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June 2002
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FeaturesRousing the People on the Land: The Roots of the Educational Organizing Tradition in Extension WorkScott J. Peters IntroductionWhen the question of what Extension educators do is asked, the answer typically includes a list of such things as planning and developing programs, nonformal teaching, facilitating meetings and community forums, providing technical expertise, and applying research-based knowledge to the problems of individuals, families, businesses, and communities. But something important is usually missing from such lists. Extension educators often also work as organizers. In their organizing role, they develop leadership and build relationships between and among individuals and institutions in order to engage people in the work of identifying, understanding, and taking action on a variety of public issues and problems. Today, the view that Extension educators are or ought to be organizers could charitably be described as unusual. Organizing sounds scary--even inappropriate--to many in the Extension system. It sounds too "political." "Politics," as many people have come to understand it in the United States, is corrupt and negative, something to avoid at all costs. Moreover, many people in the Extension system hold the view that Extension is supposed to be "nonpolitical," that it should be above or apart from politics. Our work is education, many educators and administrators tell themselves, not politics. But what if there were a way of understanding and practicing organizing that is deeply educational, that fits squarely within the historical tradition of Extension education, and that involves a practice of politics that is not negative and inappropriate for Extension educators to engage in? Our ability to answer this question has a special urgency in connection with recent calls for "engagement" that have land-grant colleges and universities searching for ways to develop partnerships between universities and communities for broad civic purposes. The Kellogg Commission on the Future of State and Land-Grant Universities recently defined engagement as "two-way partnerships, reciprocal relationships between university and community, defined by mutual respect for the strengths of each," where the "purpose of engagement is not to provide the university's superior expertise to the community, but to encourage joint academic-community definitions of problems, solutions, and success" (Kellogg Commission, 1998, pp. 30, 29). What kind of work is it to "encourage" two-way academic-community partnerships, and who will do it? I suggest that this work is best understood as organizing, and that Extension educators are uniquely situated to do it. Interestingly, however, the Kellogg Commission appears doubtful that Extension will be able to effectively do this work. They wrote that our "inherited" ideas of Extension "emphasize a one-way process of transferring knowledge and technology from the university (as the source of expertise) to its key constituents. The engagement ideal is profoundly different" (Kellogg Commission, 1998, p. 11). The Commission appears to believe that their call for "two-way" engagement would send Extension off in a bold new direction that wholly departs from its past (and present). However, I believe that the path of engagement requires reclaiming and strengthening a tradition that is deeply rooted in Extension's history: a tradition of educational organizing that develops civic leadership skills and capacities, and builds respectful, reciprocal relationships between universities and communities through concrete public work initiatives and projects. In the Department of Education at Cornell University, we have begun a long-term research, teaching, and staff development program designed both to gain a deeper understanding of the historical and contemporary nature of this tradition and to illuminate the ways it might be strengthened. I discuss some of the findings of our work to date in two separate articles. In this article, I review the historical roots of the educational organizing tradition in cooperative Extension work. In my second article (to be published in the August 2002 issue of JOE), I look at the shape of this tradition in today's world, drawing from interviews of Extension educators my students and I have conducted over the past few years. The Central Role of Organizing in Extension's Early HistoryIn recent decades, Extension education has frequently been understood as a one-way process of transferring knowledge and technology from universities to communities. But in my study of hundreds of Extension-related papers, reports, and books published during the first four decades of cooperative Extension's history (roughly 1904-1945), I have consistently found that organizing--not one-way knowledge and technology transfer--was the heart of both the theory and practice of Extension agents' work. The first county agents who pioneered in Seaman Knapp's demonstration work, begun in the south in 1904, spent most of their time organizing relationships between farm families, small-town merchants and bankers, and government experts (Martin, 1921/1941; Bailey, 1945). Organizing was at the center of the work of the early home economists, especially as practiced by such leaders as Jane McKimmon of North Carolina and Martha Van Rensselaer and Flora Rose of New York (McKimmon, 1945; Babbitt, 1995). And organizing was the main work 4-H agents did as they pursued youth development through the establishment of 4-H clubs (Farrell 1926; Smith 1926; National Committee 1935; Reck 1951). Reflecting the centrality of the organizing role, M. L. Wilson, USDA's national Director of Extension Work, flatly declared in 1940 that the Extension agent's "primary job is to help the community analyze its problems in the light of all available information and so to organize itself that the necessary action can be taken" (Wilson, 1940, p. 4). One of the sources of the view of Extension work as organizing was President Theodore Roosevelt's Commission on Country Life. In their final report, which included a call for the establishment of a national Extension system, the Commission wrote:
Following the Commission's view, in the first several decades of the Extension system, agents' core work was to organize rural people across the nation in efforts aimed at addressing a wide variety of practical problems and issues of public significance. Pulling campus specialists and community members together, Extension agents organized campaigns and initiatives to accomplish many goals, including:
This remarkably diverse organizing work, which was often metaphorically described as a "leaven," was richly captured in the first paragraph of the first comprehensive book that was published on the Extension system:
While it is clear that Extension agents did a great deal of organizing in Extension's early decades, we must ask what kind of organizing they did. What were the immediate and larger purposes of their organizing, and which people and interests benefited in what ways? What kind of politics did their organizing involve, and what kind of learning did it facilitate? Drawing from a variety of historical materials as well as recent scholarship on the history of agriculture, land-grant education, and rural life, I have found different answers to these questions, reflecting two main traditions of organizing in the early decades of the Extension system: "technocratic" organizing and "educational" organizing. The Technocratic Organizing TraditionOne of the most notable developments of the era that gave birth to the national Extension system was the rise of a technocratic politics that aimed at achieving economic and political efficiency through scientific expertise and techniques of scientific management (Haber, 1964; Aikin, 1977; Smith, 1991; Fischer, 1990). As a political idea, "technocracy" can be defined as "a system of governance in which technically trained experts rule by virtue of their specialized knowledge and position in dominant political and economic institutions" (Fischer, 1990, p. 17). Following this kind of politics, technocratic organizing in Extension work was often patronizing and manipulative, seeking to force rural people to adopt new methods, technologies, and even points of view--against both their will and their judgment of what would best serve their interests and values (Danbom, 1979; Jellison, 1993; Neth, 1995; Babbitt, 1995; Scott, 1998; Beeman & Pritchard, 2001). The titles of two of the published histories of Cooperative Extension--The Resisted Revolution (Danbom, 1979) and The Reluctant Farmer (Scott, 1971)--reflect the negative attitude of rural people toward this tradition of organizing in early Extension practice. The larger purpose of technocratic organizing in Extension was to industrialize agriculture, using science and new technologies to make it more productive and efficient, in order to further a national "cheap food" policy that mainly benefited urban industrialists and consumers. As Rodgers (1998, p. 321) has argued, "The early-twentieth-century agricultural market was a classic marriage of economic efficiency and unpaid social costs: cheap food at the expense of education, health, and ambition among its myriad small producers." But the technocratic organizing tradition was not limited to the pursuit of cheap food. It was also practiced to pursue other public aims, such as preventing soil erosion and exhaustion, and fostering better nutrition and sanitation. Regardless of the ends, agents' job within this tradition was not education, but training. Their work was to "induce" behavior changes and the adoption of methods and innovations along predetermined lines, to meet predetermined ends. The talents, capacities, knowledge, thoughts, and ideals of rural people themselves were of little interest or value in such work, except to the extent that they might be used to further the goals that had been predetermined by government experts (i.e., Extension agents and specialists). If this sounds harsh, that is because it often was. If it sounds surprising, it is because the scholarship showing this side of Extension's history has not been widely read or understood. The Educational Organizing TraditionWhile there is a great deal to learn from an analysis of the technocratic organizing tradition, my main interest is in understanding the nature and promise of the second tradition: educational organizing. While this second tradition existed in tension with the first, and while it was eventually marginalized in actual practice, in the early years it was clearly the "official" tradition, at least with respect to the rhetoric of Extension leaders. Over and over again, Extension leaders at the state and national level described Extension work in educational organizing terms. That is, they wrote and spoke of Extension work as work that builds deeply cooperative, respectful, educational, democratic, and participatory partnerships among land-grant colleges, government specialists and experts, and ordinary people. Such partnerships were built not only for the instrumental purpose of solving a broad range of specific public problems and issues rural people faced in everyday life, but also as a means of political or civic education that would develop the capacities, spirit, and confidence rural people needed to work together to pursue their own values and interests. The civic learning came not through abstract lectures about citizenship or democracy, but through participating in both the shaping and the doing of actual public work. Three excerpts from statements published in 1934 to mark the 20th anniversary of the Smith-Lever Act (Cooperative Extension's national enabling legislation) provide representative samples of the espoused theory of educational organizing held by Extension leaders. The first is by C. B. Smith, Assistant Director of Extension at the national level:
The second is by R. J. Baldwin, Director of Extension in Michigan:
The third is by A. E. Bowman, Director of Extension in Wyoming:
The aim of Extension work these excerpts reveal closely matches a view of the aim of community organizing published in the 1930s:
What we can see from the above excerpts is a view of Extension education that is not only sharply at odds with the technocratic approach, but also with the Kellogg Commission's claim, noted above, that "inherited ideas" of Extension emphasize a one-way process of knowledge and technology transfer. While the rhetoric of educational organizing was strong and consistent in Extension's early decades, we must ask whether or not there was an actual practice of educational organizing. In my research, I have found a good deal of evidence that there was. For example, Mary Mims, an Extension specialist in community organizing at Louisiana State University, helped agents organize communities across the entire state of Louisiana in a wide variety of public work initiatives during the 1920s and 30s (Mims, 1932). Her counterparts in many other states, such as B. L. Hummel from Missouri and E. L. Morgan from Massachusetts, did similar work (Hummel, 1926; Morgan, 1918). One brief example from West Virginia provides a glimpse of what this work often involved. In 1933, Gertrude Humphreys, a home demonstration agent in Randolph County, West Virginia, organized local citizens in a planning process that gave them, in her words, "an opportunity to visualize their own community with its existing conditions and problems, to study these problems, and to discuss as a group the steps which need to be taken to improve unsatisfactory conditions" (Humphreys, 1934, p. 134). The citizens designed and conducted their own survey research of conditions in their county and then held a 2-day farm and home economic conference where people from all parts of the county joined with a small group of state and national Extension staff to discuss and analyze the data. They then divided into committees to discuss a number of issues the data revealed and possible strategies for dealing with them. Out of this work, which took several months, specific objectives for the next several years were identified, and groups of citizens rolled up their sleeves and developed a number of projects and initiatives to pursue them. Humphreys noted that the organizing approach the county agents used for this effort "meant a great deal of work," but that it was worth it "because of the interest created among the farm men and women of the county in working out a long-time program which these people themselves recognize as a product of their own efforts and thought" (Humphreys, 1934, p. 134). ConclusionA much fuller analysis of historical documents and records is needed in order to understand the complex dimensions of Cooperative Extension's early organizing work. This work was sometimes quite troubling, especially with respect to issues of race, class, and gender (Danbom, 1979; Babbitt, 1995; Neth, 1995). However, one broad positive conclusion can be drawn from the brief discussion provided in this article: there was, indeed, a mainstream tradition of organizing in the first few decades of cooperative Extension work that was deeply educational and that involved a positive, constructive politics that was (and is) appropriate for Extension educators to engage in. In educational terms, this organizing tradition fostered three kinds of learning (Habermas, 1971; Cranton, 1998):
The example from West Virginia cited above fostered all three of these through people's own participation in practical public work. The politics of the educational organizing tradition was neither partisan party politics nor manipulative technocratic politics, but rather a positive politics of practical problem solving, of relationship and capacity building for collaborative public work. This "small letter p" politics, which Boyte and Kari (1996) describe as a citizen politics of public work, is deeply important. It is the kind of practical, everyday politics that "built America," to quote the title of Boyte and Kari's 1996 book. By "rousing the people on the land," Extension agents were a major force for teaching such a politics in rural America in the first few decades of the 20th century. There is a great deal of additional research that still needs to be done to better understand the historical foundations and evolution of the educational organizing tradition in cooperative Extension work. This research is not trivial or irrelevant. It has the potential to transform our understanding not only of the story of what Extension was and what agents did in Extension's founding period, but also the story of what Extension is and does today. This is especially important if Extension is to be seen as relevant to the calls for "engagement," for the building of respectful, two-way partnerships between land-grant institutions and communities. The call for engagement is a call to open an exciting new chapter of educational organizing in land-grant education. If Extension does not seem relevant to this call, it will be relegated to the sidelines instead of the frontlines, where it clearly belongs. ReferencesAikin, W. E. (1977). Technocracy and the American dream: The technocratic movement, 1900-1941. Berkely: University of California Press. Babbitt, K. R. (1995). Producers and consumers: Women of the countryside and Cooperative Extension Service home economists, New York State, 1870-1935. Unpublished Doctoral Dissertation, State University of New York at Binghamton. Bailey, J. C. (1945). Seaman A. Knapp: Schoolmaster of American agriculture. New York: Columbia University Press. Baldwin, R. J. (1934). Outlook broadened. Extension Service Review Vol. 5 No. 6, June, pp. 89, 95. Beeman, R. S., & Pritchard, J.A. (2001). A green and permanent Land: Ecology and agriculture in the twentieth century. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. Bowman, A. E. (1934). Self-Development encouraged. Extension Service Review Vol. 5 No. 6, June, pp. 88-89. Boyte, H. C. & Kari, N. N. (1996). Building America: The democratic promise of public work. Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press. Commission on Country Life. (1909/1911). Report of the Country Life Commission. New York: Sturgis & Walton. Cranton, P. (1998). No one way: Teaching and learning in higher education. Toronto: Wall & Emerson. Danbom, D. B. (1979). The resisted revolution: Urban America and the industrialization of agriculture, 1900-1930. Ames: Iowa State University Press. Farrell, G. E. (1926). Boys' and girls' 4-H club work under the Smith-Lever Act, 1914-1924. Washington, D.C.: USDA Misc. Circular No. 85. Fischer, F. (1990). Technocracy and the politics of expertise. Newbury Park: Sage Publications. Haber, S. (1964). Efficiency and uplift: Scientific management in the progressive era, 1890-1920. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Habermas, J. (1971). Knowledge and human interests. Boston: Beacon Press. Hanna, P. R. (1936). Youth serves the community. New York: D. Appleton-Century Company. Hummel, B. L. (1926). Community organization in Missouri. Extension Circular 183. Columbia, MO: University of Missouri College of Agriculture. Humphreys, G. (1934). Building a long-time home-economics program. Extension Service Review Vol. 2 No. 9, September, pp. 134-135. Jellison, K. (1993). Entitled to power: Farm women and technology, 1913-1963. Chapel Hill: North Carolina Press. Kellogg Commission on the Future of State and Land-Grant Institutions. (1999). Returning to our roots: The engaged institution. Washington, DC: National Association of State Universities and Land-Grant Colleges [On-line]. Available at: http://www.nasulgc.org/publications/Kellogg/engage.pdf McKimmon, J. S. (1945). When we're green we grow: The story of home demonstration work in North Carolina. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. Martin, O. B. (1921/1941). The demonstration work: Dr. Seaman Knapp's contribution to civilization. San Antonio: The Naylor Company. Mims, M. (1932). The awakening community. New York: Macmillan. Morgan, E. L. (1918). Rural community organization: What it is, how it may be done, the benefits to be derived. Amherst: Massachusetts Agricultural College Extension Service. National Committee of the Land-Grant Colleges and the United States Department of Agriculture on 4-H Club Work. (1935). Recommended policies governing 4-H Club work. Washington, D.C.: USDA. Neth, M. (1995). Preserving the family farm: Women, community, and the foundations of agribusiness in the Midwest, 1900-1940. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press. Reck, F. M. (1951). The 4-H story: A history of 4-H Club work. Ames: Iowa State College Press. Rodgers, D. T. (1998). Atlantic crossings: Social politics in a progressive age. Cambridge: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Sanderson, D. & Polson, R. A.. 1939. Rural community organization. New York: John Wiley & Sons. Scott, J. C. (1998). Seeing like a state: How certain schemes to improve the human condition have failed. New Haven: Yale University Press. Scott, R. V. (1971). The reluctant farmer: The rise of Agricultural Extension to 1914. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Smith, C. B. (1926). Boys' and girls' 4-H Club work. Washington, D.C.: USDA Misc. Circular No. 77. Smith, C. B. (1934). Extension stands the test of time. Extension Service Review Vol. 5 No. 6, June, pp. 82, 94. Smith, C. B. & Wilson, M. C. (1930). The Agricultural Extension System of the United States. New York: John Wiley & Sons. Smith, J. A. (1991). The idea brokers: Think tanks and the rise of the new policy elite. New York: The Free Press. Wilson, M. L. (1940). Foreword. In Dwight Sanderson, Leadership for rural life. New York: Association Press.
Shaping Communities Through Extension ProgramsChester J. Bowling Barbara A. Brahm Ohio State University Extension IntroductionCommunities are highly sophisticated human systems. They are shaped by the actions of their members. These actions are not taken without some thought and consideration. But what informs the thought and consideration? It is fair to suggest that what members of a community know determines their course of action and ultimately shapes their community. This makes knowledge a powerful tool in the community-shaping process. It might even be said that what a community knows about itself becomes its destiny. Because knowledge is such a powerful element in the shaping process, educational programs that create knowledge are one of the most important activities in any community. In communities all across the United States, Extension, through its educational programs, plays a significant role in the knowledge-creation process and therefore is instrumental in shaping communities. In this article we explore how Extension can use a collaborative action research process known as Appreciative Inquiry to create the kind of knowledge that will be a powerful force for positive change. The strength of this knowledge creating process is its ability to:
Understanding the ContextBefore explaining Appreciative Inquiry and its use, we would like to describe our image of the context in which this work is done. A community is not just an economic or political system but also "something deeper and more intangibleĞa common identity, purpose, and culture that bind people together" (Nozick, 1999). In this article we refer to these three aspects as the essence of a community. This essence is created through a rich interplay of "the collective/social history of a place, the geographic or natural history of a place, the values that people share, and the ways that people live, work, and play together" (Nozick, 1999). Because people grow and develop, the ways they invent to live, work, and play together change. Therefore, the essence of a community is constantly changing. People moving into and out of the community also generate change. For the most part, people choose to live in a community that has an essence to which they can relate. Diverse or homogeneous, urban or rural, professional or blue collar, people select a community with which they believe they have or want to have the most in common. They bring with them their own identity, purpose, culture, and images of what a community should be. These elements eventually get merged into a collective community essence. The process is parallel to the process in which two people from different families get married and create new traditions. The collective merging of beliefs, experiences, present conditions, and future desires for the community is constantly shaping community essence. In most communities the process is slow and steady. The primary factors influencing change are changes in the residents and changes in the environment surrounding the community. Sometimes the change is intentional. Indianapolis, for example, chose to become known as the amateur sports capital of the world. Sometimes the change is not intentional, as in the aftermath of the 2000 presidential election, when it became clear that Tallahassee and not Miami is the capital of Florida. In changing Tallahassee's identity, its essence was changed. Sometimes the community change process occurs rapidly due to outside events. For example, the attack on the World Trade Center changed the essence of New York City almost instantaneously. Essence is created in part by the way people live, work, and play together. It is drawn from its members' deepest values and beliefs, not only about the past and the present but also about the future. If community members believe their work includes being an important port city for the nation or a county seat in a small rural state, they "live into that image" of themselves. Community members invest their material wealth and power to maintain that essence. In a sense, a community's essence is its reason for being and the prime motivation for resident action on behalf of the community. A good example of this is Cleveland, Ohio. Cleveland thinks of itself as a major city in the U.S. with all the amenities of a major city. When the Cleveland Browns football team threatened to and eventually did leave Cleveland, the community was galvanized into action. Cleveland could not imagine itself without a NFL team. They did whatever was necessary to get another team. The point here is that, as Nozick (1999) has suggested, material wealth and power are not the community. Instead they are resources that have been and are being used by the community to achieve its essence. In the remainder of this article we discuss how, through the educational process, Extension can enter into the dynamic process of change and make positive changes in the essence of communities. How Extension Programs Shape CommunityOur root assumption about communities is that they are open-ended, indeterminate systems capable of becoming more than they are at any given moment and of learning how to actively take part in guiding their own evolution. One resource communities use while learning to engage in their own evolution is the knowledge created in Extension programs. What people know about themselves, their history, their community, and the world around them shapes their image of what is possible for their community. Extension's goal is to teach people things that make their life better. It measures effectiveness by measuring changes in behavior.
As Extension educators address these important issues in communities, they share knowledge and embedded values that community members use to build images, skills, and practices. These images, skills, and practices shape the way people live, work, and play together. By virtue of the knowledge created in Extension programs, community members become better parents, elected officials, farmers, business owners, students, volunteer leaders, and citizens. All these new behaviors interact to collectively re-shape the community. Appreciative InquiryAs described above, communities collectively create their essence. By using processes that focus on community members at their very best and the self-organizing aspects of their communities, Extension can simultaneously extend and accelerate the rate of desired behavioral change and therefore improve effectiveness. Although there are a number of possible processes, the remainder of this article discusses Appreciative Inquiry, which has been used by an Extension educator to accelerate the community-shaping process. Appreciative Inquiry (Cooperrider & Whitney, 2000) is a form of action research that "has the capacity to challenge the guiding assumptions of the culture, to raise fundamental questions regarding contemporary social life, to foster reconsideration of that which is 'taken for granted' and thereby furnish new alternatives for social actions" (Gergen, 1978). During an Appreciative Inquiry, a community goes through four phases:
Discovering the Best of What Is To accelerate the community-shaping process, Appreciative Inquiry focuses on the social arrangements that "work" for the community. By "work" we mean community activities that excite, energize, and inspire members. After engaging in these activities, community members describe themselves as feeling more alive and more positive about their life and their community. Appreciative Inquiry is designed to leave community members with a sense of agency and efficacy. When Extension educators encourage them to point out moments when they have been excited, energized, or inspired while living in their community, community members can see that healthy vibrant community is possible in their specific context. They have created new knowledge about themselves and their community. They make a connection between the choices they have made for their community and their most deeply held values. In those moments they begin to see how their values are being played out in their social arrangements, for example, in:
Dreaming About What Might Be An intense look at the most positive choices made by the community begins to simultaneously focus members on their ultimate concerns and expand their images of what might be possible. As Ludema (2000) suggests, ultimate concerns are the most deeply held values, ideas, and beliefs, which give life meaning:
During the second phase of an Appreciative Inquiry, community members' imaginations about what is possible for their community begin to expand. Members are drawn into conversations that are grounded in the knowledge created in the Discovery phase and focused on the future of the community. Designing an Ideal Future In the third phase of an Appreciative Inquiry, community members use the knowledge created in the first two phases to redesign, in large and small ways, the social, political, economic, and physical aspects of their community. Community members engage in a dialogue that is focused on the question, "In what other ways can we organize our social, political, economic, or physical lives that will build on the life-giving forces and factors we have discovered in our community?" As community members work to answer this question, they begin to invent new and more value congruent ways of living and working together. Engaging in the dialogue yields concrete ideas and projects that are aligned directly with the community's most deeply held values. Delivering Actions It is important to recognize that the Appreciative Inquiry does not stop with the formation of projects. Rather, the activities related to carrying out the projects during the Delivery phase will continue to generate new ideas and dreams. An analogy would be to think of the Delivery phase as the playing of jazz music. Community members will gain energy from innovation and improvisation upon a basic template rather than following an already perfected score. Therefore, a crucial piece of the Deliver phase is a formative evaluation process that draws attention to the moments when community members are particularly energized and engaged with each other. The goal is to identify and build on those moments as projects are implemented. Projects created during the Design phase emerge from members' best experiences of living in their community. As a result, the projects are automatically aligned with members' ultimate concerns. This alignment means that projects implemented during the Delivery phase will garner greater support with less conflict and therefore have a greater chance of success than projects created during traditional community development processes. One Adaptation--The Porch Cookie ProjectThe simplicity of the Porch Cookie Project (PCP) masks its elegance and power. This adaptation of Appreciative Inquiry came from a fond childhood memory of sitting on the porch and eating cookies, drinking lemonade, and talking with friends and neighbors. The goal of PCPs is to transform such positive memories into community knowledge, which ultimately shapes the community. Simultaneously, it builds relationships among community members by bringing them together to talk about their best experiences of living in their community. This conversation leads to dialogue about their ultimate concerns. The PCP also builds three of Benson's 40 Developmental Assets by focusing on positive family communication, developing positive adult non-parent relationships, and building caring neighborhoods (Benson, Galbraith, & Espeland, 1998). Because it is done outdoors, a PCP is best done over a 2- or 3-month period of good weather. Although most Porch Cookie gatherings are intended to generate conversation about the community, they can focus on a specific theme such as family or literacy. The subject must, however, be intentionally affirmative. That is, it must draw on community members' positive experiences. A PCP can be initiated in a month or less with a core group. The first step is to find individuals who have had positive "porch" experiences while growing up. If community members grew up without porches, they should draw on other positive experiences of community from their youth. This could include anything from sitting on the front stoop to playing basketball together. The best way to find people who will help is to ask people to talk about their positive experiences. This is the moment when the PCP begins and is actually the first step in the knowledge-creation process. During a PCP, members of the core group encourage other community members to host Porch Cookie gatherings at their home, office, business, or other appropriate location. Porch Cookie gatherings' hosts invite their neighbors, friends, colleagues, or constituents over to sit on the porch, deck, or under a tree to sip lemonade, enjoy cookies, or whatever snack they choose, and talk. Questions like the following are used to stimulate the conversation.
Publicity is essential to create the most new knowledge through a PCP. Enrolling the local news media is helpful, as is distributing flyers about the project through schools, community organizations, and direct mailings. To engage as many people as possible, find media representatives who are willing to share their own positive stories of living in the community and who will support the idea. Ask them to participate in a Porch Cookie gathering and then share the results with the community. Publishing stories and pictures in the newspaper can also spread the good news about the community's capacity to create a positive community. Other key people to involve are elected officials, directors of non-profit organizations, block watch captains, church leaders, and representatives of other visible, active groups and organizations. After a Porch Cookie gathering, community members are invited to send a picture of their gathering or a special story told at their gathering to a central location. Prizes can be given each week to encourage people to send pictures or stories. Pictures can also be displayed at local events, such as the county fair, or in other public places, such as local grocery stores, churches, synagogues, and mosques. The local library can even offer Porch Cookie gathering kits. In addition to creating new knowledge about the community, the volume of pictures and the number of times the kits are used are good indicators of involvement. Either during or following each of the gatherings, the host follows up with guests to gather information about their conversations. What did they talk to other guests about? What did they like about the gathering? What are they now wondering about? The information is then shared with PCP organizers, who synthesize the information and publicize it. Sharing the knowledge created during the gatherings with the larger community is an important step in the shaping process. If positive stories about a community are rarely disseminated, communities think of them as exceptions rather than the rule. When positive stories about a community are regularly shared, communities begin to include them in their image of the essence of the community. They become part of what community members "know" about their community and therefore inform their actions. ResultsThe initial PCP was started 4 years ago in a county with 71,000 people. Thus far, 65 Porch Cookie gatherings have been documented. However, the extensive publicity, which invited people throughout the county to host a Porch Cookie gathering, makes it impossible to determine exactly how many have been held. Because communities are large complex systems, the effectiveness of programs like the PCP are best observed over a long period of time. It is, however, possible to document immediate changes. To measure change in the initial community, one-on-one interviews were used. Three typical hosts were interviewed and asked about their experience of hosting a Porch Cookie gathering. One of the interviewees talked about the PCP kick-off gathering, one talked about a business-centered gathering, and one talked about a neighborhood-centered gathering. All three considered their gathering a very positive experience. They all met new people and renewed old relationships. They each described being inspired by moments when they saw others build stronger relationships. The person who hosted the kick-off gathering, to which the public was invited, described multiple conversations that either created or strengthened relationships. The theme for Porch Cookie gatherings that year was literacy, which spawned several gatherings at community members' homes throughout the summer. During the interview she described a father and a daughter who strengthened their relationship by making cookies for their own gathering. They each invited people they knew to the gathering, which built bridges across generations. The event left the host with a sense of hope for the future. She believed that there was value in being in relationship with others from her community. The person who hosted the business-centered gathering owns a childcare center. The goal of her gathering was to build stronger relationships with the parents of the children who come to her center. She said that at first the parents were reserved and did not interact with each other. But the children ultimately pulled the parents into the activities. They introduced their mothers and fathers to their friends' mothers and fathers. That opened the door for the parents to start talking. As the children explained to the parents how they had made the cookies and how to play the games, the parents began to build relationships with the childcare owner and the other parents. The children were very proud of making the cookies, and it gave the parents a new image of what their children could do. After the gathering, the childcare owner reported that her interactions with the parents were greatly improved, making it possible for united effort on developmental issues. The person who hosted the neighborhood gathering invited her neighbors and a colleague from work, who in turn invited other work colleagues. The gathering, as she described it, grew beyond the original neighborhood event into an event combining neighbors and other friends. Her intent was to get to know her neighbors in a different way. Inviting them to her home made it a different experience. Her most positive experience was with her neighbor's granddaughter. Prior to the gathering the child was shy and generally didn't speak to the host when they saw each other. The host described the gathering as a time when the child was able to be a bit more playful and talkative. Now the child isn't afraid to come into the host's yard and talk to her. The host suggested that what comes out of Porch Cookie gatherings is trust among neighbors and colleagues. She suggested that it was the kind of trust that has one believe that people can do things together. In addition to these formal interviews, reports of additional Porch Cookie gatherings included descriptions of community members having improved neighbor-to-neighbor relationships as measured by increased number of conversations. The reports also included improved intergenerational relationships, indicated by a larger number of adults interacting with youth. Adults and children reported reading to each other important stories about life and living in community. One elected official listened to constituents by holding a Porch Cookie gathering at his own home. There were also reports of culture transfer through the sharing of traditions and family stories at Porch Cookie gatherings. ConclusionsCommunities are shaped through relational actions that can be and are influenced in a number of crucial ways by the knowledge created in Extension programs. There is an opportunity for Extension community development professionals to extend and accelerate the change process. Bringing people together by getting them to reflect on their positive experiences of living in community can be a powerful tool for understanding and then building healthy communities. Methodologies like Appreciative Inquiry and tools like the Porch Cookie Project are constructive ways to help communities create new knowledge that aligns with their ultimate concerns. ReferencesBenson, P.L., Galbraith, J. & Espeland, P. (1998). What kids need to succeed. Minneapolis, MN: Free Spirit Publishing, Inc. Cooperrider, D. L. & Whitney, D. (2000). A positive revolution in change: Appreciative inquiry. In D. L. Cooperrider, P. F. Sorensen, Jr., D. Whitney, & T. F. Yaeger (Eds.), Appreciative inquiry: Rethinking human organization toward a positive theory of change (pp. 3-27). Champaign, IL: Stipes Publishing. Gergen, K. (1978). Toward generative theory. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 36, 1344-1360. Ludema, J. D. (2000). From deficit discourse to vocabularies of hope: The power of appreciation. In D. L. Cooperrider, P. F. Sorensen, Jr., D. Whitney, & T. F. Yaeger (Eds.), Appreciative inquiry: Rethinking human organization toward a positive theory of change (pp. 256-287). Champaign, IL: Stipes Publishing. Nozick, M. (1999). Sustainable development begins at home: Community solutions to global problems. In J. T. Pierce & A. Dale (Eds.), Communities, development, and sustainability across Canada (pp. 45-63). Vancouver, BC: UBC Press. Rogers, C. R. (1959). A theory of therapy, personality and interpersonal relationships, as developed in the client-centered framework. In S. Koch (Ed.). Psychology: A study of science. (pp. 184-256). NY: McGraw Hill.
Community Supported Agriculture (CSA): Building Community Among Farmers and Non-FarmersJeff Sharp Eric Imerman Greg Peters The century-long decline in the number of farmers in the United States has reached the point where the number of persons living on farms comprises less than 10% of the nation's rural population (Hart, 1995). In urban counties and counties adjacent to urban areas, the farm population is an even smaller proportion of the rural population due to the increased movement of non-farm residents from the city into the countryside. As a result, there is growing concern about the future of farming at the rural-urban interface. The increased competition and price of farmland and the difficulties of farming in a densely populated rural neighborhood have led many to conclude that the prospects for agriculture at the rural-urban interface are not good (Berry, 1978). There is evidence, though, that agriculture is much more resilient in the face of these urban pressures (James R., James, B., & Blaine, 2000; Johnston & Bryant, 1987). Farmers at the rural-urban interface have adapted through a variety of means, such as direct marketing to consumers or the addition of off-farm employment in the nearby urban areas. These strategies have allowed farmers to remain economically viable even in the face of strong development pressures. In fact, one Ohio county case study found farms at the rural-urban interface to be financially better off than the more traditional farms further away from the urban area (James R., James, B., & Blaine, 2000). Despite these various adaptations, farming in densely populated rural areas remains challenging (James, R., James, B., & Blaine, 2000; Leer, 2000). Some of the problems at the rural-urban interface may be associated with a general disconnect among consumers, food production, and farmers. Many non-farmers moving to the rural-urban interface do not understand contemporary agricultural practices, and, for a variety of reasons, these non-farm consumers are increasingly sensitive to issues related to agricultural industrialization, environmental quality, and food safety and quality (Welsh, 1996). Concerns about agricultural odors, dust, and chemicals at the interface may, in part, be exacerbated by both limited knowledge and heightened safety and quality concerns. As a result, consumer confidence in local farmers as well as the food system in general may contribute to conflict at the rural-urban interface. In response to some of the problems arising at the rural-urban interface, many agricultural professionals are suggesting there is a need for improved neighboring among farmers and non-farmers to build trust and understanding so as to mitigate possible conflict (James, B., 1999; Abdalla & Kelsey, 1996). Similarly, there are others who advocate reconnecting farmers and non-farmers of a community through local food production (Welsh, 1997; Groh & McFadden), to improve understanding among food system stakeholders. In the following discussion, we report on a special type of agricultural enterprise that might serve a dual purpose at the rural-urban interface, the generation of new revenue for local farmers and improved social relations and awareness among farm and non-farm residents living in the community. Community Supported AgricultureCommunity Supported Agriculture (CSA) is one type of community-oriented agricultural enterprise that has grown rapidly in the U.S. during the last 15 years. In 1986, there were two known North American CSAs. By 2000, there were over 1,000 in existence (Greer, 1999). There are a couple variations of CSA, but all share a number of fundamental principles (Greer, 1999; Gradwell, 1997). A CSA requires one or more producers and a group of consumers. A CSA producer(s) agrees to provide produce (vegetables, fruit, meat, flowers, fiber, etc.) to the consumers who have purchased a share in the CSA. The cost of a share is a portion of the farmer's cost of production plus a living wage. If the cost of production is estimated at $12,000 and the living wage is estimated to be $18,000, then a share in a CSA with 100 members would be $300. In return, each CSA member receives 1/100 of the year's production. A unique feature of this financial arrangement is a sharing of risk among farmers and consumers. In lean or disaster years, consumers may receive limited produce while the farmer still manages a livable wage; in good years, the consumers share the bounty. In addition to the marketing feature of a CSA, there is an important community-building dimension of this arrangement. Inherent in the direct economic relation between the farmer and consumer is an increased familiarity between the two, who are often anonymous to one another in the dominant food system. In a CSA, consumers have direct knowledge of who produces the food, where it is produced, how it is grown, and may have the opportunity to provide input into farm decisions such as varieties and quantities of food produced. In some cases, consumers may even be able to assist the producer on the farm, perhaps lowering the cost of production and the cost of share in the CSA. In the ideal CSA, consumers develop a connection to the farmer, his/her family, and the farmland through direct interaction, while producers acquire a greater social awareness of the local community and its concerns. It is the community building and increased social awareness among CSA participants that are especially relevant to regions at the rural-urban interface. MethodologyA case study of Sweet Peas CSA was conducted in the fall of 1995 and winter of 1996 to understand why people participated in a CSA as well as the community building that occurred during the first year of its existence. Sweet Peas CSA included producers and consumers living in and around a Midwestern college town with a population just less than 50,000 residents. Data come from 25 1-hour face-to-face interviews with individuals involved in the CSA as well as observational data of organizational meetings and a field day. CSA documents, such as newsletters and announcements, were also reviewed. The basic organization of Sweet Peas CSA is consistent with the CSA model, with a central vegetable producer and 27 consumer shareholders. Sweet Peas also involved several producers of specialty products who direct marketed their products to consumer members. This variation of CSA has been described as a type of farmer cooperative, which can provide a larger variety of products to meet consumer needs and allows producer specialization (Greer, 1999). ResultsA primary focus of the analysis was to determine who participated in the CSA and why they choose to be involved. The central vegetable producer and the associated niche producers were identified and recruited to participate through the networks of a core group of consumers, producers, and local supporters interested in seeing a CSA started in the local area. None of the producers knew each other prior to the CSA's formation, although several were known supporters of alternative agriculture and a local food system. The personal biographies of the producers were diverse. Three were relative newcomers to agriculture, while two had long histories in agriculture, operating diversified operations with some specialty production as well as traditional Cornbelt commodity production. Consumers purchased a share of the central vegetable producer's production, while the other four producer participants direct marketed specialty items upon consumer request. Two of these producers provided specialty meat products, such as organic beef, pork, range fed chickens and eggs, and the other two producers provide honey and woven fiber products. These four producers provided their products at retail market prices. This hybrid strategy of CSA and direct marketing was adopted, in part, due to the unfamiliarity of producers with CSA as well as the preference of producers. One specialty producer, a relative newcomer to farming, was nervous about the CSA model: "I would not be comfortable selling under that system of [up-front consumer payments]. What if I couldn't meet my obligation?" CSA consumer participants were recruited to the CSA through various networks, through personal contact with organizers, word-of-mouth, or information circulated at gathering places of individuals potentially interested in alternative food systems. There were 27 full and half shareholders in the first season. Many of the shareholders were families. Most of the consumer households interviewed could be characterized as middle to upper-middle class with one or both spouses holding a college degree. Consumer participants reported two reasons for joining the CSA: to support the local food system and to acquire a quality product. One shareholder explained, "I wanted to support the initiative, local producers, the local economy and organically grown food." Other consumers wanted the quality product available through the CSA. For example, one member indicated he wanted fresh organically grown vegetables as well as to be exposed to vegetables he would not normally purchase. A strict vegetarian participant used CSA produce to supplement his other sources of vegetables (his own garden, the local food coop, and a food club). With a few exceptions, most consumers were pleased with the produce received during the first year. Two underlying motivations for producer participation were a commitment to building stronger community and environment through local food production and a desire for a larger market for their respective production. Three of the producers of niche products expressed a concern with the current methods of food production and distribution, and their consequences on family farmers and the local community. For these producers, their involvement provided an opportunity to increase awareness of local food production among local consumers and the neighboring commodity producers. The central vegetable producer specifically noted the opportunity to increase urban consumers' awareness of agricultural issues through CSA:
In addition to the goal of increasing awareness of the food system, producers clearly indicated there was a financial interest to involvement. This interest was mitigated to some extent by the fact that none of the producers relied solely on the CSA for their sustenance. In fact, the CSA was a residual outlet for three of the five producers. But even so, each producer understood the potential market the CSA provided their products. Experiences varied from producer to producer as to how that potential was realized. One very small-scale producer was happy to direct market all of her honey through the organization. Another producer, who gardened as a hobby, expressed an interest in one day being able to work full time growing organic herbs and vegetables, and she thought a CSA structure might help her realize that goal. The CSA provided one of the more conventional producers an additional outlet for direct marketing meat products at retail prices instead of the normal commodity or wholesale prices he received. Role for ExtensionMany of the motivations and outcomes of CSA participation identified are consistent with those identified by Abel Thomson, and Maretzki (1999) in their discussion of the potential benefits of farmer's markets to farmers and consumers. These findings also support several of their recommendations concerning educational opportunities for Extension educators. Negative evaluations of a couple of CSA consumer participants about the quantity and type of produce received confirm a need for education aimed at increasing familiarity with local foods and how to cook and preserve the produce. Engaging a diversity of producers resulted in a greater variety of products in Sweet Peas' CSA, and Extension educators may also have a role in helping diverse producers recognize the possibilities of their participating in a cooperative-style CSA. There is also a need to simply educate producers and consumers about alternatives such as CSA as several of Sweet Peas' CSA producers were not completely comfortable due to unfamiliarity with the CSA philosophy. This case study of Sweet Peas CSA also reveals a number of ways CSA might serve a valuable community-building function that could be promoted by Extension, particularly at the rural-urban interface. CSA may be an excellent model for Extension agents to promote as a means of building bridges between farmers and non-farmers who might not otherwise interact. We identify three ways community building might occur. Increased Interaction First, in the Sweet Peas CSA case study, several consumers with no historic connection to agriculture participated because of a desire to learn more about local food production and agriculture. In many agricultural settings, opportunities for direct links to local farming are limited, especially for newcomers to the area. In a survey of residents in an eight-township area located near a large Ohio urban area, 87% of newcomers strongly agreed or agreed that agriculture positively contributed to their local quality of life. At the same time 26% report not knowing any local farmers, and 20% reported not knowing the farmer operating the land adjoining their residence (Sharp & Bean, 2001). CSA might be a practical means of tapping the goodwill of newcomers and other non-farm rural residents to generate interaction with farmers to mitigate some of the possible conflicts and misunderstandings that might emerge in rural-urban interface settings. New Markets A second benefit of the CSA model at the rural-urban interface areas is the potential to create new markets for products and intensify on-farm production. With land being the scarcest requirement of production in rural-urban interface settings, intensification of production on the existing land-base may be necessary because land is too expensive or unavailable to expand the operation's size. CSA might also increase profitability due to the bypassing of the middlemen of the existing farm-to-market system. Of course, not all farmers are involved in the type of production relevant to CSA, but the opportunity to diversify production may interest some producers. For example, those farmers who enjoy working with livestock may find participation in a CSA arrangement effective for supporting small-scale production, because large-scale production systems are increasingly found to be incompatible in some densely populated rural neighborhoods. Social Capital The third possible benefit of developing CSA in rural-urban interface areas concerns how relationships created through the CSA might create social capital, a type of social resource associated with trust and networks, useful for purposes beyond the CSA. In the Sweet Peas study we identified examples of cooperative networks among producers developing as a result of participation in the CSA. In Sweet Peas CSA, the producer participants discovered several ways to cooperate for mutual benefit beyond the CSA. Karen, one of the CSA leaders, explained:
One of the producer participants went so far as to report that "now I have a neighbor!" He came to know a producer a couple miles from his farm through the CSA, with these new "neighbors" even helping by baby-sitting his son on occasion. In rural-urban interface regions, the lack of awareness between farmers and non-farmers may be obvious, but the diversity of farm enterprises capable of existing in these regions may create opportunities for network building among local farmers. A CSA that engages several cooperators, as does Sweet Peas, might be a great way of generating interaction and awareness among greenhouse growers, livestock producers, and orchardists. This in turn might benefit producers individually, through increased sales, or collectively, such as through increased capacity to generally promote the importance of local agriculture in the community. Similarly, increased interaction among producers and non-farm consumers in a CSA might translate into local support for farmland preservation as well as support for other agricultural developments in the community. The agricultural sector's political clout in rural-urban interface regions may wane because of the movement of more non-farmers into the countryside. CSA can contribute to building a coalition of support for agriculture that otherwise might not exist due to the absence of familiarity and empathy among farmers and non-farmers. For Extension educators working on agricultural and community issues in rural-urban settings, many challenges and opportunities might exist. Our research on CSAs suggest that creative enterprises such as a CSA can bring people together through food production and contribute to the emergence of stronger communities. CSA is not for every producer or consumer, but agriculture in general is likely to realize a collective benefit as a result of even a modest increase in the linkages among a few producers and consumers in rural-urban interface areas. By helping to facilitate these linkages, Extension personnel can contribute to vibrant rural places that better meet the needs of farmers and non-farmers. ReferencesAbel, J., Thomson, J., & Maretzki, A. (1999). Extension's role with farmers' markets: Working with farmers, consumers, and communities. Journal of Extension [On-line]. 37(5). Available at: http://www.joe.org/joe/1999october/a4.html Abdalla, C. W., & Kelsey, T. W. (1996). Breaking the impasse: Helping communities cope with Change at the rural-urban interface. Journal of Soil and Water Conservation, 51(6), 462-466. Berry, D. (1978). Effects of urbanization on agricultural activities. Growth and change. 9(3), 2-8. Gradwell, S. (1997). Iowa community supported agriculture resource guide for producers and organizers. (Pamphlet #:PM-1694). Ames, IA: Iowa State University Extension. Greer, L. (1999). Community supported agriculture. Business Management Series. Fayetteville, AR: Appropriate Technology Transfer for Rural Areas (ATTRA). Groh, T., & McFadden, S. (1997). Farms of tomorrow revisited: Community supported farms÷farm supported communities. Kimberton, PA: The Biodynamic Farming and Gardening Association, Inc. Hart, J.F. (1995). "Rural" and "farm" no Longer mean the same. In E.N. Castle (Ed.), The changing American countryside (pp. 63-76). Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas. James, B.H. (1999). Rural neighbors: living and working together. OSU Extension Fact Sheet. Columbus, Ohio: The Ohio State University Extension. James, R., James, B., & Blaine, T. (2000). Farm growth next to a large city: Opportunities for Extension education. Journal of Extension [On-line], 38(5). Available at: http://www.joe.org/joe/2000october/a2.html Johnston, T.R.R., & Bryant, C.R. (1987) Agricultural adaptation: The prospects for sustaining agriculture near cities. In W. Lockeretz (Ed.), Sustaining agriculture near cities (pp. 9-21). Ankeny, IA: Soil and Water Conservation Society. Leer S. (2000, Fall). Caught in conflict. Purdue Agricultures Magazine, 20-23. Putnam, R.D. (1993). Making democracy work. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Sharp, J.S., & Smith, M.B. (2001). Northwest licking county community study report. Columbus, OH: The Ohio State University. Welsh, R. (1997). Reorganizing U.S. agriculture. Policy Studies Report No. 7. Greenbelt, Maryland: Henry A. Wallace Institute for Alternative Agriculture. Welsh, R. (1996). The industrial reorganization of U.S. agriculture. Policy Studies Report No. 6. Greenbelt, Maryland: Henry A. Wallace Institute for Alternative Agriculture.
Be "Logical" About Program Evaluation: Begin with Learning AssessmentMary E. Arnold IntroductionThe value of evaluating Extension educational programs has received a great deal of attention recently, and many Extension educators are seeing evaluation as an integral part of their work. In recent years considerable effort has been put into creating Extension Service "cultures" that value evaluation. In addition, the use of logic modeling in performance measurement has been promoted across many programs (Curnan & LaCava, 2000; Hatry, van Houten, Plantz, & Greenway, M. T., 1996; "Logic Model," 2000). Even with these valuable efforts, however, many educators remain unsure of how to take the first step in evaluating their educational programs. This article is intended to help Extension faculty develop skills in program evaluation by focusing first on the assessment of learning, or short-tem outcomes. The work of county Extension faculty is to address local concerns and needs through educational programming. The expertise of county faculty is often grounded in a specific knowledge base and not necessarily in research design and statistics. Given this, it is not hard to see why evaluation has traditionally been seen as an "add-on" or something that has to be done in response to administrative mandates. While we are making great strides in developing a culture that values evaluation, we have not yet reached the point where evaluation is seen to have an inherent place in our county programs. As educational design specialist for the Oregon 4-H program, I have had the opportunity to assist county 4-H educators in the planning and evaluation of various 4-H programs. While I embrace, teach, and use a complete logic modeling process for program planning and evaluation, I find that trying to identify multiple evaluation points across the whole model with those who are just beginning is overwhelming, confusing, and at times results in a diminished sense of one's ability to conduct a program evaluation. Such reactions create barriers to conducting effective evaluations. In response I have adopted a developmental approach to teaching evaluation, believing that once the basic ideas and tools of evaluation are mastered, other quests for knowledge can take place. One of the first steps in this approach is to dissect the program logic model into discreet parts and encourage the educator to focus on evaluating only one part of the program at a time, in this case beginning with the assessment of short-term, or learning, outcomes. Logic ModelingMeaningful evaluation grows out of sound program planning. Far from being an "add-on," evaluation begins with the initial planning of an educational program (Bush, Mullis, & Mullis, 1995). Logic modeling as an aid in program evaluation has received considerable attention in recent years (Curnan & LaCava, 2000; Hatry, van Houten, Plantz, & Greenway, M. T., 1996). Primarily due to the need to better understand the effects and impacts of our programs, and supported by the education outreach efforts of the University of Wisconsin Extension, an awareness of the usefulness of logic modeling in program planning and evaluation has swept Extension services across the country. In a nutshell, a logic model serves as a planning and evaluation tool. As a planning tool it can help educators identify what they will put into a given program (inputs) and what they hope to do and whom they hope to reach (outputs). The model also identifies short-, medium-, and long-term outcomes for the program (Figure 1). As an evaluation tool, it can help educators see what and when to evaluate. Figure 1.
While logic modeling can serve as a useful tool in helping educators articulate the "program's theory of action" (Patton, 1997) or how a program is to produce desired results, it may be construed that one must jump to the long-term outcomes of the program in order to effectively evaluate the program. This is especially true when Extension educators are asked to demonstrate the "impact" of their program. In many cases impact is equated with long-term outcomes. I believe it is this tendency to assume one needs to demonstrate long-term outcomes that leads to the sense of being overwhelmed at the thought of conducting evaluations. The beauty of a logic model, however, is in the fact that it clearly outlines the different levels of outcomes that are expected from an educational experience. This outline allows educators to identify the appropriate places to collect evaluation data, given the nature of the program's intent and design. Because one of Extension's primary roles is teaching, it makes sense that one of the main places to which we should turn our attention is on short-term outcomes, focusing our first evaluation efforts on measuring what has been learned. This is not to say that medium-term outcomes (action) and changes in social conditions (impact) are not also important measurements of our success, depending upon the purpose of our program, but it does highlight the fact that the basic outcome of many of our educational programs is the learning that takes place. While the intent of this article is to aid Extension educators in focusing evaluation on one point on a logic model, it is important to emphasize that such a focus could imply that logic models are linear in nature. A linear approach implies that learning leads to action and action leads to changes in social conditions. Such a linear movement is possible, but not necessarily what happens in many programs. It is important to stress, therefore, that logic modeling be seen as a dynamic, systems approach to planning and evaluating what is taking place. In doing so one is conceptualizing the program not just in a hierarchical manner (Bennett, 1975), but in a more complex and nuanced way. Despite the risk of inadequately portraying the power of logic modeling by focusing on learning assessment, I believe that such a focus is helpful to educators for two primary reasons. First, focusing on learning assessment provides an entry point to understanding and using logic modeling for program evaluation. Second, focusing on learning assessment is a concrete and useful way for educators with little or no evaluation training to experience and practice systematic inquiry into the programs they provide. My experience has shown that such initial forays into program evaluation often lead to a desire to conduct more in-depth evaluation, which, in turn, leads to an increased use and understanding of logic modeling. In short, beginning with learning assessment is just that--a great place to begin. Learning Outcome AssessmentThe first step to assessing learning is to use a logic model to determine the appropriate learning outcomes to measure, because what is learned needs to be connected to the inputs and the outputs for the program. Because many of the educators I work with do their teaching through workshops or seminars, one of the first things I ask is: "Given what you are planning to do, and who your audience is, what are the 2 or 3 threes main learning outcomes for your session?" This works very well for short sessions of 1-3 hours; longer sessions can be broken down into blocks of 1-3 hours, with the main learning outcomes for each block identified. Once the educator is able to articulate the learning outcomes for his or her workshop, we begin to explore options for assessing the learning that takes place. Using a logic model forces us to clearly link the program activities to what is intended to be learned. The assessment of learning outcomes can happen in many ways, depending on the situation at hand. For example, we have used observation as assessment in nutrition education programs for young children. One of the learning outcomes for the program is that children know the importance of washing their hands before eating as well as how to properly wash their hands. At specified times during the 2 weeks following the session on hand washing, teachers recorded which children spontaneously washed their hands when it was time for a snack. This observational method measured which children had achieved the program outcome of learning the importance and method of hand washing before eating. In another setting, older children participating in a natural science curriculum with the outcome of learning the lifecycle of a salmon were asked to make drawings of the salmon's life. These drawings were done two times, once before the session on the salmon's lifecycle and again at the end of the session. The changes in the details of the two drawings provided a demonstration of what had been learned. The pictures drawn at the end of the session had considerably more detail and more accurately portrayed the lifecycle than those drawn at the beginning of the session. An end-of-program questionnaire is also a useful way to assess learning. Questionnaires are helpful in obtaining immediate feedback about the effectiveness of a program in achieving its short-term outcomes (Taylor-Powell & Renner, 2000). One questionnaire method is a simple retrospective pre-test that is directly related to the learning outcomes for the session. Using the retrospective pre-test method, participants are asked to rate their knowledge of a given outcome at the end of the workshop and then rate their knowledge of the outcome prior to the session (Rockwell & Kohn, 1989). The participant's perception of his or her learning is then assessed by analyzing the difference in the reported level of knowledge before and after the workshop. There is recent evidence that conducting this type of learning assessment is a valid technique for capturing perceived changes in knowledge (Pratt, McGuigan, & Katzev, 2000). Constructing a ToolOnce learning outcomes have been identified, a brief but effective learning assessment tool can be developed. Take, for example, three learning outcomes from an educational program designed to teach older teens knowledge about the transition to independent living. Learning outcomes may be stated like this:
Learning outcomes are then turned into statements of knowledge levels and placed in a well-organized format on a short questionnaire given to the participants at the end of the program (Figure 2). Figure 2.
After the questionnaires are completed, responses to each question can be analyzed with a paired "t" test to assess perceived changes in the participant's knowledge level. By using a retrospective pre-test questionnaire, educators are able to assess perceived learning that takes place. Such a method is different from the more typical satisfaction questionnaire often used at the end of programs. Satisfaction questionnaires give educators insight into how well the participants liked the program, but do not provide any insight into what the participants learned. Even though retrospective pre-tests are useful for understanding perceived changes in participant learning, it is important recognize their limitations. End-of-session questionnaires provide only self-report information at one point in time, at the conclusion of the program (Taylor-Powell & Renner, 2000). ConclusionBy using a logic model to specify the learning outcomes for an educational program, Extension educators are able to more accurately measure the learning that takes place. This information is useful both for program reporting (summative evaluation) as well as program improvement (formative evaluation). By articulating what the intended learning is and measuring whether the learning actually takes place, educators are participating in what Patton (1997) calls "reality testing," knowing whether our programs actually accomplish in reality what we think they do in theory. As Extension educators, we all hope that our programs make an impact on social conditions. Such long-term program outcomes are important and should not be diminished or undervalued because they are more difficult to measure. Nonetheless, we need to be clear about what different programs can successfully accomplish. Logic modeling can help educators pinpoint the most realistic level at which to conduct a program evaluation. When knowledge change is the intent of the program, then it makes sense to focus evaluation efforts on the short-term outcomes, or the learning that has taken place. The purpose of focusing on learning assessment in this article is not to imply that our evaluation efforts can end with knowing whether knowledge changed. In many cases, learning alone is not enough; there must be action that comes from the learning. Many of our stakeholders are looking for changes in behaviors and actions. In addition, we know that changes in knowledge do not always result in positive behavioral changes. Despite these cautions, Extension educators can use learning assessment as a meaningful and useful place to begin to evaluate their programs. The simple step of articulating learning outcomes can serve to improve a program, for often when we look closely at what we want to have learned we see that we may need to change the content in our programs in order to accomplish the learning outcomes. Likewise, measuring change in knowledge level helps us to be more critical of our teaching. After all, there is little point in teaching if what we intend to impart is not learned. ReferencesBennett, C. (1975). Up the hierarchy. Journal of Extension 13(2), 7-12. Bush, C., Mullis, R, & Mullis, A. (1995). Evaluation: An afterthought or an integral part of program development. Journal of Extension [On-line]. 33(2). Available at: http://www.joe.org/joe/1995april/a4.html Curnan, S. P., & LaCava, L. A. (2000). Getting ready for outcome evaluation: Developing a logic model. Community Youth Development Journal, 16 (1). Hatry, H., van Houten, T., Plantz, M. C., & Greenway, M. T. (1996). Measuring program outcomes: A practical approach. Alexandria, VA: United Way of America. Logic Model. Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Extension. Retrieved June 12, 2001 from the World Wide Web: http://bluto.uwex.edu/ces/pdande/PDFs/logicmodel.pdf Patton, M. Q. (1997). Utilization-focused evaluation: The new century text. Sage Publications: Thousand Oaks, CA. Pratt, C. C., McGuigan, W. M., & Katzev, A. R. (2000). Measuring program outcomes: Using retrospective methodology. The American Journal of Evaluation, 21(3), 341-349. Rockwell, S. K., & Kohn, H. (1989). Post-then-pre evaluation: Measuring behavior change more accurately. Journal of Extension [On-line]. 27(2). Available at: http://www.joe.org/joe/1989summer/a5.html Taylor-Powell, E. (2000). The LOGIC Model: Program performance framework. Providing Leadership for Program Evaluation Conference, Vail, CO June 2000. Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Extension. Taylor-Powell, E., & Renner, M.(2000). Collecting evaluation data: End of session questionnaires. University of Wisconsin Extension: Madison, WI.
The Effect of Competitive and Cooperative Learning Preferences on Children's Self-Perceptions: A Comparison of 4-H and Non-4-H MembersRobert J. Fetsch Raymond K. Yang Department of Human Development & Family Studies IntroductionCompetition in 4-H is about as American as apple pie on the 4th of July. Competition--where someone wins and others lose--is a significant part of American culture. Parents, 4-H agents/club leaders, teachers, coaches, administrators, and youth educators have strong opinions about how competition affects children. Often, fiery debates occur over strongly held beliefs about peer competition, its place in 4-H, and its contributions to youth growth and development. Proponents of competition claim that it contributes to learning democratic values, combats juvenile delinquency, and promotes physical fitness and learning (Martens, 1978 [p. 65]). Opponents argue that competition decreases self-esteem and fosters individualism rather than cooperation--"the increasing complexity of social conditions in our local communities, states, nation, and world demand that we learn to live cooperatively" (Allen, et al., 1988a, p. 2). 4-H stakeholders have questions.
BackgroundA review of the Journal of Extension (1979-July 2001) found few substantive articles on competition. Most were theoretical (e.g., Astroth, 1994; McDaniel, 1998). Two articles included children's empirical data from small samples (Norland & Bennett, 1993; Weber & McCullers, 1986). In the literature on competition and cooperation, two reports are outstanding. The first is a meta-analysis of 122 studies of the effects of cooperative, competitive, and individualistic goal structures on achievement (Johnson, Maruyama, Johnson, Nelson, & Skon, 1981). The researchers found that:
The second outstanding report is the National 4-H Competition Task Force Report (Allen, et al., 1988b). The report found research on competition in 4-H to be limited and lacking in psychological or educational concepts (Allen et al., 1988a). Most of the research had been conducted in formal school and athletics rather than 4-H settings (Parsons, 1988). The national report emphasized the critical importance of parental support, saying it can be misdirected through excessive pressure from mothers and fathers to win. Query (1985) found that 80% of parents reported their primary reason for encouraging their children to participate in 4-H activities was learning. At the same time, 51% of fathers and 25% of mothers reported pressuring their children to win. Twenty-seven percent of 4-H'ers felt maternal pressure to win, and 23% felt paternal pressure to win. More males felt pressure than females. In summary, the authors found in 35 of 37 studies that cooperative learning classrooms led to positive interpersonal behavior with peers and teachers, and higher self-confidence (Allen et al., 1988a). The national report (Allen et al., 1988b) recommended that 4-H'ers first be taught cooperative skills before they are involved in competitive and individualistic learning experiences. It also recommended that 4-H day-to-day competitive events be modified to conform to current research information with young people. Allen et al. (1988a) called for more research on all three components of 4-H competition--cooperative (competing against standards of excellence), competitive (competing against one's peers), and individualistic (competing against one's best effort)--to determine which learning experiences help 4-H'ers the most to achieve goals based on the 4-H mission. PurposeThis article describes research conducted in response to the national report recommendations. The purposes of the research were to:
Method, Participants, ProcedureExtension field agents in a mountain state approached the first author with observations and concerns about perceived negative consequences of competition from parents and 4-H leaders on 4-H participants, especially younger children. This concern arose in the context of increased encouragement by Extension administration to enroll more young children (grades 1-3) into 4-H activities. Agents' observation was that the stiffer the competition at local and state competitions, the more harmful it appeared to be on children's self-esteem. They requested assistance to test their hypothesis. After searching the literature for appropriate self-esteem measures, we selected Harter's (1985) Self-Perception Profile for Children (SPPC) because we agreed with her premise that children make distinctions among the domains in their lives. They do not feel equally competent in every skill domain. Harter and we believe a summated scale of responses about specific abilities and attributes cannot accurately measure self-worth. The SPPC is a 36-item instrument with six subscales (scholastic, social acceptance, athletic, physical appearance, and behavioral conduct self-competencies and global self-worth) designed for youth in the third through eighth grades. Harter normed the SPPC on middle-class Colorado youth. The mean of Cronbach alphas across four norming samples was .79 (range = .71 - .86) (Harter, 1985). To minimize social desirability biases, Harter wrote the SPPC items in a forced-choice, structured alternative format (Harter, 1982, p. 89). An example is Harter's Item #6.
The child or youth is instructed to use two steps to respond to each item. First, they are to decide whether they are either more like kids on the left side of the "BUT" or are like kids on the right side of the "BUT." Second, they are to mark whether the item is "Sort of True for Me" or "Really True for Me." Based both on our agents' local needs and on national report recommendations (Allen et al., 1988a; 1988b), we wrote 12 items (see Appendix) to assess children's Unconditional Parental Support levels, Cooperative Learning preferences (working with others), and Competitive Learning preferences (winning over others). We wrote the items in a format to correspond with Harter's forced-choice format to assess the three factors listed above and children's self-competencies related to self worth. We pilot tested the dozen items with a sample of children and youth to refine the items for clarity and readability. Then we invited county agents statewide to join our study of the relationship between learning preferences and self-worth. Twelve county agents (see Acknowledgements) provided usable data from 13 counties for the present study. The agents were trained by the first author on how to administer the SPPC (Harter, 1985) along with the 12 additional items and demographic items. Finally, in order to compare 4-H club members' learning preferences, competencies, and self-worth levels with those of non-members, county agents were encouraged to survey two groups in their communities matched by socioeconomic level, grade, and gender. Most of the agents did provide data from matched groups, thereby creating two larger samples--one consisting of 4-H club members and the other consisting of non-members. Participants responded to the dozen items (see Appendix) and to Harter's SPPC (1982, 1985). In the present sample, the overall Cronbach alpha for the five Harter scales used was .77 (n = 1309-1336). Our sample included 1,388 children in the third through fifth grades. These grades represent the ages at which 4-H membership is highest. 4-H enrollment and activities peak during fourth grade (United States Department of Agriculture, 1997). Of 1,253 participants reporting their 4-H club membership or non-membership, 53% were current 4-H members. Most of our sample was female (57%). Their average age was 9.5 years (mode = 4th grade). The sample was 73% Anglo, 14.7% Hispanic, 3.7% Native American, 2.6% African American, 0.3% Asian American, and 5.8% mixed ethnicity. 4-H Club members' most popular projects for the present sample included:
ResultsThree Factors A principal component factor analysis (varimax with orthogonal rotation) of all 12 competition-related items resulted in a three-factor solution (with eigen values greater than one), explaining 50.4% of the variance (Fetsch & Yang, 2001). Cronbach alphas were as follows:
The first factor (Unconditional Parental Support) consisted of three items (Fetsch & Yang, 2001). High scorers define themselves as more like kids who don't feel their parents are unhappy when they don't do well. They perceive themselves to have unconditional parental support. Low scorers perceive both parents' support to be contingent on doing well. Five items defined the second factor (Cooperative Learning Orientation, i.e., working with others). High scorers:
Low scorers:
Four items defined the third factor (Competitive Learning Orientation, i.e., winning over others). High scorers:
Low scorers:
Relationships between cooperative and competitive orientations and five self-reported competencies were explored. Empirical evidence from the present study suggests that providing more Cooperative Learning experiences to grades 3-5 than Competitive Learning experiences is associated with higher scores in Behavioral Conduct, Physical Appearance, Scholastic Competence, and Social Acceptance--all of which are associated with children's perceived personal competencies. The more competent children see themselves, the greater the likelihood that they will feel positive self-esteem and that they will behave in socially desirable ways. Females preferred non-competitive activities, while males preferred competitive activities. Competition and Cooperation Results show that it is not a matter of 4-H competition or cooperation; it is a matter of competition and cooperation. A child can prefer both a Competitive Learning Orientation and a Cooperative Learning Orientation or prefer neither. Likewise, a child can prefer one to the other. The popularly held notion that children view these orientations as mutually exclusive is a myth that does not match the empirical evidence in the present study of how children perceive these orientations. 4-H and Non-4-H members A comparison of 4-H club participants and non-members found that both groups defined themselves as having Unconditional Parental Support, and both genders scored similarly. Both groups also scored similarly on Cooperative Learning Orientation. On average, 4-H members scored lower on Competitive Learning Orientation than non-4-H-members scored (F (1, 769) = 12.66, p < .000). Boys and Girls Both boys and girls benefited from their 4-H membership. For girls, membership was associated with higher competitiveness, which may provide more motivation to succeed. But the price for girls is that they feel less attractive and less well behaved. For boys, 4-H membership was associated with their seeing themselves as more competent academically, better behaved, and more attractive. For an explication of additional statistical effects, the reader is referred to Fetsch and Yang (2001). Children who preferred cooperative learning tended to score higher on all five competencies (r = .16-.33), which supports Johnson, Maruyama, Johnson, Nelson, and Skon's findings (1981). In other words, the more children preferred a Cooperative Learning Orientation to Competitive Orientation, the higher they tended to score, especially on Behavioral Conduct, Physical Appearance, Scholastic Competence, and Social Acceptance. Conversely, the more children preferred a Competitive Learning Orientation, the lower they tended to score, especially on Behavioral Conduct, Scholastic Competence, and Physical Appearance. Cooperation rather than competition appears to be the way to build self-worth. DiscussionBoth 4-H members and non-members were similar in their preference for Cooperative Learning and in Unconditional Parental Support. Non 4-H Club members in grades three through five preferred Competitive Learning more than did 4-H Club members. Further studies are necessary to replicate our findings. 4-H/youth development stakeholders are encouraged to use the dozen items included in the Appendix along with Harter's SPPC to determine program impacts from their empirical program evaluation studies. Those Who Score Low on Both Youth educators are urged to pay attention to children who score low in both competitive and cooperative orientations. Children who are unmotivated to connect with others either competitively against others or as a cooperative team member could be overlooked, neglected, or ignored. They may be fearful or withdrawn and in need of unconditional support to increase their motivation and desire to engage with peers. Those Who Score High on One and Low on the Other Of equal importance is for youth leaders to pay attention to the child who scores excessively high on only one orientation--either competitive or cooperative learning orientation. Such a child may benefit from adult coaching in acquiring more of a balance with the other orientation so he or she can use both life skills as appropriate. Achieving this balance and skill can help reduce the risk of a child's being rejected due to acting competitively in a situation that calls for cooperation (Rubin, Bukowski, & Parker, 1998). Recommendations What would a 4-H agent want to know about youth valuing competition, team learning, and cooperation? Based on present and past research findings, we make the following recommendations for 4-H/youth development programming.
Acknowledgments We appreciate the assistance of the following Cooperative Extension County Agents in collecting these data: Steve Cramer, Jim Carey, Lorri Arnhold, Bernie Elliott, Georgia Hoffman, Wendell Cooper, Alan Swartz, Robert Salzer, Lance Early, Elaine Crumpton, Connie LaBarr, and Kelly Gully. ReferencesAllen, J., Iyechad, T., Mayeske, G., Parsons, J., Rodriguez, J., Singh, F., Swiney, K., Tolley, M. J., & Butterfield, M. (1988a). Appendix A: Competition and youth research based implications for 4-H. (Available from the National 4-H Council, 7100 Connecticut Ave., Chevy Chase, MD 20815.) Allen, J., Iyechad, T., Mayeske, G., Parsons, J., Rodriguez, J., Singh, F., Swiney, K., Tolley, M. J., & Butterfield, M. (1988b). National 4-H competition task force report. (Available from the National 4-H Council, 7100 Connecticut Ave., Chevy Chase, MD 20815.) Astroth, K. A. (1994). The trouble with gold stars, incentive plans, A's, praise, and other bribes. Journal of Extension [On-line]. 32(2). Available at: http://www.joe.org/joe/1994august/tt3.html Fetsch, R. J., & Yang, R. K. (2001, May 21). The influence of 4-H membership and social support on children's competitive and cooperative orientations. Manuscript submitted for publication. Harter, S. (1982). The perceived Competence Scale for Children. Child Development, 53, 87-97. Harter, S. (1985). Manual for the Self-Perception Profile for Children. Denver, CO: University of Denver. Johnson, D. W., Maruyama, G., Johnson, R., Nelson, D., & Skon, L. (1981). Effects of cooperative, competitive, and individualistic goal structures on achievement: A meta-analysis. Psychological Bulletin, 89(1), 47-62. Martens, R. (1978). Joy and sadness in children's sports. Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics Publishing. McDaniel, A. K. (1998). Character education: Developing effective programs. Journal of Extension [On-line], 36(2). Available at: http://www.joe.org/joe/1998april/a3.html Norland, E., & Bennett, M. B. (1993). Youth participation. Journal of Extension [On-line]. 31(1). Available at: http://www.joe.org/joe/1993spring/a5.html Parsons, K. A. (1988, May). Competition and youth: An annotated bibliography. Ames: Iowa State University. Query, S. L. (1985). Attitudes of 4-H youth and parents about competition. Unpublished master's thesis, North Dakota Sta | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
