Jewett, Laura M. (2008). A Delicate Dance: Autoethnography, Curriculum, and the Semblance of Intimacy. Reviewed by Adria Hoffman, University of Maryland

Jewett, Laura M. (2008). A Delicate Dance: Autoethnography, Curriculum, and the Semblance of Intimacy. New York: Peter Lang Pp. 177         ISBN 978-1-4331-0308-7 Reviewed by Adria Hoffman University of Maryland, College Park April 20, 2009 Jewett presents a fascinating account of her experience conducting and writing autoethnography in two distinct contexts. First, Jewett presents her theoretical exploration of teaching a course in multicultural education to pre-service teachers at a large, Southern university. She then connects the methodological challenges and advantages of autoethnographic work to her inquiry of zydeco dancing and gendered race relations in Louisiana. Throughout the text, she refers to possibilities of intimacy between self and other, specifically critiquing the contexts in which we come to know ourselves and those around us. This book is indeed a “complicated conversation,” as one of a series of texts with this title edited by William Pinar. This text serves to expand the boundaries of education research by complicating our understandings of curriculum theory, teaching and learning, and the contexts in which schooling takes place. Jewett opens the text with an introduction to the “embodied, interpretive contexts” in which she came to this study. She presents a clear, succinct theoretical foundation for her exploration of self and other through autoethnography in her first chapter, “To and Fro.” Her second chapter, “Dancing Across Metaphors of Location,” is recognizable as the literature review and framework. Divided into six chapters, the bulk of this book lies in chapters three through five. In these three chapters, she presents her data collection, findings, and philosophical wanderings regarding autoethnography, multicultural education, and zydeco dancing. Her final chapter serves as a clear and pithy summary of such findings as well as a challenge to further problematize curriculum theory. Jewett found autoethnography of particular interest because she could not help but to explore her self as a participant in another culture. In order to best situate these tendencies within appropriate methodological choices, she decided to turn to autoethnography. In doing so, she was able to study both the “knower and known” (p. 54). She explains: What began as a study of zydeco’s role in cultural transmission and transformation, and concomitant relations of gender and race, began to be superseded by the desire to understand my own ethnographic desire as a white female researcher doing research with black Creole men. (p. 48) Autoethnography does more than just allow the researcher to study him or herself as well as participants in a particular culture. It implies that “looking at the world from a specific, perspectival, and limited vantage point can tell, teach, and put people in motion” (Jones, 2005, p. 763). Autoethnography is a research method that acts as a catalyst for social change through dialogue between researchers and readers. This is possible and useful for this particular book series because autoethnography connects theory to practice, process and product, and encourages the researcher to analyze in-betweens (Jones, 2005). Jewett’s strength lies in her fourth chapter, “A Curricular Dance of Desire.” In this chapter, she openly and honestly discusses her cognitive dissonance as an ethnographer and classroom teacher. She describes the way in which her thoughts move between her two roles, often entangling her researcher way of thinking with her role as a teacher education faculty member. She writes: Despite the powerful semblance of intimacy that sometimes permeates pedagogical relations, I do not understand my students. Despite the intimacy autoethnography promises, I cannot help but feel like I am betraying them by claiming to know them. That such a claim feels like a betrayal is testament to the potency of the semblance of intimacy at work in teaching. (p. 74) Jewett succinctly relays the ways in which teaching and learning is at once an intimate relationship, while simultaneously being a distanced one between racialized and gendered others. She writes, “students are storied by, among other things, a history that is and is not their own” (p. 77). In this way, she explains her students’ often stereotyped descriptions of practicum placements and school observations. She makes clear the role of gender and race in students’ preconceptions and re-conceptions of public schooling and of students’ storied lives that act as embodied curriculum. Jewett also problematizes her own white, female privilege as an instructor for a multicultural education course, saying: That I can take a deep breath and stand back in the face of what sometimes seems like blatant racism is more a function of white privilege than reflective pedagogy. I am ambivalent about the distance such privilege provides, although I sometimes use it in order to keep the conversation of multicultural education going- to maintain a semblance of intimacy. (p. 85) Jewett views multicultural education as a process of coming to know so-called others. However, the intimacy to which Jewett refers may only be a “semblance,” as she describes a sense of distance and other-ness when learning about someone else’s culture. She aptly describes such intimacy as an illusion, rather than truly knowing or understanding. Jewett ends this chapter by further complexifying her original questions. She asks: What would it mean to envision curriculum as an embodied locale much like zydeco dancing, where the play of epistemological forces replaces technocratic force, and where students might experience the relative weight of desire, fear, and knowledge, the reciprocal touch of self and other, and the mysterious momentum of the semblance of intimacy? (p. 104) Jewett’s fifth chapter is her beginning and end. She began with questions regarding cultural transmission, race relations, and informal learning in the context of zydeco dancing. Rather than interweaving her data and findings through the previous two chapters, she separates autoethnography, multicultural education curriculum, and zydeco dance experiences. By doing so, she explores how each allow (and challenge) intimate relationships between oneself and others. Jewett’s narrative serves as a strong response to Applebee’s (1996) challenge to rethink curriculum “in order to foster students’ entry into living traditions of knowledge-in-action rather than static traditions of knowledge-out-of-context” (p. 5). As an autoethnographic study of both zydeco dance culture and the culture of a multicultural pre-service teacher education course, Jewett’s narrative answers Applebee’s call to action “to take part in the traditions that encompass the knowledge of the larger culture, and remake them as our own” (p. 5). Jewett presents a strong case for further inquiry of the grey area in teaching and learning. She argues that curriculum theory must encompass a broader arena of socio-historical contexts and make places for connections between those contexts and formal learning spaces. Her methodology fits well her goals of promoting social change and exploring her self as a researcher and educator. Additionally, Jewett’s personal goals, struggles, and aspirations are made clear for the reader, making her inquiry appropriately transparent. Although this text serves a unique and important purpose, the reader must be aware that it is not an easy read. Jewett’s writing is often dense and laden with often unnecessary academic language. Throughout the book, the reader must navigate through exceedingly long sentences that meander betwixt and between clear meanings. Although the point of this book is to highlight the in-betweens of curriculum studies, Jewett’s writing need not further complicate the dialogue. Aside from the writing style, I found this text interesting and important. As a text in the Complicated Conversations series, A Delicate Dance challenges less complicated methodological choices made in the field of curriculum studies as well as the often mandated pre-service teacher coursework in multicultural education. As Pinar (2004) suggests, Jewett describes the multifaceted process that is curriculum through the conversations and dialogue of her participants, including herself. Jewett makes more complex the spaces in which students and teachers come together to learn, while applauding the efforts of those voicing their selves in those spaces. She explores previously unexamined connections between race, gender, and learning in a part of the United States with a racialized history and continuing need for social change. These are concerns larger than any individual scholar or even field of study, but Jewett approaches them with both caution and a bright light to illuminate a previously darkened corner of possible understandings regarding teaching and learning. References Applebee, A. N. (1996). Curriculum as conversation: Transforming traditions of teaching and learning. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Jones, S. H. (2005). Autoethnography: Making the personal political. In Denzin, N. K. & Lincoln, Y.S. (Eds.) The Sage handbook of qualitative research, 3rd ed. (pp. 763-791). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications. Pinar, W. F. (2004). What is curriculum theory? Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. About the Reviewer Adria Hoffman recently earned a Ph.D. in Curriculum and Instruction at the University of Maryland, College Park. She earned her M.Ed. in Social Foundations and Policy from the University of Virginia. Her research interests include questions regarding the intersections of race, class, gender, and early adolescent identity construction. She has taught middle school music students in Virginia public schools and particularly enjoys developing curriculum projects that blur disciplinary boundaries and allow students to take ownership of their learning.