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JOURNAL OF RESEARCH IN SCIENCE TEACHING

VOL. 39, NO. 8, PP. 738–771 (2002)

Professional Development for University Scientists around Issues of Equity and Diversity: Investigating Dissent within Community

Julie A. Bianchini, Bryan A. Hilton-Brown, Therese D. Breton Department of Education, University of California, Santa Barbara, California 93106-9490 Received 16 August 2001; Accepted 8 May 2002 Abstract: We investigated the role of dissent in a community of university scientists, engineers, mathematicians, and social scientists engaged in a 2-year professional development project around issues of equity and diversity. Members of this teacher learning community explored issues related to gender and ethnicity in science education, and attempted to develop course materials and instructional strategies inclusive of students from underrepresented groups. We focused our attention on those professional development sessions (6 of the 19) devoted to a contentious yet integral topic in science education: the gendered and multicultural nature of science. We examined conversations initiated by a member’s concerns to learn how dissent led (or failed to lead) to new insights into feminist science studies scholarship or to greater understanding of ways to address equity issues in undergraduate science education. We also explored how teacher learners’ resulting views of feminist science studies scholarship informed (or failed to inform) changes in their own educational practices. From our qualitative analyses, we highlight the challenges in balancing respect for members’ individual voices with collective progress toward project goals, and in structuring conversations initiated by dissent to provide adequate space for deliberation and movement toward deeper understanding of equity and excellence. ß 2002 Wiley Periodicals, Inc. J Res Sci Teach 39: 738–771, 2002

In recent years, scientists, science educators, and scholars of science have called for the development of a more equitable undergraduate science education, one that makes science interesting, understandable, and relevant to all students, particularly to those traditionally positioned on the margins of science education programs (Ginorio, 1995; Malcom, 1993; National Research Council, 1996; National Science Foundation [NSF], 1996, 2000; Rosser, 1991, 1995, 1997; Tobias, 1990, 1992; Traweek, 1988; Vetter, 1996). In response to such calls, college and university faculty at institutions across the United States have initiated professional development

Contract grant sponsor: Spencer Foundation. Correspondence to: J.A. Bianchini; E-mail: [email protected] DOI 10.1002/tea.10043 Published online in Wiley InterScience (www.interscience.wiley.com). ß 2002 Wiley Periodicals, Inc.

INVESTIGATING DISSENT WITHIN COMMUNITY

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and curricular transformation efforts designed to attract and retain female students and students from underrepresented ethnic groups in the sciences (Muller & Pavone, 1998; Rosser, 1997; Sanders, Campbell, & Steinbrueck, 1997). The study presented here investigated a professional development and curricular transformation initiative undertaken by science, science education, and women’s studies faculty at a public, urban university in the state of California. Begun in 1997, the Promoting Women and Scientific Literacy project was charged with making the university’s undergraduate science education program more female friendly and culturally inclusive; developing interdisciplinary courses that examined issues related to women’s health, the contributions of women scientists, and/or gender and racial bias in scientific research; and promoting conversations across university faculty and administrators about ways to integrate issues of equity and access into the long-range vision of the institution as a whole. The project was part of a national 3-year effort designed both to facilitate communication among women’s studies and science faculty and to infuse recent feminist science studies scholarship into courses toward the goal of increasing scientific literacy for all students. This national effort, Women and Scientific Literacy: Building Two-Way Streets, included 10 institutions of higher education, was coordinated by the Association of American Colleges and Universities, and received funding from the National Science Foundation (see AAC&U, 1999b, for more information about this larger project). In this article, we investigated one aspect of the Promoting Women and Scientific Literacy project: a 2-year professional development seminar series designed to examine with scientists, mathematicians, engineers, and social scientists issues related to gender and ethnicity in science, as well as to assist them in efforts to make targeted undergraduate courses more female friendly and culturally inclusive. The study was not undertaken to evaluate the professional development effort; rather, we sought to understand ways a community of teacher learners (see Brown & Campione, 1994; Thomas, Wineburg, Grossman, Myhre, &Woolworth, 1998) explored, discussed, and debated ideas related to the nature of science and science teaching, and the kinds of teacher learning or resistance that emerged as a result of these discussions within community. Compelled by Ball (1994) and Nieto (1999), we further narrowed our investigation to examine in detail those conversations initiated by a member’s dissenting opinion. Ball (1994) argued that through disagreements, teachers are able to build professional communities, deepen their understandings, and improve their practice. Similarly, Nieto (1999) identified ‘‘debate, critique, and challenge’’ as integral components of teacher communities intent on transforming their knowledge, dispositions, and skills (p. 160). Simply put, the purpose of this article was to investigate the theoretical claim that dissent within professional communities promotes teacher growth and transformation. To better understand the role of dissent in building a professional community, we selected for exploration those professional development sessions devoted to a particularly contentious topic in science education: the gendered and multicultural nature of science. Using an ethnographic frame, we created verbatim transcripts of nature of science sessions and examined the moment-bymoment discursive practices of Promoting Women and Scientific Literacy community members in them. We identified instances in which individual members voiced initial concerns or raised objections, and sought to understand how such instances of dissent shaped the building of consensus or the generation of further discord among members of this professional community. We also examined the substance of these conversations to trace the evolution in teacher learners’ thinking about the nature of science and science teaching, and to learn from them factors that aid or impede transformation of science curriculum and instruction. From our results, we argue that channeling community members’ dissenting voices and diverse views into professional growth and curricular change is more complex than initially conceived.

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Conceptual Framework As stated above, the purpose of this study was to investigate a community of teacher learners in action (see Latour, 1987)—to better understand how scientists, engineers, mathematicians, and social scientists engaged in a process of professional growth and curricular transformation responded to instances of dissent among members. To frame our study, we drew from feminist science studies scholarship and research on communities of teacher learners. Both bodies of literature define a community as composed of members who share a common language, and set of values, concepts, and practices. They also speak to the need to create a diverse, vocal membership and to respect a multiplicity of perspectives if community members are to learn and grow.

Feminist Science Studies Scholarship Feminist scholars of science implicate the nature of science in the marginalization of women and other oppressed peoples from both scientific practices and products: They examine how gender, in combination with race, culture, and/or class, reflects and shapes science. Some feminist scholars attempt to explain science as a gendered and raced enterprise created and controlled by White men. From science’s inception to the present day, they argue, White men have determined access to the profession, methods used, and standards of argument maintained (Abir-Am & Outram, 1987; Haraway, 1989; Kass-Simon & Farnes, 1990; Keller, 1977, 1983, 1995; Ogilvie, 1986; Rossiter, 1982, 1995; Sands, 1993; Wertheim, 1995). Others provide evidence for the invention rather than discovery of nature, pointing to examples of gender and racial bias in scientific research questions, methodological practices, and theoretical constructs (FaustoSterling, 1985; Gould, 1993; Haraway & Goodeve, 2000; Keller, 1992; Lewontin, Rose, & Kamin, 1993; Martin, 1999; Mies & Shiva, 1993; Schiebinger, 1989; Spanier, 1995; Stepan, 1993). Still others render problematic conventional understandings of what science is and what should count as a scientific way of knowing (Barad, 1996; Harding, 1991, 1998; Hess, 1995; Lindee, 1994; Longino, 1990, 1993, 1995; Narayan, 1989; Traweek, 1988; Tuana, 1995; Weatherford, 1993). Despite their diverse theoretical lenses and research interests (Rosser, 1997), most feminist science studies scholars call for the acceptance and encouragement of multiple voices and diverse perspectives in both science education and the scientific enterprise (Keller, 1985; Harding, 1998; AAC&U, 1999a). (See Brickhouse, 1998, and Kohlstedt & Longino, 1997, for comprehensive summaries of feminist science studies scholarship.) Feminist scholars of science situate themselves within the post-Kuhnian stream of science studies scholarship, following Kuhn’s (1962) and other scholars’ lead in viewing the modern sciences as embedded in particular social, historical, political, and cultural contexts (Harding, 1998; Keller, 1992). Kuhn (1962) used detailed, historical examples to portray science as a social activity, as a set of practices and a body of knowledge created by a community of people called scientists. Scientists in a given field, Kuhn explained, hold values and beliefs in common, use the same theoretical models, and employ similar kinds of methodology. Scientists make decisions about the usefulness of new versus old theories, Kuhn continued, by considering criteria agreed on by the community: the new theory’s problem-solving potential, quantitative superiority, ability to predict new phenomena, aesthetics, and future promise. They are also swayed by the views of colleagues. To become a member of a scientific community, Kuhn concluded, a person must be initiated into the current theories, laws, methods, and models used by established community members with whom he or she will later practice. Longino (1993) extended Kuhn’s notion of science as a communal activity to call for inclusion of multiple voices and diverse perspectives in deciding the legitimacy of scientific


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claims. She began by arguing that scientific knowledge should be understood not as the product of individuals applying a particular method, but as the outcome of members of a community engaged in critical dialogue with one another. (Nature and logic, she clarified, constrain knowledge production as well.) Critical dialogue, Longino explained, requires the presence and expression of alternative points of view. For members of a community to identify and interrogate hidden values and interests that shape questions, observations, and reasoning, representatives of multiple perspectives must be included. Critical dialogue, Longino continued, also necessitates adherence to community-level standards to discriminate among the practices and products of science. These criteria include publicly recognized forums for criticism of evidence, change over time in response to oversights identified or biases maintained, publicly recognized standards of evaluation relevant to the goals of the community, and equality of intellectual authority among diverse community members. Viewing scientific knowledge as a social rather than individual product, Longino emphasized, underscores the need for diverse membership in scientific communities and allows for the existence of multiple, sometimes incompatible theories that satisfy different local community standards. Research on Communities of Teacher Learners We also drew from educational research on communities of teacher learners (Ball, 1994; Loucks-Horsley, Hewson, Love, & Stiles, 1998; McLaughlin & Talbert, 1993; Nieto, 1999; Putnam & Borko, 2000; Thomas et al., 1998) to frame our examination of the communicative and social practices of faculty members engaged in an extended project of professional growth and curricular transformation. Because a teacher learning community can be defined in diverse ways (Grossman, Wineburg, & Woolworth, 2000), we trace our conception to the work of Brown and colleagues in urban grade-school settings (Brown, 1994; Brown & Campione, 1994; Brown, Ellery, & Campione, 1998). Brown defined communities of learners as collectives of teachers and students who enact roles typical of a research community; ‘‘communities of learning and thinking [are] where students [or teachers] learn about learning and learn how to learn intentionally’’ (Brown et al., 1998, p. 342). An essential component of Brown’s community of learners model ‘‘is that individual differences be recognized and valued’’ (1994, p. 9). We found this call to nurture and respect heterogeneity of ideas and skills particularly salient for our own research. Brown and colleagues conceived of a community as composed of multiple zones of proximal development through which members can navigate at different rates and using different routes. Community members are also expected to balance pursuit of individual expertise with collective work to nurture both their own and the larger community’s growth in understanding. Because multiple ways into and through the learning community exist, and because diverse expertise and skills are encouraged and shared, Brown and colleagues emphasized, differences among members gain legitimacy and diversity becomes valued. The notion of a community of learners and the principles that support it have been appropriated by professional developers and applied to collectives of teachers engaged in professional growth and curricular transformation. In their Community of Learners project, for example, Thomas, Wineburg, Grossman, Myhre, and Woolworth (1998) attempted ‘‘to establish and sustain a community of diverse [teacher] learners’’ in a large, multiethnic, urban school setting (p. 23). Central to their model were the principles of distributed expertise and multiple corridors to teacher development: Teachers were understood to bring diverse disciplinary and pedagogical expertise to group discussions, as well as to need different kinds of structured activities to reflect on and change their patterns of practice. Similarly, Loucks-Horsley, Hewson, Love, and Stiles (1998) called for the valuing of each and every teacher’s knowledge and experiences in

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professional development sessions. Professional developers, they underscored, must provide access for all teachers to quality professional development initiatives; design programs to accommodate the diverse characteristics of teachers; and ensure that what teachers learn provides them with the skills, resources, and sensitivities necessary to help a diverse student body gain literacy in science. In addition to identifying theoretical commitments that shape the organization of and interactions within a community, community of learner researchers recommend ethnography as an appropriate methodology for investigating teaching and learning in action (Green & Dixon, 1993; Grossman, Wineburg, & Woolworth, 2000; Price & Ball, 1998). Price and Ball (1998), for example, employed ethnographic methods to explore liberatory pedagogy in the context of a learning community; they examined preservice elementary teachers’ struggle to understand liberatory practices of mathematics teaching in an action research course. Green and Dixon (Green & Dixon, 1993; Green, Dixon, & Zaharlick, 2002; Dixon, Frank, & Green, 1999; Kelly, Crawford, & Green, 2001), founders of the Santa Barbara Classroom Discourse Group, routinely used ethnographic methods to investigate classroom learning communities—to learn how members construct patterned ways of acting, interacting, perceiving, and interpreting everyday life; develop a history of common concepts that helps to guide interpretation of new events and engagement in activities; and make shared patterns of being, knowing, and doing ordinary, even invisible, over time. Research Methodology: Studying a Teacher Learning Community in Action Rationale and Questions From our conceptual frame, we crafted a set of research questions to investigate a community of university scientists, mathematicians, engineers, science educators, and women’s studies faculty purposefully and collectively engaged in activities of professional growth and curricular transformation. As stated above, we were encouraged by Ball (1994) and Nieto (1999) to focus on conversations initiated by a member’s dissent. Ball argued that the presence of disagreements among members separates a critical and reflective professional community from a ‘‘style show’’ teacher workshop. Teachers intent on transforming their educational practices, Nieto continued, must engage in critical and reflective dialogue with one another. Furthermore, we decided to limit our investigation of teacher learners’ dissent to one topic: the gendered and multicultural nature of science. Our rationale for doing so was twofold. One reason is that the AAC&U’s primary goal for this initiative was to introduce scientists to feminist science studies scholarship and to encourage them to infuse such scholarship into their major and nonmajor science courses. We saw sessions on the nature of science as a crucial step toward achieving this objective. The second reason is that the nature of science is an open and often hotly debated topic: Scientists, science studies scholars, and science educators agree on neither a definition of science nor a description of how science works (Brickhouse, Dagher, Letts, & Shipman, 2000; Leach, Driver, Millar, & Scott, 1997; Stanley & Brickhouse, 1994, 2001). Indeed, there are many scientists who have read widely and yet choose to disagree with science studies scholars’ methodology and claims (see Gross & Levitt, 1994; Koertge, 1998; Ross, 1996). As such, we thought it important to examine the actions and reactions of community members as they attempted to explore, debate, and come to understand a particularly contentious yet integral component of equitable and inclusive science education. We fashioned three research questions to interrogate the social processes and substantive issues of community members as they voiced dissent and attempted to navigate disputed nature of science terrain. We asked: (a) Within this professional development seminar setting, what initial


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protests were lodged or objections raised in discussions about the nature of science and its presentation in science studies scholarship and science classrooms? (b) How did other teacher learners respond to their colleagues’ concerns? In other words, what kinds of conversations around science, science teaching, and/or science studies scholarship ensued? (c) What were the consequences of such dissent for community members? Simply put, how did dissent within this professional community promote or constrain teacher growth and transformation? The Promoting Women and Scientific Literacy Project: An Overview To further situate discussion of our research methods, an overview of the professional development process itself is needed. As stated in the Introduction, the teacher learning community and professional development seminar series studied here were part of a Promoting Women and Scientific Literacy project, one of 10 professional development and curricular transformation efforts created by interdisciplinary faculty teams at colleges and universities across the United States. Beginning in August 1997, the first of 2 years of faculty professional development sessions were developed and implemented. Initially, the first author and professional development leader, Bianchini, organized these seminar sessions in consultation with a women’s studies professor and, to a lesser extent, with faculty participants. Over time, primary responsibility for selecting topics and leading sessions shifted from professional developer to teacher learners. Speakers from the sciences, science education, women’s studies, and other social sciences led the vast majority of seminar sessions; they were drawn from within the project, the university, and neighboring higher education institutions. For many members of this community, sessions served as introductions to the fields of both science education and feminist science studies scholarship (see Figure 1 for a summary of topic sessions).

Note: NOS sessions, those studied here, are in bold.

Figure 1. Summary of professional development session topics.

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During the first academic year of professional development seminars, Promoting Women and Scientific Literacy teacher learners met a total of 13 times. Seminars ranged from brown bag lunches to 2-hour presentations, to all-day workshops. Topics examined included the experiences of local women science students and scientists, common ethnic and gender stereotypes related to science and science education, past and present contributions of women in science and resources for locating them, descriptions of science as a social construction, gender and racial bias in scientific research, equitable instructional and assessment strategies, the mentoring of students from underrepresented groups, and ways to conduct research in one’s own classroom. Most sessions were supplemented with scholarly readings pertaining to the topic at hand. Readings spanned research on the experiences of women and ethnic minorities in science (Ginorio, 1995; Rosser, 1995; Tobias, 1990), the nature of science in science education (Kelly, Carlsen, & Cunningham, 1993; Millar, 1990; Reiss, 1993), excerpts from feminist science studies scholarship (Abir-Am & Outram, 1987; Kass-Simon & Farnes, 1990; Keller, 1977), examples of equitable educational practices (Brickhouse, 1994; Gaskell & Hildebrand, 1996; Middlecamp, 1995; Richardson, Sutton, & Cercone, 1995; Rosser, 1991; Rowe, 1996), and the effects of stereotyping and discrimination on women and ethnic minorities (Hunter College Women’s Studies Collective, 1995; Steele, 1997; Stetson, 1993). In Year 2 of the Promoting Women and Scientific Literacy project, additional scientists, mathematicians, and engineers were recruited and six professional development seminars were held. Sessions during this 1998–1999 academic year examined the experiences of African American women scientists; examples of feminist science studies scholarship; implementation of female friendly and culturally inclusive science instruction; strategies to promote students’ critical thinking; action research methodology; and the possible forging of connections across this project, the Women’s Studies Department, service learning, and the multicultural center. To develop greater ownership of the project and build a stronger network of support for innovation, teacher learners were also invited to constitute action research groups. Five such groups were created, each with a different focus of inquiry. For this study, we investigated all professional development sessions (6 of 19) that explicitly examined issues related to the nature of science: underrepresented groups’ experiences in and contributions to science, science as a social construction, and gender and racial bias in scientific research (Figure 1). The first of these nature of science sessions was held in the summer of 1997 and examined the contributions of women scientists to the fields of biology, physics, and chemistry. It was conducted by Lilith,1 a scientist from a neighboring university. A second nature of science session was held that fall. Led by Patrick, a science educator also from a neighboring university, this session engaged teacher learners in a series of activities that examined science as a social construction and ways to teach the nature of science to students. In the winter of 1998, a third nature of science seminar was presented by two scientists who were project team members. Michael, a primatologist, discussed the contributions of woman primatologists and their influence on primate behavioral theories; Theresa, a biologist, examined the mis/treatment of women as subjects in medical research and the use of gendered metaphors to describe the reproductive processes of fertilization, spermatogenesis, and oogenesis. Michael also led a fourth nature of science session at the close of the 1997–1998 academic year. He introduced a videotaped interview of historian of science Evelyn Fox Keller (Clark, Collins, & Moyers, 1989) and then led community members in a discussion of Keller’s views on the intersection of gender and science. Julie, the first author and professional development leader, conducted a fifth nature of science seminar session; she provided teacher learners an overview of feminist science studies scholarship and introduced them to a range of feminist scholars’ work. Andrea, a women’s studies scholar and team member of the Promoting Women and Scientific Literacy project as well, led the sixth and


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final professional development session related to the nature of science and issues of equity. She discussed the experiences of three African American women scientists interviewed as part of her work on this project, led members through a series of role plays crafted from one of her informant’s experiences, and encouraged discussion of strategies to make students from underrepresented groups more welcomed in science. Teacher Learners and Researchers Thirty-eight science, science education, social science, women’s studies, mathematics, and engineering faculty employed at an urban, comprehensive university in California participated in the professional development project under investigation. There were two levels of participants: team members and participant members. Team members wrote the initial grant to AAC&U, attended two national conferences on feminist science studies scholarship, and oversaw all aspects of the university’s Promoting Women and Scientific Literacy project. They consisted of 6 European American women (of which the first author was 1), 1 African American woman, 1 Asian American woman, 1 man of mixed ethnicity, and 1 European American man. They spanned the disciplines of biology, women’s studies, chemistry, science education, and psychology. Four were professors (including 3 chairs of departments), 2 were associate professors, 3 were assistant professors, and 1 was a longtime lecturer. Participant members grew over time from 13 during the 1997–1998 academic year to almost 30 by the end of the second year. Thirteen self-identified as European American men, 10 as European American women, 1 as an Asian American woman, 1 as an Asian American man, 1 as a Latino, 1 as a man of mixed ethnicity, and 1 man simply as Homo sapiens. They represented the disciplines of biology, chemistry, physics, geology, mathematics, engineering, and science education. Twelve were professors (including 2 chairs of departments and an associate dean), 6 were associate professors, 5 were assistant professors, and 5 were lecturers. Four additional pieces of information about team and participant members are important. At the university under study, faculty carried heavy teaching loads (4 courses per semester) in addition to research responsibilities. The community of teacher learners was not randomly assembled: Only those faculty considered open to issues of equity and instructional innovation were invited by Promoting Women and Scientific Literacy team members to participate. During the first year of the project, teacher learners received a small stipend for their efforts: They were paid $600 for attending the yearlong professional development series and for documenting revisions to their targeted science courses. Unfortunately, during the project’s second year, there were insufficient funds to pay community members for their continued participation. Finally, attendance at the professional development sessions was encouraged but not mandatory. In particular, during the second year of the project, although both first and second year participants were invited, few first-year members attended sessions regularly. To make clear our identities (Barton, 1998; Nieto, 1999; Rodriguez, 1998) and promote reflexivity (Bloor, 1976; Kelly, Chen, & Crawford, 1998; Woolgar, 1988), we situate ourselves as well as our participants within the research process. The first author, Bianchini, is a European American woman and assistant professor of science education. Although employed at a neighboring university, she was a team member of the Promoting Women and Scientific Literacy project and served as faculty development leader and educational researcher. As team member and faculty development leader, she solicited ideas for, organized, and helped run the 19 professional development seminar sessions discussed above. She welcomed teacher learners to each session; introduced and thanked presenters; and led discussions on theories of student learning, equitable instructional strategies, action research methodology, and feminist science studies scholarship.

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On rare occasions, she moved from the role of facilitator to participant; she engaged as a participant in few small group activities or collective discussions because she wanted to provide adequate space for other team and participant members to share their views and experiences. As educational researcher, Bianchini coordinated the videotaping of the seminar series, co-designed the interview protocol used with community members, and led the analysis of data collected. She was aided in her research by the second and third authors. Hilton-Brown is an African American science education graduate student and former biology teacher. He videotaped two of the professional development seminar sessions and participated in the analysis of data presented here. Breton is a European American woman working concurrently on a master’s degree in biology and in science education. She participated in the data analysis phase of this study only. Data Collection and Analysis As stated in our Conceptual Framework, to better understand the practices of a community of teacher learners interested in issues of equity and diversity, we adopted an ethnographic perspective (Fetterman, 1989; Hammersley & Atkinson, 1983; Spradley, 1980). This perspective allowed us to understand how teacher learners enacted community through their moment-bymoment discursive practices and what knowledge of the nature of science and science teaching they co-constructed as a result (Green & Dixon, 1993; Green, Dixon, & Zaharlick, 2002; Tuyay, Jennings, & Dixon, 1995). It also helped us justify the first author’s role as both participant and researcher. ‘‘This commingling of roles is a common occurrence in anthropological fieldwork. It is rare for a community to allow someone to merely ‘watch’ them go about their work and their daily lives. The ‘watcher’ must also work’’ (Ladson-Billings, 2001, p. 145). We began by videotaping each of the 19 professional development sessions held over 2 academic years. Two video cameras captured the professional developer’s, guest speakers’, and teacher learners’ moment-by-moment words and actions as they learned about, expressed their opinions on, and struggled to incorporate knowledge and practices supporting the goals of equity and access. When members moved from lecture to small group activities, cameras and microphones were repositioned to capture individual groups’ work. All handouts and readings were also collected. In addition, Bianchini and the project evaluator, David Whitney, conducted three sets of individual, semistructured interviews with team members and ‘‘first wave’’ participant members: before the professional development seminars began, at the end of the first year of seminar sessions, and again at the end of the third year of the project. Figure 2 shows the third-year interview protocol. Community members who joined during Year 2 or those presenters who were guest speakers were not interviewed. (See Bianchini, Cavazos, & Helms, 2000; Bianchini & Cavazos, 2001; and Bianchini, Whitney, Breton, & Hilton-Brown, 2002, for extensive discussion of interview data.) We divided videotapes from the professional development seminar sessions into five topics: the nature of science; female friendly and culturally inclusive instructional and assessment strategies; gender and racial stereotyping and discrimination; strategies for researching one’s own teaching; and explanations of the organization and evaluation of the project itself. From videotapes of the nature of science sessions (6 sessions or 7.5 hours in total) we created a series of event maps (Green & Dixon, 1993; Green & Meyer, 1991; Green & Wallat, 1981; Kelly et al., 2001) to represent what participants said and did, for what purposes, under what conditions, and with what outcomes. An event (e.g., a professional development seminar session) refers to a bounded set of coordinated actions around a particular topic and purpose. It is composed of phases of activity constructed by participants as they work to accomplish collective and individual goals. A phase of activity (e.g., a lecture within a session) is a smaller unit marking the ebb and flow of a


Figure 2.

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Third-year interview protocol.

concerted and coordinated action among participants during an event. It reflects a group’s common focus and is marked by members’ discursive and contextual cues. Besides an event and phases, event maps might note sequence units, interaction units, action units, and message units; they vary in their additional level of detail. For the purposes of this study, each event map included an event, phase units, sequence units, and participants’ spoken discourse (see Figure 4 for an example of an event map excerpt). To match our research questions, reflecting our interest in the progression and substance of conversations initiated by disagreements, we developed a three-tiered coding scheme. Figure 3 shows the three tiers of domains and subcategories used. First, event map transcripts were examined for instances of verbal dissent by teacher learners; transcripts were marked each time a member voiced an initial concern or raised an objection. We decided to limit our examination to instances of verbal dissent because we found other dissent forms (e.g., failure to attend sessions, reluctance to participate during sessions, and/or use of facial expressions or other body language to signal disagreement) did not lead to collective conversations, and thus could not be examined in light of the community’s growth and transformation (our reason for studying dissent in the first place). A total of 19 instances of initial verbal dissent across the six nature of science sessions were identified. Instances of initial dissent were divided into three categories of cultural meaning, or domains (Spradley, 1980)—invited remarks, discursive turns, and interruptions—and two

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Figure 3.

Figure 4.

Summary of three-tiered coding process.

Event map excerpt from Promoting Women and Scientific Literacy Session 6.


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subcategories within each—questions and statements. These three domains and two subcategories constituted our first tier of codes and addressed our first research question. To construct our second tier of codes, we sorted conversations initiated by dissent into one of three social processes domains: conversations that built toward consensus, conversations that triggered a cascade of concerns and dissenting opinions with little resolution, and instances of dissent that went unanswered. Conversations initiated by dissent were also sorted into one of three substantive issues domains and subcategories within each. One such domain, barriers to and biases in how science is practiced, included three subcategories: Who practices science? What are the questions, methods, and analyses scientists employ? and How does language shape scientific constructs? A second domain included discussions of science teaching as traditionally practiced and examples of equitable instructional strategies. In a third domain, we placed questions of who should represent the culture, knowledge, and practices of science to scientists, science students, and the general public. More specifically, this third domain included comparisons of scientists and social scientists’ ability to describe scientific concepts, theories, and practices accurately. We then examined coded transcripts across social and substantive domains. Community members’ discussions about the gendered and multicultural nature of science surfaced two crosscutting themes, or commonly held assumptions, that shaped positions taken and arguments made: the need for accuracy in scientific descriptions, and for useful and appropriate ways to change how science is practiced and presented. These social, substantive, and crosscutting domains were created in response to our second research question: What kinds of conversations around science, science teaching, and/or science studies scholarship ensued? Finally, to address our third question on the consequences of dissent, we created a third tier of codes with two domains: changes in teacher learners’ understanding of science and science teaching, and changes in their own educational practices. Because we thought session transcripts provided inadequate data on consequences, we also examined team and participant members’ responses to interview questions. Like the nature of science event maps, teacher learners’ interviews were coded for their understanding of feminist science studies scholarship and for their own efforts at course transformation. Responses to Dissent in a Teacher Learning Community During the six professional development sessions under study, in both whole seminar and small group settings, community members explored and sometimes challenged ideas related to the nature of science and issues of equity and diversity. As stated above, we identified and analyzed one kind of conversation that took place in these sessions, conversations initiated by an individual member who voiced a protest or expressed a disagreement. Results from the first two tiers of our analytic process are presented below. Toward Consensus of Views Four of the 19 conversations initiated by a teacher learner’s verbal dissent moved the community toward development of a group consensus or construction of a collective viewpoint. Two such conversations were situated in Michael and Theresa’s session on gender bias in scientific research. Held in January 1998, this 1.5-hour session began with Michael’s lecture on the history of primatology. Michael, a professor of anthropology, man of mixed ethnicity, and project team member, described how the influx of women into the field of primatology influenced methods used and theories developed. Theresa, a European American woman, professor of biology, and team member, followed with discussion of gendered, anthropomorphic metaphors in accounts of

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fertilization, spermatogenesis, and oogenesis, as well as examination of the underrepresentation and sometimes mistreatment of women subjects in medical research. In this session, one conversation initiated by a member’s dissent explored the intersection of language used to describe phenomena and gender bias in scientific constructs; it fit within the language subcategory of our first substantive domain, barriers to and biases in scientific practice (see Figure 4 for the beginning of this conversation). Drawing from the work of Emily Martin, Theresa read aloud excerpts from textbooks on the process of fertilization: romantic, militaristic, and sporting descriptions of the sperm as a ‘‘very active, even heroic entity’’ and the egg as ‘‘passive, dependent, [and] fragile.’’ Theresa noted ‘‘these kinds of metaphors make [descriptions of fertilization] more interesting to read.’’ She expressed concern, however, over the ‘‘pervasive[ness of] these feminine versus masculine metaphors’’ in texts and thus, the misrepresentation of scientists’ current understanding of egg and sperm’s respective roles during fertilization. Theresa also provided community members ‘‘a revisionistic view of the egg,’’ explaining that more recent texts presented the egg as an active participant. One author, she elaborated, described the egg as ‘‘an aggressive sperm catcher covered with adhesive molecules that can capture a sperm with a single bond and tether or clasp it to its surface.’’ Theresa noted that this revisionist description made it ‘‘hard not to envision [the egg as] a spider . . . in her web or [the egg as] an octopus.’’ Marianne, a European American woman and associate professor of chemistry, answered that the image invoked by such language for her was ‘‘Pricilla the Sea Witch . . . in [the movie] The Little Mermaid.’’ Following Marianne’s turn about this revisionistic view of the egg, Robert, an assistant professor of geology and man of mixed ethnicity, voiced a dissenting opinion. He argued that portrayal of the egg as an aggressive sperm catcher was as problematic as portrayal of the sperm as a hero or warrior. One overemphasized the role of the egg in fertilization, whereas the other privileged the role of the sperm. Robert: Hold on a sec. I’ve got to protest. How can the sperm harpooning be unfairly aggressive to the sperm, but being an aggressive [sperm catcher is acceptable to the egg]? You know, I don’t know. It seems like I’m getting two sides here. Marianne: It sounds all so silly. That’s the point. Robert: Exactly. They’re all anthropomorphic visualizations.

In response to Robert’s initial objection, community members continued discussing the strengths and limitations of anthropomorphic imagery in scientific concepts; we argue that this conversation built toward consensus and underscored the importance teacher learners placed on accuracy in representations of fertilization to both other scientists and science students, one of our two crosscutting themes. Theresa and Marianne first provided clarification of their previous statements. Theresa explained that she was not championing the replacement of aggressive sperm metaphors with those of the egg. Rather, she thought more active representations of the egg remained misleading because they suggested the egg was a threat to sperm—a femme fatale. Marianne agreed with Theresa. She wondered if some authors drew from mythology to convey an exaggerated image of the egg as an alluring temptress who led her male suitors to their downfall. Theresa: . . . What I’m getting at here is not the point about the aggressiveness [of the sperm versus egg]. It’s the feminine versus masculine metaphors. So where you have a feminine metaphor and you’ve got now a more active, quote aggressive woman, how do you see her? As this femme fatale. Trapping. Clasping.


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Marianne: Did you run across any [descriptions of the egg] . . . from mythology? The sirens who lure the men who dash themselves on the rocks. I would think that would be out there somewhere [in science texts].

Chris, a European American man and professor of biology, reminded community members that the revisionist description of the egg might still portray the egg in an unfair light, but at least revealed ‘‘scientific content . . . that’s missing [in those descriptions of the egg as passive presented] before.’’ Theresa agreed with Chris, again clarifying for community members that her concern was not the use of such anthropomorphic metaphors, but the unfavorable portrayal of the egg as either a passive recipient or an overly aggressive femme fatale at the expense of the accuracy of the material. Theresa explained that in her research on this topic, she had found the egg plays an active role in fertilization; this role differed from both what she had learned and what had been traditionally described by science textbook and popular science writers. Although there had been some improvement in the types of fertilization metaphors used over time, Theresa continued, there was still a great deal of inconsistency and scientific inaccuracy. Absolutely. Oh yeah. And again, my feeling is I don’t have a lot of problems with the use of metaphors. I think that they can . . . certainly drive the message so they make things more exciting to read. . . . [M]y big concern is that let’s at least make it accurate. So, it didn’t even bother me that much in the beginning where I was reading about the passive egg and all this romance and stuff. I thought, oh, so the egg is passive and the sperm is active. But then when I find out in my readings that in fact the sperm are not so aggressive. They don’t have a good sense of direction. It’s that the egg is playing a much more active role. It’s like, gee, how come we’re not seeing that science, that real truth of science being communicated in our textbooks and our articles? . . . So now, [in this revisionist description of fertilization] there is this more honest [portrayal of roles] as far as communicating the real science. But it’s interesting that it uses this femme fatale type of [imagery].

Marianne spoke next, adding that although half of the sperm cells will result in girls, she found it ‘‘really interesting that the eggs are girls and the sperm are boys.’’ Her recognition that scientists sometimes assign sex to nonsexed entities was affirmed and extended by Donna. Like Theresa, Donna, a European American woman and professor of chemistry, suggested scientists use anthropomorphic descriptions, although inaccurate, ‘‘because it helps students relate to things.’’ Donna stated that ‘‘we overdo [such descriptions like of egg and sperm] but it’s possible to talk not in terms of aggressor and passive in either direction.’’ She suggested that for the sake of accuracy and inclusiveness, one should talk about the process of fertilization in terms of a ‘‘cooperative dance.’’ Donna ended this larger conversation on anthropomorphic metaphors by explaining that ‘‘interdependence, interaction, a dance metaphor rather than an aggressive metaphor would be just as romantic, just as good a mental picture, and probably a more accurate scientific picture [of the fertilization process as well].’’ In closing, we argue that teacher learners came to a deeper understanding of reasons to use anthropomorphic imagery in their discussions with students and of the importance of examining such imagery in light of equity goals. Little Movement Toward Resolution A second cluster of conversations resulting from an individual’s initial voicing of dissent led not toward the building of consensus among community members, but rather to the identification of additional concerns or criticisms with little progress toward resolution. These conversations did not lead to insight or deeper understanding of connections across equity, the nature of

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science, and science teaching. Most of these conversations occurred in Patrick’s session on the socially constructed nature of science. Patrick, a European American man and assistant professor of science education from a neighboring university, was a guest rather than member of the Promoting Women and Scientific Literacy community. His 2-hour session included two whole group discussions and two small group activities. Held in October 1998, it was the second nature of science and fourth general session in the professional development seminar series. In preparation, teacher learners had been asked to read three articles that summarized various aspects of recent science studies scholarship (Kelly et al., 1993; Millar, 1990; Reiss, 1993). Our first example spanned the social categories of consensus-building discussed in the previous section and of little movement toward resolution presented here; it was understood to fall on the border between these categories because subgroups made progress toward consensus while the group as a whole remained divided. In this conversation, teacher learners voiced disagreement over the usefulness of science studies scholarship, debating whether it was appropriate or instructive for sociologists and feminists to describe scientific practices. As such, this conversation fell within our third substantive domain—Who should speak for science?—and spoke to both crosscutting themes of the need for accuracy in representations and for useful and appropriate ways to transform institutional practices and instructional approaches. Figure 5 gives an excerpt from this conversation. More specifically, after Patrick introduced himself and explained the kinds of educational research he conducted, he asked community members to form small groups ‘‘to specify some of the goals you have for teaching science’’ and to list these goals on a piece of poster paper. Team members, Michael and Julie, turned to Linda, a European American woman and science education lecturer, Joe, a professor of physics who noted his ethnicity simply as Homo sapiens, Donna, and Robert to constitute one small group of six members. As explained in our methodology section, this was one of the few times across the 19 professional development sessions in which the first author and professional development leader, Julie, adopted the role of participant in seminar sessions. A few minutes into the small group task, Donna explained one of her primary course goals was to teach students about the limitations of models; she noted that science textbooks often thwarted her attempts to do so because of their narrow descriptions of the scientific method. Michael spoke next, interrupting the discussion by voicing a concern tangential to course goals: He criticized science studies scholars for examining scientific research, particularly research in biology, that was ‘‘fifty years out of date.’’ Robert asked for clarification and Michael elaborated: ‘‘They [feminist science studies scholars] are really dinging the anatomy books for being male centered. . . . Apparently these people haven’t seen a modern anatomy book, you know?’’ Michael’s concern over the validity of feminists’ criticisms of science was temporarily dropped as group members continued with the assignment at hand, to create a list of science education goals used to shape their courses. Once the list was complete, with time before the groups were expected to reconvene, Julie resumed the conversation on science studies scholarship initiated by Michael: ‘‘So I was interested in the comment about the readings . . . ’’ Robert noted the assigned readings (Kelly et al., 1993; Millar, 1990; Reiss, 1993) had ‘‘pissed [him] off’’ (i.e., angered him). He saw sociologists of science as misrepresenting scientific practice, as overemphasizing the importance of social interactions in scientific processes while ignoring the peer review process put in place to ensure opinion was not simply transformed into fact. I thought that the whole focus was on one tiny . . . aspect of science and it ignored the structures of the science that require us to reevaluate things that get affected strongly by personal knowledge or interactions. It ignored that whole structure. It ignored the whole


Figure 5.

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review process. [It] ignored the whole process of putting things out in public. . . . It was all very much in the sense of one person dominating other people. One person stating this is fact and asserting that this is not just a theory. . . . I thought it was way, way over balanced to the social interaction side.

Donna extended Robert’s argument that the readings had focused on ‘‘exaggerated cases’’ in science involving unusually high amounts of interpersonal conflict. Examples of heated disputes among research groups in a given field provide ‘‘wonderful case[s] if you want to get into the sociology of these two groups with the personal egos of these two people dominating what experiments they cho[o]se to do,’’ she continued, ‘‘but that’s not how the field [in general] works.’’ Robert agreed that sociologists of science focused on atypical cases, on examples ‘‘where people were trying to experiment or learn something . . . that was at the edge or beyond technology. But that’s the edge of science,’’ he clarified. ‘‘A couple of years later, technology advances and you have good ways of making those measurements.’’ Once technology exists to properly investigate a question, Robert concluded, the ‘‘bouncing back and forth’’ of hypotheses scientists ‘‘really could not prove one way or another’’ disappears and consensus is formed. At this juncture, Julie reentered the conversation. She reminded the members of her small group that the sociology of science is ‘‘a relatively new field’’ and that some scholars did attend to the ‘‘balance between scientists negotiating with one another and the instruments’’ used to measure phenomena. Donna returned to Robert’s point about science as largely a rule governed and self-correcting process: ‘‘Lawyers say hard cases make bad law. Looking at the extreme edges makes for an incomplete description. Because with the ideal, eventually, things are self correcting.

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People do replicate. It really is there.’’ Joe spoke next, extending Julie’s idea about the newness of the science studies field and highlighting ways such scholarship might benefit science. These science studies scholars are ‘‘getting people’s attention,’’ he explained. ‘‘I think that scientists tend to think that they are really objective and that . . . social interaction doesn’t mean anything. But in fact, that’s not the case.’’ Donna agreed with Joe that funding and social policy did influence the kinds of research conducted. Joe noted that the end of the Cold War signaled the end of funding for physics: ‘‘When the Russians went down the tubes, physics went down the tubes. . . . Scientists recognize [the influence of funding],’’ he continued, ‘‘but I don’t think they also recognize the fact that there are interpersonal relations.’’ Joe’s thesis advisor, for example, had received the Nobel Prize 2 years ago. He should have received ‘‘the Nobel Prize 20 years ago,’’ Joe elaborated, ‘‘but did not because of personal animosities that he had created at the time he was working on the bomb in Los Alamos 40 years ago.’’ Again, Donna concurred: Scientists did not always receive recognition because of who they were or who they knew and that ‘‘things happen by serendipity’’ often in science. Julie spoke next, again returning to the conversation’s original focus on the strengths and limitations of science studies scholarship: Should sociologists and feminists speak for science? Can only those within science accurately represent it? Might sociologists and feminists’ accounts make science more equitable and useful? Julie thought it important to read sociologists of science as reacting to earlier, idealized descriptions of how science was performed. Robert disagreed. He did not think the ‘‘Mertonian norms’’ painted a distorted picture of scientific practice; rather, he saw these norms as ‘‘really the ethics of science,’’ the ideals that scientists strive to uphold. ‘‘That doesn’t mean that everyone is ethical,’’ he continued, ‘‘but it means that the mechanisms, the laws, the reviews, the social acceptable way of interacting is following those ethics.’’ Again, he emphasized, there is ‘‘human lapsing, but there is an accepted group of . . . [rules] in order to remove the personal affects, to keep it down to an absolute minimum.’’ Joe made one last comment before the group turned its attention to Patrick, who was collecting groups’ lists and taping them to the board for discussion. Again, he underscored the usefulness of science studies scholarship in reflecting on and possibly transforming scientific practice: Whether one agrees or disagrees with the readings, Joe stated, ‘‘we’re discussing this. He got our attention. Therefore, the article . . . has made an impact that it would not have made had it not been [written or read].’’ Debate over who should speak for science (our third substantive domain), the accuracy of science studies scholarship (one crosscutting theme), and its potential to effect change in science and science education (our second crosscutting theme) did not end here. Precisely 1 hour later, Patrick asked session participants to return to their groups to work on a second task: to consider the kinds of science images they might want to communicate to students in their own courses. He also passed out a handout which listed discussion questions to help groups begin this conversation, as well as related references organized by theoretical perspectives: science and technology, feminist, cognitive, historical, sociological, and anthropological. To complete this final task, then, the same small group of Michael, Donna, Robert, Joe, Linda, and Julie reconvened. Michael immediately reopened the small group’s debate over the strengths and limitations of science studies scholarship—the question of whether those outside of science could provide a coherent and accurate description of scientific practices. He noted the absence of a scientist’s perspective in the recommended reading list: ‘‘They don’t seem to have a scientist approach’’ among the diverse perspectives listed. He thought it important to have descriptions of ‘‘how scientists view [themselves] . . . rather than how somebody else does.’’ Robert elaborated on Michael’s point, noting that he found the work of a historian of geological science, a practicing geologist, much more convincing than the work of scholars read for this session: ‘‘To me, the way he wrote his types of papers are much, because of his background, much more content centered


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rather than controversy centered.’’ Michael suggested that a good historian of science needed a solid background in science: ‘‘To really be a good historian in science, you would have to have a Ph.D. in your science first or at least a good solid background in that science.’’ Julie reminded group members that some of the science studies scholars discussed in this and other sessions indeed were former or current scientists. Donna fell in the middle of this debate. She shared with group members the work of her son, a history professor specializing in the intellectual development of the 16th and 17th centuries. Donna explained that her son examines the ‘‘intellectual context at the time of which much of the origins in science developed . . . not as a scientist, but as a historian who knows some science.’’ When ‘‘you get the different disciplines sharing viewpoints,’’ she continued, ‘‘you get some of the more interesting discussions.’’ Still, Donna emphasized, her son was not writing ‘‘about details of what modern science is’’ only about the historical context of its birth. Without further discussion of science studies scholarship, although still in disagreement over its quality and potential worth, group members turned to the task at hand. A second example of conversations that were initiated by dissent but made little progress toward resolution of ideas occurred between the two small group activities discussed above. After community members examined individual and collective goals for science education, Patrick introduced a model of nature of science instruction implemented at the university level: a 4-minute videotaped segment of a university scientist lecturing in an introductory oceanography course. In the taped segment, the professor, Ben, explained to students how they might approach their midterm, a technical paper examining and analyzing current information about the ocean floor. He also made connections between the work required of students in this assignment and the ways scientists try ‘‘to make sense out of the chaos’’ of their own data. Patrick showed teacher learners this 4-minute video segment twice. After the first viewing, presenter and participants shared general observations; after the second, they discussed how the oceanography professor, through his explanation of midterm instructions, portrayed science to his students. This latter conversation fell within our substantive domain—problems with traditional science teaching and examples of equitable instruction—and spoke to our crosscutting theme on the need for useful and appropriate ways to change how science is practiced and presented. This example can also be seen as falling on the border between social categories—in this case, between continued dissonance and unanswered voices. It is composed of three bursts of disagreement between pairs of community members, each punctuated by the unrelated comment of an additional other. On one hand, taken together, these brief disagreements can be considered one conversation that moved little toward resolution: They can be connected to form a discussion about the limitations of Ben’s instructional approach. On the other hand, because the specific issues raised by an individual participant did not progress beyond the response of one other community member, each instance in isolation can be considered an example of unanswered dissent. During the community’s discussion of Ben’s instruction in the nature of science, Cynthia, an Asian American woman and associate professor of biology, voiced an initial concern: She did not think Ben’s explanation of the midterm project an instance of exemplary practice. ‘‘From just observing the teaching style here bothered me. . . . If I were a student, I would have a hard time figuring out [what to do to complete this project].’’ Patrick explained that the videotaped discussion was initiated by a student question and was not part of the ‘‘intended curriculum’’ for that day; he imagined that the formal lecture presented an organized set of ideas. After Patrick finished, Cynthia’s concern over the adequacy of instruction was followed up by neither Cynthia herself nor another participant. Instead, Donna expanded upon a point made by Patrick ‘‘in passing before,’’ noting that a number of students come into college science courses with the expectation of learning ‘‘a whole list of factoids.’’

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After Patrick responded to Donna, agreeing that teaching science as fact was a poor way to help students learn both the content and nature of science, Tim, a European American man and associate professor of biology, voiced a second concern about Ben’s instruction. He questioned the appropriateness of assigning an open-ended, data-driven project to students in an introductory oceanography course. Is it appropriate? I mean, you said this is a beginning oceanography class. I sort of question his whole approach. Is it appropriate . . . to ask these students to analyze raw data and spend all that amount of time? I mean, if they were taking that class in biochemistry, they’d be suicidal. So, it’s really an awful lot for that level of class.

Again, as with Cynthia, Patrick attempted to address yet redirect Tim’s concerns. He agreed that Ben’s assignment was ambitious, but thought it important for students to have the opportunity to practice and ‘‘to understand the scientific process.’’ Tim remained unconvinced: ‘‘So he’s having them write, learn how to write a science paper? in a beginning class?’’ Although not resolved, the topic of instructional limitations was again dropped temporarily. Marianne spoke next on an unrelated matter: She asked how useful it was to conduct educational research in an atypical science course, a course in which students have little prior knowledge of the science subject matter taught. Similarly, after Patrick explained to Marianne his rationale for researching Ben’s introductory oceanography course, Donna initiated a third and final debate on the limitations of Ben’s instructional innovation. She thought the time and effort Ben exerted in redesigning his oceanography course—both in creating an innovative student assignment and developing a CD-ROM database to accompany it—was impossible to replicate at this university with its substantially heavier teaching load. At this university, she explained, scientists could only dream about such course transformation. From the point of view of [this university], I listen to the luxury of time to spend developing the course . . . it’s a dream. Even if we get, let’s say, three units one semester release time to develop a course, that still leaves a nine-unit teaching load for that semester. It’s one semester. You knock yourself out putting something together and the next thing you know you’re assigned to a classroom where you can’t do the things that the course was developed to do. . . . That’s not an excuse for bad teaching but . . .

This time, it was Cynthia rather than Patrick who responded to concerns raised. Cynthia thought such innovation possible if one developed a course as one taught it, year by year, perhaps with some release time from teaching. In other words, Cynthia saw change in the way science is taught at this university possible. Donna disagreed with Cynthia, again stating that such a level of instructional innovation was beyond participants like themselves housed at a comprehensive university: ‘‘But there is a big difference between teaching one course at a time [like Ben does] and teaching 12 units [or four courses] at a time [like we do].’’ She added that she was not ‘‘putting forward’’ the idea that ‘‘obviously we can’t do anything’’ to improve courses. Rather, she suggested the ‘‘extensive sharing of strategies, techniques, and so on . . . [by] people [who] have spent the time developing [them].’’ Patrick stated he did not want to comment on the experiences of community members because he came from a different university; however, he did attempt to share the constraints Ben faced as a scientist interested in instructional innovation yet employed at a research university. With little movement toward closure, then, the conversation shifted topic with the next speaker, Linda, who commented on the incorporation of real data into a student project. Patrick then moved on to his fourth and final activity for the day. The conversation on


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limitations to instructional innovation ended without making progress toward developing or resolving the three concerns raised. Dissent That Went Unanswered Unanswered voices comprised our third cluster of conversations initiated by dissent. In these brief conversations, initial concerns expressed by one member were passed over by the community or dropped after cursorily addressed. Again, these conversations led to little additional insight into equity issues in science and science education. Two of five examples of unanswered voices came from a seminar session held during the second year of the project. In November 1998, the first author, Bianchini, conducted a session on feminist science studies scholarship. In preparation for this discussion, teacher learners had been asked to read a summary of feminist scholarship written as part of a science education article (Bianchini et al., 2000) and to review a handout of additional readings they might find of use or interest. Julie began her presentation by drawing from the works of Kuhn (1962), Harding (1991), and Rosser (1997)—to give community members ‘‘a sense of the range of feminist scholarship that is out there’’ and to facilitate understanding of the sometimes dense and difficult language used by feminist scholars. She then described feminist science studies scholars’ portrayal of women’s experiences in science, summarizing Wertheim’s (1995) Pythagoras’ Trousers for community members. The life of physicist Chien-Shiung Wu, Julie explained, ‘‘is a fairly common story for women in science in the early part of the 1900s having difficulty getting positions at universities.’’ After Julie concluded her discussion of Wertheim’s text, Donna interrupted her presentation and returned to the description of Chien-Shiung Wu’s experiences as a woman in science. Donna argued that women scientists found admission to academia not only difficult in the early 1900s, but up until the 1970s as well. We coded Donna’s voicing of dissent under the substantive domain, barriers to and biases in scientific practice; the subcategory, who participates in science; and the crosscutting theme, accuracy in representations. You said there were barriers to getting teaching jobs in the early part of the 1900s. Probably up till the 1970s, that was still true. And in the 1970s the number of women Ph.D.’s in chemistry I believe had grown to about 8% of the total. These changes aren’t through the century. They’re very recent.

Julie then clarified her position, explaining that she ‘‘didn’t mean to imply that’’ conditions for women scientists had improved dramatically early in the century. Katherine, a European American woman and lecturer in biology, joined in the conversation by agreeing with Donna. She noted that the ‘‘very high figures for Ph.D.s for women in biology [are] also quite recent.’’ The conversation ended quickly, however, without further discussion of women’s access to or progress within the scientific profession in the 20th Century. Figure 6 gives this instance of dissent in event map form. Rather than open the floor to further discussion, Julie shifted the group’s attention away from women’s experiences in science and toward examination of additional feminist science studies readings, the works of Schiebinger (1989) and Lindee (1994). At the end of her lecture, she asked community members for comments, concerns, and questions. After a brief discussion of the study of ethics in science and where such scholars might be housed in university settings, Julie posed a more pointed question: ‘‘Is there any way that you see this kind of scholarship as useful to you in efforts to make your science courses more inclusive?’’ Katherine’s response provided a second example of unanswered voices; it fell within our substantive domain of who should speak for

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Figure 6.


science and addressed our crosscutting theme on accuracy in representations. In reply to Julie’s question, Katherine asked one of her own: How many of the authors in the feminist science studies field were insiders (scientists) versus outsiders (social science and humanities scholars)? I don’t know if this is an answer to what you’re asking. It’s a question that’s been running through my mind for quite a while now about this whole topic. And how many of the authors in feminist scholarship of science are in fact trained as scientists rather than having feminism as their primary starting point?

Julie responded to Katherine’s initial concern by noting that many feminist scholars were or remain scientists and cited a few specific examples. Katherine pursued her concern about outsiders fashioning criticisms of science: She thought it imperative that scholars ‘‘see how [science] works from the inside and then critique it.’’ Julie again disagreed, stressing the importance of having both perspectives. I would think that both perspectives are important and useful. . . . So that if there were only an insider perspective to feminist scholarship of science, perhaps some of the issues that are being raised would not be so. Similarly, if nobody [who was] trained as a scientist participated in this scholarship, it wouldn’t be as rich and varied as it is.

With Julie’s second response, the discussion ended. Rather than asking for additional comments, she closed this conversation on who should speak for science by calling on Ariel, a


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European American woman and assistant professor of biology. Ariel changed topics by sharing a study she had read about undergraduate opportunities in research and teaching. Community Members’ Shared Assumptions We found the consequences of dissent for this community of teacher learners to be influenced by factors beyond notions of consensus, continued debate, and dismissal of concerns. Community members’ discussions on the gendered and multicultural nature of science surfaced two commonly held assumptions: the need for accuracy in scientific representations and the need for useful and appropriate ways to change how science is practiced and presented. These crosscutting themes, or shared assumptions, were noted in our Responses to Dissent in a Teacher Learning Community section above; here, we examine them in greater detail. We argue that these shared assumptions shaped community members’ conversations about the gendered and multicultural nature of science and thus, their growth as professionals and participants in reform. Across nature of science sessions held and topics broached, for example, teacher learners repeatedly identified accuracy in representations of scientific content and processes as a priority. Theresa, in her presentation on the processes of oogenesis, spermatogenesis, and fertilization, drew from feminist science studies scholarship to underscore the importance of accurately describing the respective roles of egg and sperm. Portrayal of the egg as either completely passive or overly aggressive, she argued, failed to reflect accurately what scientists had learned about the process. Like Theresa, Michael pointed to the need to represent scientific information accurately during a small group discussion on science studies scholarship in Patrick’s session. Michael dismissed feminists’ critiques of the biological sciences because he understood their descriptions of science textbooks to be inaccurate. He thought feminists continued to criticize theories and practices that were 50 years out of date. In short, Theresa and Michael both valued accuracy; however, they used this shared value to reach different conclusions about the quality of feminist science studies scholarship. Community members not only disagreed over the accuracy of feminist science studies scholarship, they debated its usefulness in changing the ways science is practiced by scientists and presented to students (a second shared assumption). During the same small group discussion in Patrick’s session, Michael and Robert argued that science studies scholarship was of little use to scientific practitioners or science students; they preferred descriptions of science written by scientists themselves. Julie and Joe, in contrast, saw such scholarship as useful for reflecting on and improving scientists’ research practices and science teachers’ instructional approaches. As Joe noted, examination of such scholarship had even prompted debate and reflection among members of their small group. In another case, Patrick, Cynthia, Tim, and Donna disagreed over the merits of Ben’s instructional strategies for interesting and engaging undergraduate students in science. Patrick saw Ben’s midterm project (which required examination of real data) to be an effective method to convey the nature of science to geology students. Tim and Donna, in contrast, thought such an assignment placed an unrealistic burden on both student and professor. Tim expressed reluctance to adopt similar instructional innovations for fear his undergraduate students would rebel. Donna thought radical instructional innovation impossible given the current demands of her university. Too many courses and too little time made her reluctant to enact change. Returning to Longino’s (1993) description of professional communities presented in our Conceptual Frame, it seems that more than community members’ commitment to project goals and willingness to debate, critique, and challenge ideas must be examined if professional developers and educational researchers are to understand how professional transformation occurs (or is

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slowed). Members of a community must also be viewed as holding common assumptions, or core beliefs and expectations, that shape their deliberative processes in particular ways. In our study, we found community members used common assumptions both as the basis for agreement and as reasons for arriving at different conclusions. Theresa and Michael’s conflicting views of feminist science studies scholarship grounded in the same value of accuracy illustrate this point. Furthermore, we found common assumptions to shape members’ decisions differentially to accept or reject reform-oriented strategies. Patrick and Tim were both in search of instructional strategies to promote equity, for example. Patrick saw Ben’s project as a useful and appropriate way to change how science is presented to students; Tim did not. Because the same assumption can be used by different individuals in diverse ways, we argue that shared assumptions cannot easily be labeled as either promoters of or impediments to professional growth. Rather, the benefits and liabilities of collective assumptions must be carefully determined in use: Identification and interrogation of a community’s commonly held beliefs are necessary if the reasons members construct disagreements and the ways they attempt to move beyond them toward growth of self and transformation of subject are to be understood more fully. Consequences of Dissent for This Teacher Learning Community We initiated this study to investigate the theoretical claim that dissent within professional communities promotes teacher growth and transformation. In our examination of scientists and social scientists engaged in collective discussions about the gendered and multicultural nature of science, we found community members responded to the voicing of dissent in multiple ways. In rare instances, as in the discussion of anthropomorphic imagery in science textbooks and course lectures, teacher learners shared views and built on each other’s ideas. These discussions, we argue, led toward new insights and generated greater understanding of how to address issues of equity and diversity in the science classroom. In other cases, a member’s dissenting view was debated but not resolved, or went unanswered by the rest of the community. The consequences of these latter conversations were not deeper understanding or the making of stronger connections; teacher learners did not appear to move forward in their thinking about science, equity, and student learning as a result. Because the promotion of dissent was not an explicit goal of this professional development seminar, such variation in the kinds of responses and in their consequences for growth appears reasonable. Given the complexity of the task at hand, it is not surprising that the voicing of dissent was productively managed in only a few cases. Although our analysis of dissent within nature of science sessions provided some insight into changes (or resistance to changes) in teacher learners’ understanding of science and science teaching, such conversations did not make clear how teacher learners tied their views of feminist science studies scholarship to changes in their educational practices. Certainly, members expressed views of feminist scholarship that could be placed along a continuum from those who saw such scholarship as interesting and useful, to those who did not always agree with scholars’ claims, to those who disagreed with its methods and findings. But how did these teacher learners’ views ultimately influence their curricular and instructional decisions? To complete our analysis, then, we turned to ideas shared in individual interviews. As stated in our methodology section above, interviews were conducted with team members and first-year participant members at three times during the project: before the professional development series began, after the first year, and again at the end of the 3-year project. From our analysis of interview transcripts, we found that teacher learners’ views of feminist science studies scholarship did not neatly align with their efforts to effect curricular and instructional change. Some teacher learners agreed with the purposes and arguments of science


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studies scholarship and used such ideas to transform their undergraduate science courses; others saw such scholarship as valuable, but changed their educational practice in only small ways. Similarly, some teacher learners who rejected science studies scholars’ claims still worked to make their teaching more equitable; others who held little regard for such scholarship made few changes to their existing course content and instruction. Furthermore, teacher learners’ decisions on how to use feminist science studies scholarship to inform their practice were influenced by their prior knowledge of and experiences in working to address issues of equity and diversity in their classroom. All members of this professional community had expressed interest in issues of equity and diversity before joining the project: Some saw the project as an opportunity to refine their teaching practices further; others, as simply reaffirming what they had spent years developing and implementing on their own. To give readers a sense of this complex interplay between views and actions, we examine in detail three teachers learners’ understanding of science studies scholarship and their self-reported changes in equity-oriented practices. Cynthia, for example, found learning about feminist science studies’ claims a welcomed ‘‘eye opener.’’ She had had ‘‘no idea that there was a feminist viewpoint of science’’ until joining the Promoting Women and Scientific Literacy project and thought introduction to such scholarship had helped her renew her once ‘‘stale’’ teaching practices. In her revised course on human immunology, ‘‘in order to promote better participation and more interaction’’ among students, she now implemented a number of innovative instructional strategies. ‘‘Fun Fridays’’ brought ‘‘in more of the ethical kinds of considerations or some of the really current things that are happening’’ related to human diseases. ‘‘Every Friday students are randomly divided into groups. . . . During [the ensuing small group] discussions, students compare notes, ask questions about lecture and text material covered that week, and discuss . . . the significance to society, ethics, and applicability of the information in [an assigned] article.’’ Cynthia also required each group of students to complete one ‘‘panel presentation’’ sometime during the course. ‘‘By having an oral panel presentation, students practice oral communication skills and share with other students what they have learned. . . . Students enthusiastically participate and bring [in] not only factual information, but ethical issues and demonstration materials’’ as well. A third interactive pedagogical technique Cynthia used was posing openended questions and the elicitation of participation of all students in her class: ‘‘I now try to pose more open-ended questions, encourage other students to join in and add further answers, and most importantly, wait longer for answers. . . . I also am much more aware about giving equal time to male and female students and encouraging female participation.’’ Furthermore, Cynthia incorporated ‘‘concept mapping as a review technique for midterms.’’ She divided students into groups; gave each a different list of concepts, sticky notes, and a transparency sheet; and then asked them to present their concept maps to the rest of the class once complete. In addition to innovative instructional strategies, Cynthia decided to foreground the notion of context in her presentation of scientific information and focus on the big ideas of science rather than its numerous and detailed facts. She attempted to infuse the work of scientists from underrepresented groups and the contributions to science from other cultures in her lectures. To complement these discussions, Cynthia also highlighted the importance of diverse perspectives on scientific practice. In particular, she discussed with students recent trends related to acquired immunodeficiency syndrome (AIDS) and women in the United States. I try to point out where women have had an influence, because otherwise medicine is usually from a male point of view. . . . We talk about AIDS as one of our last topics and so I make it a point to make sure the students realize that for many years, they didn’t have a

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definition of AIDS that applied to women. . . . It’s only been in the last 5 years that they’ve included vaginal yeast infections, chronic vaginal yeast infections, as a marker for an AIDS-infected female.

Michael’s view of science studies scholarship and the efforts he made to revise his targeted undergraduate course were strikingly different from those of Cynthia. Although Michael was a project team member, conducted 2 of the 6 professional development sessions on the nature of science, and attended both AAC&U national conferences on feminist science studies scholarship, he held a low opinion of the scholarship’s quality and worth (see again the small group discussion in Patrick’s session). Michael criticized feminist scholarship for treating sciences of the past as if they remained in the present, for singling out practices and perceptions that are no longer part of biology: ‘‘[Feminist] literature on stuff in biology . . . [is] all really out of date. I was thinking, have these people seen a recent [biology text]book?’’ He also expressed annoyance over the common practice of lumping all the sciences together in their critiques. Feminist scholars ‘‘don’t seem to realize that there’s a different way of doing things in biology,’’ he elaborated. Biologists ‘‘don’t have hard and fast laws [like physicists]. We have probabilities or rules; some people even call it modalities. One of the major emphases is on variation.’’ Furthermore, Michael did not see discussions of gender and ethnicity as particularly relevant to present-day science; he thought racism and sexism integral to science’s history, but not to its present. The 19th Century science of craniology, Michael explained, is an example of a racist and sexist science. The biology of today, however, is much less biased. As a result of his participation in the professional development process, Michael did learn more information about the contributions of women scientists like Barbara McClintock. He also grew more aware of the many female students who took his class and ‘‘started to look for some [examples of women’s health issues that] would be more of interest to them.’’ He spent ‘‘a whole lecture now talking about osteoporosis, whereas in the past, he actually just asked people to read it in the book.’’ He made few additional changes to his course content or instructional practices, however. Michael understood his own teaching to already reflect the goals of equity and diversity promoted by the project. Like most of the other members of this professional community, he was already ‘‘doing this sort of thing, . . . already had a lot of these ideas’’ before the project began. Michael had been working to address issues of equity and access, he underscored, for many years. Robert shared Michael’s low opinion of science studies scholarship. In his interviews, he expressed his distaste for those presentations that emphasized the ‘‘sociopolitical’’ nature of science and science education. There’s a component of ideology which I did not necessarily agree with and I thought was very strong [in some of the professional development sessions]. . . . [M]aybe this is from not being in the social sciences, [but I] found that that really permeated some of the literature we were reading as well, where I didn’t feel I was getting good, honest, impartial discussion. I was getting a viewpoint decided before and then someone trying to write an opinion to persuade me to have the same viewpoint.

Despite his unfavorable assessment of feminist science studies scholarship, Robert resembled Cynthia more than Michael in his attempts to revise his introductory geology course in light of project goals and commitments. Before joining the project, Robert explained, he had already worked to throw out some of the content usually covered in his general education geology course: He had decided to focus on only those chapters that would ‘‘impact [students’] lives here in California.’’ He saw the project as impetus for providing an even stronger ‘‘emphasis on context


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and significant social connections,’’ on how geology affects students in their daily lives. Similarly, Robert had already worked to incorporate vivid demonstrations, geologic samples, and interactive whole class activities into his lectures. As a result of the project, he had decided to make a more concerted effort to discuss ‘‘the contributions by less represented groups’’ and to reach out to the students during lecture—to make science appear even more ‘‘human and accessible’’ to students. He also expanded the types of assessments students completed in his course—to give both students and teacher a better sense of ‘‘how much they understand’’ and what ‘‘the differences are between’’ what ‘‘they know and how they perform.’’ To reiterate, teacher learners’ views of feminist science studies scholarship did not neatly align with their efforts to effect curricular and instructional change. More specifically, a community member’s acceptance or rejection of science studies scholars’ claims did not necessarily reflect his or her commitment to addressing issues of equity or her or his efforts to transform undergraduate science courses. We found this set of findings surprising, given that one of the major goals of the Promoting Women and Scientific Literacy project was to use feminist science studies scholarship to inform the design and implementation of undergraduate science education courses. We discuss potential implications for professional developers and scientists working toward equity below. Implications Scientists, science educators, and scholars of science have been asked to connect to and collaborate with one another so as to transform undergraduate science education programs to work together to encourage the participation and facilitate the retention of those students who have been traditionally underrepresented in science courses and careers (Ginorio, 1995; National Research Council, 1996; NSF, 1996, 2000; Malcom, 1993; Rosser, 1991, 1995, 1997; Tobias, 1990, 1992; Vetter, 1996). The Promoting Women and Scientific Literacy professional development effort was built on the belief that women’s studies scholars and science professors could learn much from one another. In particular, the project saw feminist science studies scholarship as providing a necessary lens to use to identify, understand, and eliminate inequities in undergraduate science education. Feminist science studies scholarship was understood to support the project’s goals of transforming traditional science education; the task of radically revising science content and pedagogy was thought easier if community members found science studies scholarship compelling and relevant (see AAC&U, 1999a, for additional discussion). As made clear in our examination of dissent, however, teacher learners did not necessarily agree with or value science studies scholars’ descriptions about how scientists work or what constitutes a biased scientific claim. Such conversations rarely led to greater teacher learner understanding of the nature of science and/or efforts to transform undergraduate science courses. More surprising, teacher learners’ views of science studies scholarship did not necessarily reflect the extent to which they revised targeted courses or their decisions about the kinds of content and instructional strategies to implement. How do these findings speak to other professional developers and teacher learning communities interested in transforming undergraduate science education? On one level, our study underscores the importance of balancing respect for members’ multiple perspectives with the need to move them forward in their thinking about issues of equity and access. (Richardson [1992] characterized this as an agenda-setting dilemma; Fullan [1994], as a tension between support and pressure.) As presented in our Conceptual Framework, feminist science studies scholars and educational researchers have called for the promotion of and respect for diverse perspectives in work toward equity. Recommendations for equitable scientific,

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education, and professional development practices equate notions of inclusion with a diversity of views (Brown & Campione, 1994; Haraway, 1989; Harding, 1998; Keller, 1985; Longino, 1993; Nieto, 1999; Thomas et al., 1998). Brown and colleagues (Brown, 1994; Brown et al., 1998), for example, made legitimization of individual differences part of their foundation for a community of learners. Thomas et al. (1998) underscored the importance of multiple corridors to teacher development, and the need for different kinds of structured activities to help teacher learners reflect on and change their patterns of practice. Given teacher learners’ diverse reactions to and assessments of feminist science studies scholarship, we think the existence of multiple corridors to growth a necessary component of any professional development process. Indeed, we recommend expanding Thomas and colleagues’ (1998) use of the term to include not only the kinds of activities in which teacher learners engage, but the kinds of content they examine as well. Fullan’s (1994) recommendation that reformers be ready and willing to modify the reform process in response to different teacher learners’ starting points and different legitimate priorities is also salient here. Clearly, had the professional development leader made feminist science studies scholarship the singular focus of these teacher learners’ experience or had nature of science presenters continually challenged those who voiced dissenting opinions, several to many members of this teacher learning community would have considered leaving the project. Respect for diverse views, access to multiple paths, and flexibility in topics examined enabled teacher learners to disagree with some aspects of the professional development initiative, but remain members of the professional community. The finding that at least some teacher learners, like Cynthia, thought feminist scholarship useful in reflecting on and revising their practice prompts us to argue for more carefully designed feminist scholarship explorations, rather than for the scholarship’s elimination from future professional development efforts involving university scientists. On a second level, then, our study speaks to the need to carefully structure conversations initiated by dissent so as to provide adequate space for deliberation and movement toward deeper understanding; the goal of such conversations would not necessarily be the reaching of consensus, but greater exploration and deeper reflection. Perhaps had dissent within this professional community been more productively managed, members would have shown greater willingness to consider connections between feminist scholarship and their own practice, to use such scholarship more consistently to guide their own growth and attempts at course transformation. One way to better structure conversations initiated by dissent was discussed in our second results section above: the need to identify commonly held assumptions and to understand how such assumptions shape arguments put forth and decisions made. Elaine, a geologist and Promoting Women and Scientific Literacy participant member, offered a second recommendation: She thought conversations around feminist science studies scholarship might have been made more productive if started from the professional lives of the teacher learners themselves. (This resembles how Nieto [1999] begins her teacher education courses on equity issues. This also resonates with science educators, like Barton [1998] and Seiler [2001], who call for science teachers to begin from the interests and experiences of their students.) Tensions between feminist scholars who examine women’s experiences in science, and scientists, particularly women scientists, who have lived those experiences have existed for some time (see Longino & Hammonds, 1990). By beginning with examination of their own journeys from student to university scientist, by sharing encouragement they received or barriers they encountered along the way, community members might have built a stronger, more concrete foundation on which to examine, critique, and connect to feminist science studies’ claims. Conversations might then have led to greater understanding of feminist ideas in light of professional lives, Elaine concluded, if not to greater acceptance of ways to use such scholarship to inform science education practices.


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Paula, a women’s studies professor and Promoting Women and Scientific Literacy team member, recommended greater participation of and interaction with scholars outside science and women’s studies departments—scholars who share an interest in issues of gender and ethnicity— as a way to enhance teacher learners’ conversations. The professional development community as constituted, Paula noted, had included over 30 scientists, but only 3 women’s studies professors and 1 science educator schooled in feminist science studies. The absence of a critical mass of faculty with theoretical as well as practical knowledge of gender and ethnicity issues, she elaborated, made it difficult to hear other-than-scientists’ perspectives in small group and whole community discussions, and to hold extended conversations on ways to situate practical teaching concerns in larger theoretical constructs. Such an imbalance in kinds of participants also reduced opportunities for sustained interactions among members of different academic disciplines, for the sharing of diverse disciplinary perspectives and ways of acting and interacting. As an outsider to the culture of science, over the 3-year project, Paula had learned a great deal about scientists’ language, methods, and values through her interactions with them. Because only a few feminist and multicultural scholars were involved in the project, however, she did not think most scientists left the community with a reciprocal appreciation of the humanities and social sciences. Paula’s call for engaging a larger and more diverse pool of participants in the process of reform resonates with Spillane et al.’s (2001) recommendation for the establishment of networks of relations to create the capacity for reflection and change. Because the ‘‘challenges of going to scale and substance’’ with a reform depends on the identification and mobilization of myriad ‘‘resources,’’ individuals existing in varied and multiple contexts must work to pool their knowledge and skills and support each other’s efforts if they are to effect transformation (p. 918). Fourth and finally, conversations by professional community members could have been strengthened through development and use of a ‘‘toolkit’’ (Swidler, 1986). Sets of tools ‘‘do not determine action but provide resources for action from which actors pick and choose to create desired strategies’’ (Spillane et al., 2001, p. 921). In the case of this professional development community, members could have benefited from a set of tools to help them make better sense of their own views and experiences related to privilege and oppression, to explore sensitive and often controversial claims about equity and access in science and science education, and to brainstorm ways to use information presented in professional development sessions to transform their own teaching practices. Such tools could take the form of different kinds of structured activities (returning to Thomas et al.’s [1998] point about multiple corridors above) so that members have opportunities to communicate and interact with one another in multiple ways, so that they can share their views in contexts beyond small group and whole community discussions. (Andrea’s use of role playing in the final nature of science session is one example of an alternative structure.) Such tools could also take the form of norms for being and doing so that community members build a collective repertoire of appropriate ways to question, listen, and respond to one another, so that members themselves productively manage the conversations in which they engage. The Promoting Women and Scientific Literacy Project: An Epilogue Members of the Promoting Women and Scientific Literacy project never expected to achieve complete transformation of the ways science is taught and learned at their university. The project had only a 3-year funding cycle, operated on a very small budget (