“Standing a head taller” is an empowering theme that Soviet cognitive psychologist Lev S. Vygotsky mentions from time to time, and he notices this quality most with the children he observed throughout his career. In these cases, imaginative play allows a child to internalize the activities of older individuals, learning and developing in the “zone” which continues to motivate the mind throughout one’s life. Most people seem to believe this development stops at a certain age, adulthood (anywhere between 13 and 24, according to different cultural beliefs), but I would argue that we continue to see ourselves a head taller, especially those who embrace the idea of life-long learning. For the majority who became adults and stopped the imaginative play, a good reminder will come when a person visits a place from their recent past: an old school, first job site or even the home to which, we are told, we can never go back. Recalling the feelings of that time when we hoped and dreamed to be grown up might make one feel a head taller than they were, but children get to live this experience everyday, a head taller than they are. Perhaps this is why someone like Vygotsky wanted to surround himself with these young active learners, as he could share in their enthusiasm to try new things for the rest of his tragically shortened life he knew, at the age of 26, he was going to live.
In the pages of Mind in Society, Vygotsky vents some of his frustration at adults who accept that things are the way they are, contemporary psychologists like Ted Thorndike and Jean Piaget, and their view of adulthood as the end of the developmental line. Equally frustrating is their search for the lower limits of ability, the beginning of a developmental stage where children or certain animals could do some things or not do some things. Given the proper amount of observation, children will never cease to impress open-minded adults that there are not many things they can’t do: anything that can be imagined could be played out. Vygotsky and his team had the right amount of patience for such viewings of children, infants and people with cognitive exceptionalities as able learners who go through a process of interpersonal (the mind in a society) and intrapersonal (internalizing society) adaptation. Attempts to get candy from a shelf or using coloured cards to recall instructions for a game of questions, both experiments described in this book, meet the participants at their level of cognitive ability. While he share opinions and gives respect to other constructivists and behaviorists in their respective fields, it seems a challenge for Vygotsky to accept their limiting theories; both “Problems of Method” and “Interaction between Learning and Development” are places where Vygotsky hashes out how quickly these theories fall apart. Setting limits is akin to censorship, something Vygotsky struggled with professionally in Soviet Russia.
Borrowing a quote from another Soviet author who faced censorship and limitations, Mikhail A. Bulgakov’s “manuscripts don’t burn” is very applicable. It is impressive how so much of Vygotsky’s thoughts survive on paper, and how many decades later his ideas are finally catching hold of minds in a far wider society than most people would have imagined. Somehow I know Vygotsky would have imagined it like this.
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It was an engaging and co-constructive class yesterday, with a couple of guest lecturers. Dr. Rob Tierney gave an impressive account of trends in literacy education for an entire century, and placed special emphasis on the role of drama teachers play in “helping kids get involved in a secondary world” (Tierney, 2013) yet also in taking them out of it to critically reflect upon this process. This point gets touched upon again with Vygotsky, tying a knot on the memory string, recalling his days as an adult drama director in his hometown of Gomel, Belarussia. Playing together with other adults, acting in a troupe and embodying literature is a fascinating form of engagement, and one that I see informing much of his practice as a cognitive psychologist. He forever refers to his collaborators and colleagues contributions, perhaps knowing that he could not do much of this work on his own – he relies on a social network of patient, curious observers. Alexander Luria, for example, becomes the holder of the Vygotskian torch for several decades after his untimely death, presenting papers on his behalf and even writing a foreword to the English edition of Mind in Society. I couldn’t resist relating this professional relationship to ones found in J. R. R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings series, particularly between Frodo and Sam. The two psychologist traveled across a vast and often inhospitable land together to do research, and discovered a seemingly magical, but in reality overlooked, power between the roles people play in society. Quite the coup de théâtre for developing an awareness of how the mind works!
Reference
Tierney, R. (2013, Sept 17). History from 1950-1990. [lecture]. Vancouver: Theoretical Frames for Language & Literacy Research.
Vygotsky, L. S. (1978). Mind in society: The development of higher psychological processes. Cambridge: Harvard U P.
Hi Kyle, Good points about cultural assumptions re ZPD, though i think as we move toward other readings, notably work on communities of practice, you will see other perspectives on ZPD that what you have suggested.
I particularly like the connection between engagement/reflection that Rob suggested and the memory rope concept.
and the connection to Tolkein… nice to have a literary voice in the room.
Theresa