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The central questions of this study are how religious education (RE), as a part of public secondary school curricula, differs between England and Norway, and what accounts for these differences. To answer these questions the author analyzed documents reflecting national debates about RE in public schools, examined policy statements produced by the British and Norwegian governments, cited studies conducted by the European Union, and carried out limited ethnography at six secondary schools (three in Norway and three in England). This study bears the marks of having been a dissertation, and is deeply self-conscious of its methodology. Bråten cites a broad range of theoretical and methodological orientations put forth for the study of RE in Europe, settling on two frameworks that offer the greatest utility for answering her questions. The first framework, which provides the structure for the book, is that of “levels of the curriculum.” After an extensive, if somewhat dry, literature review, Bråten compares differences between England and Norway in increasingly narrow fields. These are the societal, institutional, instructional (teachers), and experiential (pupils) levels. Bråten thus first gives a broad overview of the forces at work at higher levels of organization in the planning and execution of RE curricula before describing how it is taught and received in actual practice. In each chapter she applies the second of her two main methodological frameworks: an assessment of the supranational, national, and subnational forces that have impacted developments at each curricular level. For example, primary among the supranational forces she identifies are globalization and pluralism, and among the national forces are the differing historical relationships between state, religion, and schools within the two countries. Bråten found that the teaching of RE as a multi-faith, non-confessional subject began earlier in England than in Norway, likely as a result of England’s history of relatively greater religious plurality. Apart from the formative influence of scholars within the secular field of religious studies, curricular developments in England tended to happen “from the bottom up,” and tend to be more diverse owing to the greater diversity of public schooling options. Norwegian RE, on the other hand, has tended to develop “from the top down,” and places greater emphasis on Christianity than English RE. Curricular developments in Norway were also most influenced by departments of theology, unlike in England. All of this has led to differences in how RE curriculum is executed in the two countries, but not to as many differences in how it is received by pupils. Given that most of the readers of this journal are involved with higher, not secondary, education in North America, I would suggest this study might be useful for faculty in the following ways. First, Bråten poses interesting questions about the importance of RE (mostly having to do with preparing pupils to be tolerant citizens in pluralistic societies) that are important for faculty and administrators to consider at institutions that require the study of religion as part of general education or liberal arts requirements. Why is RE considered necessary? How do students receive not only the content of what is taught, but the messages about why such courses are important? This book would also be of use for thinking about the supranational, national, and subnational forces that have impacted how and why we teach what we teach. Bråten raises many questions along these lines, and provides one multi-disciplinary model for how to answer them.

This volume follows up on the authors’ 2009 book, Going Beyond Google: The Invisible Web in Learning and Teaching (New York: Neal-Schuman, 2009). It is a welcome addition, given the rapid pace at which information technology is transforming higher education. “Invisible Web” is the term for the huge amount of Internet information that is not accessible via Google, Bing, Yahoo, and so forth. It includes proprietary databases, institutional collections, corporate and government data banks, privately secured web sites, and increasingly, social media. Of the trillions of webpages in the World Wide Web, Google only comprehends perhaps 10 percent. The rest is “invisible” to search engines. Devine and Egger-Sider present a picture in which: (1) print reference materials are tacitly deemed obsolete, (2) most students in U.S. higher education have institutional access to high quality digital research materials, but (3) they are often unaware of these resources or make little use of them. A major OCLC study in 2010, for example, found “a decline in use of library Web sites, electronic journals, and online databases since 2005,” a trend that has not yet reversed (31). The authors’ analysis of dozens of studies on student research identifies three major traits: “over-reliance on Google and other major search engines, a tendency to favor time over content, and an overwhelming preference for convenience” (38). The over-reliance on Google is especially troubling because of the rapid growth in automatically “personalized” searches, often unbeknownst to the user. Search engines filter the results of searches based on users’ previous queries. Over time, the search utility constructs dense profiles of users’ interests, generating results that are most likely to be “preferred.” This works well for advertising, but it is disastrous for critical inquiry. Personalized searches are liable simply to reinforce researchers’ biases. Devine and Egger-Sider make a strong case for teaching students about the Invisible Web, beginning as early as high school. They include a chapter describing approaches for introducing students to the Invisible Web, including a two-stage sample curriculum: (1) Web-Searching Basics, and (2) Presenting the Invisible Web, plus advice about teaching the Invisible Web with graphics and social media. The final sections of the book provide a working orientation to the Invisible Web, numerous examples of good resources, and some thoughts about the future of the Invisible Web. This book is valuable in its own right as a reference work and resource guide. Every chapter comes with extensive reference lists; there is also a collection of selected additional readings. Chapter 6, “Looking Inside the Invisible Web: A Sampler,” sets out the web addresses and some commentary for a basic research tool kit, recommended tools for specialized research, and an illustrative list of resources for highly advanced research.  

This collection of essays by seventeen Generation X faculty members serving in various types of institutions and representing a range of disciplines, ranks, and roles aims to “demonstrate the personal issues, conflicts, and triumphs that are definitive of this generation” as they pertain to their academic careers. While some contributions are  stronger than others, as a whole the book achieves its purpose through the insightful and honest author self-reflections. The first sentences of the opening chapter offer, “The truth is unbelieveable, not because it is untrue, but because no one wants to believe it. I am living proof.” The readers’ fear the whole book may sound like the all-too-familiar voice of a Gen Xer is quickly affirmed. The self-analysis of the first story flows into the next three installments and the reader may begin to wonder if the whole book is going to simply be a series of texts from a group of faculty who managed to gain a formal education but think life as a teacher ought to be different somehow. However, Andria J. Woodell’s recollection from a female white southern social psychologist’s perspective changes the tone of the book and is followed by primarily thoughtful reflections and analysis of personal choices and responsibility, within the realities of various institutional contexts. Most authors adeptly identify key factors in their personal journey, including educational background and aspirations, family dynamics, sexual orientation, or race, which impacted their experiences in academia. Following these observations they share information about specific institutional obstacles and supports they encountered along their respective journeys and how each responded to the interplay of these factors. David Prescott-Steed’s chapter, explaining how his PhD research project on “the abyss” metaphor became an intentional factor in his post-doctoral decisions personally and professionally, was entertaining, well-written, and an appropriate summary of a Gen Xer’s values encountering the challenges and triumphs of everyday life. Likewise, Kathleen and George Mollock’s perceptive essay on an academic couples’ journey in the higher education milieu, first as students and then as faculty, describes the choices they made and consequences of those choices, some anticipated, others unexpected. For most Gen X academics, this would be a beneficial read, even if they cannot identify with every individual story or institutional context. Likewise, for the late baby-boomer or early-Gen X administrator, it may provide helpful examples of understanding how the realities of academia are seen from different points of view. For either a faculty member or administrator in a faith-related institution, the narratives of individuals in these contexts also describe the unique challenges and approaches to these extra dimensions of academic life. As a whole, the book presents an appropriate and necessary diversity of experiences (race, gender, sexual orientation, discipline). While some chapters were stronger than others, it was a worthwhile book to read and would be a valuable addition to a post-secondary library.

Eric D. Barreto I teach texts. I read texts. I write texts. Every once in a great while, I even text texts. But I’ve noticed recently that many more of the texts I receive have fewer and fewer actual words. I’m talking acronyms certainly (LOL and lots more I haven’t...

The role of e-books in higher education continues to evolve. E-book sales rise steadily, as publishers and libraries explore the use of e-books in academia. Students and faculty, however, are often reluctant to embrace e-books for academic purposes. College and seminary educators seeking to discern the value of e-books and their role in higher education need guidance and insight. Unfortunately, Using e-Books and e-Readers for Adult Learning does not contribute significantly to that discussion. Written by an e-learning specialist and an educational program manager at Staffordshire University, the book articulates its purpose clearly: “to provide a guide on what different e-reading devices and e-books can offer the learner for the advancement of their learning, and to outline some of the issues and challenges that come with using them in the adult classroom” (1). These issues, however, are overshadowed by a considerable amount of how-to material that detracts from the more substantive discussion. The first three chapters address various aspects of e-book technology (for example, e-readers, digital rights management, and accessibility issues). Such introduction to the broad e-book landscape could prove useful, but these pages are dominated by tables, screen-shots, and technical minutiae (like screen orientation and battery life). Where the authors provide tips for classroom integration, these are subordinate to technical details. Anyone already familiar with e-books is likely to skim past this elementary material and overlook the tips. The next two chapters consider research on e-books in teaching, summarizing published studies and the authors’ own action research. This material is interesting, but would benefit from more synthesis and analysis of findings across the studies. The final chapters and conclusion discuss implementing e-book programs, offer tips for classroom use, and look toward the future of e-books in teaching and learning. (While directed toward adult literacy and diverse learning needs, some of these insights might transfer well to teaching theology and religion.) These chapters address the work’s stated goals and broach interesting theoretical considerations, but unfortunately this is the slimmest section of the book. The volume concludes with a glossary, web-resources, and an appendix detailing software and hardware aspects of different e-readers. Sadly, as is often the case when discussing technology, the material is already obsolete. Gay and Richardson are clearly knowledgeable regarding the value of e-books for adult literacy, but Using e-Books and e-Readers for Adult Learning is dominated by elementary technical matters. The book would benefit from attention to the substantive issues, by offering a thorough synthesis of research, spending more time discussing how e-books can serve different learners, and relegating technical how-to information to appendices. This does not mean the work should be awash in educational theory, but more attention to “so what?” questions would have been welcome. To some degree, the title suggests what the content does not deliver. This work serves as a detailed introduction to e-books for adult literacy teachers and programs, but its elementary character dilutes its value and restricts its potential for other settings.

Between 2006 and 2009 Wolfram Weisse and a team of researchers in eight European countries conducted pioneering research on the topic of religion and education. The project, known as REDCo, focused on adolescents, but also examined teacher beliefs and practices about religion and education. At the heart of this research is the question of whether learning about religion in schools can contribute to social harmony or social cohesion. Methodologically, the combined qualitative and quantitative approaches the team used sought to examine a number of aspects of this question. Religion, Education, Dialogue and Conflict reports on some of the results of the REDCo project. Unquestioned in much of this research is the desirability of students’ learning about religion in schools in one form or another. In other words, the question of whether learning about religion in schools can contribute to social harmony is for the most part transformed into an assumption, rather than retained as a research question. This can perhaps be forgiven if one examines the data as reported in this volume: across the chapters (written by key researchers in REDCo, including Robert Jackson who is a pioneer in this area of research), students themselves affirm the importance of education about religion as facilitating respect and the ability to live in a diverse society.             The diversity of results and the variations on the studies reported raise issues associated with conducting multi-sited research. Social and cultural context is such that one can never perfectly replicate research across national boundaries. REDCo seems to have responded to these variations admirably by giving researchers the freedom to fine tune the research design in a site-specific manner. Thus teachers in the U.K., for example, wrote reflective diaries that enabled Miller and McKenna to analyse differences and similarities between teacher and student beliefs about religion and education. There was, it turned out, considerable agreement between teachers and students about their commitment to pluralism and respect for religion. The freedom to respond to local context might be seen as part of the broader theoretical framework -- Robert Jackson’s interpretive approach -- relying on ethnographic methods to employ a student and teacher centered approach to the study of religion and education. Only by taking such an approach can we begin to decipher the usefulness of education about religion, which should not be taken as a given but held in critical tension with an examination of religion, and knowledge about it, in the education of future citizens. Since REDCo’s completion, there has been a flurry of research activity on the broad subject of religion and education. For all of us engaged in these activities, it is vital to learn what we can from the path-breaking efforts of the REDCo researchers. So, for example, a theme that recurs across the chapters is that students believe that “doing things together” is a key strategy for developing understanding about the “other.” This recognition, which mirrors a great deal of research on diversity management and social cohesion, seems to warrant further exploration, through, perhaps, an examination of students’ (and teachers’) experiences of shared activities with those who belong to religions (or no religion) other than their own.

At the risk of sounding trite – this is a good book and is well worth spending some serious time engaging. I approached it with a certain amount of skepticism, but was rapidly converted to the sensibility and obligation of sustainability within the context of higher education. The authors clearly demonstrate that there are a number of ways to approach the challenge, offering practical insight for taking up the task. The book is divided into six sections, with four articles in each: Leadership and Commitment, Curricular Transformation, Defining the Paradigm for Change, Institutional Mission and the Culture of Sustainability, Accountability, and Professional and Personal Transformation. The authors approach the topic of sustainability from a number of angles and situations. They represent the range of higher education, from the community college to the major research university, both state and private. A careful reading will provide insight into how sustainability can be introduced into the maintenance of physical plants, curricula, teaching practice, and campus life and community. Most importantly, and this is a subtext woven throughout the book, there are multiple, practical descriptions of how a culture of sustainability can be established. Tactics for funding the movement to sustainability are also presented in a number of the narratives. The section on Accountability was one of the more engaging; if the task of creating a sustainable campus and culture is to be achieved there must be ongoing accountability, at every level. The first chapter, Sustainability Strategic Planning: Establishing Accountability in a World of Distractions (18), by Julie Newman of Yale, describes how “raising the bar” for sustainability was achieved at a large, prestigious and very diverse educational institution. As she puts it, “The course of action from vision to implementation calls for walking a fine line between enabling a creative process of continuous improvement over the long term while setting and achieving incremental, measureable, and impactful goal along the way” (221). Newman’s description of the walk to accountability could easily fit most educational institutions. Sustainability in Higher Education issues an unwritten challenge to those engaged in religious and theological education. There are no theological schools included in the book. While there is a description of Spelman University’s development of a “wellness program” as one of the ways to sustainability, there is no mention of a spiritual component. Santa Clara University’s Jesuit president, Michael Engh, is cited calling for a more just and sustainable world and for ethical implications being explored, but there is no direct appeal to theological method or thought. In the chapter Living the Questions (22), only two paragraphs were devoted to whether or not spiritual traditions could be engaged (268-9). The vision of creation in Genesis, and the hopefulness God has in it, as witnessed in the Incarnation, might also provide justification for developing cultures of sustainability. Theological educators should consider the challenge, and explore how faith contributes to a culture of sustainability. This is a good book that prods us to think along those lines.

In 2000, Fr. Peter-Hans Kolvenbach, then Superior General of the Society of Jesus, delivered a landmark address entitled “The Service of Faith and the Promotion of Justice in American Jesuit Higher Education.” In it, he raises the question, what is the “whole person” that Jesuit institutions seek to educate? His answer: “Tomorrow’s ‘whole person’ cannot be whole without an educated awareness of society and culture with which to contribute socially, generously, in the real world… [Students] should learn to perceive, think, judge, and act for the rights of others, especially the disadvantaged and the oppressed” (11). Spurred on by the sentiments expressed by Fr. Kolvenbach and others, faculty and administrators at Jesuit universities across the nation have developed a remarkable array of responses to the call for justice in education. The task of Mary Beth Combs and Patricia Ruggiano Schmidt’s edited volume was to gather many of those who have been responsible for the progress in justice education made in Jesuit institutions in the last decade and a half, highlight their work, and give them a platform from which to share what they have learned in the process about effectively educating for justice. They have succeeded admirably. The first two sections feature ways in which faculty evoke in their students the kind of solidarity with the oppressed and marginalized from which the work of justice springs. Readers of this journal will find particularly evocative and potentially useful Carol Kelly and Christopher Pramuk’s use of the arts, particularly music, to open students’ minds to appreciating how the world looks from the perspective of the poor and neglected among us. Many of the essays focus on various kinds of “academic immersion.” These range from something as simple as incorporating a strategic service learning component into a class, to summer courses abroad where advanced students work to help a population in need, to a full semester living and learning among some of the world’s poorest inhabitants. Another theme addressed in several essays is curricular change at the department or college level. This is perhaps a more daunting task, as it requires the cooperation of faculty and administrators. But there is also an opportunity here for departments of religion, in our often secularizing institutions, to perhaps discover a new means of making the content of our discipline more relevant to the practical concerns of our students and the world outside our classroom. The third section contains a number of reflections on establishing more justice-centered institutional modi operandi. These will interest faculty concerned with shaping campus culture outside their own classroom. On occasion, the authors press their conclusions about what “works” beyond the warrant of their limited experiences. Nevertheless, this book remains an excellent source of inspiration and ideas for bringing students into contact with “the gritty reality of this world” (11), so that they not only learn the content of their discipline, but also begin to discover possibilities for its meaningful application in the service of justice. I highly recommend it as a starting place for thinking about how to make any course or program in religion a more transformative, justice-centered endeavor.

This interdisciplinary collection of twenty essays makes the case for the benefits of collaborative thinking in a variety of settings. These brief essays are packed with useful classroom activities to promote collaborative learning. Several essays offer first-hand examples of how collaborative learning is vital to architecture, industry, orchestras, theater, and athletics. Few would dispute that these are team-based enterprises. Still, these experiential accounts yield worthwhile reminders. Readers will also appreciate the contributions from researchers in the cognitive sciences. The neuroscience behind collaborative thinking is presented in clear and jargon-free language. Evolutionary biologists reveal how the human brain evolved to allow more complex social organizations. Neuroscientific research explores how brain structure and function are enhanced in collaborative settings. Moreover, good collaborative work dispels our instinct for survival and engages our capacity for emotional awareness and control. In addition to increasing the brain’s plasticity, there are chemical benefits to thinking with others. Collaborative activities release dopamine and other pleasurable chemicals in the brain. So if interdependent thinking is so good for the brain and for human well-being, why is it so hard to achieve in the classroom? The remaining essays illumine both obstacles to and strategies for promoting interdependent thinking. Many contributors focus on the important role the facilitator plays in teaching others to become better listeners, to develop skills such as empathy, paraphrasing, productive questioning, as well as managing gender and cultural dynamics. Some essays offer productive verbal cues and exercises to promote better collaborative thinking in the classroom. Yet, this is more than a “talking cure” to our false sense of independence or autonomy. One essay, by David Hylerle and Larry Alper questions whether verbal expression alone is too linear to capture the highly associative and non-linear patterns in collaborative thinking. They thereby promote the use of visual tools and cognitive maps to capture and advance more interdependent non-linear thinking. Although presuming K-12 settings, this volume has much to offer college and seminary professors who value engaged and productive classroom discussion. First, it provides useful essays on telling the difference between activities that promote shared thinking and those that generate more meaningful interdependent thinking. In addition to providing a detailed index, several essays include helpful comparative tables of collaborative discussion strategies (for example, pausing, paraphrasing, posing questions, providing data, generating ideas, attention to self and to other, and positive dispositions) and the nature of independent, shared, and interdependent thinking.  Lately, a bestseller – Susan Cain’s Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can’t Stop Talking (Broadway Books, 2013) – asks whether group work ignores some important voices. The Power of the Social Brain offers a welcome counterpoint to Cain’s caveats. The essays here remind faculty of the need to foster meaningful group work. Educators will appreciate this volume’s concrete suggestions for cultivating effective strategies to make classrooms even richer transformational spaces.

University of Washington colleagues and scholars Beyer, Taylor, and Gillmore began their work in assessment with a rather simple – but important – question: “Without external pressure to do so, do faculty make changes to their teaching?” (17). To answer this and the subsequent follow-ups (“If so, what changes?” and “Why?”), they engaged in an extensive, qualitative study that drew from a sample of fifty-five male and female faculty members and eight graduate students of various ethnicities and in different stages of their professional careers. The findings of their study, they argue, challenge the prevailing image of professors as disengaged from anything other than their research, and show that faculty remain deeply engaged simultaneously with both their research and with current pedagogical methods, best practices, new and emerging technologies, and – above all – the development of critical engagement for their students with their respective disciplines. Perhaps most surprising, they argue, is that the findings of this study demonstrate that professors exhibit a desire for improved teaching even though most have not received teaching-training and even in the absence of external pressures. Then why change? A faculty member makes it through the semester, notes intact; what, then, stimulates the need for any change at all? Beyer, Taylor, and Gillmore’s findings reveal that even with increased interest in the development of “best practices” among faculty at institutions of higher learning (91), change in the classroom is driven by interaction between faculty and their students (91), and generally takes one of two forms: internal or external. In the case of internal change, faculty work to introduce methods that encourage greater, earlier, and deeper engagement with their own course content. This type of change is often induced by assessment, observation, or conversation between faculty and student. External changes, on the other hand, are introduced as a result of workshop activity, collegial conversation, and observation. It is worth noting that external change accounts for the smallest percentage of reasons for change, a mere 12 percent (105). This book is valuable for revealing in quantifiable terms what many in this field already know; that teaching is a dynamic and malleable activity. But what it also reveals is that the greatest changes in the classroom occur when professors are tuned into the intimate voice of their own discipline, within the context of their own classroom. External influences and opportunities are important, but what appears to be more important is the willingness of a professor to pay rigorous attention to the needs of particular groups of learners, at particular moments in time. And though it should not be necessary to provide evidence of how hard professors work and how much they care, it is nice to have this study as evidence.