Finding Lucien B. Kinney.
The Stanford Graduate School of Education once displayed photographs of its faculty along a hallway. It was there, musing over those portraits, that I next encountered Lucien B. Kinney. He looked back at me from the 1940s, sharing no secrets. What happens to scholarship, when a scholar leaves the field, leaves the world? Who was this man to Stanford University, and to the study of education? I was compelled to learn more.
As I began this project, I was also beginning my own journey as an academic, unsure where my scholarship might take me. This study of Kinney's life, including the theoretical and empirical ties bridging his work and my own, is in some ways the story of my own becoming... my coming-into-being as a new kind of person, of trying on the new identities of researcher, professor, and academic. The Kinney chair became a focal point, both anchoring me to his world and projecting me forward into a new world of my own making and discovery; a world where I had a job, an office, and students who would come to me with questions and concerns. Those students might sit in the Kinney chair.
Beginning the Search
Jonathan Rabinovitz, then the chief communications officer for our school, found me in the hallway staring at Kinney's picture. He knew my emerging scholarly writing, and he was looking ahead to the school's centennial celebration. He suggested I write up "500 words" on Kinney. I worried this might be a diversion, taking time from the all-consuming task of producing a dissertation. But 500 words also felt like a reasonable goal. My brief initial search revealed some astonishing things: It turned out that Kinney and I shared connections across training, research, and even homeland. This preliminary work led to more questions: How did Kinney come to Stanford? Who was he to Stanford? Who was Kinney as a scholar? Who was Kinney to his family? Finally, synthesizing those four views, who is Kinney to me?
The first four questions and their anticipated answers are metaphorical chair legs, supporting a composite understanding of the whole of Lucien B. Kinney, who is represented by the chair. This biography begins with a description of research methods and concerns specific to the field of mathematics education. My answers to the four questions follow, with illustrations of the personal and professional events that paved Kinney's path to Stanford, the work he carried out at Stanford, his scholarly contributions to the fields of mathematics education and teacher certification, his connections to family and home, and how Kinney's life and work resonate with my own. Finally, I conclude with a holistic consideration of who Kinney was, and who he continues to be.
As a novice biographer, I needed knowledge of historical biographical research methodology. I adopted Perkins' framework for biographical research; maintaining scholarly integrity; choosing and identifying with a subject; and considering sources of evidence.1 Data analysis followed from my training in ethnographic practices, wedded with advice from historical researchers, and further reading on biographical methods.
As an education researcher I observe the teaching and learning of mathematics. This is known as participant observation, and it calls for the researcher to both acknowledge and manage the impact of her presence on the process. Specifically, my research includes videotaping classroom interactions, taking field notes, conducting surveys and interviews, and performing the appropriate related analyses.
Methodological Training Across Tields
I am trained as an ethnographer, which is a practice of cultural observation with ties to biography. Glesne, who is both anthropologist and biographer, points out connections between the two fields. (2) Ethnographers immerse themselves in cultural settings with the goal of drafting portraits of individuals and groups of people in concert with cultural contexts. As a mathematics education researcher, I seek to understand the power dynamics and learning potential of mathematics classrooms. I chart the evolution of student identities, as knowers- and doers-of-mathematics. (3) As a researcher I chronicle the work and lives of other human beings. I believe that portraying people honestly and with respect calls for reflection and responsibility. This stance was the launching point for my first foray into biographical research.
As part of my theoretical training on how we construct, maintain, and modify personal identities across different cultural contexts, I studied with historian Andrea Rees Davies. She taught that histories are narrations that connect selected "dots" (evidence) across time, place, and persons. We construct stories of who and how people were, based on the dots we choose and how we connect them. These choices are guided by the criteria and biases we bring to our analysis of data. (4) Pinar and Pautz tell us that "biography intertwines with the history of the writer to reveal aspects of both the writer and the subject--different people whose merged and separated voices collaborate to form a complex text; biography." (5) Further, they caution biographers to acknowledge "the 'construction scars' [of biographical work] to avoid the illusion of 'realism.'" (6) To these ends, I continually reflected on my choices as researcher and biographer, and my reasons for completing this task. I felt honor-bound to both Kinney and my craft to represent him as honestly as possible, while remaining respectful of the fact that he was subject to human frailties, and that biographical projects are always incomplete. He lived, he loved, he accomplished much, and he died. Focusing on parts of Kinney's life with particular lenses required both hubris and humility. It called for courage to craft a portrait of a person consistently grounded in care for how he was represented. Were it possible for him to read it, would Kinney recognize himself? Would he find my characterization fair and accurate?
One of the most exciting parts of this project was interviewing people who interacted with Kinney or his work. My training and practice as a researcher prepared me to conduct interviews so as to put participants at ease, invite them to share their stories, channel the conversation to answer specific questions, and follow up flexibly on unanticipated information. (7) Additionally, my training prepared me to ask questions in ways that do not put words in the mouth of the participant while still testing for understanding and asking for confirming evidence, e.g. "If I understand you correctly, you found Kinney to be a kind person? Can you give me an example of his kindness?" Doing so is important in validating the findings of the interview. (8)
Seeking further training in researching historical figures, I turned again to biographical methodology. Hartsook advises learning and attending to the institutional norms and practices of archives and archivists when seeking access to historical documents. (9) To that end, I carefully observed the rules of the archives: I communicated clearly what I was looking for, allowed plenty of time for archivists to retrieve the documents I requested, offered gratitude for their stories and suggestions, and took care to preserve the materials. Following Hartsook's advice to analyze material as I accumulated it, I produced analytic memos and duplicated the documents that seemed most helpful in addressing any of the four "legs of the chair." (10)
Choosing and Identifying with a Subject
I also researched how biographers choose a subject. Drawing from Perkins and Wiesen Cook, I subjected Kinney to two tests: Was he compelling, and, to paraphrase Perkins, did I like him? (11) Kinney easily passed the first test as I felt an almost gravitational pull--a need to know about him as a scholar and person. The preliminary research made me think I might very much like Kinney by the end, and even if I did not, it was still important to know more about who he was in my field.
Through this work, I came not only to know Kinney, but also to care about him. Cautioned by Salvio, 1 carefully monitored the distinction between appreciating Kinney, and feeling indebted to him. (12) Though Kinney had long since passed, I felt new pressure to present him in a positive light after contacting his family. Fortunately, I did not find much evidence to the contrary. I felt comfortably close to Kinney, but not to the point of compromised judgment.
Sources of Evidence. Having settled on a subject, I considered sources of evidence. I began my work with the easiest attainments: what I could find on the internet, including census reports and publications. Jonathan Rabinovitz provided two of Kinney's publications and a related study that took up Kinney's research. (13) I next met with Education Historians Ethan Ris and Daniel McFarland. Ris coached me on archival research at Stanford, which brought me to Green Library and the Hoover Institution's archives. There I found original and copied versions of Kinney's professional papers, including memos to faculty, personal letters to and from colleagues, a press release for a major publication, his memorial resolution, and his obituary. Among the documents, I found some autobiographical material that Kinney himself had written. Such self-reporting, in ethnographic work, is cause for both celebration and a bit of skepticism. What persona is Kinney performing? McFarland shared a chapter from a history of the Stanford School of Education, co-authored with Ethan Hutt. (14) Once I had a sense of who Kinney was from the archival documents, I sought to understand how his work interacted with that of his peers, and might have been taken up by his academic descendants. This led me to research publications both historical and recent.
The final source of data proved the most elusive, and in the end, exciting. I attempted to find living people who might recall Kinney, or at least have interacted with his work. I was fortunate to find Kinney's stepdaughter, Joan Valentine, and her daughter, Kitty Barr. I also connected with mathematics education professors Jeremy Kilpatrick, emeritus, University of Georgia, and Alan Schoenfeld, University of California-Berkeley. Most improbably, I purchased copies of Kinney's texts, one of which was stamped "property of Douglas Aichele." Aichele is a Regents Professor emeritus of mathematics at Oklahoma State University and author of several mathematics texts. I was able to interview him, by email, about Kinney's book. Beyond improbably, I found D. Patrick (Pat) Kinney, currently an instructor at the Wisconsin Indianhead Technical College--Ashland, after discovering his texts on mathematics. He is a distant cousin of Kinney's.
In ethnographic fieldwork, analysis begins with jottings and the summation of daily field notes in the form of analytic memos. These serve as records of initial theories, and triangulation of data across multiple sources. Initial observations and theories can then be tested for robustness (does the theory hold across the rest of the data set?) and frailty (is there contradicting evidence?). A researcher can thus propose, test, and track the evolution of theory across the memos. (15) I found this practice useful for my biographical project in proposing and testing ideas about who Kinney was in specific contexts.
My analysis of the Kinney papers and publications was triangulated with research both contemporary to Kinney's and current in the fields of learning psychology, teacher certification, and mathematics education. I found both agreement and opposition between Kinney's findings and views on teacher preparation and mathematics education, those of his contemporaries, and of future researchers. Assessments of Kinney's work were considered in terms of the strength of the claims I could make. For example, I felt strongly that Kinney believed education should be democratic and available to all learners because this evidence was directly quotable and apparent in multiple sources. (16)
As I worked my way through Kinney's papers and publications, I organized them into neat stacks. The stacks corresponded with who Kinney was to various institutions (most notably Stanford), the field of mathematics education and teacher certification (his national presence), family (his personal life), and to me (in scholarly kinship). One stack was notably short: beyond cursory reports of his familial connections there were no other representations of Kinney's personal life. This problem was remedied by Joan Valentine, Kitty Barr, and Pat Kinney. The analysis of these documents, the analytic memos, and stories drawn from interviews first formed, then answered, the questions of who Kinney was as a professional and private figure. The data provided the "dots" that connected to outline Kinney's biographical storylines, and to sketch portraits of who Kinney was in particular domains. (17) Finally, I overlaid the sketches to synthesize an answer to the more complex questions of who Kinney was holistically, and who he continues to be to me, as scholarly kin.
Kinney earned his bachelor's degree (1923) and a PhD in Mathematics (1931) from the University of Minnesota, and served as a corporal in the 184th Air Squadron in France during World War I. He worked as a researcher with the Minnesota Bureau of Educational Research, under his doctoral mentor Alvin C. Eurich, before moving on to head the program of teacher education at the State University of New York at Oswego. Kinney was a member of the Stanford faculty from 1940 until 1960. His first wife, Ida Omsrud, was a Minnesota school teacher who passed away in 1966. Kinney was born in Hudson, WI on January 15, 1894 and died in Palo Alto, CA on December 24, 1971, at the age of 77. He was survived by his second wife, Joye S. Kinney, whom he married December 14, 1968, and her daughter Joan Valentine and granddaughter Kitty Barr. The following section expands this framing to describe how Kinney made his way to Stanford University, the first of the four "chair legs."
Leg #1: How did Kinney come to Stanford?
The Hoover archives offered up an amazing find--a testimonial from Kinney himself. This letter is a response to a request, most likely from Kinney's colleague Lawrence Gregg Thomas, to catalogue the pivotal decisions in his professional life. Dated July 27,1959, it was written shortly before Kinney's retirement, perhaps to help organize a farewell speech for a fete given on August 8, 1959 in honor of Lucien and Ida Kinney. This treasure trove of information was penned by Kinney himself, and so is quite autobiographical. It reports a number of dates and facts (where Kinney was, and what he was doing), alongside his motivations. He began the letter:
Dear Larry: Some time ago you asked me if I would give you an account of the outstanding episodes in my career that changed its direction, or sharply influenced its direction. Herewith is such an account. As you know, I am very hesitant to prepare this narrative, since I have developed an aversion to explanations or anything that appears like a justification. Th[e] latter is partly due to extended association with people who are unable to differentiate between reasons, rationalizations, and excuses. It is also partly due to the fact that very few events in my own career have any large element of probability. (18)
Having implied that many of his life's decisions were capricious--evidence, perhaps of the wit his students remembered him for (19)--Kinney moved on to detail the influences that motivated life-changing choices. These included his military service (his higher rank determined by a clerical error), his decision whether or not to study music (his dog hated the sound of his playing), engineering over law (his father, a lawyer, died when Kinney was still in high school), serving in World War I (an opportunity to build bridges and "see the world"), and mathematics over engineering (he'd "lost interest in the latter").
The advent of World War I found Kinney in engineering school, and teaching part-time to finance his education. Kinney's self-report is markedly absent of his experiences during that war, leaping to his return to graduate studies in engineering, and teaching to once again fund them. But he found he was "more interested in teaching mathematics than building bridges." (20) In his letter to Larry, Kinney wrote that "I decided to take a year off and go down to the University of Chicago for a change and indulge in a year of systematic study. While there, I worked with Holsinger, Judd, Freeman, and Busswell." (21) Grounded in psychology, education scientists at the University of Chicago were just then beginning to evolve beyond behaviorism as a focal theory of learning. (22) Kinney's scholarship was also headed in a different direction: the practical applications of mathematics, as is reflected in several of his publications. (23)
Kinney returned to Minnesota to finish his doctorate. Here he faced another crossroads: a decision between teaching high school or at the university level. Kinney chose the latter for practical reasons: gainful employment. During this time, he also began to ask "how to teach mathematics and why?" (24) Teaching mathematics raised questions about curriculum and pedagogy--what constitutes mathematical knowledge, and how best to teach and learn the subject. Kinney wrote:
I found something disturbing in watching youngsters learn to manipulate thimbles in order to get a passing grade. On the other hand, before I could teach them anything else, I had to settle in my own mind what else they should be learning. The idea gradually evolved that mathematics was the means for understanding and controlling the social, economic, and physical factors in the environment. (25)
After graduating, Kinney accepted a position with the Bureau of Educational Research, working under the direction of his dissertation supervisor, Al Eurich, in the field of test construction and interpretation. Kinney's first publications included pioneering work in the role of assessments, primarily true-false tests. (26) During the 1920s, behaviorist theory still had a strong grip on education psychology and theories of learning. (27) True-false tests have a strong alignment with the input-output concerns of behaviorism called "stimulus-response bonds." (28) It is not surprising that education as a field was concerned with this kind of assessment at that time. However, based on his reflections on teaching and learning mathematics, Kinney's work appeared to be moving in a constructivist direction. (29) This fits with his clear declarations of the importance of applied mathematics. Constructivists believe that people come to know a thing by the doing of it--that we construct understanding by linking new experience to existing knowledge of the world. Given his focus on applied mathematics, Kinney might have been drawn to related theories for learning.
Kinney's epistemological stances on what counts as mathematics and how best to learn and teach it were tested when he took positions as head of the Department of Mathematics in the Junior-Senior High School of the University of Minnesota and as an instructor in its College of Education. Presaging skirmishes that came to be known as the "Math Wars" in the latter twentieth century, Kinney soon learned that his vision of mathematics as applied problem solving met with the disapproval of the University of Minnesota Mathematics Department. (30) This is early evidence of an ongoing battle among mathematicians, who argue even amongst themselves over the validity of applied mathematics in comparison to "pure" mathematics. As a field of study, Kinney reflected that "It has largely been forgotten today that during the 30s mathematics was on the way out, along with Latin and other relics of the 90s. There was an emphasis on utilitarian subjects, anything that appeared in the light of a luxury or a mental discipline was frowned upon." (31) Later, during World War II, mathematics was once again in demand--Kinney referred to it as the "language of science," the undergirding of technological war efforts. Kinney's work to shift the Minnesota College of Education away from teaching mathematics as a set of memorized algorithms and towards a sense-making stance heralded the call of the National Council of Teachers of Mathematics (NCTM) of the late 1980s. (32)
As the great depression of the 1930s abated, Kinney found new employment far from Minnesota, taking a job as a "de facto executive dean" in charge of teacher preparation at the State University of New York at Oswego. (33) As with his work in Minnesota, Kinney claims to have reenvisioned and reformed the program he was charged to oversee. (34) In this case, his work seems to have laid the ground for later larger scale efforts at assessing teachers on the basis of professional standards. This theme remains central to current debates on how best to assess teacher preparedness. (35) There is little mention of how Kinney came to Stanford from Oswego, aside from his own cryptic comment that "I very unwillingly left to become part of the staff at Stanford." (36) A letter from a former student indicates that Kinney was invited by Grayson Kefauver, who was then the Dean of the School of Education and a contemporary of Kinney's at the University of Minnesota. (37) A press release dated November 29,1950 referred to "former acting president of Stanford Alvin C. Eurich." Given that Eurich was Kinney's doctoral advisor, it seems plausible that one or more of these Minnesotans invited the others. (38) Archived papers, a collection of letters, and Stanford Education historians provided more clues as to how he spent his time there. At this point, I turn to his scholarly publications and surviving correspondence with colleagues to better understand who and how he was at Stanford University.
Leg #2: Who was Kinney at Stanford?
In the murky basement of the Hoover Institution, I gained access to Kinney's correspondence with Paul R. Hanna, and the "letter to Larry." Hanna was prolific, his papers meticulously organized by correspondent and year. According to one Hoover Institution archivist, Hanna was peeved when the School of Education failed to sustain the international reading program he pioneered with his wife, Jean Shuman Hanna. So, he left his papers to the Hoover Institution rather than the School of Education. From these files, I learned that Hanna and Kinney collaborated on matters of curriculum, and that Kinney travelled widely, including visits to Hawai'i and Texas. I also learned that Stanford scholars sent one another notes in the way we might send an email or a text message in these times. Hanna saved every scrap, leaving signposts to collaborative scholarly work. This differed from Kinney's papers, which are housed in the Graduate School of Education's archives at Green Library. The Kinney papers are a much smaller collection, consisting of press releases for a major publication and conference speeches, a list of his publications drafted for the program of his retirement dinner, his memorial resolution, obituary, and letters of condolence to Joye Kinney and Joan Valentine. The Hanna papers include notes and letters from Kinney to Hanna, and the corresponding responses. There is a letter from Hanna to Lucien and his first wife, Ida, congratulating them on Kinney's retirement in 1959. Hanna's possession of the "letter to Larry" may indicate that Hanna prepared remarks for Kinney's celebratory retirement dinner. Oddly, no copy of the "letter to Larry" was among Kinney's Stanford papers, though the original was kept with the personal papers Joan Valentine later shared with me.
Kinney was acting Dean in the timespan between Kefauver's departure in 1943, and the appointment of A. John Bartky in 1946. According to his stepdaughter Joan Valentine, Kinney held happy memories of his military service during World War I and wanted very much to serve in World War II. Denied a chance to enlist a second time, he turned his focus to the war effort at home: restructuring the school of education to prepare educators to serve and teach to wartime interests. This included a shift in curriculum and the organization of the teacher education program. To that end, the school developed new courses designed to retool professionals as teachers. As part of that effort, Kinney himself designed and taught a course of mathematics, which was "deemed successful." (39)
Kinney's role as acting dean was certainly pivotal in the history of the school of education during World War II. His relationships with students and colleagues also appeared to be important to both Kinney and his acquaintances. Kinney missed the fall quarter of 1954 due to a hospitalization, and this may have affected his decision to retire in 1959, at the earliest possible point in his career. At Kinney's retirement fete on August 8,1959, he was presented with a bound volume of letters, entitled simply "Dear Lucien:" It includes 111 letters from former students and colleagues from across the United States, reaching even to the Philippines. This volume was kept by his family in a trove of personal papers. The letters are a testament, indeed, to the "wit and wisdom" for which he is remembered, and several writers expressed regret and surprise at his early retirement. (40) Pristine in their preservation, not a single letter is creased from the indignity of being stuffed into an envelope, which made me wonder who assumed the task of sending out solicitations for remembrances. Did they include full size mailing envelopes? No small undertaking, the volume is evidence that Kinney was highly regarded.
The letters give evidence of these themes: Kinney and Ida regularly welcomed several students to their home for "high tea," and he was a treasured doctoral advisor. Kinney's teaching modeled his pedagogical theory. Former students Helen Mae and Jimmy Arnett wrote, "In your classes students did not have to learn what was good Teacher Education; we experienced it. You successfully not only demonstrated the professor's role but saw that we performed our roles satisfactorily." (41) The letters reinforce that Kinney was at the forefront of educational and mathematical reforms, listing his roles in launching the California Mathematics Council and California Council of Teacher Education, and as founding President of Diablo College in the East Bay. He was particularly skilled at the arts of writing and argumentation, as is reflected in his letter from a Katherine "Lena" Dresden, a former doctoral student and co-editor:
Dear Butch: When I start to communicate with you in writing I feel I must: (1) tell you what I am going to say, (2) say it, (3) tell you what I have said. For, to me, writing for you means formal, concise, doctorial-stuff writing--serious, to live by, or to go down in defeat. To communicate with you, one must visit with you, see that quizzical expression that causes one to choose his words carefully, watch those brown eyes blinking behind the thick spectacles, play for the epitome of all phrases, "That's great stuff!" (42)
The letters also revealed that Kinney loved dogs, the card game of bridge, and golf, but hated crabgrass. He was known to several as "Butch," though the source of that nickname was not evident. Several remarked on his kindness, and his incisive argumentation in matters of policy and practice.
Kinney worked at Stanford as professor emeritus until at least 1964, continuing his efforts to improve education. He was a co-principal investigator for an innovative and large-scale study to reform the ways current materials were used in classrooms, wrote several articles on evolving methods and curriculum in mathematics education, and was involved at the state and national level of the professionalization of teaching. (43) The latter effort both examined and informed the ways states certified teachers, efforts that eventually led to professional licensing for teachers. His work on certification was certainly reflected in the programs offered by the Stanford School of Education during and after his tenure as dean. (44) Kinney was remembered as a "scholar-scientist and teacher," who taught that "the end-product of a job well done is not so important as what was learned in the doing," and "that mathematics is not difficult, only mathematicians." (45) Ida played an important role in supporting his scholarship as the Kinneys literally opened their doors to nearly two decades of emerging scholars and teachers. Several letters reference the ongoing work Kinney set in motion, both in terms of his forthcoming publications and the impact he had on the many students and colleagues he supported. This is succinctly summed up by former student Harriet Burr, who wrote "Dear Professor Kinney: It was with deep regret that I learned of your plans to withdraw from the active front of education. Yet, you can never withdraw, for the challenges which you have given your students are being carried by them to their own students in an ever-widening circle. Your work has no end." (46)
Leg #3: Who was Kinney as a Scholar?
Kinney's academic publications include 45 articles, five monographs, and twelve books. I fully expected to find his texts in the Stanford libraries. When I returned to this study at my new institution, I was pleasantly surprised to find several of them in the University of Oregon's libraries. Thus, preservation of his scholarship went beyond the pride of his home institutions--Kinney had a bigger impact than I had anticipated.
Kinney's writing reflects little jargon. It is clear and inviting to the reader, perhaps because his audience was teachers and administrators, perhaps because he was simply ahead of his time as an academic author. During Kinney's time, it was common to stereotype particular groups of people, including girls and women, as inferior to their male peers at mathematics. Such stereotypes are refreshingly absent in Kinney's writing. His work shows a focus on assessment and educational reform, and is dominated by these questions: What is mathematics; how do we best teach mathematics; how can we improve teaching and learning; and what are the roles of teacher preparation and professional certification?
Kinney's vision of mathematics as a means for solving problems speaks to his roots as an engineer: the man started off wanting to build bridges. (47) His writing references an ongoing tension in mathematics pedagogy between the goal of memorizing algorithms and replicating procedures and that of developing deep conceptual understanding and problem solving skills. (48) Mathematics education research, a field in its infancy in the 1930s, would later concern itself with conceptual understanding as the cornerstone of effective teaching and learning practices. (49) For Kinney, mathematics was a set of understandings that served practical applications, and teaching and learning focused on making sense of mathematics while solving problems within those contexts. He wrote that:
Learning is a problem solving operation...[and] mathematics is a part of our language. The implications of this are extensive. As a language [mathematics] evolved in the human efforts to solve the problems of their environment: social, economic, and physical aspects. As a language, it must be learned as a means of analyzing and solving contemporary problems. A study of its structure should follow and not precede its use, just as grammar and philology are not the place to start in learning a language. (50)
This is a notably strong and somewhat radical stance, given the predominant thinking at that time. Debate on how best to teach and learn mathematics continues even now. (51)
Kinney authored several mathematics textbooks, often working with John L. Marks, Charles Richard Purdy, and Harl Roy Douglass. Kinney's 1952 volume, Teaching Mathematics in the Secondary School, may have been one of his most influential. It was published in nine editions between 1952, when Kinney was sole author, and 1960 with Kinney as first author and Purdy added as second author. Peggy V. Ryan, a former student of Kinney's, wrote in 1959 that "I have taught mathematics in Korea, Washington, New York, and the [Panama] Canal Zone... I have run into your book in math teachers' rooms in all of these places." (52) To better understand how Kinney's ideas were taken up, I tracked down and purchased three copies in addition to the ones housed in the libraries at Stanford and the University of Oregon. They arrived from across the United States: Southern California, Oklahoma, and Minnesota. These volumes were likely kept, across decades, in expanding professional libraries before being released into the used book market. Douglas Aichele, professor emeritus of mathematics at Oklahoma State University, was kind enough to engage in email correspondence about the book. He does not recall annotating his text in the 1960s, though he does recognize the writing as his own. The trail of ownership, and use of the texts, indicates they were likely used in secondary (middle and high school) teacher preparation courses on teaching methods: "how to teach math," if you will. This influence cannot be overstated.
The current equivalent of Kinney's 1952/1960 methods textbook is the NCTM 2014 publication, Principles to Actions: Ensuring Mathematical Success for All. A comparative analysis revealed that both texts begin with a democratic call for mathematics education for all students. Framed by statistics about how mathematics instruction is both succeeding and failing groups of students in the United States, both texts move on to describe effective pedagogy. One thing is clear in both volumes: mathematics education, as a whole, needs to do much better. Failure rates continue to be untenably high if the collective goal is a mathematically literate democracy. While both texts begin with a similar call (democracy in Kinney's day, equity in current times), they differ in the foci of remaining chapters. Kinney's text lays out a theory of mathematical pedagogy and moves on to several chapters covering mathematical content knowledge. The NCTM text focuses much more on pedagogical theory, and content arises from examples of student work to support discussions of pedagogy. These differences are both logical and appropriate. The NCTM text is a synthetic anthology of decades of empirical research on teaching and learning mathematics. Kinney's text reflects the use of classroom teaching as a practical laboratory and the limited amount of empirical research that existed at that time. Mathematics educators continue to wrestle with the pernicious question of why some students fail to thrive in mathematics classrooms. In fact, this struggle is mentioned as early as 1906, in Jacob William Albert Young's treatise, The Teaching of Mathematics. (53) Research reveals that many people believe that mathematical ability is innate and fixed. (54) Further, mathematics has traditionally been taught in ways that encourage this belief. (55) Even worse, marginalized people are often tracked into low-level courses, which can perpetuate the belief that they are simply worse at mathematics. This is particularly true for women and people of color. (56) Kinney's work foreshadows the current cornerstone of mathematics education: teaching for equity, and the success of all mathematics learners. (57) Comparing the two texts gives this impression: Kinney was driving many of the mathematics education reforms the field continues to embrace and enhance today. In 1959, Edwin Eagle of San Diego State College wrote to Kinney:
It has often occurred to me that in nearly all places in California, and in many other places, where important work is being done in mathematics education you will find a Kinney trained person leading the way and shouldering much of the work. It is no exaggeration to say that better mathematics teaching in California is very largely the lengthened shadow of Lucien B. Kinney. (58)
Given Kinney's scholarly work at the state and national levels of NCTM, this influence extended far beyond California. Yet, queries to current senior scholars in the field of mathematics education revealed little remembrance of Kinney. This calls into question the extent of Kinney's importance and influence in mathematics education. While his texts appear to have lingered on in the libraries of institutions and individuals, those who came to the field shortly after his retirement do not recall his work. Though Kinney's publications are still available, the man himself is far from a common name in the field of mathematics education.
As part of his doctoral work with Alvin C. Eurich at the University of Minnesota, Kinney studied the validity of varied forms of true-false tests. (59) This work seems quaint by today's standards, but a closer examination sheds a critical light on the modern-day equivalent: the multiple-choice test. Such tests are relatively easy to administer, particularly by computer, and are often the format for high-stakes tests tied to both student and teacher evaluations. Multiple choice test items lend themselves to assessing factual and computational expertise. It is difficult to write items that accurately assess conceptual understanding, which is the bedrock of a robust and flexible knowledge of mathematics. This puts educational assessment in a bind. It is expensive and time-consuming to test conceptual understanding. But multiple-choice assessments offer a very thin portrait of what a person actually knows. Attempts to bridge the gap between assessments have thus far been messy and incomplete. (60) Yet both students and their teachers are measured by the results of tests such as the Smarter Balanced and Partnership for Assessment of Readiness for College or Careers (PARCC) tests, the kind of assessments mandated by No Child Left Behind and Race to the Top legislation. (61) Kinney's early work on the validity of true-false tests and what they can actually tell us about a person's understanding (for example--is the person guessing?) remains relevant.
In 1949, the Stanford University Press published Better Learning Through Classroom Materials, a book edited by Kinney. This text was published in 17 editions between 1949 and 1952. At some point, Stanford student Katherine Dresden was added as co-editor. The book reports the results of a large and innovative study, for which Kinney and his Stanford colleague, Reginald Bell, were co-principal investigators. In the foreword to the book, they wrote:
This volume, written for teachers by teachers, has grown out of a successful experiment and study continued over a period of more than three years, in the use of current materials in the classroom. It presents and evaluates in detail those procedures and materials that have proven themselves valuable in a wide range of participating classes. (62)
Remarkable for its time, this study drew from two central tenets: 1) curricular and pedagogical experiments must be locally designed and desired in the schools they served (contextual and cultural), and 2) initiatives for experiments must come from classroom teachers. The study was governed by the California Council on Improvement of Instruction, an ad hoc community of stakeholders gathered around the common cause of creating a "long-needed laboratory for appraising materials and developing teaching skills." (63)
The notion of teaching experiments rejected the idea that research on cognition was best conducted in laboratory settings. Cognitive scientists have debated this question across decades: How can we isolate and measure learning, and the impact of particular teaching and learning innovations, from the noisy data produced in classrooms? But if we confine research on cognition to lab settings, carefully controlling for environment and input, how valid are claims about what we can accomplish in classrooms? If we want to better understand how learning happens in the rich, messy contexts of classrooms, that is where we need to conduct research. (64) Given the era in which it was conducted, this study employed surprisingly organic quasiexperimental methods for devising and testing new curriculum. It speaks to current efforts to improve teaching and learning, such as Japanese Lesson Study and Action Research. (65) Copublishing with teachers is perhaps more common now, but was likely very innovative in Kinney's time. (66) It seems Kinney and Bell particularly valued the collaboration and camaraderie that both undergirded and resulted from the study--they closed their remarks on this hopeful and forward looking note: "Most of all, however, the pages should reflect the atmosphere of organized cooperation and professional enthusiasm, for these, too, constituted the environment. Their potentialities in education are unlimited. That is the message of this volume." (67) This vision of educational reform can be summed up as 1) teacher-driven, 2) classroom-centered, and 3) democratic.
Kinney's work on teacher training and certification was also reform-oriented. A member and officer of multiple state and national committees on teacher training and certification, Kinney authored numerous articles, guidelines, and books on that topic. (68) The call for professional training and certification in education was not new. In 1906, Jacob Albert William Young decried the limited requirements for attaining a position teaching mathematics, "Yet it has not seemed astounding that young men and women equipped only with a more or less adequate knowledge of the subject matter, and some general recollections of how they themselves were taught, should be given precious minds to make or to mar." (69)
A sample of the systematic--and atomistic--nature of how Kinney and his colleagues envisioned the work of teaching can be found in his 1953 publication, Measure of a Good Teacher. The text, published by the California Teachers Association and available at the time for 25 cents, offered an ambitious definition of good teaching and enumerated standards for the practice. (70) This volume was likely related to Kinney's work on a committee charged with evaluating and approving colleges and universities to certify teachers in the state of California. (71)
In 1964, Kinney published Certification in Education, his opus on teacher certification history, efforts, and future directions. This book was published in four editions, all in the same year. Kinney's mentor, Alvin C. Eurich, wrote in a foreword to the text, "Certification in Education will be widely discussed; it is bound to shake the status quo. Perhaps out of that discussion will come higher horizons and standards for education in America." (72) The survival of this text in the active stacks of multiple institutions of education is testament to its longevity. All states eventually embraced certification for teachers, which Kinney saw as an emerging mark of professionalism. Further, modern day requirements for both certification and licensure are likely descendants of a collective press to legitimize and raise standards for public education. (73)
In 1960, Lucien and Ida Kinney traveled to his alma mater, the University of Minnesota, to accept an outstanding achievement award for his "distinguished accomplishments in the field of learning and teaching." The award certificate states that Kinney was a, "Pioneer thinker and writer in the general education and mathematics fields, state and national leader in research and philosophy of secondary education, and valued adviser to teacher and school administrators throughout the country." (74) This summation of Kinney's work echoes the testimonials of students and colleagues, and his legacy of scholarly writing.
Leg #4: Who was Kinney to his family?
Lucien Blair Kinney was born on January 15,1894, in Hudson, on the Wisconsin-Minnesota border. He was the third of four children, none of whom had children of their own. His parents were Susan J. Pierce and Andrew Jackson Kinney, who was named after both his grandfather (first name), and the 11th president of the United States (first and middle names). It is possible Lucien was named after Lucien Blair, the namesake for a steamboat commissioned on the Wabash River in 1894. Kinney's mother was a teacher and his father was a lawyer. The broader Kinney family history was provided by Pat Kinney, whose grandfather was a cousin of Lucien's. (75) Andrew J. Kinney, commonly known as Captain Kinney, led an active civic life. He served in the Spanish-American War on an extended tour of duty in Puerto Rico. After returning to Hudson, he engaged in "reading the law," a self-study to prepare for and pass the bar examination, and became a lawyer. Captain Kinney, who ran for local office as a Democratic candidate, died in 1913, when Lucien was still in high school. Susan Pierce died in 1923. The Kinneys, formerly Kennys, are a large Irish Catholic family. The American branch descends from two brothers born near the turn of the 18th century, who likely emigrated to avoid religious and political persecution. Several Kinneys went to war, including Kinney's grandfather Edmond Kinney, who served in the civil war.
According to letters from friends, Lucien was known to his high school friends as "Deke." (76) Lucien's obituary reports that he married Minnesota school teacher Ida Omsrud in 1922. Oddly, the family's history lists his first wife as Ida Quam. This was a rare instance of data that did not neatly triangulate, and it may simply illustrate the occasional challenges of comparing historical documents to people's memories, an aspect of the complicated methodological work of biography. Kitty Barr, Lucien's step-granddaughter, remembers Ida from their shared Palo Alto neighborhood, as a tall and imposing woman. According to Lucien's obituary, Ida died in 1966, though this conflicts with a letter to a friend describing her recovery from a hospital stay in 1967. Ida most certainly had passed by 1968, when Lucien began a charming courtship of Kitty's grandmother, Joye S. Valentine. Lucien shared in a 1971 letter to his friend Wilson Getsinger that it started with a concern over who might care for his dog while he was recovering in the hospital. Joye took on that task. Joye's daughter Joan remembers her mother asking her to "hop on your bike, and take dinner to Mr. Kinney," perhaps because he was a widower, perhaps because Joye had formed the opinion that Lucien was not eating well. Kinney and Joye began meeting over mutual interests: dinner, dogs, and the occasional game of pinochle. Lucien asked Joye to marry him, and to his delight, she accepted. All accounts reflect a warm and loving relationship between the two. Kitty lived in the San Francisco Bay area, and remembers the wedding at Lucien's home at 400 Miramonte Avenue, Palo Alto, a block from the Valentines' home.
The Kinney and Valentine families first met over dogs. Each family had a cocker spaniel, and it is likely Joye met Ida and Lucien while out walking dogs, or gardening in the front yard. Joye learned of a dog named Topsy who was in dire need of a home. She knew the Kinneys had recently lost their dog, Freckles. She knocked on their door to tell them there was a black cocker spaniel seeking a home, and that if they did not take it, she would. The Kinneys adopted Topsy who outlived both Ida and Lucien, and can be seen perched on a living room chair in the 1968 wedding photos. Kitty remembers the ceremony as small and short, with dancing in the living room afterward. In particular, she remembers the happiness of her newly-married grandparents, and the way her grandmother daintily lifted her skirts a tiny bit as she jigged in the living room. Kitty suggested the pair simplify things, and "run off to Reno to get married." Kinney's response was that "well, then it would look like we had to!" Keep in mind that he and Joye Valentine were in their 70s at that time. Joan shared that "he told my mother if he'd known her, when he was thinking about getting married and starting out, he could have lived in a tent. It was a true love marriage." (77)
Joan, who at this writing is 93 years old, remembers her stepfather as "a great, great man," with whom she got along well. According to Joan, "Mr. Kinney was like a father to me." She refers to him as "Dad," and has kept his personal letters across the decades. She re-reads them on occasion. Joan told me that "friends thought he was one of a kind. And you didn't see that. You saw a stiff shirt. You didn't see this human being. He was crazy about dogs." (78)
Kinney was once again hospitalized in 1971, recovered, and returned home. He died on December 24, 1971, three years and ten days after he and Joye married. Kinney left home to walk the dogs and collapsed from an apparent heart attack in front of the house. The dogs alerted Joye and Joan, who called for an ambulance. In addition to the memorial resolution, Stanford sent personal letters of condolence to both Joye and Joan. While Joan is adamant that Kinney was "one of a kind, honest, and loyal," she also revealed he was somewhat bitter with Stanford at the end. Based on Kinney's personal correspondence it appeared that he both kept ties with Stanford and maintained some distance. It is possible his initiatives were disregarded in new directions undertaken by the school, much as the Hannas' work was abandoned. (79) He told her that "if they wanted to find him to talk about something, they could find him on the golf course." His attitude was that "people are no damn good. With a few exceptions," meaning Joye and Joan. Both sentiments were reflected in the 1971 letter from Kinney to Wilson Getsinger, penned four days before his death. Still, Joan said she "never heard him run anybody down." She added that he was "at a point where dogs were more lovable than people." (80)
And then she told me about the chair.
By the time I located and contacted Joan Valentine, I had been working on the Kinney biography in fits and starts for two years. I had made peace with the belief that I would never know exactly how the chair came to be, or for whom. But Joan remembers the day it was presented. She, her mother, and Kinney were all invited to a special luncheon. Kinney's former students formally presented the chair, as a tribute to his "wit and wisdom," his guidance and support across their academic careers at Stanford and beyond. Joan added that there were other chairs (like the Kinney chair), donated by students, and wondered where they were now. After interviewing Joan and Kitty, it was clear to me that Kinney, while complex (as most humans are), was clearly beloved by both students and family. And most certainly by several dogs.
In thinking across Kinney's life, I was left with a few lingering questions. First, why was there so little of Kinney's personal life reflected in his letter to Larry? Beyond failing to mention his wife Ida, the only family members referenced are Kinney's late father, and his dog. As Bailey puts it, "silence in data can be a far weightier type of data than words." (81) Perhaps the letter is absent of family because Kinney simply did not see them as pertinent to his academic work. This seems in keeping with Wagner-Martin's point that the presence or absence of personal lives in biographical writing is gendered--whereas men are positioned to hold public personas and live public lives, often rendered devoid of personal attachments, women's lives consistently twine the public and the private. (82) Second, and more perplexing, I wondered why, if Kinney's publications are so easy to locate, Kinney himself is so little remembered. Given what I have learned about Kinney, he strikes me as prepossessing. Former student Lyman Jampolosky quoted Kinney himself: "'Real' compensation that the teacher receives lies in his knowing that his students will carry on from where he has left off." (83) So perhaps Kinney is remembered exactly as he might have wished--his works have been absorbed into the mainstreams of education theory, research, and practice. They continue to inform and advise, even if their author is now largely forgotten. The work stands.
The Chair: Who is Kinney to me?
To sum up his scholarship, Lucien B. Kinney was consistent in these claims: Mathematics is a subject of application and problem solving, and teaching should invite students to make sense of mathematics. Teaching is a profession, and it should be treated as such. My own work considers the ways students are invited (or not invited) to see themselves as mathematical sense-makers. I like to think Kinney would have considered my work, with its focus on equity and democratizing mathematics, as part of his academic kinship. (84)
As it happens, Wisconsin is also my home state, and mathematics education is my field. I was three years old when Kinney died on his lawn half a mile from the home I would later inhabit while a student at Stanford. I feel a kinship to Lucien B. Kinney, and rather custodial about the chair. It is now mine to care for. Perplexed by questions of who and how he was, I sought to connect the dots he left behind in the form of publications and archived papers and people. And what I learned, among other things, is that those of us who study and concern ourselves with education continue solving problems similar to those Kinney battled in the first half of the twentieth century. "Battled" is a term I think Kinney would have embraced, given his own choice of words on similar topics.
Though he passed on decades ago, Kinney has become a living figure to me, intrinsic to the ongoing work of mathematics education. His chair was left to languish at the back of a dusty storeroom and it invited my curiosity and discovery, much as any compelling new acquaintance might. It connected me to the past and to someone I otherwise would not have met. If you wish to visit the Kinney chair, I can direct you to its current location in my office at the University of Oregon. My students and colleagues do come to visit me and sit in that chair. On occasion, I read the plaques again for remembrance and inspiration. They remind me of something very important--I, too, will pass from this world, and my professional life's work will be absorbed into the streams of what-we-know about teaching and learning mathematics. But some of the most resonant qualities, the ones that will live on far beyond me, are oddly the ones that seem most ephemeral. The fleeting moment of shared kindness in meeting a student on a walkway, the "lightbulb" moment of deep understanding when someone figures out a mathematical concept, the "eureka" of figuring out the next research question over coffee with a colleague. Such moments are both the raw material, and often the machinery, of my scholarship. I believe it is their echoes that will remain, reverberating long after I am gone. They live now, and will live on, in my students, and their students, and their students.
Where matters of recalling and reclaiming Lucien B. Kinney are concerned, I believe Joan Valentine should have the final word: "He's not going anywhere. If he were here, he'd be just the way he was." (85)
Thank you to everyone who contributed to this piece, particularly those yet unsung. First, Dr. Krystal Sundstrom for supporting the research and production of the piece, and for being one of the first UO students to sit in the Kinney chair. Second, the anonymous reviewers whose thoughtful feedback vastly improved my writing. Ink = love. Finally, my children Kristofer and Adrian for their ongoing support and pride in my work, and my husband Adam Cain for reading early drafts of this piece. They helped to carry the Kinney chair to Oregon, both literally and metaphorically
(1) Linda M. Perkins, "Is She a Feminist and Do I Like Her?: Dilemmas of a Feminist Biographer," Vitae Scholasticae 31, no. 2 (2014): 67.
(2) Corinne E. Glesne, "Ethnography with a Biographic Eye," in Writing Educational Biography: Explorations in Qualitative Research, Volume 13, ed. Craig Alan Kridel (New York: Taylor and Francis, 1998), 34.
(3) Jennifer Ruef, "Mutability and Resiliency of Teacher Beliefs and Practices: A case study." Conference proceedings of the PME-NA, (2013).; Jennifer Ruef, "The Power of Being Wrong: Inviting Students into Mathematical Apprenticeships, " Neiv England Mathematics Journal 43, (2016): 6-16.; Jennifer Ruef, "Building Powerful Voices: Co-constructing Public Sensemaking." (Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Stanford University, 2016); Jennifer Ruef and Ana Torres, "A Menu of Risk Taking Scaffolds." (In press).
(4) Robert M. Emerson, Rachel I. Fretz, and Linda L. Shaw, Writing Ethnographic Fieldnotes (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2011), 1.
(5) William Pinar and Anne E. Pautz, "Construction Scars: Autobiographical Voice in Biography," in Writing Educational Biography: Explorations in Qualitative Research, Volume 13, ed. Craig Alan Kridel (New York: Taylor and Francis, 1998), 67.
(6) Ibid., 67.
(7) Irving Seidman, Interviewing as Qualitative Research: A Guide for Researchers in Education and the Social Sciences (Teachers College Press: 2006), 40.
(8) Ibid., 88.
(9) Herbert J. Hartsook, "Unique Resources: Research in Archival Collections," in Writing Educational Biography: Explorations in Qualitative Research, Volume 13, ed. Craig Alan Kridel (New York: Taylor and Francis, 1998), 132.
(11) Blanche Wiesen Cook, "The Issue of Subject: A Critical Connection," in Writing Educational Biography: Explorations in Qualitative Research, Volume 13, ed. Craig Alan Kridel (New York: Taylor and Francis, 1998), 79; Perkins, 67.
(12) Paula M. Salvio, "In the Pursuit of an Examined Life: On Writing and Reading Biographically," Vitae Scholasticae 31, no. 2 (2014): 107.
(13) Lucien B. Kinney, "Self-evaluation: The Mark of a Profession," Educational Leadership 15 (1958): 228-231; Lucien B. Kinney and Alvin C. Eurich, "A Summary of Investigations Comparing Different Types of Tests," School and Society 36 (1932): 540-544; W. Warren Kallenbach, The Effectiveness of Videotaped Practice Teaching Sessions in the Preparation of Elementary Intern Teachers (California State College, 1967), https://files.eric.ed.gov/fulltext/ED021776.pdf.
(14) Daniel McFarland and Ethan Hutt, "Wartime and Thereafter: Teacher Mill Revolt (1933-1953)," in The Pinnacle and the Pendulum: A History of Stanford University's School of Education, 1933-2008, (unpublished manuscript), 1-14.
(15) Kathy Charmaz, "Grounded Theory," in Rethinking Methods in Psychology, eds. Jonathan A. Smith, Rom Harre, and Luk Van Langenhove (London: Sage, 1995), 42.
(16) Lucien B. Kinney, "Why Teach Mathematics?" The Mathematics Teacher 35, no. 4 (1942): 169-174, http://www.jstor.org/stable/27952634; Lucien B. Kinney, Teaching Mathematics in the Secondary School (New York: Rinehart, 1952); Lucien B. Kinney, Measure of a Good Teacher (San Francisco: California Teachers Association, 1953): 1-36; John L. Marks, Charles Richard Purdy, and Lucien B. Kinney, Teaching Arithmetic for Understanding (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1958).
(17) Andrea Rees Davies, author's personal course notes, Spring 2014.
(18) This was most likely a letter written to Lawrence Gregg Thomas; Lucien B. Kinney, "Letter to Larry,"l; Paul Robert Hanna papers, Box 15, Folder 23, Hoover Institution Archives, original copy from the personal papers of Lucien B. Kinney, in care of Joan Valentine.
(19) "Dear Lucien," a bound collection of letters from former students and colleagues from the personal papers of Lucien B. Kinney, in care of Joan Valentine. The collection was presented to Kinney at his retirement on August 8, 1959.; the plaque on the back of the Kinney chair.
(20) Kinney, "Letter to Larry," 2.
(21) Ibid., 3.
(22) Hamilton Cravens and John C. Burnham, "Psychology and Evolutionary Naturalism in American Thought, 1890-1940," American Quarterly, 23, no. 5 (1971): 636, doi:10.2307/2712249; Charles H. Judd, "Educational Writings, Reviews, and Book Notes: Brains of Rats and Men by C. Judson Herrick," The Elementary School Journal 27, no. 1 (1926): 67.
(23) Lucien B. Kinney, "Mathematical Requirement of Business: Part II--The Fundamental Operations," The Journal of Business Education 7, no. 4 (1932): 13-22; Lucien B. Kinney, "Aims and Content in Commercial Arithmetic," The journal of Business Education 10, no. 3 (1934): 19-30; Lucien B. Kinney, "Business Terminology in Commercial Arithmetic," The Journal of Business Education 9, no. 6 (1934): 13-14; Lucien B. Kinney, "The Calculation of the Approximate Rate of Interest in Consumer Credit," The Mathematics Teacher 28, no. 4 (1935): 234-237; Lucien B. Kinney, "Consumer Education and Commercial Arithmetic," The journal of Business Education 10, no. 6 (1935): 15-24; Lucien B. Kinney, "Problem Solving and the Language of Percentage," The journal of Business Education 10, no. 5 (1935): 23-34; Lucien B. Kinney, "Education for Economic Security," The ANNALS of the American Academy of Political and Social Science 182, no. 1 (1935): 30-40; Lucien B. Kinney, "The Social-Civic Contributions of Business Mathematics," The Mathematics Teacher 29, no. 8 (1936): 381-386.
(24) Kinney, "Letter to Larry," 4.
(25) Ibid., 2.
(26) Lucien B. Kinney and Alvin C. Eurich, "A Summary of Investigations Comparing Different Types of Tests," School and Society 36 (1932): 540-544.
(27) Edward L. Thorndike, "The Contribution of Psychology to Education," Journal of Educational Psychology 1, no. 1 (1910), 5.
(28) Burrhus F. Skinner, "The Science of Learning and the Art of Teaching." Harvard Educational Review 24 (1954): 89.
(29) Lev S. Vygotsky, Mind in Society: The Development of Higher Psychological Processes (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1980), 82.
(30) Cathy Humphreys, "A Positive Spin on the New-New Math," SFGate, March 24, 1995, http://www.sfgate.com/opinion/editorials/article/A-Positive-Spin-on-the-New-New-Math-3039848.php; Alan H. Schoenfeld, "The Math Wars," Educational Policy 18, no. 1 (2004): 253.
(31) Kinney, "Letter to Larry," 4.
(32) Thomas Carpenter, Elizabeth Fennema, Karen Fuson, James Hiebert, Piet Human, Hanlie Murray, Alwyn Olivier, and Diana Wearne. "Learning Basic Number Concepts and Skills as Problem Solving," in Mathematics Classrooms that Promote Understanding, eds. Elizabeth Fennema and Thomas A. Romberg (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates,1999), 55.
(33) Ibid., 5.
(34) Kinney, "Letter to Larry," 7.
(35) "The problem we are trying to solve," Core Practices Consortium, accessed August 23, 2017, http://corepracticeconsortium.com
(36) Kinney, "Letter to Larry," 7.
(37) Dear Lucien.
(38) Press Release (November 29, 1950), Stanford News Service records, SC0122, Box 2, Folder 12. Courtesy of the Department of Special Collections, Stanford Libraries.
(39) McFarland and Hutt, 4.
(40) Dear Lucien; the plaque on the back of the Kinney chair.
(41) Dear Lucien, Helen Mae and Jimmy Arnett.
(42) Dear Lucien, Katherine "Lena" Dresden.
(43) Kinney, Measure of a Good Teacher, Lucien B. Kinney, "Self-Evaluation: The Mark of a Profession," Educational Leadership 15 (1958): 228-231; Lucien B. Kinney, Certification in Education (Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1964).
(44) McFarland and Hutt, 3.
(45) Dear Lucien, Cowley, Smith, and H.B. McDaniel.
(46) Dear Lucien.
(47) Kinney, "Letter to Larry," 2.
(48) Ruef, 2016a.
(49) Ruef, 2016b; Richard B. Skemp, "Relational Understanding and Instrumental Understanding," Mathematics Teaching 77, no. 1 (1976): 20.
(50) Kinney, "Letter to Larry," 4.
(51) Humphreys; Matt Larson, "Are We Breaking Down Barriers to Student Learning?" NCTM, January 17, 2018, https://my.nctm.org/blogs/matthew-larson/2018/01/17/are-webreaking-down-barriers-to-student-learning: Alan H. Schoenfeld, "The Math Wars," Educational Policy 18, no. 1 (2004), 253.
(52) Dear Lucien, Peggy V. Ryan.
(53) Jacob William Albert Young, The Teaching of Mathematics in the Elementary and the Secondary School (Longmans, Green and Company, 1906), 40.
(54) Kathy Liu Sun, "The Role of Mathematics Teaching in Fostering Student Growth Mindset," Journal for Research in Mathematics Education 49, no. 3 (2018): 330; Carol S. Dweck, Mindset: The New Psychology of Success (New York: Random House Incorporated, 2006).
(55) Ruef, 2013; Ruef, 2016a.
(56) Carlos Cabana, Barbara Shreve, Estelle Woodbury, and Nicole Louie, Mathematics for Equity: A Framework for Successful Practice (New York: Teachers College Press, 2014), 4.
(57) Ruef, 2016; Larson, 1.
(58) Dear Lucien.
(59) Kinney and Eurich, "A Summary of Investigations," 505.
(60) Chandra Hawley Orrill, "The Process is Just Messy: A Historical Perspective on Adoption of Innovations," The Mathematics Educator 25, no. 2 (2016): 77.
(61) Linda Darling-Hammond, "Race, Inequality and Educational Accountability: The Irony of 'No Child Left Behind'," Race Ethnicity and Education 10, no. 3 (2007): 245-260; Joe Onosko, "Race to the Top Leaves Children and Future Citizens Behind: The Devastating Effects of Centralization, Standardization, and High-Stakes Accountability" Democracy and Education 19, no. 2 (2011): 1.
(62) Reginald Bell and Lucien B. Kinney, "Foreword," in Better Learning Through Current Materials, eds. Katharine Dresden and Lucien B. Kinney (Redwood City, CA: Stanford University Press, 1950): v.
(63) Ibid., x.
(64) Frederick Erickson, (1986). "Qualitative Methods in Research on Teaching," in Handbook of Research on Teaching 3rd edition, ed. M. Wittrock (New York: Macmillan, 1986), 121.
(65) Aki Murata, "Conceptual Overview of Lesson Study: Introduction," in Lesson Study Research and Practice in Mathematics Education: Learning Together, eds. Lynn Hart, Alice Alston, and Aki Murata (New York: Springer, 2011), 1-12; Sarah R. Stapleton, "Teacher Participatory Action Research (TPAR): A Methodological Framework for Political Teacher Research," Action Research (2018), 1-18, doi: 10.1177/1476750317751033.
(66) Beth Herbel-Eisenmann, Corey Drake, and Michelle Cirillo, "Muddying the Clear Waters': Teachers' Take-up of the Linguistic Idea of Revoicing," Teaching and Teacher Education 25, no. 2 (2009): 268-277.
(67) Bell and Kinney, "Foreword," xiii.
(68) Kinney, Measure of a Good Teacher, Kinney, "Self-Evaluation;" Kinney, Certification in Education.
(69) Jacob William Albert Young, The Teaching of Mathematics in the Elementary and the Secondary School (Longmans, Green and Company, 1906), 2.
(70) Kinney, Measure of a Good Teacher.
(71) Press Release (May 2,1960), Stanford News Service records, SC0122, Box 2, Folder 12. Courtesy of the Department of Special Collections, Stanford Libraries.
(72) Alvin C. Eurich, foreword to Certification in Education, Lucien B. Kinney (Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1964): vi.
(73) David Tyack, The One Best System: A History of American Urban Education (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1974), 273.
(74) Program, Fifth Annual Meeting of the College of Education Alumni Association, University of Minnesota (June 22, 1960), from the personal papers of Lucien B. Kinney, in care of Joan Valentine.
(75) Thomas P. Kinney and Carole S. Kinney, The Kinney Family of Irish Lane: From the Barony of Moycarn to the Homestead in Fitchburg, Wisconsin, (Fitchburg, WI: Irish Lane Publishing Company, 1994).
(76) Letter from Fred, (May 4,1972), from the personal papers of Lucien B. Kinney, in care of Joan Valentine.
(77) Joan Valentine, personal interview with the author, January 6, 2018.
(79) Arthur P. Coladarci, Letter to Kinney (August 2,1971), from the personal papers of Lucien B. Kinney, in care of Joan Valentine.
(81) Lucy E. Bailey, '"In a Different Voice': The Contribution of Wagner-Martin's Telling Women's Lives to Biographical Scholarship," Vitae Scholasticae 31, no. 2 (2014): 81.
(82) Linda C. Wagner-Martin, "The Issue of Gender: Continuing Problems in Biography," in Writing Educational Biography: Explorations in Qualitative Research, Volume 13, ed. Craig Alan Kridel (New York: Taylor and Francis, 1998), 92.
(83) Dear Lucien, Jampolosky.
(84) Ruef, 2013; Ruef, 2016a; Ruef, 2016b; Ruef & Torres, in press.
(85) Joan Valentine, personal interview with the author, January 6, 2018.
Jennifer L. Ruef
University of Oregon
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