobi-
ological. By discovering more about how the brain actually func-
tions, we have a better chance of unlocking lifelong learning
disabilities and such disastrous diseases as Alzheimer’s and Parkin-
son’s, which can render adults incapable of learning even at a rudi-
mentary level. There is a great deal of potential to enhance what
we know about individual learners, especially when we merge the
ideas from the cognitive and neurobiological sciences.
In addition to what is happening in the mind of an adult
learner, there is a burgeoning literature looking at learning as an
embodied, emotion a l , perhaps spiritual occur r e n ce (see Chapter
Eight). While this research and writing still focuses on the indi-
vidual learner, it is at the same time expanding our understanding
of learning beyond an information processing, cognitive activity.
Just being an adult is thus a crucial factor in distinguishing
between learning in adulthood and learning in childhood. The
accumulation of experience, the nature of that experience, the
developmental issues adults addr ess, how the notions of develop-
ment and experience relate to learning, and how aging affects our
426 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
memory and the more general neurological basis for learning—
all of these differentiate adult learners from children.
THE CONTEXT
Historically, adult educators in social action and community-based
learning programs have taken the context into account in their
work. From Jane Adams’s Hull House immigrant programs to
Highlander’s Research and Education Center’s involvement in
labor movements, civil rights, and environmental action, the adult
learner was seen as affected by, and having an effect on, his or her
social context. However, it has not been until the last fifteen years
or so that context has received more systematic attention in the lit-
erature on adult learning. There are at least two ways to think
about context in this more recent work. The first is the notion that
learning is a product of the individual interacting with the context.
Recent theories of situated cognition, reflective practice, and cog-
nitive development are representative of this interactive view. A sec-
ond way to view the importance of context in learning is to
consider how the structures and institutions of society affect learn-
ing. These structural dimensions include factors such as race, class,
gender, cultural diversity, and power and oppression.
The interactive dimension of the context acknowledges that an
adult’s life situation is quite different from that of a child. A child’ s
life situation is usually characterized by dependency on others for
his or her well-being. The majority of adults, in contrast, are adults
because they have assumed responsibility for managing their own
lives. As Paterson (1979, p. 10) reminds us, “To say that someone is
an adult is to say that he [sic] is entitled, for example, to a wide-rang-
ing freedom of life-style and to a full participation in the making of
social decisions; and it is also to say that he is obliged, among other
things, to be mindful of his own deepest interests and to carry a full
share of the burdens involved in conducting society and transmit-
ting its benefits. His adulthood consists in his full employment of
such rights and his full subjection to such responsibilities.” The tak-
ing on of social roles characteristic of adulthood—roles such as
worker, spouse or partner, voting citizen, and parent—differentiates
adults from children better than chronological age does.
This difference in the social position of adults and children is
reflected in contextual differences in their lives and their learning.
REFLECTIONS ON LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD 427
Achild’slifeisboundedbyhomeandschool,whereasanadult’s
life situation is defined primarily by work, family, and community.
Through home and school, children learn to be adults; going
to school is a full-time job. Theoretically at least, both home and
school are sites where young people learn how to function as
adults. The curriculum in both settings is determined primarily by
others, who decide what is important to know in order to become
responsible members of society. Education, even undergr aduate
education for traditional-age students, is basically preparatory—
young people are “prepared” for the world of work.
Adults, in contrast, typically add the role of learner to other
full-time roles and responsibilities. The learning that adults do
arises from the context of their lives, which is intimately tied to the
sociocultural setting in which they live. As Jarvis (1992, p. 11) has
observed: “Learning . . . is about the continuing process of making
sense of ever yday experience.” Jar vis also draws a connection
between motivation and context: “The reason for participation
does not always lie within the learner but in the dynamic tension
that exists between the learner and [the] socio-cultural world”
(1983, p. 67). The potential for learning occurs “at the intersec-
tion of us and our world” (Jar vis, 2006, p. 10). For example, an
assembly-line worker whose job has been outsourced will need to
retrain for other employmen t; a nurse will need to keep up with
changes in the health care system and technology. Zoning and tax
laws, waste disposal management, and so on that affect citizens’
lives in communities also lead to new learning. Thus learning in
adulthood is characterized by an interaction between the adult and
his or her lifeworld and the duties and responsibilities inherent in
the adult roles of worker, spouse, partner, parent, and citizen.
The differences in context between the lives of children and
adults and how these differences influence learning are high-
lighted in an article by Resnick (1987) contrasting learning in
school and outside school. She writes that “school is a special place
and time for people—discontinuous in some important ways with
daily life and work” (p. 13). There are several wa ys that school
learning differs from other (mostly adult) learning. First, in school,
individual cognition has, until recently, been primarily rewarded,
whereas outside school shared cognition is the norm. In school “a
student succeeds or fails at a task independently of what other stu-
dents do. . . . In contrast, much activity outside school is socially
428 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
shared. Work, personal life, and recreation take place within social
systems, and each person’s ability to function successfully depends
on what others do and how several individuals’ mental and physical
performances mesh” (p. 13). Second, “school is an institution that
values thought that proceeds independently, without aid of physi-
cal and cognitive tools,” at least in testing situations (p. 13). In the
real world, people use all sorts of tools on a regular basis, such as
books, notes, calculators, and computers, to solve problems and
function more effectively. Resnick points out that it is the use of
tools that allows “people of limited education to participate in cog-
nitively complex activity systems” and cites Brazilian black market
bookies’ use of prepared probability tables for functioning in a
demanding mathe m a ti c a l system (p. 14). In our o w n society, per-
sonnel in fast food restaurants ring up orders on a computer where
the food items are keyed by picture and word.
Resnick also points out that too often school learning is decon-
textualized, resulting in little transfer between school and real-
world reasoning. Finally, generalized learning occurs in school, but
situation-specific competencies are needed out of school: “Schools
aim to teach general, widely usable skills and theoretical
principles. . . . Yet to be truly skillful outside school, people must
develop situation-specific forms of competence” (p. 15). What peo-
ple in all settings (including, Resnick points out, adult technical
training, management, and continuing professional education)
need to learn is “to be good adaptive learners, so that they can per-
form effectively when situations are unpredictable and task
demands change” (p. 18). Resnick’s analysis underscores the con-
textual differences between learning in childhood and in adult-
hood and acknowledges the importance of the more recent work
on situated cognition and reflective practice (see Chapter Seven).
In delineating differences between children and adults regard-
ing the context, we note that these differences have ramifications
with regard to social and ethical issues. Since children’s education
is preparator y, for example, they are expected to learn certain
social and moral values as well as specific bodies of knowledge.
Adult education struggles with issues of provision and access to
learning opportunities, perhaps because adult education is
primarily a voluntar y activity, whereas schooling for children
is compulsory. Similarly, the ethical issues involved in adult learn-
ing differ somewhat in that an adul t ’s lea r ning is ofte n intimately
REFLECTIONS ON LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD 429
tied to his or her life situation and status as an adult. Questions thus
arise regarding agency and responsibility in the learning activity, as
well as the outcomes of that interaction. Daloz’ s (1988) now famous
article titled “The Story of Gladys Who Refused to Grow: A Moral-
ity Tale for Mentors” explores this very issue of how much adult edu-
cators should “push” the development of their adult students.
The context, then, in which adult learning takes place gener-
ally differs from the context of most childhood learning. Moreover,
every adult learning situation differs from ever y other situation,
whether the learning is done in a formal or nonformal setting or
on one’s own. Certainly informal learning contexts, including
social action and community-based learning, are where much of
adult learning takes place. While these contexts vary from individ-
ual to individual, they all hold the potential for learning and in fact
organize our learning. We need only see them as sites for learning.
In a delightful and insightful book on the integration of learning
and living, Bateson (1994, p. 9) writes, “When the necessary tasks
of learning cannot be completed in a portion of the life cycle set
aside for them, they have to join life’s other tasks and be done con-
currently. We can carry on the process of learning in everything we
do, like a mother balancing her child on her hip as she goes about
her work with the other hand or uses it to open the doors of the
unknown. Living and learning, we become ambidextrous.” At
another point, she comments on the unfortunate tendency of our
society to compartmentalize: “If only for tax purposes, we are
forced to label activities as work, or play, or learning, or therapy,
or exercise, or stress reduction, missing the seriousness of play, the
delight of good work, the healing that happens in the classroom.
For adults, learning is rarely the only activity going on. . . . By
emphasizing a single thread of activity, we devalue the learning
running throughout” (p. 108).
The importance of context is not just that it is interactive with
one’s learning. There are structural dimensions to our social con-
text, often unseen and unacknowledged, that subtly affect learn-
ing. This aspect of context recognizes that our society has become
highly multicultural and diverse, and that political and economic
conditions often shape the learning experience. It is no longer a
question of whether in adult learning situations we need to address
issues of race, class, gender, culture, ethnicity, and sexual orienta-
tion but rather a question of how we should deal with these issues,
430 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
the power dynamics involved, and so on. We are beginning to rec-
ognize that it is important to know the backgrounds and experi-
ences of our learners not only as individual learners but also as
members of social and culturally constructed groups such as
women and men; poor, middle-class, and rich; black, white, and
brown. These socially constructed notions of who our learners are
and who we are as educators and the subsequent power dynamics
should be given the same attention in teaching and learning, plan-
ning, and administrative functions as the “technology” (that is, pro-
gram design, instructional strategies) of our practice. (See Alfred,
2002, Hansman & Sissel, 2001, and St. Clair & Sandlin, 2004, for
discussions of sociocultural and political contexts and their impact
on adult learning.)
Further, exposure to other groups of people and cultures h a s
been greatly expanded through travel, participation in the global
marketplace, and technological wonders such as the World Wide
Web. These changes afford all adults opportunities to learn from
others and to expand their worldviews. Bateson (1994, p. 17)
explains how this kind of exposure can lead to learning: “Each per-
son is calibrated by experience, almost like a measuring instrument
for difference, so discomfort [in encountering difference] is infor-
mative and offers a starting point for new understanding.” She goes
on to say that “it is contrast that makes learning possible” (p. 27).
The inclusion in this edition of Learning in Adulthood of a chapter
on non-Western perspectives on learning and knowing acknowl-
edges the still-nascent but growing influence of other epistemo-
logical systems on our understanding of adult learning.
THE LEARNING P ROCESS
Of the three areas of learner, context, and process, in the learning
process there are few er dramatic differences between adults and
children. Houle (1972), one of the field’s most respected adult
educators, maintained that the process of learning is fundamen-
tally the same for adults and children. Research, however, has
uncovered some differences—differences that when linked with
context and learner help distinguish adult learning from child
learning.
Two process factors in particular—speed and meaningfulness—
have been shown to affect adult learning. Speed refers to the time
REFLECTIONS ON LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD 431
apersonhastoexamineaproblemorrespondtoasituation.An
adult’s ability to respond slows with age, and time limits and pres-
sures have a negative effect on learning performance. With regard
to meaningfulness, perhaps because an adult’s learning is so closely
tied to his or her li fe si t uation , adults are no t i n clined to engage
in learning unless it is meaningful. Adults are thus likely to do
poorly on recall of nonsense syllables, for example, compared with
younger learners, who are more conditioned by school experiences
to learn material that may not be immediately relevant. Linked to
the meaningfulness of material is the variable of motivation.
MacKeracher (1996, p. 80) defines motives as “the needs that
learners feel when starting a learning activity. They may relate to
unmet needs or unwanted conditions in life and to the pursuit of
positive growth toward desired goals. As learners proceed toward
meeting unmet needs, resolving unwanted conditions, or reaching
desired goals, motives for learning tend to change in relation to
any feelings and experiences of success/failure and satisfaction/
dissatisfaction.” In summarizing the literature on motivation,
MacKeracher obser ves that “the tendencies which are labeled
‘motives’ arise from within the learner. Despite encouragement
from some writers to ‘motivate learners,’ facilitators cannot do this
directly” (p. 79).
In addition, there are other age-related factors that may affect
learning in adulthood. Adults are more likely than children to have
health problems. Fatigue, medication, interference from previous
learning, environmental conditions, and so on certainly affect
new learning. Acquisition of information may become more difficult,
because the rate at which working memory processes information
seems to be slower with age. The point to be made here is that the
nature of the learning process in adulthood is likely to be differ-
ent from a child’s because of the greater incidence of these occur-
rences and the greater impact of these factors on older learners.
By linking an adult’ s greater experiential base to learning, a case
can be made that cognitive functioning in adulthood may also be
qualitatively different from childhood. Recognizing that the prior
accumulation of knowledge is crucial to the integration of new
learning, and that adults have accumulated more knowledge than
children, by extension, learning potential, at least in some areas,
would naturally increase with age. Research on fluid and crystal-
lized intelligence bears this generalization out. Other scholars, espe-
432 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
cially those writing from a transformational learning perspective,
do not focus so much on the accumulation of knowledge as on the
transformation of experience as a characteristic of adult learning.
Finally, it should be noted that those who posit stages of cog-
nitive development in adulthood that are different from those
unfolding in childhood contribute to our understanding of how
the learning process may be different for adults. Kegan (1994), for
example, proposes a level of consciousness model in which dialec-
tical thinking becomes the hallmark, or highest level, of mature
adult thinking. Framed from the assumption that our postmodern
world necessitates this form of thinking in order to respond effec-
tively to the demands of adult life, Kegan asserts that adults rarely
expand their thinking to this level until in their forties or fifties.
As Kegan obser ves, “I suggest that we are gradually seeing more
adults working on a qualit a t i vely different order of conscio u s n e s s
than did adults on e hundred years ago because we live twenty or
more years longer than we used to” (p. 352).
THE CONFIGURATION OF LEARNER,
C
ONTEXT, AND PROCESS
We believe that learning in adulthood can be distinguished from
childhood learning by the way in which learner, context, and some
aspects of the learning process blend in adulthood. The configu-
ration looks different than it does in childhood. In our discussion
of each component, we noted how adults are different from chil-
dren, how the context of adult learning is different from the con-
text of child learning, and how certain features of the learning
process are unique to adults. Although we have attempted to dis-
cuss these components separately, our discussion reflects their nat-
ural interaction. An adult’s life experiences, for example, are a
function of the sociocultural environment and the learner’s per-
sonality. We can think about this interaction with regard to an
adult’s work experiences. As everyone is aware, the context of work
has changed dramatically with the emergence of a global market-
place, advances in te chnology, and the shift from an in dustrial to
aserviceandknowledge-basedeconomy.Someadultsaretraining
for jobs that did not exist five years ago, many are changing jobs
often, and a growing number are experimenting with alternative
job structures, such as consultin g, telecommuting, a nd job shar-
REFLECTIONS ON LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD 433
ing. Previous experiences as well as one’s personality will determine
how these changes are accommodated, which in turn affects both
one’s self-concept as a worker and notions of career development.
How an adult processes information from the sociocultural
context, and even what an adult attends to in the environment, is
wrapped up with the developmental concerns of the moment. A
parent of teenagers, for example, is much more likely to notice
and perhaps attend a workshop on teenagers and drugs than some-
one not involved with that age group. And the state of the econ-
omy is likely to be of great interest to someone nearing retirement,
who might then design a learning project on the topic. In both
examples, the sociocultural context, the accumulated life experi-
ences, developmental concerns, and presumably the nature of
ensuing learning experiences converge to make learning in adult-
hood qualitatively different from learning in childhood.
In summarizing the material on learning in adulthood, we also
asked ourselves to what extent theory and practice might reflect this
integrated perspective of adult learning. The work on self-directed
learning or participation, for example, by definition focuses on a
particular aspect of the phenomenon. The self-directed learning
frameworks emphasize the process, and to a lesser extent, the con-
text and the learner. Similarly, the research on participation does
not deal with the learning pr ocess per se; rather, the context and
the learner are the most important variables.
Some theories or models of adult learning focus on adult char-
acteristics (for example, Knowles, 1980), some emphasize an
adult’s life situation (for example, McClusky, 1970), and others
center on changes in consciousness (for example, Freire, 1970;
Mezirow, 2000). These three emphases can be loosely equated with
the adult, the context, and the learning process. Knowles’s (1980)
still-popular notion of andragogy is almost entirely focused on how
the adult learner is different from a preadult learner. McClusky
(1970) attends to the adult’s life situation and social context from
which the need or motivation to learn arises.
For both Freire (1970) and Mezirow (2000) learning in adult-
hood is a transformative rather than an additive process. It requires
the ability to reflect critically on one’s thoughts and assumptions—
aparticularlyadultskill.Boththeoriesalsoaccountforadultchar-
acteristics, and in particular, life exper iences and developmen tal
concerns unique to adulthood. And in both theories the sociocul-
434 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
tural context is a critical component. It is in the sociocultural con-
text that adults have experiences that must be processed. The two
differ, however, in the notion of being emancipated through this
learning process. Mezirow, while not discounting social change as
an outcome of perspective transformation, emphasizes personal psy-
chological change. And while Mezirow’ s theory of perspective trans-
formation perhaps comes closest to taking into account our notions
of context, learner, and process, there are still some questions as to
just how comprehensive his theor y is. Is the process he outlines
unique to adulthood? What about adults who do not reflect criti-
cally? Can transformations occur through other mechanisms? His
theory seems most appropriate for informal, self-directed learning
situations, although several have sought application in more insti-
tutionally based settings (Cranton, 1996, 1997; Mezirow & Associ-
ates, 1990, 2000; Taylor, Marienau, & Fiddler, 2000).
For Freire, in contrast, being emancipated from false con-
sciousness requires political action aimed at changing society. Crit-
ical theory and feminist pedagogy share with Freire their emphases
on emancipation and empowerment. Fur ther, both of these ori-
entations begin with the sociopolitical context of people’s lives.
Critical theory attends to socioeconomic class as the major variable
creating inequities and oppression, while feminists look to gender
as well as the intersection of race, class, and gender. Both per-
spectives call for a dults to refle ct critically on power and oppre s-
sion and engage with other like-minded adults in a radical
restructuring of society.
How well does practice account for the uniqueness of adult
learning? This question is difficult to answer without looking at a
specific learning situation. Furthermore, it is basically a question of
the relationship between theor y and practice. To what extent is
the knowledge that we have accumulated about adult learning—
knowledge reviewed in this book—reflective of what actually hap-
pens in practice? Moreover, to what extent is the knowledge that we
do have derived from practice, and to what extent doe s it inform
our practice? Cervero (1991) has delineated four positions relative
to the interaction between knowledge and practice, each of which
can be applied to adult learning. His framework allows us to see
how the knowledge presented in this book and practice are related.
The first position posits that the practice of adult learning has
been carried out without reference to what is known about how
REFLECTIONS ON LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD 435
adults learn. This position in fact characterizes much of adult learn-
ing, since only a small percentage of teachers, administrators, pro-
gram developers, and others have had any formal training in adult
education. From this position, those working with adult learners
rely on common sense and trial-and-error learning, a less formal
but certainly no less valuable source of guidance for practice.
The second position is that a systematically collected knowl-
edge base illuminates practice. It is thought that if this knowledge
is disseminated through professional preparation, in-service staff
development, and so on, practice will be strengthened. Lists of
principles and guidelines, for example, such as those reviewed at
the beginning of the chapter, are often disseminated through
workshops and in-house publications, ostensibly to improve one’s
practice in adult learning. There are also numerous publications
that attempt to show how knowledge about context, learner, and
process could be put into practice. Andragogy in Action (Knowles &
Associates, 1984), for example, presents thirty-six case studies of
how characteristics of adult learners can be incorporated into the
planning of learning activities in settings ranging from business
and government to universities and volunteer organizations. In
another publication, Improving Higher Education Environments for
Adults (1989), Schlossberg, Lynch, and Chickering show how adult
life experiences and adult developmental theory can form the basis
for programs and support services for learners in higher educa-
tion. Finally, Cranton’s Transformative Learning in Action: Insights
from Practice (1997) and Mezirow and Associates’ Fostering Critical
Reflection in Adulthood (1990) and Learning as Transformation (2000)
review exemplary programs and suggest methods “for precipitat-
ing and fostering transformative learning in the context of the
classroom, in special workshops, in informal group settings, in col-
lective social action, in counseling sessions, and in the workplace”
(Mezirow & Associates, 1990, p. xv).
The third position on the relationship between knowledge and
practice is that educators operate intuitively with an understanding
of adult learning whether or not that knowledge is articulated. This
theory- in-practice position holds that “practitioners actually do
operate on the basis of theories and knowledge” and that “theory
can be derived from practice by systematically articulating the sub-
jective meaning structures that influence the ways that real indi-
viduals act in concrete situations” (Cervero, 1991, pp. 26–27). This
436 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
notion has been investigated with regard to professional practice
(Schön, 1987, 1991, 1996) and is now being promoted in adult edu-
cation, especially in the work of Cervero and Wilson (1994, 2005).
With regard to the learning situation and other aspects of adult edu-
cation, the central task of this approach is to “describe educational
practice and help practitioners become more reflective about their
own individual actions” (Cervero, 1991, p. 29). The orientation of
our book—in particular, our attending to context and exploring
social issues—reflects the critical stance toward practice inherent
in this position.
The fourth position on theory and practice is that they are indi-
visible. Here the focus is on “what counts as knowledge and how,
where, and by whom this knowledge is produced” (Cervero, 1991,
p. 31). Understanding the production of knowledge is emanci-
pating. This perspective is best illustrated by critical theory, post-
modernism, and feminist theoretical assumptions about knowledge
and learning. More than the first three positions, this perspective—
that theor y and practice are indivisible—takes into account the
political, economic, and sociocultural context in which learning
occurs. Examples of adult education practice from this perspective
are community-based literacy programs, feminist pedagogy, criti-
cal pedagogy, popular education programs and movements, and
participatory research activities (Merriam, 1991). Participator y
research “has faith in people’s ability to produce their own knowl-
edge through collective investigation of p r o bl e m s and issues, c o l-
lective analysis of the problems, and collective action to change the
conditions that gave rise to the problems in the first place”
(Gaventa, 1988, p. 19). This method of producing knowledge,
indeed this perspective on the relationship between theor y and
practice, makes space for alternative knowledge systems that have
been excluded from the “official” body of knowledge. While we
recognize that, for the most part, the material presented in this
book is representative of “official” knowledge, we hope that some
of the less mainstream information that we have included will stim-
ulate further research to make such unconventional knowledge
more visible.
SOME CONCLUDING T HOUGHTS
In this final cha pter, we have articulated our understandin g of
REFLECTIONS ON LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD 437
learning in adulthood and assessed how well learner, context, and
process as a unique configuration in adulthood are reflected in
theory and in practice. We conclude with some observations and
suggestions. First, we think the field has developed a significant
knowledge base about learning in adulthood, much of it fairly
recent. We are optimistic that learning in adulthood will continue
to interest researchers and educators and that we will know quite
abitmorewithinthenextseveralyears.Second,thenatureofcon-
tributions in this area is changing. Adult educators are moving
from description to theory building and looking at adult learning
more holistically, as attested to by our two new chapters: “Embod-
ied, Spiritual, and Narrative Learning” and “Learning and Know-
ing: Non-Western Perspectives.” The field is also considering the
sociocultural context in which learning takes place, how race, class,
gender, able-bodiedness, sexual orientation, and so on affect learn-
ing, thus shifting from a primarily psychological orientation to a
broader contextual view. We are indeed more cognizant of the
social issues and dilemmas involved in the provision and practice
of adult learning. And we are examining notions about how knowl-
edge about adult learning itself is produced and legitimized.
We are hopeful that learners themselves will be a great source
of our understanding of learning in adulthood. In fact, we suggest
that future research in adult learning be collaboratively designed
with adults who are learning on their own or in informal ways, as
well as with participants in formal and nonformal learning activi-
ties. Focusing on adults would counter some of the research on the
learning process itself, which more often than not employs
nonadults or select populations such as college students. We also
suggest that research that takes into account the sociocultural and
political context of a dult learning might well advance our under-
standing of the problems of access and opportunity that continue
to trouble the field. While this book has drawn from a voluminous
literature base, we still feel there is much to be learned about learn-
ing in adulthood. We hope that readers will be inspired to think
about their practice with adult learners and contribute in some way
to our further understanding of this very complex phenomenon.
438 LEARNING IN ADULTHOOD
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REFERENCES 503
N AME I NDEX
504
A
Abdullah, A., 223–224
Abson, V., 370
Aburdene, P., 11, 21
Adamms, Jane, 427
Adams, J., 156
Adult Education Research Confer-
ence, 226
Ahmad, N., 303
Ahmed, M., 29
Ahteenmaki-Pelkonen, L., 124
Albert, M. S., 412, 413
Albright, T. D., 412, 415, 416
Alderson, K. G., 315, 317–318
Alexander, C. M., 315
Alfred, M., 132, 142, 143
Alfred, M. V., 10, 89, 431
Allen, 225
Allen, I. E., 40
Amann, T., 151, 156, 194, 215, 216
American Cancer Society, 36
American Medical Association, 199
Amstutz, D. D., 20–21, 244
Anderson, J. R., 179, 393, 394, 395,
397, 400, 401, 402, 404, 405, 408,
409
Anderson, N. D., 304
Anderson, N. H., 286
Andruske, C. L., 109
Antone, E. M., 220
Argyris, C., 42
Aring, M., 73
Aristotle, 275, 412
Arlin, P. K., 327, 357
Arnold, G. W., 90
Ashcraft, L., 307
Ashraf, S. A., 234
Ashraf, S. M., 234
Aslanian, C. B., 62–63, 92
Asoko, H., 291–292
Association for Clinical Pastoral Edu-
cation, 96
Austin, P., 173–174
Ausubel, D. P., 286, 295–296
B
Bacclear, W. T., 351
Bagnall, R. G., 259, 260
Baldari, C., 302
Baltes, P. B., 305, 319–320, 324, 351,
367, 369
Bandura, A., 277, 288, 289, 295–296
Banks, C.A.M., 223
Banks, J. A., 223
Baptiste, I., 15, 23, 24, 250
Bar-On, R., 382, 396
Baron-Cohen, S., 418
Barrett, A. E., 310
Basseches, M. A., 343
Bassett, C., 326, 354–355, 358
Bateson, M. C., 430, 431
Baum, J., 95
Baumgartner, L. M., 133, 154, 157,
210
Baxter Magolda, M., 337, 338,
339–340, 358
Bazana, P. G., 361
Beard, C., 165–166
Beckett, D., 190, 196–197
Becvar, R. J., 351
Beder, H., 22, 90
Bee, H. L., 298, 300, 301, 303, 304,
306, 312, 313–314, 320, 321, 396,
397, 398, 399, 401
Belanger, P., 5
Belenky, M. F., 252, 263–264, 326,
334, 335–336, 339, 348, 350, 358
Bell, Y. R., 409
Belzer, A., 77
Benack, S., 343
Benally, H. J., 238
Benn, R., 67
Berg, C. A., 367–368, 383–384
Berger, K. S., 313
Berger, N., 28, 112, 113
Beson, H., 191
Beswick, D. M., 121
Beth, A., 310, 311, 312
Bielby, D. D., 319, 321
Bierema, L. L., 157
Bills, D. B., 8, 15
Binet, A., 363
Bird, 225
Bishop, R., 233
Bjorkland, B. R., 298–299, 300, 301,
303, 304, 306, 312, 313–314, 396,
397, 398, 399, 400
Blacksher, B., 151
Blanchard, K., 117
Blank, W. E., 409
Bo Chang, 50
Bode, 284
Bohm, David, 202
Bolhuis, S., 125
Bolman, L., 200
Boshier, R., 47, 49, 50–51, 64
Boucouvalas, M., 124, 151
Boud, D., 80, 163, 165, 166, 175,
183–184, 185
Boudard, E., 68
Bower, G. H., 277
Bowles, D. D., 309
Bowman, S. L., 315
Boyd, R. D., 131, 137, 138, 139, 142,
144, 151–152
Brady, E. M., 211–212
Brand, B., 73
Brandt, B. L., 181, 182
Bregman, E. O., 217, 273, 278, 366
Brennan, B., 30–31, 34–35
Brent, N., 370
Brick, J. M., 56
Brickell, H. M., 62–63, 92
Briggs, L. J., 286
Briskin, A., 200
Brockett, R. G., 31, 37, 106, 107, 112,
113, 114, 120, 122, 123, 127–128
Brockman, J., 196, 197–198
Brody, N., 381
Bronfenbrenner, U., 299, 319, 322,
361
Brookfield, S., 85, 86, 106, 108, 111,
146–147, 155, 250, 257, 258, 422,
423
Brooks, A. K., 215, 218–219, 221,
245–246
Brown, A. H., 266
Brown, A. J., 126
Brown, C. M., 302, 303
Brown, J. S., 180, 181
Bruce, L., 73
Bruer, J. T., 391, 401, 415, 417
Bruner, J., 208, 286, 295–296
Brunsma, D. L., 309
Bryant, I., 14, 80, 163, 166–168,
177–178, 185, 261, 262
Brysk, A., 12
Buckmaster, A., 181, 182
Burack, O. R., 401
C
Cabeza, R., 304
Caffarella, R. S., 106, 107, 111, 124,
284, 299, 319
Caine, G., 416
Caine, R. N., 416
Cajete, G., 34, 35
Caldarelli, M., 30
Cameron, S. W., 331
Candy, P. C., 37, 106, 122, 123, 124,
293, 295–296
Canipe, J. B., 121, 127
NAME INDEX 505
Capps, D., 307
Capranica, L., 302
Carey, J. R., 300
Carey, R. N., 400
Carnegie Corporation, 54
Carr, P. B., 123
Carroll, J. B., 363
Carter, T. J., 153
Carter, V. K., 255
Caruso, D., 381, 382
Casas, J. M., 315
Cass, V. C., 305, 306, 310
Cassidy, S., 406, 407, 409–410
Castejón, J. L., 378
Cattell, R. B., 363, 365
Cattrell, R. B., 389
Cauldron, S., 74
Cavaliere, L. A., 116, 119
Center for Education Statistics, 9
Cervero, R. M., 46, 69, 150, 172, 255,
266, 318, 435, 436, 437
Chandler, M. J., 326, 352, 358
Chapman, C., 9, 36, 56, 58, 60
Chapman, V., 191
Charles, Ray, 192
Chavous, T. M., 315–317
Chen, T., 373
Chene, A., 106, 122
Cheville, J., 196
Chickering, A. W., 436
Cho, D., 126
Choi, J., 180
Chuprina, L., 121
Clancey, W. J., 179
Clardy, A., 126
Clark, C., 215
Clark, M. C., 149, 208–209, 210, 211,
214, 216, 260, 299, 425
Clinchy, B. M., 252, 263–264, 326,
334, 335–337, 338, 339, 348, 350,
358
Clunis, T., 245–246
Cobb, P., 292
Coffield, F., 410
Cognition and Technology Group at
Vanderbilt, 181, 183
Cohen, N. H., 290
Cole, T. B., 125
Colin, S.A.J., III, 243, 318
Collard, S., 247, 258
Collins, A., 180, 181
Collins, J. B., 64
Collins, J. F., 309
Collins, M., 106, 109, 247, 254, 256,
259
Collins, M. A., 56
Collins, R., 117, 119
Collins Hagedorn, M., 9, 36, 56, 58,
60
Commission for a Nation of Lifelong
Learners, 48
Commission of Professors of Adult
Education, 419
Confucius, 226
Conrad, D., 40
Conti, G. J., 281
Cook, B. J., 234
Coombs, P. H., 29, 31, 35
Cope, P., 181
Corliss, J., 191
Courtenay, B. C., 90–91, 133, 150,
154, 201, 207
Courtney, S., 65, 67
Cowen, T., 12
Cowley, G., 191
Cox, B., 121
Cox, S., 317, 319
Cranton, P., 13, 145–146, 155, 156,
408, 409, 435, 436
Creighton, S., 56, 76
Criticos, C., 145
Cropley, A. J., 76
Cross, W. E., Jr., 315, 316, 319
Crowdes, M. S., 192, 193, 198
Crowther, J., 70, 73–74, 77, 78
Cunningham, J., 251
Cunningham, P. M., 14, 23, 24, 71–72
Cuthbertson, P., 181
D
Dale, J. A., 48
Dale, J. T., 334
506 NAME INDEX
Daley, B. J., 149
Daloz, L. A., 131, 137, 138, 139, 155,
205, 290, 312, 429–430
Damasio, A. R., 414
Danis, C., 112, 116
Dannefer, D., 312
Darkenwald, G. G., 66–67, 90–91
Darrow, C. N., 138, 299, 306, 307,
308, 312
Datan, N., 313
Davenport, J., 85
Davidson, J. E., 384
Davis, D. C., 156, 215
Davis-Harrison, D., 69
Deal, T. E., 200
Deary, I. J., 361, 364, 372
Dehler, G. E., 174
Dei, G. J., 224
Deloria, 225
deMarrais, K., 253
Demko, D. J., 95
Denton, E., 200
Deopere, D. L., 331–332
Derrick, M. G., 123
Descartes, René, 151, 189, 275
Desimone, R., 16
Desmedt, E., 407
Dewey, J., 80, 161, 162–163, 164, 185,
295–296
Di Vesta, F. J., 286, 287, 395
Diehl, M., 348, 358
Dillion, F. R., 315
Dillon, M., 199
Dirkx, J., 138, 139, 144, 151, 152,
156–157, 165, 170, 194–195, 203,
206, 260
Dixon, N. M., 45–46
Dixon, R. A., 366, 367, 368, 371–372,
373
Dollard, 288
Dominice, P., 211, 213
Donaldson, J. F., 67–68
Donlan, C., 370
Doraisamy, L., 226
Downing, C. L., 384
Driver, R., 291–292
Duffley-Renow, P., 127
Duguid, P., 180, 181
Durr, R., 122
Dychtwald, K., 357
E
Ebbinghaus, Hermann, 276
Eccelstone, K., 410
Edwards, R., 49
Elias, D., 147
Elias, J. L., 85, 250, 284
Ellinger, A. D., 45, 126–127, 128
Ellinger, A. E., 45
Ellis, A. J., 120
Ellsworth, E., 255, 258
Emerle, H. F., 302, 303
English, L., 139, 204, 205
English, L. M., 203, 205
Epstein, A. M., 301
Erickson, D. M., 136–137
Erikson, E. H., 214, 299, 305, 306,
307, 312, 425
Erikson, J. M., 306
Etter-Lewis, G., 315
Eurich, N., 25
F
Fahey, Monsignor, 357
Faris, N. A., 234
Farmer, J. A., Jr., 181, 182
Fasokun, T., 223, 224, 239
Faure, E., 47
Faye, E. E., 302–303
Feinstein, B. C., 150
Felix, 137
Fenimore, M. A., 369
Fenwick, T., 4, 43, 80, 139, 144,
160–161, 164, 165, 168, 169–170,
171, 178, 179, 180, 181, 183, 186,
204, 205, 255, 424
Fenwick, T. J., 203
Ferraro, K. F., 313
Ferris, J., 315
Ferry, N., 177, 293, 403, 404
Fiddler, M., 422, 435
Field, D., 369
Findsen, B., 226
NAME INDEX 507
Findsen, Brian, 231–233
Finger, M., 11, 13, 14, 15, 23, 26, 253,
261
Fischback, G. D., 413
Fisk, A. D., 396, 397
Fitzgerald, J., 251
Flannery, D. D., 318, 406
Flower, J., 357
Foehr, R. P., 202
Fogerson, D. L., 127
Fordham University, 357
Forsythe, G. B., 353, 364, 372, 377,
379–380, 383, 385, 388
Foster, M., 315
Fowler, J. W., 305, 306, 312, 425
Frank, Anne, 211
Frankland, 411
Freed, S. A., 127
Freedman, M. A., 300
Freire, P., 131, 139, 140–141, 154,
155, 170, 231, 242, 246, 249–250,
434–435
Freud, S., 282
Friedman, A. A., 334
Fujita-Starck, P. J., 65, 72, 73
G
Gagne, R. M., 277, 286, 287, 295–296
Galbraith, M. W., 290
Gale, J., 291
Gallois, C., 317, 319
Gamlin, P., 220
Gardiner, H. W., 312
Gardner, H., 19, 372, 374–376, 377,
380, 387, 390
Garrison, D. R., 95, 106, 112,
114–116, 119, 122
Gaventa, J., 437
Geissler, K. A., 6
George, J. M., 225
Gergen, K. J., 260, 292
Ghere, G. S., 172–173, 176
Gibson, S. K., 289, 290–291
Gignac, G., 382
Gilligan, 335
Ginsberg, M. G., 319
Giroux, H., 259
Glass, R. M., 125
Glastra, F. J., 11
Glover, 215
Glowacki-Dudka, M., 48
Glynn, T., 233
Goldberger, N. R., 252, 263–264, 326,
334, 335–336, 338, 339, 348–349,
350, 358
Goldenberg, J. L., 190–191
Goleman, D., 200, 380–381, 382
Goodman, 137
Goodnow, J. J., 350
Gorard, S., 68
Gorham, J., 90
Gottfredson, L. S., 385
Götz, I. L., 195
Gould, R., 305
Gourde, A., 331, 332
Gouthro, P. A., 255, 263
Grace, A. P., 88, 242, 268
Graveline, F. J., 33, 225
Graves, R. L., 202–203, 205
Gredler, M. E., 277, 285, 287
Greenberg, J., 190–191
Greene, G. J., 135
Greeno, J., 180
Griego, O. V., 96
Griffith, W. S., 72
Grigorenko, E. L., 362, 378
Grippin, P., 278, 279–280, 285
Grotzer, T. A., 380
Groves, K., 382
Grow, G., 117, 118
Guez, J., 396
Guglielmino, L. M., 121, 122, 126
Guglielmino, P. J., 122, 126
Guidetti, L., 302
Guthrie, 278, 295–296
Guy, T. C., 244
Guyer, B., 300
H
Haberlandt, 195
Habermas, J., 134, 250, 251, 253,
254–255, 258, 269
508 NAME INDEX
Hadfield, J., 14
Haier, R. J., 361
Hake, B. J., 11
Hall, A. G., 67–68
Hall, B. L., 224
Hall, E., 410
Hamil-Luker, J., 59
Hammond, M., 117, 119
Hannafin, M., 180
Hanpachern, C., 96
Hansen, A. H., 95
Hansen, T. L., 249
Hansman, C. A., 179, 431
Hanson, A., 86
Harjo, 225
Harris, D., 16
Hart, M., 155, 205, 242, 247, 256
Hartree, A., 85–86
Harvie, P.H.B., 153
Hautamäki, J., 378
Havighurst, R. J., 308, 425
Haydu, M. L., 304
Hayes, B., 318
Hayes, E., 318
Hayes, E. R., 39, 254
Heany, T., 140
Hecker, D., 15, 16
Heclo, H., 20
Hedlund, J., 353, 364, 372, 377,
379–380, 383, 385, 388
Helms, J. E., 305, 306, 309
Hemphill, D. F., 33, 252
Henderson, J., 150
Henriksen, R. C., Jr., 305, 306,
309–310
Hergenhahn, B. R., 275, 276, 278,
279, 284, 285, 288, 289
Hernandez-Serrano, J., 208, 210
Herrera, F., 47
Herring, R. D., 309
Hersey, P., 117
Hertzog, 403
Hicks, A., 33
Hiemstra, R., 93–94, 95, 106, 107,
112, 113, 114, 120, 122, 123,
406–407, 409
Highlander’s Research and Educa-
tion Center, 427
Hilgard, E. R., 277
Hill, L. H., 195
Hill, R. J., 242, 256–257
Hill, W. F., 276, 277–278, 286, 289
Hippocrates, 412
Ho, C., 346
Hobson, Governor, 231
Hockly, N., 181
Hofer, B. K., 349
Hofer, C., 369, 370, 371
Hofstede, G., 223
Holford, J., 49
Hollenbeck, C. R., 39
Holliday, S. G., 326, 352, 358
Holton, III, E. F., 84, 90
Holton, D., 205
Hood, A. B., 331–332
hooks, b., 204, 242
Hopkins, R. L., 209
Horn, J. L., 363–364, 365, 389
Horvath, J. A., 353, 364, 372, 377,
379–380, 383, 385, 388, 403–404,
405
Houle, C. O., 63–64, 78, 83, 105–106,
419, 431
Howell, L. C., 310, 311, 312
Howell, S. L., 255
Howton, S. W., 45
Hoyer, W. J., 392, 393–394, 395, 397,
399, 400, 403, 411
Hudson, L., 56, 76
Hull, 278, 295–296
Hull House, 427
Hultsch, 403
Humprheys, L. G., 363
Husain, S. S., 234
Hussain, Z., 396
Hwang, I., 153
Hyslop-Margison, E. J., 48
I
Ianinska, S., 245
Illeris, K., 35, 47, 49, 79, 93, 97–100,
277
NAME INDEX 509
Inglis, T., 250
Internet World Stats, 40, 41
Issroff, K., 292
J
Jacobs, R., 281
Jaeger, M. E., 375, 376
James, J. M., 95
James, W. B., 409
James, William, 415
Jarvis, C., 267
Jarvis, P., 5, 12, 13, 49, 69, 71, 73, 80,
84, 88, 100–103, 104, 145, 163,
164–165, 166, 185, 428
Jensen, A. R., 363
Jensen, E., 416
Jeris, L., 245
Johnson, J. B., 331, 332
Johnson, J. K., 151
Johnson-Bailey, J., 132, 142, 143, 243,
263, 266, 267, 318
Johnston, R., 14, 80, 163, 166–168,
177–178, 261, 262
Johnstone, J.W.C., 54–56, 59, 62, 66
Jonassen, D. H., 208, 210
Jones, J. A., 375, 376
Jordan, J. A., 353
Josselson, R., 305, 306, 310
Joughin, G., 406
Jung, C., 163, 199
Jung, J., 69
Jurczyk, J. P., 127
K
Kaddoura, A., 47
Kajanne, A., 334, 335
Kallenbach, S., 376
Kalmijin, M., 313
Kamis, M., 217, 226, 233–235
Kant, Immanuel, 275, 291
Kappel, P. L., 149
Karpiak, I., 213
Kasworm, C. E., 25, 30, 111
Katahoire, A., 223, 224, 239
Kaufman, A. S., 273, 363, 364, 365,
373
Kaufman, J. C., 373
Kaufman, N. L., 364, 365, 373
Keane, P., 7
Kearsley, G., 40
Kee, Y., 226, 226–227
Keen, S., 208
Kegan, R., 130, 137, 139, 148, 262,
305, 342, 343–345, 357, 358, 425,
433
Kelland, J. H., 41
Keogh, R., 165, 175
Kerka, S., 127, 192, 209, 212
Kessels, J.W.M., 89
Kettering Foundation, 31
Kidd, J. R., 83, 287, 314, 366, 423
Kiel, F. C., 285
Kiely, R. C., 150
Kilgore, D., 260, 262
Killiany, R. J., 412, 413
Kim, K., 9, 36, 56, 58, 60, 90–91
Kincheloe, J. L., 219–220, 222–223,
224, 315, 327
King, P. M., 147, 332, 333–334, 335,
337, 339, 340, 358
Kirshner, D., 180
Kitchener, K. S., 147, 332, 333–334,
335, 337, 339, 358
Kivnick, H. O., 306
Klein, E. B., 138, 299, 306, 307, 308,
312
Kline, D. W., 303
Knight, C. C., 327–329
Knopf, M., 400
Knowles, M. S., 79, 83, 84–92, 104,
106, 107, 110, 113, 120, 123, 124,
144, 148, 161, 277, 283, 286, 308,
314, 421, 423–424, 434, 436
Knox, A. B., 314
Koffka, 284, 295–296
Kohl de Oliveira, M., 384, 385–386
Kohlberg, L., 299, 332, 335, 425
Kohler, 284, 295–296
Kolb, A. Y., 163, 408
Kolb, D. A., 80, 161, 163, 164, 175,
183, 185, 408
Kosmitzki, C., 312
510 NAME INDEX
Kottkamp, R. B., 175–176
Kovan, J. T., 139, 152
Kozak, 334
Kramer, 344
Kramer, D. A., 351
Krause, N., 313
Kuhn, Thomas, 291
L
Labouvie-Vief, G., 347–348, 349,
358
Lacan, Jacques, 168
Lachkman, M. E., 401
Lahey, 137
Laiken, M. E., 42
Lajoie, S. P., 405–406
Lamb, S., 155
Langer, E. J., 397
Lautrey, J., 360, 373
Lavallee, M., 331, 332
Lave, J., 180, 295–296
Le Cornu, A., 165
Leach, J., 291–292
Lee, K. S., 310
Lee, M., 86, 89, 243, 263, 266, 267,
318
Lee, M. Y., 135
Lefrancois, G. R., 287, 288, 289,
304–305
Leino, V. E., 369
Lemkow, A. F., 202
Lennox, S. L., 156
Lerner, 298
Levine, J. R., 400
Levine, S. L., 312, 374
Levinson, D. J., 138, 299, 305–306,
307–308, 312
Levinson, J. D., 138, 306, 307–308,
312
Levinson, M. H., 138, 299, 306, 307,
308, 312
Lewin, 164, 284, 295–296
Lewis, M. T., 156
Library of Congress, 18
Lin, L., 156
Lindeman, E. C., 70, 161
Lindenberger, U., 305
Lipton, Bruce, 156
Liu, J., 220
Livingstone, D. W., 21, 35
Locantore, J. K., 304
Loevinger, J., 299
Lohman, D. F., 364
Londoner, C. A., 96
Lopes, H., 47
Lorde, Audre, 266
Lubart, T. I., 353, 360, 373
Ludwig, G. D., 156
Lustig, C., 304
Luttrell, W., 384
Lyman, P., 18
Lynch, A. Q., 436
M
Machles, D., 178–179
MacKeracher, D., 206, 421–422, 432
Maehl, W. H., 24, 48
Magagula, C. M., 235
Magnusson, D., 319, 320–321, 324
Maher, F. A., 263, 269, 318
Malinen, A., 164
Mander, 199
Manocha, R., 382
Marienau, C., 422, 435
Marois, R., 418
Marshall, I., 200
Marsick, V. J., 36, 44–45, 46, 157
Maslow, A. H., 282–283, 295–296
Mason, R., 23
Masunaga, H., 388
Matthews, J. C., 192–193, 198
Maulte, G., 235, 236
Mautone, P., 181
Mayer, J. D., 381–382, 383, 390
Mayer, R. E., 181
Maziboku, E. Z., 235
McCarthy, T., 411
McClenaghan, P., 69
McCluskey-Fawcett, K., 307
McClusky, H. Y., 79, 84, 93–96, 104,
434
McCrindle, A. R., 405
NAME INDEX 511
McDonald, B., 150, 202
McDowell, T., 245
McEnrue, M. P., 382
McInnes, L., 370
McIntosh, B. R., 304
McKee, B., 138, 299, 306, 307, 308,
312
McLaren, P., 140, 141, 260
McRae, M., 315
Mednick, M. T., 310
Meisami, E., 302, 303
Merriam, S. B., 31, 86, 117, 133, 137,
154, 198–199, 209, 210, 224, 226,
250, 284, 425, 437
Messick, S., 406
Mezirow, J., 80, 106, 108, 131, 132–133,
134, 135, 136, 137, 139, 141, 145,
146, 147–148, 149, 150–151, 152,
153–154, 155, 214–215, 255, 258,
284, 293, 312 , 424, 425, 426,
434–435
Michelson, E., 189, 190, 192
Miettinen, R., 164
Mikolaj, E. D., 95
Miller, 288
Milton, J., 201
Mitroff, I. L., 200
Mocker, D. W., 112
Mohamad, Mazanah, 233–235
Mojab, S., 318
Montano, J. J., 303
Montie, J., 172–173, 176
Moore, M. G., 40, 41
Moore, T., 204
Morgan, G. A., 96
Morolong, B. L., 235
Morris, G., 190, 196–197
Mortimer, E., 291–292
Moseley, D., 410
Mott, V. W., 86
Muhamad, M., 224, 226
Mulenga, D., 15, 23
Mullen, C., 290
Mulvihill, M. K., 151, 195
Munox, L., 245–246
Myers, J. G., 139, 408, 410
N
Nah, Y., 124, 218
Naisbitt, J., 11, 21
Naquin, S. S., 84
National Center for Education Statis-
tics (NCES), 56–60, 63, 78
National Center for the Study of Adult
Learning and Literacy (NCSALL),
376
National Institutes of Health, 199
Naveh-Benjamin, M., 396
Nesbit, T., 249
Neugarten, B., 313
Neuhauser, P. C., 208
Neville, H. J., 412, 415, 416
Newman, M., 154, 259
NHES, 61
Nisbett, R. E., 221, 345–346
Nolan, R. E., 281
Nordhaug, O., 69
Norman, S. M., 307
Ntseane, G., 235–236
Nuernberger, P., 340
O
Oddi, L. F., 106, 120
O’Donnell, J. M., 106, 107, 111
Oduaran, A., 223, 224, 239
O’Hanlon, A. M., 370
Olson, M. H., 275, 276, 278, 279, 284,
285, 288, 289
Omrod, J. E., 277
Opengart, R., 382
Organization for Economic Cooperation
and Development (OECD), 47–48
Ormrod, J. E., 278, 279, 284, 286, 393,
395–396, 398, 400, 401, 403
Osterman, K. F., 175–176
O’Sullivan, E., 132, 143–144, 199
“Over 60 and Overlooked”, 8
Overton, W. F., 277
Owen, T. R., 111, 121
P
Pachnowski, L. M., 127
Padberg, L. F., 112
512 NAME INDEX
Page, G. A., 41
Palmer, B. R., 382
Parker, U., 245–246
Parsells, R., 245, 246
Parsons, J., 203, 204, 205
Paterson, K. W., 427
Pavlov, I. P., 279
Pearson, E., 88
Peng, K., 345–346
Penland, P. R., 60, 61
Perkins, D. N., 380
Perry, C., 255
Perry, W. G., 139, 147, 326, 329–331,
335, 337, 338–339, 358
Pert, C. B., 415
Perun, P. J., 319, 321
Pesce, C., 302
Peters, S., 278, 279–280, 285
Peterson, D. A., 388
Petrella, R., 23
Petrill, S. A., 363
Petrovsky, A. J., 47
Phares, E. J., 289
Phillips, D. C., 291, 292
Piaget, J., 163, 164, 273, 277, 285, 291,
295–296, 325, 326, 329, 332, 342,
343, 357, 360
Pietrykowski, B., 253, 259
Pillay, H., 405
Pinderhughs, E., 309
Pinhey, D. L., 314
Pinhey, T. K., 314
Pintrich, P. R., 349
Pirttilä-Backman, A. M., 334, 335
Piskurich, G. M., 125
Pizarro, D. A., 382, 383
Plato, 275
Plumb, D., 262
Podeschi, R., 88
Poell, R. F., 89
Pogson, P., 120, 122, 123, 124, 287,
322–323, 372, 374, 404
Ponterotto, J. G., 315
Porta, T. D., 410
Potter, E., 19
Poulton, M. K., 123
Pratt, D. D., 88, 123, 203
Preciphs, T. K., 243
Preston, J. A., 255
Prieto, M. D., 378
Progoff, I., 211
Prosser, R. C., 29
Prothero, W., 181
Pyszczynski, T., 190–191
Q
Quigley, B. A., 77
R
Rabbitt, P., 370
Rachal, J., 9, 91–92
Rados, C., 303
Rager, K. B., 116
Rahnema, M., 47
Rains, F. V., 225
Ramey, C. T., 388
Ramey, S., 388
Randall, W. L., 214, 215
Rasheed, S., 315
Ratinoff, L., 20
Raykov, T., 373
Reach for Recovery Program, 36
Reagan, T., 219, 222, 223, 237–238,
239
Reder, L. M., 179
Reese, H. W., 277
Reeves, P. M., 133, 154
Reitzes, D. C., 313
Resnick, L., 428–429
Restak, R., 412, 413, 414, 418
Reuter-Lorenz, P., 304
Reybold, L. E., 350
Richardson, T. Q., 309, 361
Riegel, K. F., 342–343, 344, 358
Rind, B., 375, 376
Ripley, A., 411
Rivera, R. J., 54–56, 59, 62, 66
Roberson, D. N., 117, 127
Roberson, J.E.A., 120
Roberts, D. G., 122
Robertson, L. C., 414
Robinson, D. N., 351
NAME INDEX 513
Rocco, T. S., 245, 250
Rockquemore, K. A., 309
Rodgers, W. A., 396, 397
Rodier, C., 331, 332
Rogers, C. R., 148, 163, 282, 283–284,
295–296
Rogoff, 295–296
Roodin, P. A., 392, 393–394, 395, 397,
399, 400, 403, 411
Root, T. L., 95
Rosenau, P. M., 260
Rosenberg, D. G., 224
Rosenblum, S., 90
Rosenwald, G. C., 212
Rosnow, R. L., 375, 376
Ross, J., 195
Ross-Gordon, J., 177, 245, 293, 403,
404
Rossiter, M., 151, 208–209, 211, 214, 216
Rotter, J. B., 289–290, 295–296
Rowel, R., 33
Rowland, R., 124
Rowley, S.A.J., 315–317
Rubenson, K., 67, 68, 75
Rybash, 399
S
Saavedra, 136
Sahakian, W. S., 282–283
Salovey, P., 381–382, 383, 390
Sandlin, J., 77, 88, 89, 431
Sandmann, L., 25, 30
Savoy, H. B., 315
Sawyer, L. L., 135, 156
Scanlon, 292
Schacter, D. L., 394, 395
Schaie, K. W., 304, 305, 364, 365, 367,
369, 370, 371, 372–373, 385, 388
Schedler, P. E., 11
Scheurman, G., 364
Schied, F. M., 15, 23, 24, 255
Schlossberg, N. K., 96, 436
Schmidt, M. J., 304
Schneider, E. C., 301
Schön, D. A., 42–43, 172, 176, 177,
178, 436
Schrader-Naef, R., 107, 124–125
Schugurensky, D., 29, 36, 37–38
Schunk, D. H., 288, 290
Schwao, A., 95
Scialfa, C. T., 303
Scott, P., 291–292
Scott, S. M., 151
Seaman, J., 40
Seidman, M., 303
Selingo, J., 41
Sellers, R. M., 315–317
Selwyn, N., 68
Semali, L. M., 219–220, 222–223, 224
Senge, P., 43–44
Serpell,R., 384–385
Shaffer, D. L., 312
Shank, P., 16
Sharoff, L., 135
Sheared, V., 132, 142
Shearer, C. B., 375, 376
Shelton, J. N., 315–317
Shreeve, J., 416, 418
Siegesmund, R., 192
Silvestri, T. J., 309
Simmons, J. C., 382
Simmons, S., 382
Simon, H. A., 179
Sinnott, J. D., 327
Sipe, R. B., 125
Sisco, B., 406–407, 409
Sissel, P., 25, 30
Sissel, P. A., 68–69, 431
Sitze, A., 16
Skinner, B. F., 277, 278, 279–280,
295–296
Skleder, A. A., 375, 376
Sky, H. Z., 211–212
Sleezer, C. M., 281
Sloan, D., 199
Smith, A. D., 398
Smith, J., 351
Smith, M. A., 315–317
Smith, P. J., 125–126
Smith, R., 156, 157
Smith, R. M., 287, 421
Snyder, K. M., 181
Socrates, 341
Solomon, S., 190–191
514 NAME INDEX
Sommers, W. A., 172–173, 176
Sondik, E. J., 300
Southern, N., 156
Souvaine, 137
Sparks, 10
Spear, G. E., 112
Spearman, C. E., 363
St. Augustine, 211
St. Clair, R., 90, 92, 431
Stacy, N., 77
Stalker, J., 266–267
Stamps, D., 293
Stark, S., 363
Steffe, L. P., 291
Steinberg, S. R., 219–220, 222–223,
224, 315, 327
Stelmack, R. M., 361
Sternberg, R. J., 326, 351–354, 356,
358, 360, 364, 372, 373, 374,
377–380, 383, 384, 385, 386, 387,
388, 390, 403–404, 405, 410–411
Stevenson, J. J., 95
Stinson, S. W., 193–194
Stockdale, S. L., 114
Stoddart, B., 181
Stough, C., 382
Strobino, D. M., 300
Stubblefield, H. W., 7
Stuen, C., 302–303
Suarez-Orozco, 10
Sung, B., 226, 227
Sutton, R. E., 327–329
Suzuki, L. A., 315
Swanson, R. A., 84, 90
T
Tangri, S. S., 310
Tarule, J. M., 252, 263–264, 326, 334,
335–336, 339, 348, 350, 358
Taylor, E., 203
Taylor, E. W., 30, 80, 130, 131, 132,
135, 136, 138, 142, 143, 149, 151,
152–153, 157, 391, 394
Taylor, K., 148, 422, 435
Tennant, M. C., 120, 122, 123, 124,
144–145, 148, 287, 322–323, 326,
372, 374, 404
Tessitore, A., 302
Tetreault, M. K., 318
Thaker, Swathi Nath, 228
Thaker, W. N., 226
Third Age Center, 357
Thomas, V. G., 310
Thomas, W. H., 9
Thompson, D. A., 315
Thorndike, E. L., 217, 273, 278,
295–296, 366
Thorpe, M. O., 354, 355–356
Thurstone, L. L., 389
Thurstone, T. G., 389
Tilton, J. W., 217, 273, 278, 279, 366
Timiras, P. S., 304
Tisdell, E. J., 139, 141–142, 200–202,
203, 204, 205, 206, 242, 244,
248–249, 252, 255, 262, 264–265,
266, 267–268, 269, 318–319
To, D., 77
Tolman, 278, 295–296
Tomlin, M. E., 13
Tough, A., 60–61, 79, 105, 106, 107,
110, 111, 113, 124, 129
Tremblay, N. A., 112
Trusty, J., 305, 306, 309–310
U
U.N. Human Rights Commission, 12
Uhlenberg, P., 59
Ulrich, D., 16
United Nations Educational, Scien-
tific, and Cultural Organization
(UNESCO), 62, 66, 78, 314
U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, 16–17
U.S. Bureau of the Cens us, 8, 9, 10,
244
U.S. Department of Education, 56,
280
U.S. Department of Labor, 17
Usher, R., 14, 49, 80, 163, 166–168,
177–178, 185, 261, 262
V
Valcke, M., 407
Valente, J., 39, 116–117, 127
Valentine, T., 59, 62, 66–67, 78
NAME INDEX 515
Valley-Fox, A., 208
Vandiver, B. J., 315, 316, 319
Varian, H. R., 18
Velazquez, L. C., 76
Vella, J., 155, 204, 417
Vernagalia, E. R., 315
Vernon, P. A., 361
Viens, J., 376
Volet, S., 124
von Glaserfeld, 291, 295–296
Vygotsy, L. S., 277, 292, 295–296, 360
W
Wager, W. W., 286
Wagner, R. K., 353, 364, 372, 377,
379–380, 383, 385, 388
Walker, B. H., 95
Walker, D., 80, 163, 165, 166, 175,
183–184, 185
Walker, D. P., 181
Walters, S., 50, 51
Wang, H., 220
Ward, F. C., 47
Washburn, M., 340, 341
Watkins, K. E., 44–45, 46
Watkins, K. F., 36
Watson, John B., 278, 295–296
Wechsler, D., 364
Wegner, 293
Weiler, K., 265–266
Weiman, E. R., 95
Weiner, 277
Weisinger, H., 382
Weitzman, L., 315
Wellington, B., 173–174
Welsh, M. A., 174
Welton, M. R., 250, 253–254,
255–256, 269
Werner, J., 16
Wertheimer, 284
West, W., 250
Westermeyer, J. F., 307
Whitbourne, S. K., 303
Whitson, D. L., 20–21
Whitson, J. A., 180
Wickett, J. C., 361
Wiener, W. J., 212
Wiessner, C. A., 132
Wilber, K., 340, 341
Williams, B., 107, 125
Williams, W. M., 353, 364, 372, 377,
379–380, 383, 385, 388
Williamson, A., 8–9
Williamson, J., 9, 36, 56, 58, 60
Willis, S. L., 304, 305, 364, 367, 370
Wilson, A. L., 46, 149, 249, 254, 255,
436
Wilson, B. A., 331, 332
Wilson, J. P., 165–166
Wilson, R. A., 285
Wink, P., 199
Wlodkowski, R. J., 319
Wolfin, R., 96
Wood, P. K., 333
Woodyard, E., 217, 273, 278, 366
World Bank, 48
World Council of Indigenous Peo-
ples, 224
Worthington, R. L., 315
Wright, U., 245
Wundt, Wilhelm, 276
Y
Yang, B., 45
York-Barr, J., 172–173, 176
Yorks, L., 135, 157
Yoshida, A., 194
Young, M. F., 180, 247
Youngman, F., 247
Z
Zaslavsky, A. M., 301
Zemke, R., 421
Zemke, S., 421
Zhang, L. F., 331, 332
Zohar, D., 200
Zukas, M., 267
516 NAME INDEX
S UBJECT I NDEX
517
A
Aboriginal peoples, 220
Action: needed in learning orga-
nizations, 44–45; resulting from
transformative learning, 135; trans-
formational learning and social,
153–154
Activity theory, 292
Activity-oriented learners, 64–65
Adult development: bioecological sys-
tems theory and, 322–323; biolog-
ical aspects of, 300–305; biracial
identity development, 309–310;
integrating perspectives in,
319–324; life-span perspectives on,
319–320; models of women’s
midlife development, 310–311;
narrative learning’s links to,
213–214; over view of, 298–299,
323–324; psychological aspects of,
305–312; sexual identity develop-
ment, 310–311; sociocultural
factors in, 312–319; temporal pro-
gressions in, 321; transformational
learning and, 138, 147–148. See
also Cognitive development
Adult education: addressing power
and oppression via, 249–250; cri-
tiques of postmodernism, 262;
defining, 54–55; digital divide and,
40–41; educating immigrants,
9–10; formal, 29–30; implications
of neo-Piagetian theories for,
328–329; Johnstone and Rivera’s
study on, 54–56, 59; NCES studies
on, 56–60; overemphasis on tech-
nical, 254; presumptions about,
70–77; racism and sexism in, 244;
social contexts influencing, 5–6;
types of learning in, 24–25
Adult Education Research Confer-
ence, 219, 226
Adult Learner, The (Knowles), 83
Adult learners: abstracted in partici-
pant studies, 74–77; activity-ori-
ented, 64–65; age of, 25; aiding in
view of own practical intelligence,
387; andragogy’s implications for,
421; applying self-directed learn-
ing to, 117–119; autonomy and
self-directedness, 122–124; as con-
sumers, 14; costs of online learn-
ing, 41; critical reflection of,
145–147; emotion and experien-
tial learning, 165–166; exercising
control over learning, 109,
114–116; experience and,
423–424; individual development
and transformational learning,
147–148; interest in spirituality of,
199; keeping pace with technolog-
ical changes, 15–16; in Knowles’
model of andragogy, 88; learner
identity, 68; learning from experi-
ence, 164; life transitions and
learning, 62–63; memor y and
brain function of, 426; motivation
of, 63–65, 421, 426; noncognitive
processes of, 426; nonparticipa-
tion and, 61–70; number of con-
tinuing, 61; participation of, 426;
personal responsibility and,
113–114; profiling participants,
53–59; psychological development
Adult learners (continued)
and, 424–425; readiness for self-
directed learning, 121–122; recog-
nizing informal skills and training
of, 27–28; relationship to context,
427–431; resistance to participa-
tion, 77; as self-directed learners,
110–111; self-direction in,
119–124; socialization and educa-
tional advantages, 75; transforma-
tion through experience, 101–103;
typology of, 64; understanding sto-
ries of, 138–139. See also Partici-
pants in adult learning
Adult learning: barriers for participa-
tion in, 65–67; brain-based learn-
ing programs, 416–417; childhood
learning vs., 433–437; construc-
tivist theories of, 293; critical the-
ory and, 253–259; emotional
conflicts to, 168, 170; evidence-
based practices in, 280–281; femi-
nist pedagogy and, 262–268;
holistic views of, 438; impact of
sociocultural factors in, 318–319;
intelligence and aging, 386–388;
interaction between knowledge
and practice in, 435–437; Islamic
perspective on, 233–235; learning
process model, 100–103; learning
tasks embedded in critical theory,
257; motivations for, 63–65, 421,
426; new approaches to, 187–188;
nonparticipation in, 61–70;
overview of models in, 79–81; par-
ticipating in planning of, 90–91;
postmodernism and, 259–262;
process in, 431–433; profiling par-
ticipants in, 53–59; race as theme
in, 243–246; reflective discourse
and, 254–255; reshaped by global
economic requirements, 13–14;
resistance to participation, 77; role
of experience in, 161; social cog-
nitive theor y and, 289; speed in,
431–432; spirituality’s place in,
204–207; technology’s impact on,
17–21, 25; three dimensions of
learning, 97–100; as transforma-
tional learning, 434–435; varieties
of, 27–28; Western paradigm for,
217–218. See also Andragogy; Par-
ticipants in adult learning; Partici-
pation; Self-directed learning
Adult Learning (Thorndike et al.), 278
Adult literacy: International Adult Lit-
eracy Sur vey, 68; multiple intelli-
gences theory and, 376–377
Adult Multiple Intelligences (AMI)
study, 376
Adult-oriented society, 8–9
Adults: andragogy and, 84; contexts
for learning for, 428–430; defining,
54; developmental characteristics
of, 272; displaying emotional intel-
ligence, 381; distinguishing learn-
ing of children from, 422–425,
433–437; enhancing self-directed
learning for, 107–108; information
processing from sociocultural per-
spective, 434; life context and
social position for, 427–428; over-
loaded, 96; prior knowledge and
experience of, 403–406; teaching
behaviors for children vs., 90; valid-
ity of cognitive development theo-
ries with, 331–332
Affective learning, 194–195
African Americans: andragogy from
perspective of, 88–89; biracial iden-
tity development in, 309–310; cul-
tural affects on intell igence,
384–385; developing Black identity,
315–318; disparities in life
expectancy, 301; embodied cogni-
tion of women’s basketball team,
196; learning styles for, 408–409;
participation in infor mal educa-
tion, 60; population growth
among, 10; race-centric approaches
to transformational learning,
142–143; racism and discrimination
against, 243–244; role and author-
ity of feminist teachers, 265–266;
518 SUBJECT INDEX
storytelling among, 33–34; in work
force, 17. See also Blacks
Age: of adult education participants,
55, 57; adult learners’, 25; barriers
for participation and, 66, 76–77;
demographic changes in, 7–9;
Indian perspectives on, 221; intel-
lectual abilities and, 366–373;
models of women’s midlife devel-
opment, 310–311; psychological
development and, 307–308; social
roles and timing of life events,
312–314; wisdom and, 356–357.
See also Aging
Age-graded model of psychological
development, 307–308
Aging: central ner vous system and,
304–305; cognitive decline in intel-
ligence and, 371–373, 389; elderly
in workforce, 16–17; Indian per-
spectives on, 221; intelligence and,
359, 386–388; life expectancy,
300–301, 305; long-term memory
and, 398–399; memor y and, 392,
396–401; parameters of, 368–369;
retaining intelligence as, 388, 390;
sensory changes related to,
302–304; sensory memory and,
397; speed in adult learning,
431–432; spiritual experiences
making meaning of, 199; working
memory and, 397–398. See also Age
Allison and Hayes Cognitive Style
Index, 410
Alzheimer’s disease, 411, 419, 426
Analytical information processors,
406
Anchored instruction, 181, 183
Andragogy, 84–92; assumptions
about, 84; in continuum from ped-
agogy, 87; critiques of model,
85–90; defined, 84–85; future for
model, 92; humanistic roots of,
284; implications for adult learn-
ers, 421, 434; instructional design
for pedagogy vs., 91; research on,
90–92
Andragogy in Action (Knowles), 436
Andragogy Versus Pedagogy (Kno wles),
87
Apter’s Motivational Style Profile, 410
Asian Americans: population growth
among, 10; racism and discrimi-
nation against, 243–244; in work
force, 17
Asians: Chinese studies of cognitive
development, 331; dialectical
thinking for Chinese undergradu-
ates, 345–346; lifelong learning
among Chinese, 49–50; under-
standing teaching-learning trans-
action for, 220
Assimilation theory, 286
Autobiography, 211–213
Automatization, 395
Autonomy: experiential learning and,
167; self-directedness and,
122–124; Western paradigm for
learning and, 217–218
B
Baby boomers, 8
Balance theory of wisdom, 353–354
Banking education, 140
Barriers for participation: age as, 66,
76–77; family and, 66; information
access as, 20–21; in online learn-
ing, 40–41; self-directed learning
and, 124; social class as, 246–247;
studies on, 65–67
“Beauty at Every Age Is the Maxim”,
300
Behaviorism: accountability in educa-
tion and, 280–281; assumptions of,
278; connectionism, 279; operant
conditioning, 279–280; overview,
294–296; social cognitive theor y
and, 289–290; theories of, 278–281
Bias: in educational participation, 69,
71–72; inherent in Western/non-
Western dichotomy, 222; main-
stream research on cognitive
development, 349–350; social class
as barrier to education, 246–247
SUBJECT INDEX 519
Bioecological systems theory, 322–323
Biological development: age-related
sensory changes, 302–304; central
nervous system, 304–305; life
expectancy, 300–301, 305
Biological perspectives: biological
development, 300–305; on
changes in adulthood, 272; intelli-
gence and, 360–361. See also Neu-
robiology
Biracial identity development,
309–310
Blacks: disparities in life expectancy,
301; identity development of,
315–318; role and authority of
feminist teachers, 265–266. See also
African Americans
Blogs, 211
Body: learning through, 190; reclaim-
ing in learning, 192–198; rejection
of, 190–192. See also Biological
development; Brain; Neurobiology
Brain: applying new theories on,
418–419; brain-based learning pro-
grams, 416–417; differing views of,
412; laborator y-based studies of,
391–392; new directions in
research, 418–419; overview of
research on, 411, 419–420; struc-
tures and functions of, 413–416.
See also Biological development
Brain-based learning programs,
416–417
Buddhism, 218–219
C
Calligraphy, 194
Capitalism, 22
Caucasians. See Whites
Central nervous system, 304–305
Change: adult development and, 298;
critical theor y and, 253; grace as
agent of, 202–203; learning and,
276; life-span perspectives on,
319–320; social action and trans-
formational learning, 153–154;
social change’s effects on educa-
tion, 23–24; transformations and,
133; translating into load and
power, 95; women as agents of
political, 109
Children: cognitive development of,
326–329; distinguishing learning
of adults from, 422–425, 433–437;
learning contexts for, 428–430;
learning speed of, 431–432; life
context and social position for,
427–428; multiple intelligences
theory for, 376; teaching behaviors
for adults vs., 90; theory of learn-
ing for adults vs., 83–85; thinking
styles of, 410–411
China: dialectical thinking of Chi-
nese, 345–346; lifelong learning
in, 49–50; studies of cognitive
development in, 331
Chronosystems, 322
Chunking, 395
Class: addressing as adult learning
context, 430–431; bias and social,
246–247; intelligence and social,
385–386; socialization and educa-
tional advantages, 75
Coaches. See Mentors
Cognition: cognitive decline in intel-
ligence, 371–373, 389; cognitive
styles, 406–407; embodied, 196;
experiential learning and situated,
178–180, 293; function in adult
learning, 431–432; learning and,
97–100; learning greater than,
101–103; learning styles and,
407–410; thinking styles and,
410–411. See also Brain; Cognitive
development; Memory
Cognitive apprenticeships, 170,
180–182, 293
Cognitive development: contextual
perspective in, 347–351; cultural
influences on, 331–332; dialectical
thinking, 342–346; epistemologi-
cal reflection model of, 338–340;
520 SUBJECT INDEX
mainstream research on, 349–350;
models and studies of wisdom,
351–357; over view, 273, 325–326,
357–358; Perry’s map of, 329–332;
Piaget’s model of, 326–329; reflec-
tive judgment model, 332–335;
transpersonal, 340–341; viewing
adult learning through, 433;
women’s, 334–338
Cognitive knowledge, 189–190
Cognitive learning. See Social cogni-
tive learning theory
Cognitive reflection, 183, 185
Cognitive styles, 406–407
Cognitivism: current theory in,
285–287; focus on cognitive
process, 285–286; Gestalt learning
theories and, 284–285; over view,
295–297
Collaboration, 218
Commodification, 12
Communities of practice: construc-
tivism and, 293–294; getting learn-
ers involved in, 169–170
Community-based learning, 32–33
Compensation and intelligence, 368
Complexity theory, 171
Computerized tomography (CT),
413, 420
Confessional practices, 168
Confessions (St. Augustine), 211
Conflict: dialectical thinking and res-
olution to, 344–345; in experien-
tial learning, 168
Confucian Analects (Sung), 226–227
Confucian way of thinking, 226–227
Connectionism, 279
Conscientization, 141–142
Consciousness, 340–341
Constructivism: activity theory, 292;
defined, 291; experiential learning
and, 160, 171, 183; influence in
adult learning theory, 293; litera-
ture on, 291–294; overview,
295–297; social constructivist view
of meaning, 291–292
Consumption: education as product
for, 14–15; global, 12–13
Content reflection, 145
Context: about, 5–7; adult learners
and, 427–431; adult social position
and life, 427–428; andragogy mod-
els and, 87–90, 123; approaches in
experiential learning to, 166,
183–184; contextual perspective of
intelligence, 383–386; demo-
graphics as, 7–11, 25; exploring in
transformational learning,
149–150; as factor in cognitive
development, 347–351; functional
memory in, 399–400; gender as
adult learning, 430–431; global-
ization and, 11–17, 23–24; for
informal learning, 430; interaction
of environment in adult learning,
290–291; macrocontexts, 183; neo-
Piagetians focus on learning,
327–328; spirituality and learning
in cultural, 201; technological
impact on, 17–21, 25
Contradiction and dialectical think-
ing, 342
Control: education as social, 70–71;
exercising over learning, 109,
114–116; locus of, 290
Critical multiculturalism, 244
Critical pedagogy, 245
Critical practices, 168
Critical race theor y (CRT): as influ-
ence on adult learning theor y,
242; perspectives of, 244–245
Critical reflection: emphasis on mind
in, 189–190; experience and
reflective practice, 172–178; in
transformational learning,
145–147, 150–152
Critical theory, 253–259; about,
187–188, 241; critiques of, 253,
258; emancipator y learning at
work place, 255–256; institutions
as learning communities, 255–256;
learning tasks embedded in, 257;
SUBJECT INDEX 521
Critical theory (continued)
origins of, 250; overview of, 269,
435; self-directed learning critiqued
by, 256; types of knowledge, 251
Cross-sectional studies of intelligence,
369–372
Crystallized intelligence (Gc), 363–364
CT (computerized tomography), 413,
420
Cultural diversity: challenges of immi-
gration population, 9–10; cultural
influences in dialectical thinking,
345–346; globalization and, 12–13;
growth of, 11; postmodern peda-
gogy and, 261–262; race-centric
approaches to transformational
learning, 142–143
Cultural-spiritual transformative
learning, 141–142
Culture: affect on intelligence,
384–385; as basis for learning
styles, 408–409; concept of West-
ern, 222–224; defining West-
ern/non-Western dichotomy via,
223; influence on knowing, 338;
influences on cognitive develop-
ment, 331–332
Curricula: for nonformal learning,
33; storying of, 209–210
D
Declarative knowledge, 402
Demographics: census statistics, 8–10;
changes shaping learning, 7–11;
defined, 7
Design of Education, The (Houle), 83
Desire: conflicts in experiential learn-
ing and, 168; as factor in learning,
160, 183
Deterrents to Participation Scale
(DPS), 66
Development. See Adult develop-
ment; Biological development;
Cognitive development; Human
resource development; Psycholog-
ical development
Dialectical thinking: cultural influ-
ences in, 345–346; dealing with
contradiction, 342; need for,
343–345; Riegel’s early descrip-
tions of, 342–343; seen in positions
of cognitive development, 330
Dialogue: dialogical process, 422;
spirituality and, 205
Diary of Anne Frank (Frank), 211
Digital divide, 40–41
Direct embodied experience, 424
Directionality of intelligence, 366,
368–369
Distance education, 39–40
Diversity. See Cultural diversity; Eth-
nicity; Minorities
Doctrine of the Mean, The, 226
E
Eastern values, 223–224
Ecological validity, 400
Economy: as barrier to online learn-
ing, 40–41; demographic influ-
ences on, 21–22; impact of
globalization on, 12, 22–23;
reshaping adult learning needs,
13–14
Education: banking, 140; distance,
39–40; problem-posing, 140,
170–171; as social control, 70–71;
trends in adult-oriented society , 8–9.
See also Formal learning; Highe r
education; Informal learning
Education Participation Scale (EPS),
64, 78
Educational biography, 213
Educators: authority and role of fem-
inist, 265–266; Confucian role
between students and, 227; exam-
ining discrepancies in practice of
theories, 175; experiential learn-
ing and, 161, 169–171, 184; frame-
works for self-directed learning,
117–119; Hindu perspective on,
228–230; Islamic, 234; as mentors,
138; role in self-directed learning,
522 SUBJECT INDEX
107; role in transformational
learning, 154–156; as role models,
422; roles of, 169–172; subprinci-
ples of Maori, 232–233; teaching
aging learners, 303–304
Elderly. See Aging
Emancipatory feminist models, 252
Emancipatory knowledge, 251, 254
Emancipatory learning: viewing adult
learning as, 435; in work place,
255–256
Embodied cognition, 196
Embodied learning: about, 187–188;
cognition vs., 189–190; involving
body in, 192–194; links to trans-
formational learning, 215;
overvi ew, 189–190, 216; rejection
of body, 190–192
Emerging Wisdom model, 354–355
Emotional intelligence, 200, 380–383
Emotional Intelligence (Goleman),
380–381
Emotions: desire as factor in learning,
160, 183; embodied learning and,
194–195; emotional conflicts as
learning barrier, 168, 170; influ-
ence in experiential learning,
165–166; learning and, 97–100;
managing with journaling, 212;
neuroscience’s scrutiny of, 414
Encoding phase of memory, 395
Environment: creating inclusive
learning, 267–268; interaction
with context in adult learning,
290–291; learning and, 97–100; sit-
uated cognition and role of, 180;
transformational learning and
view of planetary, 143
Environmental support for memory,
399
Epistemological reflection model,
338–340
Ethnicity: addressing as adult learn-
ing context, 430–431; cognitive
development and, 331–332; dis-
parities in health care and, 301;
influence in work-related educa-
tion, 245–246; race vs., 315; socio-
cultural perspectives on, 315–319.
See also Indigenous knowledge;
Race
Evidence-based practices, 280–281
Evolving Self, The (Kegan), 139
Exosystems, 322
Experience: abilities required to learn
from, 164; in adult learning,
423–424; Dewey’s observations on,
162–163; implicit memory and,
152; learning and, 159–160; prior
knowledge and, 403–406; relation
to transformational learning,
144–145; role in Jar vis’ learning
process, 100; value of, 161. See also
Experiential learning
Experience and Education (Dewey), 162
Experiential learning: anchored
instruction, 181, 183; cognitive
apprenticeships, 170, 180–182,
293; critique of, 183–184;
Dewey’s observations on, 162–163;
educators and, 161, 169–171, 184;
general propositions of, 163;
map of, 166–168; models of,
163–169; overview, 159–161,
183–186; reflective practice and,
172–178; situated cognition and,
178–180; viewed through com-
plexity theory, 171. See also Embod-
ied learning
Expert knowledge, 405–406
F
Family responsibilities, 66
Females. See Women
Feminist pedagogy, 187–188; adult
learning and, 262–268; andragogy
from perspective of, 88–89; creat-
ing inclusive learning environ-
ments, 267–268; liberatory and
gender models of pedagogy, 263;
overview of, 268–269; poststruc-
tural, 265
SUBJECT INDEX 523
Feminist theories: body in, 192; criti-
cal analysis of gender, 248; as influ-
ence on adult learning theor y,
242; knowledge and truth of post-
modern, 252; synthesis of libera-
tory and gender models, 264–265
Fifth Discipline, The (Senge), 43–44
First-generation distance education,
39–40
Fluid intelligence (Gf), 363–364
Foolishness and wisdom, 353–354
Formal learning: bias favoring partic-
ipation in, 69, 71–72; defined, 24,
29–30; nonformal vs., 31–32; par-
ticipation assumed to be, 72–74;
profile of adults participating in,
56–59; school learning, 428–429
Fostering Critical Reflection in Adulthood
(Mezirow and Associates), 436
Framework conditions, 76
Freedom to Learn for the 80s (Rogers), 283
From Pedagogy to Andragogy (Knowles), 87
Functional memory, 399–400
Functional MRI (fMRI), 413, 420
Fundamentalism, 13
G
Gay identity: adult learning contexts
and, 430–431; development mod-
els of, 310–311; sociocultural mod-
els for development of, 317–318
Gender: addressing as learning con-
text, 430–431; changes in intelli-
gence and, 371–372; cognitive
development of women, 335–338;
critical analysis of, 248–249; sexual
identity development, 310–311;
studies of Black feminist teachers,
265–266; thinking and knowing
related to, 339. See also Men;
Women
Gender model: of feminist pedagogy,
263; synthesized with liberator y
model, 264–265
Gender splitting, 308
Geography of Thought, The (Nisbett), 346
Gestalt learning theories, 284–285
Globalization: context and, 11–17,
23–24; higher education reshaped
by, 22–23
Goal-oriented learners, 64–65
Grace, 202–203
Great Learning, The (Sung), 226–227
H
Hak-Y-Shi-Seub, 226
Hallway learning, 45–46
Head Start, 68
Health care: disparities in, 301; self-
directed learning and, 116–117
“Health Disparities Experienced by
Black or African Americans”, 301
Hearing, 303–304
Hegemonic assumptions, 146–147
Hegemonic knowledge: contesting,
257; deconstruction of, 245
Higher education: adult learners as
consumers of, 14–15; reshaping by
globalization, 22–23; state systems
and participation in, 69
Hispanics: lower education participa-
tion among, 59; participation in
informal education, 60; popula-
tion growth among, 10; racism
and discrimination against,
243–244; in workforce, 17
How Adults Learn (Kidd), 83
Human resource development:
behavioral orientation of, 281;
education and, 89–90; influence
of race and ethnicity in education
for, 245–246; MSCEIT and, 382;
transformational learning litera-
ture and, 157
Human rights, 12
Humanism: basic views of, 281–282;
founded on Freud’s approach to
behavior, 280–281; Maslow’s con-
tributions to, 282–283; over view,
294–296; perspective transforma-
tion and, 284; Rogers’ concern
with significant learning, 283–284
524 SUBJECT INDEX
I
Identity: adult learning contexts and gay ,
430–431; assisting students in dealing
with, 260–261; creating biracial,
309–310; development of racial,
315–318; learner , 68; postmodernism
and fragmentation of, 262; sexual
identity development, 310–311
Imagination and spirituality, 206
Immigrants: andragogy from perspec-
tive of, 89; educating, 9–10; frame-
work conditions for, 76; training
for Industrial Revolution, 6
Implicit memory, 152, 394
Improving Higher Education Environments
for Adults (Schlossberg et al.), 436
Incidental learning, 36
Indigenous knowledge: cognitive
development and, 349–350;
defined, 224; transmission of, 225
Indigenous learning, 33–35
Industrial Age: role of workers in, 15;
training for immigrants in, 6
Informal learning: contexts for, 430;
defined, 24, 35; participation in,
59–61; popular topics for, 61; rec-
ognizing skills and training of
learners, 27–28; types of, 36. See
also Self-directed learning
Information Age, 15–16
Information distribution: ethics of,
20–21; technology and forms of, 18
Inquiring Mind, The (Houle), 63–64
Institute of Education Sciences, 280
Intelligence: aging and, 366–373,
386–388; biological approach to,
360–361; challenging traditional
concepts of, 373–374; compensa-
tion and, 368; contextual perspec-
tive of, 383–386; cross-sectional vs.
longitudinal studies of, 369–372;
cultural affects on, 384–385; defin-
ing, 367–368; directionality of, 366,
368–369; education for retaining,
388, 390; emotional, 380–383;
individual differences approach,
362–365; over vie w, 273, 359–360;
plasticity of, 367–368; practical,
377–380; reducing risk of cognitive
decline in, 371–372, 389; research
designs and measures for, 369–373;
theory of multiple, 374–377; wis-
dom vs., 352–353. See also IQ tests
Intelligence (Gottfredson), 385
Interactive models of self-directed
learning, 111–117
International Adult Literacy Sur vey
(IALS), 68
International Encyclopedia of Adult Edu-
cation, 42
International Handbook of Intelligence,
The (Sternberg, ed.), 386
Internet: b arriers to online lea rning,
40–41; blogs as narrative, 211; edu-
cation opportunities on, 20;
impact on self-directed learning,
127; online learning and, 23; Web
site for self-directed learning, 105
Introspective experience, 424
IQ (intelligence quotient) tests: as
basis for measuring adult intelli-
gence, 386; development of,
362–363; emotional intelligence
vs., 380–381; policy implications
of, 388; practical intelligence stud-
ies and, 380. See also Intelligence
Islam: birth in, 217; Islamic educa-
tors, 234; perspective on adult
learning, 233–235
J
Job market: growth in service, 15–16;
keeping pace with technological
changes, 15–16; life transitions
and learning, 62–63; telecommut-
ing and, 19; training to prepare
for, 62. See also Training
Journaling, 211–213; imaginal
method and, 206; managing emo-
tions with, 212; as narrative, 209
Judgment: reflective, 332–335; reflec-
tive practice and, 172
SUBJECT INDEX 525
K
Kaufman Adolescent and Adult Intel-
ligence Test (KAIT), 364–365
Kinesthetic learning, 194
Knowledge: cognitive, 189–190; cog-
nitive process of acquiring,
286–287; declarative and proce-
dural, 402; deconstruction of
hegemonic, 245; determined by
power, 251–252; emancipator y,
251, 254; in epistemological reflec-
tion model, 338–340; experience
and prior, 403–406; expert,
405–406; hegemonic, 245, 257;
indigenous, 224–225, 349–350;
interaction between practice and,
435–437; memor y and structure
of, 401–403; in postmodernism,
251–252; practical, 251, 254–255,
269; questions about nature of,
241; silence as knowing, 348–349;
studying non-Western, 219–221;
technical, 251, 254–255, 269;
transfer of tacit, 179; types of in
critical theor y, 251; women’s per-
spectives on types of, 336. See also
Non-Western learning; Wisdom
Knowledge, Difference, and Power (Gold-
berger et al.), 264
Knowledge management (KM), 43
Kolb’s Learning Style Inventory, 408,
410
L
Lack of voice, 68
Law of Effect, 279
Leading with Soul (Bolman and Deal),
200
Learners. See Adult learners
Learning: adults’ vs. children’s,
428–430; contextual influences
on, 5; defined, 276–277; defining
Western/non-Western concepts of,
223–224; desire as factor in, 160,
183; disease’s effect on, 419, 426;
distinguishing children’s from
adults’, 422–425, 433–437; exer-
cising control over, 109, 114–116;
Gestalt theories of, 284–285; hall-
way, 45–46; how to learn, 286–287;
Illeris’ model of, 97–100; Jarvis’
model for ways of, 101–103; life-
long, 47–51; neo-Piagetians focus
on specific context in, 327–328;
quantum, 417; reclaiming body in,
192–198; self-actualization as goal
of, 282; significant, 283–284; theo-
ries about, 277; through discovery,
286; traditional theories of,
275–278; types of, 24, 28–29; West-
ern concepts of, 189–190. See also
Adult learning; Context
Learning as Transformation (Mezirow
and Associates), 436
Learning communities, 255–256
Learning environments: conventional
types of, 27; creating inclusive,
267–268
Learning organizations: action imper-
atives for, 44–45; alternate names
for, 45; organizational learning
and, 46; Senge’s concept of, 43–44
Learning process model, 100–103
Learning society: change and, 49–52;
creating in China, 50; lifelong
learning and, 47–49
Learning styles: cognitive vs., 407; cul-
ture as basis for, 408–409; measur-
ing, 409–410; personality and, 408
Learning theories: about, 277; inte-
grating perspectives in adult devel-
opment, 319–324; value of, 277–278
Learning to Be (Faure et al.)
Learning-oriented learners, 64–65
Lesbian identity: development mod-
els of, 310–311; sociocultural mod-
els for development of, 317–318
Level-of-consciousness model,
343–344
Life expectancy, 300–301, 305
Life transitions: learning and, 62–63;
load-power matrix and, 95–96
526 SUBJECT INDEX
Lifelong learning: access and, 49; Islam
and, 235; Islamic faith and, 217;
learning societies and, 49–52; num-
ber of continuing learners in U.S.,
61; origins of term, 47–48; self-
directed learning and, 124–125;
U.S. interpretation of, 48–49
Lifestyle practices, 167
Lifeworld: appropriation by system,
250; interplay between system and,
256
Linear models of self-directed learn-
ing, 110–111
Literacy. See Adult literacy
Load in life, 93–96
Locus of control, 290
Longitudinal studies of intelligence,
369–372
Long-term memor y: aging and,
398–399; defined, 394; working
memory and, 394–396
M
Magnetic resonance imaging (MRI),
413
Making of an Adult Educator, The
(Knowles), 87
Males. See Men
Maori, 231–233
Margin in life, 93
Marxism: critical theory as response to,
250; influence of social class on
education system, 246–247; as influ-
ence on adult learning theory, 242
Mayer-Salovey-Caruso Emotional
Intelligence Test (MSCEIT), 382
Meaning: social constructivist view of,
291–292; spiritual experiences cre-
ating, 199; transformations produc-
ing advanced, 425; transformative
processes in, 132–133
Meaning schemes, 133
Measuring: intelligence, 369–373,
386; learning styles, 409–410; self-
directed learning, 121–122. See
also IQ tests
Memory: aging and, 392, 396–401;
Alzheimer’s effect on learning,
411, 419, 426; environmental sup-
port for, 399; fostering capacity
and skills for, 400–401; functional,
399–400; knowledge structures
and, 401–403; long-term, 394–396,
398–399; over view, 273, 391–392,
419–420; sensory, 393, 397; work-
ing, 393–396, 397–398
Men: gender splitting and, 308; par-
ticipation in adult learning, 59;
participation in informal educa-
tion, 60. See also Gender
Mencius (Sung), 226
Mentors: educators as, 138; experien-
tial learning educators as, 169;
spiritual development and, 205
Mesosystems, 322
Metacognition, 403
Metamemory, 403
Microsystem, 322
Mind-body connection, 191–192
Minorities: barriers to educational
participation for, 68–69; disparities
in life expectancy, 301; percentage
of population, 10; in workforce,
16–17. See also Ethnicity; Race
Model of assumptions, 85
Models of adult learning: andragogy,
85–90, 85–92, 92; emancipator y
feminist models, 252; Emerging
Wisdom model, 354–355; episte-
mological reflection model of cog-
nitive development, 338–340;
experiential learning models,
163–169; learning process model,
100–103; map of experiential
learning, 166–168; overview,
79–81, 103–104; poststructural
feminist pedagogy model, 265;
reflective judgment model,
332–335; theory of margin, 93–96.
See also Self-directed learning
Modern Practice of Adult Education, The
(Houle), 83
SUBJECT INDEX 527
Modern Practice of Adult Education, The
(Knowles), 87
Motivation: adult learners and, 63–65,
421, 426; self-directed learning
and, 115–116
MRI (magnetic resonance imaging),
413
MSCEIT (Mayer-Salovey-Caruso Emo-
tional Intelligence Test), 382
Multicultural pedagogy, 245
Multiculturalism, 244
Multiple intelligences (MI) theory,
374–377; forms of intelligence,
374–375; use with adult literacy
programs, 376–377; use with chil-
dren, 376
Multiple Intelligences and Adult Literacy,
The (Viens & Kallenbach), 376
Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, 408, 410
N
Narrative learning: about, 207–209;
journaling as narrative, 209; links
to adult development, 213–214;
links to transformational learning,
213–215; over view, 189–190, 216;
role of narrative in learning,
209–213. See also Storytelling
National Issues Forums, 31
National Opinion Research Center
(NORC), 54
National Skills Standards Board
(NSSB), 281
Native Americans, 243–244
Neo-Piagetian theory, 327–328
Neurobiology: differing views of
brain, 412; generating pictures of
brain operation, 391; laboratory-
based studies of brain, 391–392;
neurobiological basis for learning,
274; new directions in brain
research, 418–419; overview of
research, 411; transformational
learning and, 152. See also Biologi-
cal development
Newsweek, 191, 411
No Child Lef t Behind (NCLB) legis-
lation, 280
Nonformal learning: community-
based learning as, 32–33; defined,
24, 30–31; formal vs., 31–32;
indigenous learning as, 33–35;
participation in, 59–61
Nongovernmental agencies (NGOs), 31
Nonparticipation: barriers for partic-
ipation, 65–67, 76–77; resistance
and, 77
Nonreflective learning, 164
Non-Western learning: about, 188;
African indigenous education,
235–236; common themes in,
237–239; Confucian way of think-
ing, 226–227; exploring West-
ern/non-Western dichotomy,
221–225; Hindu perspective on,
228–230; Islamic perspective on
adult learning, 233–235; learning
and knowledge for Maori, 231–233;
overv iew, 217–218, 239–240; rea-
sons to study ways of, 219–221
O
Observational learning, 287–289
Oddi Continuing Learning Inventory
(OCLI), 120–121
Online learning: about, 29; barri ers
to, 40–41; costs of, 41; as distance
education, 39–40; types of, 38–39
Ontological performance, 196–197
Operant conditioning, 279–280
Oppression: identifying systems of,
250; power and, 249–250
Organizational development (OD),
43
Organizational learning: about,
42–43; learning organizations and,
46
Organizational Learning (Argyris and
Schön), 42–43
Organized reflection, 174
Overloaded adults, 96
528 SUBJECT INDEX
P
Parkinson’s disease, 426
Participants in adult learning: barri-
ers for, 65–67; motivations for,
63–65, 421, 426; need to know
about, 53–54; nonformal and
informal participation, 59–61;
number of continuing learners in
U.S., 61; profile of, 53–59; reasons
for nonparticipation, 61–70; social
factors for, 67–70; studies on,
54–61. See also Participation
Participation: adult learners
abstracted in studies of, 74–77;
assumptions about, 70–77; barriers
to educational, 68–69; bias favor-
ing, 69, 71–72; biases in studies of,
72–73; formal learning as, 72–74;
resistance to, 77; situated cogni-
tion and, 178; summary of, 78. See
also Participants in adult learning
Pedagogy: in continuum to andra-
gogy, 87; defined, 84; feminist,
262–268; grace in, 202; instruc-
tional design for andragogy vs., 91
Personal responsibility: experiential
learning and, 168; in self-directed
learning, 113
Personal Responsibility Orientation
(PRO) model, 107–108, 113
Personal Responsibility Orientation
to Self-Direction in Learning Scale
(PRO-SDLS), 114
Personality: learning from experience
and, 164; self-direction as attribute,
119–124; Skinner’s view of, 279–280
PET (protein emission tomography),
413, 420
Phoenix University, 41
Plasticity of intelligence, 367–368
PMA (Primary Mental Abilities) test,
364–365, 367, 372, 389
Positions of cognitive development,
330–331
Postmodernism: about, 187–188;
adult learning and, 259–262;
critiques of, 262; feminist libera-
tory models drawn from, 263; gen-
der and, 248–249; knowledge in,
251–252; over view, 269; teacher/
student relationships and, 260;
truth as viewed in, 252
Poststructural feminist pedagogy
model, 265
Power: adult learning and assump-
tions about, 252–253; exploring in
transformational learning,
149–150; handling unequal power
relations in classroom, 258; knowl-
edge determined by, 251–252; in
life, 93–94; life transitions and
load-power matrix, 95–96; sexual
harassment and, 267; social inter-
actions and, 249–251; study of cog-
nition and, 179–180
Practical intelligence: assisting adult
learners in self image, 387; Stern-
berg’s triarchic theor y of intelli-
gence, 378–379; theoretical
framework of, 377–378
Practical knowledge, 251, 254–255,
269
Practices: confessional, 168; critical,
168; evidence-based, 280–281;
interaction between knowledge
and, 435–437; lifestyle, 167;
vocational, 168. See also Com-
munities of practice; Reflective
practice
Premise reflection, 145
Prereflective thinking, 332–333
Primary Mental Abilities (PMA) test,
273, 364–365, 367, 389
Prior knowledge, 403–406
Problem solving, 403–404
Problem-posing education, 140,
170–171
Procedural knowledge, 402
Process reflection, 145
Processing of thoughts, 173
Protein emission tomography (PET),
413, 420
SUBJECT INDEX 529
Psychoanalytical approaches: experi-
ential learning, 160, 183–184;
transformational learning and,
137, 139
Psychocritical approach to transfor-
mational learning, 132–137
Psychodevelopmental perspectives in
transformational learning, 137–139
Psychological development: for adult
learners, 424–425; Daloz’s maps
of, 138–139; Erikson’s psychosocial
development model, 306–307;
Levinson’s age-graded model of,
307–308; models of, 272; overview,
305–306, 312
Psychosocial development model,
306–307
Q
Quantum learning, 417
Quasi-reflective thinking, 333
Qur’an, 234–235
R
Race: addressing as adult learning
context, 430–431; development of
racial identity, 315–318; ethnicity
vs., 315; race-centric approaches to
transformational learning,
142–143; themes in adult learning
regarding, 243–246. See also Eth-
nicity; and specific races
Racism: challenging, 245; defined,
243; discrimination and, 243–244;
process of abandoning, 309
Rationality. See Critical reflection
Ray, 192
Readiness for self-directed learning,
121–122
Reflection. See Critical reflection
Reflection-in-action mode, 176–178
Reflection-on-action mode, 174–176
Reflective discourse, 254–255
Reflective Judgment Interview, 334
Reflective judgment model, 332–335
Reflective learning, 164
Reflective practice: constructivist
nature of, 293; elements of,
172–174; experience and, 160;
reflection-in-action mode, 176–178;
reflection-on-action mode, 174–176
Reflective thinking, 332–333
Relationships: family responsibilities
and participation, 66; role in trans-
formational learning, 152–153;
teacher/student relationships,
227, 228–230, 260, 267
Religion: Buddhism, 218–219;
defined, 200; Hinduism, 228–230;
Islam, 217, 233–235; ontological
performances and, 196–197; spiri-
tuality vs., 201
Resistance to participation, 77
Respect: indigenous cultures and,
350; role in Emerging Wisdom
model, 354
Retrieval phase of memory, 395
Roles: of African American feminist
teachers, 265–266; educators’, 107,
169–172, 227, 422; timing of life
events and, 312–314
S
Sacred space, 204
Schaie-Thurston Adult Mental Abili-
ties Test (STAMAT), 364
Schemas, 401–403
School learning, 428–429
SDL. See Self-directed learning
Seasons of a Man’s Life (Levinson et
al.), 138
Seasons of a Woman’s Life (Levinson
and Levinson), 138
Seattle Longitudinal Study, 370–371
Self-actualization, 282
Self-directed learning: autonomy and
self-directedness, 122–124; Brack-
ett and Hiemstra’s model of,
113–114; as cognitive apprentice-
ship phase, 181–182, 293; con-
structivist theories and, 293;
critical theory’s critique of, 256;
530 SUBJECT INDEX
duck car ver as example of, 28;
Garrison’s model of, 114–116;
goals of, 107–110; health care and,
116–117; humanistic roots of, 284;
as informal learn ing, 36; instruc-
tional models for, 117–119; inter-
active models of, 111–117;
Koreans’ rejection of, 218; as life-
long learning, 124–125; linear
models of, 110–111; measuring
quantitatively, 121–122; motivation
and, 115–116; overview of liter a-
ture on, 105–106, 128–129; recent
research in, 124–128; research and
theory building in, 127–128; self-
direction in learners, 119–124;
Spear’s model of, 112–113; trans-
formation fostered by, 108; Web
site for, 105. See also Andragogy
Self-Directed Learning Readiness
Scale (SDLRS), 120–122
Sensory learning, 194
Sensory memory, 393, 397
Service job market, 15–16
Sexism: racism and, 243–244; sexual
harassment and power, 267
Sexual identity: adult learning con-
texts and gay identity, 430–431;
development of, 310–311; socio-
cultural models of development,
317–318. See also men; women
Significant learning, 283–284
Silence: cultural influences on,
348–349; women’s perspectives on,
335–336
Situated cognition, 178–180, 293
Sleep, 415
Social change. See Change
Social class. See Class
Social cognitive learning theory: con-
cepts contributed from, 290–291;
observational learning and,
287–289; origins of, 287–288;
overview, 295–297; Rotter’s theory,
289–290
Social context. See Context
Social factors for nonparticipation,
67–70
Social Foundations of Thought and
Action (Bandura), 289
Social interactions and power, 249–251
Social learning, 287
Socialization: educational advantages
of, 75; as informal learning, 36;
transfer of tacit knowledge
through, 179
Sociocultural perspective: adult devel-
opment from, 312–319; adult
information processing from, 434;
andragogy from, 89; approaches
to race, ethnicity, gender, and sex-
ual orientation, 315–319; dialecti-
cal thinking and, 345–346; social
roles and timing of life events,
312–314
Somatic epistemology for education,
196–198
Somatic learning: about, 187–188;
dimensions of Amann’s model of,
194–195
Spiritual Audit of Corporate America, A
(Mitroff and Denton), 200
Spiritual learning: about, 207; links to
transformational learning, 215;
overview, 189–190, 216
Spirituality: defining, 200–204; fos-
tering in cultural-spiritual trans-
formative learning, 141–142; grace
and, 202–203; indigenous knowl-
edge’s link to, 224; learning and,
198–199; linking with somatic
learning, 195–196; place in adult
learning, 204–207; root meaning
of spirit, 202; somatic learning and,
195
S-R theory of learning, 279
Staged Self-Directed Learning
(SSDL), 117–118
STAMAT (Schaie-Thurston Adult
Mental Abilities Test), 364
Sternberg’s Triarchic Abilities Test
(STAT), 378–379
SUBJECT INDEX 531
Stirring of Soul in the Workplace, The
(Briskin), 200
Storage phase of memory, 395
“Story of Gladys Who Refused to
Grow, The” (Daloz), 429–430
Storytelling: among African-American
women, 33–34; finding themes of
wisdom in, 355–356; imaginal
method and, 206; as narrative,
210–211; role of narrative in learn-
ing, 209–213; spiritual develop-
ment and, 205–206; understanding
student stories, 138–139. See also
Narrative learning
Successful intelligence, 379–380
System of concepts, 85
T
Teachable moments, 308
Teacher/student re lationships: Con-
fucian role and , 227; Hindu per-
spective on, 228–230; postmodern
pedagogy and, 260; sexual harass-
ment and, 267
Teachers. See Educators
Teaching , sociocultural factors in,
318–319
Technica l knowledge, 251, 254–255,
269
Technolo gy: brain imaging tech-
niques, 413–414; impact on adult
learning, 17–21, 25; impact on
self-directed learning, 127; keep-
ing skills in pace with, 15–16. See
also Internet
Temporal progressions in adult devel-
opment, 321
Terrorism, 13
Theory of margin, 93–96
Thinking: dialectical, 330, 342–346;
prereflective, 332–333; quasi-
reflective, 333; reflective, 332–333;
styles of, 410–411. See also Cogni-
tion; Critical reflection; Dialectical
thinking
Three dimensions of learning, 93,
97–100
Time, 191, 411
Time and nonparticipation, 65–66
Tinnitus, 303
Traditional learning theories: about,
275–278; behaviorism, 278–281; cog-
nitive learning theories, 284–287;
constructivism, 291–294; humanism,
281–284; social cognitive learning
theory, 287–291; value of, 277–278
Training: behaviorism in, 281; career,
62; experiential learning and, 168;
immigrants during Industrial Rev-
olution, 6; recognizing learner’s
skills and, 27–28; self-directed
learning and, 125–126
Training & Development, 74
Transformational learning: action
resulting from, 135; adult learning
as, 434–435; context in, 149–150;
critical reflection as process in,
145–147, 150–152; cultural-sp iri-
tual, 141–142; defined, 130, 133;
educator’s place in, 154–156;
experience and, 144–145; foster-
ing, 108; individual development
and, 147–148; Mezirow’s psycho-
critical approach to, 132–137; nar-
rative learning’s links to, 213–215;
overview of, 130–132, 157–158;
psychodevelopmental and psycho-
analytic perspectives, 137–139;
race-centric approaches to,
142–143; role of relationships in,
152–153; social action and,
153–154; trends in literature,
156–157; visionary, 143–144
Transformative Learning in Action
(Cranton), 436
Transformative learning of Freire,
140–141
Transitions: age-graded model’s com-
ponents for, 207–208; differentiat-
ing adult and childhood learning
with, 425; self-directed learning
stimulated by, 116–117; social roles
and timing of life events, 312–314;
spiritual aspects of, 215
532 SUBJECT INDEX
Transmission of indigenous knowl-
edge, 225
Transpersonal cognitive develop-
ment, 340–341
Triadic reciprocity, 290
Triarchic theory of intelligence,
378–379
Truth, 251–252
V
Vermunt’s Inventory of Learning
Styles, 410
Vision, 302–304
Vocational practices, 168
Vocational training. See Training
Voice, lack of, 68
W
Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale
(WAIS) tests, 364–365, 389
Western concepts: of body, 190–192;
cognitive assumptions among
Greeks, 346; exploring West-
ern/non-Western dichotomy,
221–225; knowledge and learning,
217–220; of learning, 189–190. See
also Non-Western learning
Whites: biracial identity development
in, 309–310; cognitive develop-
ment of male college students,
329–332; cultural affects on intel-
ligence, 384–385; participation in
informal education, 60; in work-
force, 16
Wisdom: age and, 356–357; defining,
351–353; Emerging Wisdom
model, 354–355; foolishness and,
353–354; intelligence vs., 352–353
Women: andragogy from feminist’s
perspective, 88–89; barriers for
participation of, 66, 77; cognitive
development in, 334–338; con-
struction of knowledge by, 252;
cultural affects on intelligence,
384–385; gender splitting and,
308; midlife development of,
310–311; participation in adult
learning, 59; as political change
agents, 109; power and load in
widows’ lives, 95; role and author-
ity of feminist teachers, 265–266;
social factors for nonparticipation,
67–68; storytelling among African-
American, 33–34; in work force,
16–17. See also Gender
Women’s Ways of Knowing (Belenky et
al.), 252, 334–338, 348
Work: examples of situated cognition
in, 178–179; influence of race and
ethnicity in education for,
245–246; keeping pace with tech-
nological changes, 15–16; life tran-
sitions and learning, 62–63;
self-directed learning and training
for, 125–126; as site for emancipa-
tory learning, 255–256; telecom-
muting and, 19; training for, 62;
types of cognitive apprenticeships,
170, 180–182. See also Training
Working memory: aging and decline
in, 397–398; concepts in and stud-
ies of, 393–394; processes in,
395–396
World Wide Web (WWW): blogs as
narrative, 211; education oppor-
tunities on, 20. See also Internet
Z
Zhang Cognitive Development Inven-
tory (ZCDI), 331
SUBJECT INDEX 533
