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Trajectories of Teacher Identity Development Across Institutional Contexts: Constructing a Narrative Approach


Background/Context: Teacher preparation programs are built on knowledge, practices, habits of mind, and professional standards that teacher educators (TEs) intend teachers to possess. Some foundations are explicitly manifest in standards, mission statements, and policies, whereas others are embedded in coursework, field experiences, and social contexts that influence teacher candidates (TCs) developing teacher identities. Purpose/Objective/Research Question/Focus of Study: This study conceptualizes the process of working with TCs whose identity development trajectories pose troubling problems. We explore the question, How can TEs make informed, responsible, and compassionate decisions about intern identity development? To do so, we offer narrative accounts of three secondary teacher candidates moving along identity trajectories with varying degrees and types of difficulty. Our inquiry traced the construction of first-, second-, and third-person narratives of TCs who experienced problems in a large teacher preparation program. Research Design: This study employed a narrative design. We define narrative as the temporal sequencing of events, told from an interpreted point of view. We use (a) narratives that persons tell about themselves, (b) narratives told to the identified person, and (c) narratives told about the identified person by a third party to a third party to plot TCs identity trajectories. The narratives we present focus on TCs as told by, to, or about university staff, mentor teachers, and TCs themselves. We constructed composite narratives about each of three TCs identity development using notes from face-to-face meetings, e-mail correspondence, course assignments, memos, TC evaluations, TC journals, and university course observation notes.

Teachers College Record Volume 113, Number 9, September 2011, pp. 18631905 Copyright by Teachers College, Columbia University 0161-4681

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Findings/Results: Two of the three narrative accounts represent TCs who ultimately were not successful in completing the program. Kirks narratives reveal a TC who was unwilling or unable to integrate second- and third-person narratives into his own identity trajectory. Sallys narratives portray a TC who constructed varied, sometimes conflicting, first-person narratives in opposition to the second- and third-person narratives constructed by others about her. Suzannahs narratives detail how ideological differences with a mentor teacher caused conflicts that were ultimately resolved by a change in mentor and the alignment of narratives from different sources. Conclusions/Recommendations: This narrative approach can help TEs understand TCs identity development as they move through the complex terrain of teacher preparation, anticipate issues that may arise, and better support TCs on this journey. We argue that teacher preparation programs, as knowledge communities in which identity is shaped, should do explicit work that frames becoming a teacher as the negotiation among multiple, sometimes conflicting, narratives. We recommend designing opportunities for TCs to examine, reflect on, and integrate narratives from multiple sources.

Teacher preparation programs are built on sets of knowledge, skills, practices, habits of mind, norms, and professional standards that teacher educators (TEs) wish for teachers to possess and demonstrate upon successful program completion (Cochran-Smith, 2000; DarlingHammond, 2000; Wilson, Floden, & Ferrini-Mundy, 2002). Some of these foundations are explicit and manifest in the form of teacher preparation standards, mission statements, and collections of policies that structure, support, and adjudicate teacher preparation enterprises. Some foundations are embedded in coursework, field experiences, and social contexts that influence the development of teacher candidates (TCs) identities as teachers. These more implicit foundations that shape becoming a teacher across contexts involve teacher identity development. By teacher identity, we signify dynamic, relational, situational, discursive constructed narratives by and about persons who are practicing to become, or who already are, teachers (Sfard & Prusak, 2005). Various actors across a range of institutional contexts influence teachers identity development: university faculty and staff in teacher preparation coursework, mentor teachers and school personnel in the context of field placements, and field instructors and other university-affiliated professionals with roles that straddle both worlds, to name just several of many. Navigating these roles and contexts can pose significant challenges during a time in which TCs are asked to move along an identity trajectory that shifts them from student to teacher (e.g., Luehmann, 2007; McNamara, Roberts, Basit, & Brown, 2002; Richmond & Anderson, 2005). The primary institutional contexts we focus on hereuniversities and schoolseach have visions and tools for the trajectory and develop-

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ment of the TCs identity as a teacher. Often when beliefs and practices in schools conflict with theoretical perspectives in university coursework, preservice teachers value work in the school-based context more, sometimes deprecating knowledge and beliefs built during coursework (Ball, 1990; Eisenhart et al., 1993; Guyton & McIntyre, 1990). Furthermore, school-based mentor teachers frequently focus more on supportive feedback, whereas university instructors focus more on providing critical analysis of planning, teaching, and assessment. Opportunities for critical reflection about differences encountereda stimulus for moving along a trajectory of teacher identity developmentare often in short supply in the busy world of a TC (Borko & Putnam, 1996; Putnam & Borko, 1997). Supporting TCs in navigating among the actors, roles, and contexts that so critically shape their trajectory of identity development forms an important part of the work of TEs (Olson & Craig, 2001). TEs need to feel a certain sense of confidence in the developing identity trajectory of TCs. For example, teachers need to be trusted to manage professional relationships with students and colleagues. Teachers need to possess respect for feelings and perspectives of others. Teachers need to use communication practices that allow them to work through the many problems that arise in the everyday life of schools. When TCs display trouble in areas such as these, TEs often begin to develop narratives signaling identity trouble. For example, a candidate might align herself with the school context so strongly that she explicitly devalues the feedback of a university supervisor, leading to a difficult situation for the mentor teacher in the school context and a negative report back to the university context. It is often these hard-to-characterize identity issuesas opposed to knowledge, skills, habits of mind, teaching practices, or content knowledgethat lie at the heart of many problematic situations that TEs observe TCs encountering across content areas. When identity issues are at stake in problems TCs encounter, TEs face the difficult professional, and indeed moral, judgment about whether an individual should be permitted to continue in a teacher preparation sequence. It is easier to counsel someone out of a teacher preparation program who has not been meeting program or course standards, such as someone who does not complete coursework or who consistently does not interact productively with students or teachers in schools. But in those situations in which complex sets of patterns emerge and appear to be implicating TCs developing identities in what TEs perceive to be troubling ways, how can TEs make informed, responsible, and compassionate decisions? This article addresses the problem by offering narrative accounts of three TCs moving along identity trajectories as they interacted with

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program personnel, navigated roles as learners and teachers, and engaged in university and school contexts. These narratives, which cut across subject matter and pedagogical content, describe identification trajectories along which TCs either do or do not come to be confidently legitimated as teachers. By understanding and untangling these complexities from a narrative perspective, teacher education programs can support TEs in making judgments as they work to foster the developing identity trajectories of TCs. The framework may also help TEs to deliberate about situations when TCs face trouble for reasons that are hard to characterize. THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK: NARRATIVE, IDENTITY, AND TEACHER DEVELOPMENT Our inquiry rests on two central constructs, identity and narrative, and on the relationship between these constructs. We conceptualize teacher identity as narrative work (Juzwik & Ives, 2010; Sfard & Prusak, 2005). This narrative work, like the identity work discussed by Clarke (2008), is indispensable for teachers if they wish to exercise professional agency, and therefore maximize their potential for development and growth (pp. 186187). The process of locating identity in space (in this case, institutional contexts) and time is accomplished through semiotic means. One significant semiotic resource for identifying persons, and the one on which we focus here, is discourse, or language in use (Jaworski & Coupland, 2006). Following a discourse-centered view of identity development, identity is constructed by (a) narratives that persons tell about themselves (first-person identity), (b) identifying narratives told to the identified person (second-person identity), and (c) narratives told about the identified person by a third party to a third party (third-person identity; Sfard & Prusak, 2005). Although some narratives told by, to, and about identified persons are trivial or insignificant, others come to be endorsable over time and thus come to be reified as a persons more-or-less stable identity. As Sfard and Prusak explained, the focus . . . is now on things said by identifiers . . . as stories, identities are human-made and not God-given, they have authors and recipients, they are collectively shaped even if individually told, and they can change according to the authors and recipients perceptions and needs. As discursive constructs, they are also reasonably accessible and investigable. (p. 17)

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First-, second- and third-person narratives often yield conflicting accounts of learners. This narrative framework is particularly salient for the setting of teacher preparation, because TC identities are relatively vulnerable and malleable, and because many stakeholders simultaneously construct narratives that influence TCs developing identity. Such a narrative framework allows us to consider the complications emerging in the earlier period of development of teacher identity, especially to probe the conflicts that arise when very different narratives are constructed about the same person or event. Of particular relevance to understanding the trajectory of teacher identity development are the constructs of actual and designated identity (Sfard & Prusak, 2005). Actual identity (AI) refers to those stories told by or about the main character in the present (for example, a struggling TC narrative), whereas designated identity (DI) refers to those stories that project a vision of the future for an individual (for example, a certified teacher narrative). These two kinds of narrative construals, at any given point in time, permit the construction of a trajectory of teacher identification. Both AI and DI can be constructed in the first, second, or third person. Our inquiry comparatively traces the construction of first-, second-, and third-person narratives through which three TCs situations emerged as problems during their time in the teacher education program in which we work. To do this tracing, we highlight interactions and reflections at landmark moments that come to define their trajectories of identification. In using this terminology, we adapt Dreiers (2003) notion of trajectories of participation, which offers a participationist approach to learning that accounts for not just how a person deals with one particular situation, but rather how a person conducts his or her life in a trajectory of participation in and across social contexts (p. 23). Theorizing trajectories of identification recognizes that stories about personsor identitiesshift across contexts. In the case of TCs, the scope of our consideration is largely on institutional trajectories (p. 24) of identification, rather than on the myriad possible personal trajectories, which might include gathering with fellow TCs at the pub on Friday afternoon, private tutoring experiences, interactions with family members who are teachers, attending lectures on educational topics of interest to them, and so on. So, in studying TCs trajectories of identification, the question becomes: How do teachers identify, and how are they identified, across the university and school-based contexts through which their teacher preparation unfolds? These identifications are deeply consequential for all TCs, particularly those who struggle with their identifications in various contexts. If, as Clarke (2008) put it, identities are constructed within

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discourse, through difference, and in the context of contingency and ambiguity (p. 196), then the contingency and ambiguity across institutional contexts can pose identity challenges for TCs. Although some might prefer to call the material we present here cases rather than narratives, the term narrative is used deliberately to invoke that these accounts are discursively shaped and interactionally negotiated among persons, and often are constructed differently by different persons involved in a situation. We use a pluralization, narratives, in our subheadings (next) to indicate that teacher identity trajectories are not seamlessly coherent single narratives, but are rather contested trajectories comprising multipleoften conflictingnarrative accounts. This usage is consistent with the tradition of narrative research in education (e.g., Connelly & Clandinin, 1990). In this humanistic research tradition, narratives are seen as both object and method of inquiry. As data, researchers take sequences of events (plot lines), settings, characters, conflicts, points of view (or evaluations)often differing widely among persons in a situation, and so onall well-known and well-studied elements of narrative. For the purposes of this article, we define narrative as a sequence of events in time that are told from a particular point of view and that construct an interpretation of those events. The narratives of interest to us have TCs as their focus but could be told by, to, or about such individuals as course instructors, field instructors, team leaders, team coordinators, and mentor teachers, as well as the candidates themselves. As researchers, our challenge was to construct narrative elements that would illuminate the process by which persons become transformed into teachers through participation in and across institutional contexts. Those data sources that served as the basis for the narrative construction are presented in Table 1. These narratives further serve as heuristics for understanding the tensions TCs face as they negotiate their experiences in the context of such guiding documents as program standards and professional criteria. In response to recent experiences with three TCs in our program, we three authors have constructed narratives that shed light on how TEs might account for the complexities accompanying the development of teacher identification trajectories in making sound judgments about, and offering appropriate supports for, developing teachers. In constructing these narrative accounts, we strove for precision in articulating multiple perspectives on teacher identity construction by connecting any judgments or evaluations to both events and the stakeholders who participated in and interpreted those events.

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Table 1. Data Sources Used in Constructing Narrative Accounts (in Order of Importance) Kirk Notes from formal meetings and conversations (with Kirk, placement teacher, other students in cohort) Kirks memos in preparation for formal meetings E-mail correspondence: Kirk and Mike; course instructors and Mike; course instructors and Kirk; team leadership, administration, and Mike Sally E-mail correspondence: Mary and field instructor; Mary and urban placement coordinator; Mary and local placement coordinator; Mary and Sally (usually more than one person was included in e-mail correspondence) Suzannah Suzannahs journals E-mail correspondence: Gail and field instructor; field instructor and Suzannah; Gail and placement coordinator; Gail and course instructors; Gail and Tammy

E-mail correspondence: Sally and field instructor, Sally and local Notes from telephone conversaplacement coordinator (fortions w/Suzannah and Tammy warded to Mary) Notes from telephone and faceNotes from meetings and various to-face conversations with field E-mail correspondence: Kirk and conversations, including teleinstructor, course instructors, and classmates (forwarded to Mike) phone and face-to-face (Mary and mentor teacher field instructor; Mary and mentor Course observations conducted teacher; Mary and Gail; Mary and Copies of teaching vignette, by Mike course instructor) teaching investigation course Data from course Web site assignments Marys teaching notebooks from English education instructor Monthly field instructor observagroup [20072008] and from fall tion reports semester of senior-year English methods course [fall 2007] Midsemester, end-of-semester, and end-of-year evaluation forms Monthly field instructor observa- by field instructor and mentor tion reports teachers (Tammy and Jerilyn) Midterm and end-of-semester intern/mentor/field instructor conference forms Sallys professional development plan

This is not a set of narratives about mentor teachers. Although there is a well-established literature on mentoring, our intent here is to address stances, actions, and reflections of mentors (and to speculate on beliefs at times) only as they shape the TCs trajectory of identity development. Further, as coauthors of this article, the three of us were co-constructors of these narratives and were characters in the narratives themselves. (Gail is a character in all three accounts, in fact.) We do not pretend to be unbiased participants. As characters in the narratives, we brought particular stances that influenced the way these situations unfolded. As authors of the narratives, we tried to make our own involvement and our own stances clear. As coauthors of the article, we describe our experiences trying to support the development of productive teacher identity trajectories that cut across subject matter and pedagogical content. We believe

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that our narrative construals suggest ways that agents in other programs might learn to assess and respond to TCs developing identities-in- context. Because each of our narratives occurred in a different disciplinary context and each is uniquely authored, we retain their multivocal nature rather than unifying their structure and thus effacing the multivocality of our collaboration. This multivocality provides an opportunity to examine conflicting perspectives and voices within our narrative texts (Bakhtin, 1935/1981). SETTING THE CONTEXT: TEACHER EDUCATION AT OUR INSTITUTION An ongoing relationship between university and K12 schools characterizes the large teacher preparation program at our institution, which culminates in a fifth-year internship. Mentor teachers, TCs, and TEs work to construct meaningful connections between classroom teaching in the school context and coursework in the university context. The bulk of the field experiences occur during the senior and fifth (postbaccalaureate internship) year in conjunction with candidates content-specific methods courses. During the two-course senior-year methods sequence, candidates spend four hours a week in local schools, observing teaching, engaging with students in individual and small-group settings, and teaching several lessons or lesson sequences. The internship year marks a transition to full-time teaching, with TCs assuming full responsibility for one class over the entire year and taking on additional classes and responsibilities for predetermined lengths of time. They are supported in this effort by a mentor teacher and university-assigned field instructor. Four university courses accompany the internship year, two content-specific and two content-general, which focus on building TCs identities as inquiring and reflective practitioners and as members of the teaching profession. This program structure, as well as professional criteria and standards that guide successful progress through each year in the program, is shown in Table 2. As detailed in Table 2, three professional criteria and eight standards for teacher preparation generally guide the work of the teacher preparation program. The three professional criteria are used across both university and field contexts to determine whether a senior TC is ready to proceed to the intern year. The standards for teacher preparation guide assessment of TCs progress in the intern year through midsemester and end-of-semester conferences in fall and spring. Before each conference, the TC, mentor, and field instructor complete independent assessments using the program rubric with these eight standards, and then all three

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Table 2. University Courses, Field Experiences, and Teacher Preparation Standards Courses Senior year (fourth year) Two content-oriented methods courses Field Placement Four hours per week, November through April Professional Criteria and Standards for Teacher Preparation Professional Criteria for Progress to the Intern Year 1. Reliability and responsibility 2. Communication skills and social relationships 3. Comfort with and concern for the learning of all children

Intern year (fifth year)

Two content-oriented reflection & inquiry courses Two general courses about professional roles and responsibilities Two pass-fail courses evaluating schoolbased work

Standards for Teacher Preparation1 1. Employ a liberal education 2. Teach a subject matter 3. Work with students as individuals Pick up additional classes 4. Organize a class for two two-week stretches 5. Use an equipped school room in fall 6. Join a faculty and school 7. Engage guardians and Pick up four classes for community ten weeks in spring 8. Teacher as professional and effective learner Primary responsibility for teaching one class all year long, September through April

1Each content area has leeway to revise these standards or to privilege certain standards over others; these are the general standards used in both the elementary and secondary program at our university.

individuals negotiate a composite at the conference. Although these standards are principally used in the intern year, instructors often introduce them TCs in the senior year. The professional criteria and standards for teacher preparation offer a touchstone to which TEs can refer when they notice students having difficulty. They also scaffold the discourse through which identifying narratives are told by and about TCs, especially those who struggle. Faculty and staff in the university context provide the infrastructure of the teacher preparation program as well as support for candidates. Figure 1 offers an overview of the programs organizational structure at the time when the three TCs encountered the program. The secondary program was led by a team leader who coordinated both faculty content area leaders and nonfaculty placement coordinators. Content area leaders oversaw, and often served as, methods course instructors, developing and revising curriculum and handling any issues with the 3050 TCs within the content area each year. These leaders also oversaw field instructors and often developed relationships with mentor teachers, particularly those serving the program regularly. In Figure 1, annotations in each box represent the roles that each author played in the program

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Figure 1. Roles and structure of the secondary teacher preparation program

Note. Bolded names represent the articles authors.

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at the time the three focal TCs enrolled in it, or pseudonyms for the TCs, instructors, coordinators, and mentor teachers involved in each narrative. The structure of our program and the authors roles in it make it an ideal context for studying TCs identity trajectories from a narrative perspective. As content area leaders, all three authors have worked with TCs in the context of methods courses, supervised field instructors, communicated with mentor teachers, and handled adverse events. As such, we had access to a wide range of narratives from stakeholders in the program, and a responsibility and vested interest in supporting TCs in successfully developing into teachers. At the time of this work, Gail served as content area leader and overall team leader, a position calling upon her to arbitrate difficulties and make final decisions about TCs in the program. The complexity of this setting and our varied positions within it offer a rich context for presenting multiperspectival narratives that both shaped and represented TCs identity development. THREE NARRATIVE ACCOUNTS OF TEACHER IDENTITY DEVELOPMENT KIRKS NARRATIVES December. Kirk1 first came to my (Mikes) attention at the end of the fall semester of his senior year, via the senior-year methods course. At the end of each semester, program leaders assess TCs readiness to move through our program, making these evaluations using course grades, state testing requirements, and the programs professional criteria for progression to the internship year (see Table 2). The professional criteria scaffold the transition that our TCs experience between their familiar identities as students and their developing identities as teachers. They serve as markers for that transition and afford the program a touchstone to be referenced when TEs notice students having difficulty. In reporting on professional concerns in their class, Edina and Hattie, the course instructors, wrote the following telegraphic report to the team leadership about Kirk: Negative attitude towards much of the work in class. Not sure has concerns for all students and their learning; believes in laying out the math and expecting students to learn and has referred to those who struggle as naughty; did not turn in second [lesson] plan. Communication and social relationships a concern: body language and conduct in class rude and bordering on challeng-

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ing; plays to a small group of students in a one-upmanship challenging instructors and guests. This account established two narratives: (a) a third-person narrative as a candidate of concern, and (b) a second-person narrative among his peers as a center of attention via the one-upsmanship comment. It also suggested a first-person narrative about Kirk: that he might position himself as an authority and a leader. With respect to the content, the description of Kirks desire to [lay] out the math was nothing newin fact, it is quite common among mathematics TCs early in their programs and frequently a source of discomfort and dissatisfaction for them. Most TCs had experienced mathematics as learners in this way (e.g., direct instruction and the expectation that students will learn a concept from a single lecture) and had only just begun to consider the affordances of different pedagogies. The body language and in-class behavior were puzzling, and placement coordinator Leslie met with Kirk prior to spring semester to discuss these concerns. I checked in with Edina, Hattie, and Leslie after Leslies meeting. The consensus was that Kirk was a boisterous and dynamic personality who had strong opinions and was not afraid to share them. In some sense, this might make him well suited to the teaching profession: He would not be afraid to share and defend his views, and he would be dynamic and engaging with students. Still, it seemed to the four of us that Kirk had a very different sense of appropriate boundaries when expressing himself. When a guest speaker disagreed with Kirks view of a math problem, Kirk responded by pulling a hood over his head and turning away in disgust. When classmates disagreed with him, Kirk would bluntly tell them that they were wrong or their answers were stupid. Although I was concerned about any student being disrespectful to students, instructors, and guests, Leslie and I were most concerned with how this would translate into Kirks practices interacting with students, parents, staff, and administration. January. When these problems resurfaced in January, I met with Kirk myself. The conversation focused not on specific incidents, but on the professional criteria for progression to the internship. Kirk listened intently, and he seemed taken aback and concerned that he had offended anyone and that others perceived his conduct as somehow inappropriate. Kirk agreed with the issues raised and gave some examples of ways that he had attempted to reform his behavior. Some examples did not quite address the spirit of the issue. For example, when we discussed appropriate ways to express disagreement, he said that lately he had been trying to take disagreements with instructors to e-mail rather than having them in class. I explained that it wasnt the public nature of the

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disagreement that was at issuehe should feel welcome to disagreebut the presentation of the disagreements that was problematic. Kirk understood this distinction and found it helpful. Kirk agreed with all the criticisms of his work thus far and suggested some specific ways in which he could continue to improve. I then spelled out for Kirk his options: continuing in the program and successfully completing the course (plus the ramifications if professional criteria were not met), withdrawing from the program, or failing to successfully complete the course. In reflecting on the conversation, I realized that Kirks charming and contrite nature could be his way of distancing himself from his in-class behaviors and that I should try to collect more direct data from the school and university contexts. In contacting his field placement teacher, the report was exemplary: Kirk was prompt and punctual, prepared to work with students, and interacted with everyone within the school community appropriately. I also observed Kirk in his methods class and saw a popular and boisterous individual who was very self-assured and who asserted that identity in a way that could be intimidating, even inappropriate, toward others. This disconnect between the field context and my observations in the university context was puzzling. I asked Kirk to consider over the weekend whether he wanted to continue in the program. He sent me a long e-mail Sunday that indicated a strong desire to continue in the program. I found some parts of his e-mail to be reflective and on point: The hardest and probably most observable item is to repair or refresh my relationship between my self and the [teaching] team. (Treating others as how I would like to be treated). This is something I believe a conscience [sic] effort over time will provide evidence for my improvement. Knowing my success is directly related to the connection I have with the teaching team is a concern of mine. But there were other parts of the e-mail that seemed to push back against concerns raised by myself and others: Finally, I do not believe I am a disrespectful person, or a person who is a trouble maker. I believe I am a person who was understood only through his actions in [the course]. Because of my past actions, I will need to work at least twice as hard as my peers in order to complete [the course] with a confident seal of approval and readiness for my internship placement (which is my goal).

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I wrote Kirk back and thanked him for the e-mail. I promised to check in with him before class the following week to make sure everything was going well. February. When I next spoke with Kirk, he made a request for regular meetings with Hattie, Edina, and myself to monitor his progress in meeting the professional criteria. I saw this as a mature and professional approach and passed it along to Hattie and Edina, who were reticent about granting the request. They felt that they had spent enough time working individually with Kirk and that an additional meeting once every other week was not an effective use of their time. After much discussion, we agreed to the meetings, provided that Kirk sent a memo in advance summarizing his progress. We saw these meetings as an opportunity to more closely examine Kirks identity trajectory and provide feedback and adjustments in the form of second-person narratives. I also spoke with Hattie and Edina regularly after the next few class meetings. Things were better in class for a time, but after a few sessions, the behaviors returned. Kirk had continued to mock classmates and hold side conversations. He made a comment on the class discussion board that could be viewed as insensitive to African Americans, a gesture that may have been intended to provoke Edina, an African American herself who held strong views about how the current educational system fails underrepresented populations. His comment in responding to the question of whether algebra was a civil right follows; the quoted portions cite a fellow students opinion that preceded his: Few reasonable people would argue that providing more opportunities to learn algebra is a handout; by the very definition students have to learn the material themselves. I agree with [the comment], given funding and opportunities such as trained teachers, newer books, manipulatives, its up to the students themselves to learn. I challenge anybody who thinks that African Americans have access to better education than whites to show me evidence of such. So, I dont have any numbers or statistics, but just hear me out. I know that in prisons today, the black community makes up a substantial portion of the prison population. In these places, African American persons can have an opportunity to learn, its an environment where all the limiting factors of school (like time, and transportation) dont have as big as an impact. I know what your [sic] thinking, who would want to teach in a prison? Sure the government can give out hefty benefits for such people, but I think this is the place to start

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teaching algebra, from the inside out. Moving onto middle schoolers and so on. . . . Leslie and I did our best to help Edina deal with her own frustration and anger about the subject, and we agreed that this was another instance of Kirk failing to consider others in his communication. We discussed this and other issues at our first meeting with Kirk. The day before our first meeting, I received the first memo from Kirk. On the first read, I noticed that he seemed to be grasping the importance of the professional standards. One paragraph specifically addressed the communication standard: In class, I consciously choose what I say as to reflect my opinion in a manner appropriate for my peers as well as the instruction team. This means being respectful yet genuine to reveal my outlook on the topic at hand. Feedback I receive (on weekly math problems, assignments, or lesson plans ect [sic]) has been constructive and readily accepted by me. There has not been the occasion where I have disagreed to these comments or criticisms. However, [Mike] and I have discussed numerous ways in dealing with issues where disagreement arises. Such ways include: changing or choosing a new setting, asking more about what was meant by a particular comment, and conveying my view point as to not be disrespectful to the listening party. As a future teacher, I will frequently encounter instances where viewpoints may differ. Developing ways of dealing with these interactions now, in the preparation program will save face for me later in my life. The tone of this paragraph troubled me in its egocentricity. Kirk was focusing exclusively on constructing his first-person identity and did not show any evidence that he was even aware of or considering the secondand third-person identity narratives that others were presenting to him. In his view, repairing the communication was simply about changing what he says to others. His closing sentence emphasized this stance: The reason he felt that we were asking him to deal with this was for him to save face in the future. The interactions with and impact on others did not enter the equation. This interpretation was reinforced in the meeting with Kirk; he could describe his actions and how they affected him, but he did not describe the impact they had on others, in either real or hypothetical situations. March. Kirks meeting documents continued to show these egocentric

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patterns. For example, in the following paragraph, Kirk described the type of feedback he was getting on his lesson plans (an area of concern) and how he interpreted that feedback: An area that I need more attention, I believe, is my communication. It seems when I get any assignment/lesson plan back from the [instructional] team it usually has comments of Why were you thinking this? or What do you mean by that? I wont write an explanation of something I think is obvious. However, more than once, when I am trying to explain my reasoning it takes more than just a sentence or two leading me to then think, hey, maybe this wasnt so obvious. I know this aspect is extremely important to teaching and so I hardly assume anything is obvious when I am explaining to a student. We chose this excerpt as a focal point of the meeting. We challenged Kirk by presenting some scenarios in which students he teaches may not understand an explanation, and asking how he might respond and what the students might be thinking. Kirk did not display the ability to think about alternatives for student thinking in the conversation with us, even when asked to consider it directly. The conversation always drifted back to his own thinking about the mathematics lesson being discussed. Halfway through the semester, Kirks coursework assignments were not perfect, but he was positioned to pass the course. The course instructors, placement coordinator, and I saw no reason that he would not qualify for his internship on academic grounds. The reports from the field context continued to be strong. However, it was clear to us that Kirks way of thinking and his lack of awareness of the thoughts and feelings of others had the potential to cause problems in the classroom. He seemed unable or unwilling to use the second- and third-person narratives constructed about him to effect change in his own developing identity as a teacher. Kirk even framed this dismissiveness as a factual discrepancy. From the same document: I have been discussing this class with my dad he said something that ties into the theme of why I need to change what is happening. He said, What does two plus two equal? I say, Four, but its [sic] arbitrary he replies, Ok right, so these teachers have 2+2 = 3 and you think 2+2 = 4. Incredibly deep for my Dad and surprising to me. I mean this is exactly the case. What I want to happen is not happening and I am not getting along with the result.

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Notable in this excerpt was Kirks acceptance of a second-person narrative about him from his dad, which resonated with his own assessment of the situation. My colleagues and I were troubled by what we perceived as Kirks unwillingness to consider narratives that did not fit with his own first-person identity narrative. We were concerned about how Kirk would function in the internship, a setting in which second- and third-person narratives from a variety of stakeholders (field instructor, mentor teacher, course instructors, parents, and students) must be navigated. We felt that Kirks dismissive and disrespectful response when confronted with narratives that didnt match his own beliefs could lead to challenges in the classroom. We wondered, if we decided to let Kirk continue to internship, what were our obligations toward the mentor teacher (and students) with whom he would be placed? What would the placement coordinator or I need to tell that teacher in advance? What damage did we risk to the schooluniversity relationship if Kirk said something insensitive or demeaning to a student or a fellow staff member? April. As my colleagues and I grappled with this decision, two events took place that pushed us toward a resolution. The first was an e-mail prior to the last of our scheduled biweekly meetings. It read as follows: I am canceling the meeting for April 14th. The reason for this cancelation [sic] is personal and I do not wish to go in to detail through email. Since I created the idea to have these meetings, I believe it is with in my power to discontinue these meetings at my discretion. If you wish to contact me for any reason I am available through e-mail. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause, so I am letting all of you know 12 days in advanced [sic]. Leslie discussed this e-mail with Kirk, who admitted that he simply did not want to hold the meetings anymore because he did not feel they were helping him make progress. Once again, this indicated to Leslie and me that Kirk was asserting a first-person narrative in which his identity as a teacher was sufficiently developed without the second- and third-person narrative influence from the program. Leslie asked him to carefully consider the implications of this move in terms of how the team viewed his willingness to changein essence, to consider the narratives that others would create around this decision. Days later, one of the course instructors sent me an e-mail regarding an incident during an in-class assessment (Nick and Violet are fellow classmates): Before class there were some questions about what was and was

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not allowed to be used while taking the test. I confirmed that students could use all of their notes and anything else they brought with them. At this point Nick asked about borrowing the materials other students brought. I made very clear that this was not allowed. During the test . . . we both noticed Kirk say something to Violet (she was sitting next to him). I saw her make a face at him (not a happy one) and say something back. I became curious and kept an extra close eye on them for the rest of the test. Violet was using an article to answer one of the test questions. Several minutes later I noticed that Kirk had the same article one which he had not had earlier. After class I asked Violet to stay and talk with me. I told her [what] I had seen . . . [and she said,] he just took it. At this point, it was clear to Leslie and me that Kirk would not be allowed to continue in the program. The course instructors, Leslie, and myself met with Kirk to convey this decision. Although Kirk admitted to taking the article, he argued vehemently that not having the article available to him was unfair, that he did not do anything ethically wrong, and that he could not see why Violet might have been upset about this, not to mention the risk that it put her in as a possible accomplice to an academic integrity violation. This offered us a final piece of evidence that Kirk was unable or unwilling to consider second- or third-person narratives that did not match his own first-person identity. We returned to the professional criteria and informed Kirk that he would not be eligible to continue in the program. He was visibly angry and barely restrained. He asked how he could appeal the decision, but ultimately chose not to do so. In preparing for the possible appeal, I had to consider how we might handle the situation were it to come up again. The manner in which Kirk reacted to second- and third-person narratives constructed by program staff clearly violated the professional criteria. Were these transgressions grounds on which to deny someone progress in the program, and thus a career as a teacher (at least through our certification program)? Were there things I or others might have done, either during this episode or after it, that might have better supported Kirk in considering the narratives of others with respect to his own identity as a teacher? Ultimately my colleagues and I felt that we had made the right decision, but we were not sure whether the body of evidence as it stood made a compelling case to an outsider.

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SALLYS NARRATIVES Sally was a plump, fair-skinned woman with pretty blue eyes. In the fall of her senior year, when she was enrolled in the English methods course that I (Mary) was teaching, she began to stand out as a class personality, and so a third-person narrative (my emerging story about the sort of person she was, discussed among colleagues) started to coalesce. She immediately volunteered to serve as her class representative to a student input committee, and she continued to take charge of nonacademic social matters throughout the semester. She also displayed some curious, at times even strange (to me, anyway), actions and interactions in class. She frequently engaged as a vocal participant in class discussions. Sometimes she took an oppositional stance to others during these discussions, a positioning in the class with which she seemed to feel comfortable. During one conversation I recall about transactional approaches to teaching literature, she dramatically draped her sweatshirt hood on her head and squeezed it closed so that only her nose tipped outa behavior I might expect from a disengaged eighth grader, not from a TC. I found this and other instances of her behavior puzzling. Even more puzzling was what seemed to me a great need for positive affirmation and attention from me as the instructor. But for me, the most disturbing interactional event of Sallys senior year occurred outside of the seminar I was teaching, in the teaching lab, an institutional context where TCs practice-teach to their colleagues. Matt, the instructor of the teaching lab, reported his version of the incident to our instructor group, which included other graduate students teaching various courses in the teacher preparation and composition programs: During one of the practice lessons taught by a colleague, Sally made a casual, teasing reference to one of her fellow students, a young man, about being gay. I did not know at the time, but later learned, that this young man was struggling with mental health problems. This exchange occasioned Mattwho, in my view and in the view of others as well, was an exceedingly talented and sensitive teacherto stop and use this interaction as a teachable moment. He turned the situation to the class: How would you handle such joking if you were a teacher and a student made such a remark? He followed up with Sally privately about what seemed to him the inappropriateness of such a remark. But as a result of this interaction, Matt was concerned, and my concern escalated. In the spring semester of the senior year, such behaviors seemed to ebb, but I still wondered about how this young woman would interact with others and display judgment in her internship. Thus, a third-person narrative of Sally as person of concern began to take shape.

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Sally requested a placement in an urban area where our program routinely places students. She was assigned to East Prairie (EP) High School, a school with a population of 96% African American students, 3% White students, and fewer than 1% American Indian, Asian/Pacific Islander, and Hispanic students. Over 41% of students at East Prairie received free or reduced-priced lunch. After receiving her EP placement in the spring, Sally e-mailed several people in the program requesting that it be changed, including Thelma, the local area coordinator (who was, in fact, the wrong person to contact about this issue), and Sophie, the urban area coordinator. In a series of e-mails, Sally indicated that she did not want to teach at a school where they were experimenting with same-sex classrooms (apparently this was the case at EP): She claimed to believe that this move was not effective. She offered a second reason as well: The location of the school was too far from her home. An underlying implication (again, third-person narratives told about Sally by the leadership and instructional team) seemed to emerge: She did not really want to work with African American youth. The tone of her e-mails seemed to me somewhat like the tone I had observed with her classmates the prior falloppositional. She seemed to thrive on narrating herself in opposition to university staff, rather than in partnership with them. Rather than displaying a stance of being open to learning and to new experiences, Sally came across in these e-mailsto several different stakeholders in the programas being closed-minded and difficult, again third-person narratives that turned out to be quite different from the first-person narrative she told about herself (as we will see next). Rather than enlisting allies to partner with her, she appeared to me to be alienating multiple members of the university staff; indeed, she was described to me in private conversation as rude and a pain in the ass. With this somewhat rocky beginning, Sally stepped into her internship. She initially got along well with her field instructor, Alice, an African American woman in her 20s who had completed teacher preparation coursework at our university and was therefore quite familiar with our program. Alice had taught high school English and worked as a TE in one of the nations largest urban areas in another state for several years before returning as a doctoral student. Although the relationship with Alice reportedly started off well, Sally struggled to build a productive working relationship with her mentor, Violet, whom I saw as a strong, forthright African American woman with 17 years of teaching experience. Violet had worked with several student teachers in the past, and she believed that this experience gave her some perspective on her work with Sally. From Violets point of view, Sally seemed not to be taking directions well. Moreover, according to Violet, she seemed to be doing preparation

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work without a lot of input. Violet perceived this as arrogance and a problem with authority. Again, Sallys story about herself was quite different than this third-person narrative, as told by Violet to me. Sally took on two English classes from the start (TCs in our preparation program typically start with one), in addition to a history class (her minor subject) that was taught by another teacher. The students called her Ms. Sally, and, according to Violet, she struggled to gain their respect. Violet and Alice both reported that she struggled with classroom management, and she also struggled to devise lessons that engaged students and accomplished instructional purposes. According to both Violet and Alice, she did not readily use the extensive technology available at the school. Her mentor observed that teaching did not come naturally to her, a statement that I took to mean that Sally was struggling to articulate and perform a successful teaching identity for Violet. Violet reported finding herself disappointed that unlike the previous interns she had worked with, Sally did not devise creative lessons that she could learn from or steal. In fact, Violet assessed Sally as much weaker than any student with whom she had worked in the past. Violet felt she needed to undergo considerable change and growth to be even a minimally competent English teacher by the end of the internship. This was indeed a quite unpromising set of third-person narratives forming about Sallys development as a teacher, articulated by her mentor early on and then corroborated by Alice as time went on. The mentor/intern conflict became visible to Alice at the fall midsemester conference, when Alice witnessed Sally and her mentor exchange heatedfrom Sallys end, even viciouswords. Alice was horrified at Sallys tone: Like Violet reported to me, Alice also felt that Sally seemed to be closed down and unwilling to listen to her mentor. She made rude comments in the meeting. It seemed that the trust between Sally and Violet, had it ever existed, had eroded into a tenuous relationship. Until this conference, Alice had indicated in her monthly reports that Sally was making appropriate progress: Although she had much to work on, she was moving in the right direction. After this confrontation between Sally and her mentor, when the third-person narratives about Sally became second-person narratives told to her, Alice became more attentive and more concerned. Alice invested an enormous amount of time in talking with Sally, meeting with her, paying extra visits to the school, and the like. At the final fall semester conference on December 10, another opportunity for second-person narratives about Sallys identity trajectory as teacher, Alice made the decision to give Sally a pass with concern grade for the semester. This decision precipitated what Violet described to me as a nasty confrontation between Sally and Alice. Sally did not think she

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deserved a pass with concern, and she wrote to me to express this belief, invoking the intern handbook and the standards documents, and her own description of her learning processes and development. I quote at length to give a flavor of Sallys sense of injustice at this evaluation and the process surrounding it. It also expressed a first-person narrative that sounded dramatically different than the second- and third-person narratives circulating about her. Her [Alices] areas of concern as of 12-10-2007 are: incorporating technology, managing the classroom, and assessing students. I am concerned with this for many reasons. My first concern is that I feel I am at passing level, not at the level of pass with concern. [Here Sally quoted the relevant section of the handbook] I feel as though I have been open to learning throughout this entire process. My placement is in EP, 35 miles from my home, in an urban school. I have not yet had too much experience in an urban area. There were concerns on the part of my mentor teacher when it came to my personal feelings about black students and the urban school setting. She feared that my lesson plans were not aimed toward high enough levels of thinking because I had some personal bias toward black students. I have spent a good four weeks trying to salvage the relationship with my mentor teacher and not let it interfere with my relationship with the students or my teaching ability. I feel as though I learned a lot from that situation in terms of dealing with people. In terms of learning about teaching, I feel I have also been open. I have sought advice from many people, most significantly my history mentor teacher, Mr. A. Whenever I need any sort of advice or guidance when it comes to teaching, I go to Mr. A for his perspective. I also have sought advice from other colleagues and incorporated their suggestions into my own lessons. I have worked hard to understand the standards as well as what they entail for my classroom. I feel as though this is an on-going process for any first year teacher. If I received a Connecting [the highest evaluation on our rubric] in all standards, what would be the point of continuing the internship for the spring semester? I think this process, if it is a true learning process, should allow room for improvement in terms of these standards for the entire duration of the internship . . .

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I feel as though it is not productive to my learning or that of my students to express a notion of serious concern in December, if it has been present for months prior. I am not sure when Alice began having serious concerns about my progress, but I was not aware until 12-10-2007 that she has serious concerns with my progress. The final issue I have . . . is that (Alice) came to the conference on 12-10-2007 with her grade for me already decided . . . I have concerns that my mentor teacher does not get to provide any input into the final grade for this fall semester. I also have concerns that the conference on 12-10-2007 was counterproductive. My question iswhat was the point of meeting on 12-10-2007 if the assessment was already complete? With this e-mail, Sally aligned herself with her mentor, in opposition to Alicea shift from the beginning of the semester when she seemed to be aligning herself with Alice in opposition to her mentor. As she did so, she seemed to be striving to articulate a first-person identity as someone who was in the process of learning and was working hard to achieve the standards of the program. Indeed, she asserted counterclaims to many of the storylines that Violet and Alice had asserted about her: for example, the idea that she held low expectations for African American students, that she was not open to learning, and that she had actively sought out advice about teaching. Comparing the story about Sallys identification across contexts told by Sally and those stories told by Violet and Alice, it actually seemed as though different persons were being described. Sallys e-mail therefore seemed to demonstrate that she did not accept the second-person narrative that was being told about her, first by her mentor and then by her field instructor. To do so would have meant admitting that she had significant deficiencies as a teacher in training. As a TE, for me, the dilemma became how to plot an identity trajectory for Sally with such conflicting storylines. One outcome of the conference that Sally so protested was a professional development plan being put into place, a standard move for interns who are experiencing trouble. The plan targeted the standards about assessing student learning, interacting with students as individuals, and using an equipped classroom (including available technology), though included some improvement in all the standards. Starting in the beginning of January, Sally would have two weeks to show dramatic improvement in all areas. Sally again requested to Sophie, the placement coordinator, that she be moved to a different placement. The answer was no from Sophie, so she moved on

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to methe subject area leader. A meeting together with Mary, Gail (in her capacity as secondary team leader), and Sally was convened to discuss her concerns. At the meeting, the two of us listened to Sallys first-person identification, articulated emotionally through tears, and we tried to coach her about how to turn the situation into a positive learning experience. After some deliberation, much of which revolved around logistics, Gail, Thelma, Sophie, and I decided not to change the placement. We remained worried about her developing trajectory as a teacher, not entirely sure that this was someone we felt confident about certifying as teacher. After two further classroom observations (one of them with Sophie present), Alice submitted the recommendation that Sally terminate the internship. I was concerned about whether we had a strong enough case should Sally decide to appeal this decision (e.g., the professional development plan being put into effect in January rather than in November, when the serious concerns had been noted by Alice). Therefore, I elected to give her another two weeks on probation. Before we made a decision either way, after another troubling interaction with her mentor, Sally finally elected to quit the program. Based on my third-person construal of Sallys identity trajectory as a teacher, I was pleased with this outcome. But yet, I felt uneasy about how this story had unfolded. SUZANNAHS NARRATIVES Suzannah was an engaging and enthusiastic Caucasian woman with a history of being a successful high school and undergraduate student. She grew up in a largely monoracial city of approximately 22,000 located about two hours from the university campus. Suzannah did her junioryear field placement, which consisted largely of one-on-one tutoring and classroom observations, at Edison Middle School, in an urban district adjacent to the university. In her senior year, she was placed at Howard Middle School in the same district, and her relationship with her senioryear mentor was a very positive one. Suzannah communicated to her course instructors and our team coordinator her appreciation of the time and guidance her mentor provided, and her mentor, who gave Suzannah very positive evaluations, shared on several occasions with her course instructors and with me that she was impressed by Suzannahs content knowledge, her willingness to learn, and her eagerness to interact with the students. This third-person narrative of Suzannah was consonant with the second- and third-person narratives constructed by Suzannahs senior-year course instructors, in which she appeared as someone quite committed to teaching, who expressed enthusiasm for getting into the

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classroom for extended periods, and who was very open and responsive to critique. In their third-person narratives, Suzannah was represented to me as a consistently cheerful and positive individual who got along well with her peers in the program. They described with enthusiasm the thoughtful way that she approached her assignments, often e-mailing instructors with questions of clarification or drafts for their review; my review of drafts and final versions of several of her assignments suggested that Suzannah made effective use of the feedback she received. She received a 4.0 in her senior-year courses, and both of her instructors felt confident about her potential for success as an educator. Thus, both the second- and third-person narratives of Suzannah, constructed as early as her junior year, were reflective of an individual on a successful professional trajectory. Based on her previous placement experiences, Suzannah specifically requested another urban placement for her internship and expressed a particular interest in teaching science at the middle school level after receiving her teaching certification. Suzannah was initially matched with Tammy, a graduate of our teacher preparation program, at Peterson Middle School. Tammy had a background very much like Suzannahsgrowing up in a largely monoracial community, doing much of her teacher preparation fieldwork in the same urban district in which Suzannah had done her preinternship work, and now teaching eighth grade in that same district. The second- and third-person narratives by various TE faculty and teacher colleagues of Tammy over her five years of teaching prior to this year consistently portrayed her as a very successful teacher in her classroom, in her school, and in the district, and one who always sought out continued professional development experiences for herself. Tammy communicated to me that she was very much looking forward to having an intern from our institution and that she anticipated having a much more satisfying experience than the one she had just completed as a mentor for a student teacher from another institution. All the university TE stakeholders (course instructors, team coordinator, and myself as head of the team) were unanimous in the assessment that Suzannah and Tammy would be compatible and would make a productive team. The initial meeting between Suzannah and her mentor, which took place in the spring prior to the beginning of the internship year, was productive and successful by all accounts. The third-person narratives of both Suzannah and Tammy constructed by the stakeholders introduced earlier contained three common, hallmark characteristics of their professional identities: commitment to teaching middle school students, passion about urban schooling, and alignment to reform-based science teaching practice and other values promoted by our teacher preparation

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program. All these elements of their professional identities surfaced in their initial discussion, and Suzannah and Tammys independent thirdperson narratives contained the conviction that these similar values were strong predictors of a successful and productive year. This was an auspicious beginning to what the instructors, content area leader, team leader, and coordinator all expected would develop into a productive and collegial relationship between intern and mentor. However, elements of difficulty began to appear within the first month of the school year. Some of these difficulties appeared to be shaped by external factors: For example, the entire administration of the mentors school had changed that year. Along with these new individuals came the institution of new policies that were neither consistent nor clearly communicated to the teaching staff. These issues were revealed later through my interactions with Tammy and from my reading of Suzannahs journals. My sense of such changes in administrative structure and leadership style and philosophy at the school site, verified by conversations with other teachers at the school, was that they resulted in Tammy not being able to draw upon her established procedures or to share these consistently with Suzannah. Tammy also later told me that when she did make decisions, they often were challenged by the administration. Another external challenge to the developing relationship came in the form of a new set of state standards for secondary science education that became effective that fall. The districts response to these new standards was to shift the eighth-grade science curriculumwhich previously had addressed middle school benchmarks in biology, earth and space, and physical scienceto address the new high school benchmarks in earth science only. Although Suzannah was seeking certification in integrated science, which would allow her to teach all science subjects and thus make her more marketable, her major and most of her past experiences were in the biological sciences. Tammys background was in chemistry and general science, not in earth science. Although she had taught some earth science before in this grade, these topics were focused on middle school rather than high school benchmarks, and she had been part of a large professional development project that provided ongoing support for addressing these middle school benchmarks. As I analyzed this situation, what I saw were two teachers, one experienced and one new, neither of whom possessed a large degree of confidence with respect to the subject matter she was expected to teach. This was problematic for the mentor, whose first-person identity was to serve as an expert and a role model for her intern and who instead, both from her perspective and Suzannahs, was forced at times to ask her intern for content clarification. Suzannah, in her own first-person narrative, shared that the result of this

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situation was problematic for her as well because she was pushed to contribute more and earlier on in the year to the planning of units and lessonscertainly more than she might have had to if the situation had been otherwise. Even though Suzannah said on multiple occasions that it was only middle school content and she should be able to handle it, it is clear from these and other comments that she was trying to construct a narrative that could allow her to feel more in control of the situation, and this was not always possible. This relationship and accompanying narratives had two very problematic outcomes: first, the turning of the typical mentormentee relationship on its head, and second, the planting of seeds of frustration, discomfort, and defensiveness. Other elements contributing to the rocky way in which the relationship developed and the narrative that Suzannah was developing about her own identity struggles were associated with Tammys frequent absences from school because of personal health and family issues. These absences came in addition to her thrice-monthly absences from school because of an ongoing project to which she had a commitment as a mentor for two teachers new to the district. This meant that she was unable to provide consistent, ongoing support for Suzannah, sometimes at critical junctures in Suzannahs work with the students or parents or with the content to be taught. Several entries in Suzannahs journal suggested that these absences had a negative impact on her ability to plan and communicate effectively. It also led to a situation in which Suzannah was faced with having to look for a replacement for that kind of support, which she did by communicating more frequently about general matters with her field instructor, Pam. However, she appeared to be unable or unwilling to seek more specific and ongoing support from others, as evidenced by her lack of communication with her course instructors or other teachers at the school who offered their help. The mentors personal and family health issues, as well as her absences, had the effect not only of providing less ongoing support for the intern, but also of making an already anxious intern expend much cognitive energy worrying about how to respond to her mentors varying moods, the piecemeal feedback she was receiving, and what she perceived were hidden messages in this feedback about her competence as a teacher. An examination of Suzannahs journal entries, as well as conversations with Pam, her course instructors, and other teachers at the school yielded first-, second- and third-person narratives that were consistent with this growing divide between mentor and intern and increasing difficulty Suzannah had with her needs to support her growing identity as a beginning teacher. It is significant that both the mentor and intern were expecting that their relationship would provide them with the support to continue

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developing their identities as expert and beginning teacher. It was in fact part of Suzannahs first-person narrative that as a TC, she was supposed to receive specific kinds of ongoing support from her mentor, and instead, it was not only inconsistent (in that sometimes Tammy clearly displayed her own shared passion for teaching urban adolescents and offered her own experiences, and sometimes she was dismissive or appeared short-tempered), but the interactions were sometimes marked by a reversal of roles, in which the mentor asked for her help. These inconsistencies had the effect of making Suzannah feel uncomfortable and anxious. One of the hallmarks of the deteriorating relationship between Suzannah and Tammy was the result of what some stakeholders would label as multiple instances of miscommunication. However, this attribution does little to address the source of the miscommunication. In midOctober, for example, Tammy asked Suzannah to develop a sequence of lessons for a particular topic coming up in about a week. Suzannah went home, worked diligently to develop what she thought Tammy was asking for, and brought it back to share with her. Tammy reviewed the plans and told Suzannah that this was not what she wanted. The end result was that Tammy and Suzannah separately reported to both Pam and to one of the course instructors that they each felt frustratedfor different reasons and neither had any idea how to improve the situation, should it occur again, which it did on several other occasions. This and similar episodes suggest that Suzannahs first-person narrative about her professional trajectory was not aligned with the trajectory constructed by her mentor; in addition, her third-person narrative about her mentors responsibilities to her for supporting her growth as a beginning teacher were not matched by Tammys first-person narrative concerning such responsibilities. And the gap between these narratives resulted in a repeated instances of miscommunication, as well as growing frustration and resentment. Pam had a long history as a mentor teacher herself in the same district and with the university in various capacities (field instructor, teaching lab instructor, school liaison), and she was trying to be supportive of both parties, in particular when tensions arose. However, she made several well-intentioned choices that resulted in the perception by both Suzannah and Tammy that they were not being well served. For example, because Suzannah did not have a substantial background in earth science, which constituted a large part of the eighth-grade science curriculum, Pam suggested that she might pick up one class of sixth-grade science (in which biology was prominently represented) with another teacher at the same school. Pam expressed to both Suzannah and to me

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that such an experience would make Suzannah a stronger candidate for available positions once she completed the program. Although such an arrangement was discussed among Pam, Suzannah, and the sixth-grade teacher, Tammy was not included in any of these conversations; in fact, Tammy reported to me that Pam had reassured her earlier in the year that her schedule of classes met the universitys expectations for an interns preparation. Pam was responding to the narrative she had constructed of Suzannahs needs as a developing educator, and she most likely saw herself as able to help negotiate for those experiences that would enhance Suzannahs professional trajectory; however, in making such moves, Pam neglected to help Suzannah move along the trajectory that would include the critically important, albeit difficult, communication that intern and mentor must have in order to negotiate the complex and dynamic professional identities they must build to be effective educators. It may be that the narrative Pam had constructed of Tammy as a mature, independent, and flexible teacher led her to believe that she would be as supportive and responsive to this opportunity as she was. Unfortunately, this was not the case; Tammy communicated that she felt betrayed by the individuals and by the program, Suzannah felt unsupported, and Pam admitted feeling confused regarding her responsibilities and allegiances. As the beginning of December approached, Suzannah had been having an ongoing set of face-to-face and electronic conversations, not only with her course and field instructors but also with me as director of the secondary teacher preparation program. In telephone conversations with me, Suzannah always prefaced her frustrations with a statement about how much she liked working with the students, even those who presented great challenges. She also stated her continued commitment to teaching in high-need areas because these were the very students who typically fell through the cracks of the system. This was the backdrop for the frustrations she expressed about her mentor, particularly what she perceived as mercurial moods and a lack of consistent support. The first week of December, I offered to talk directly with Tammy because I had an established relationship with her (I had been her field instructor and one of her course instructors when she was an intern, and I had worked with her since her completion of the program both formally and informally); I thought that I might be able to at least get a sense of her stance in this now rapidly deteriorating situation. In our three-hour face-to-face conversation, Tammy admitted to it having been a difficult year for her; she had been experiencing health problems, her curriculum was new and some of it unfamiliar, and the new building administrators were less than supportive of her efforts and those of her

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close colleagues. However, she also shared that she felt she was being open and helpful to Suzannah and was trying to get her to take more initiative in planning and other classroom tasks, to justify those plans she did develop, and to become more independent of her guidance as the second semester approached. All these were goals that Tammy had for Suzannah as she approached the beginning of her ten-week lead teaching period in late January, during which time she would be primarily responsible for all aspects of planning and teaching for four periods each day. Tammys primary frustration was that she felt unsupported by the program (largely because its expectations were represented to her by the field instructor) and that things were going on behind her back that were being orchestrated by Suzannah and Pam. At the same time, I was also having conversations with Suzannah, who shared that Tammy was using many of her ideas, not giving her consistent or sufficient feedback regarding her performance, and displaying swings of mood that made it difficult for her to be either at ease or professional around her. Despite my efforts to share these different perspectives as a way of developing some common ground from which to move forward, within a week of these conversations, Suzannah had decided that she could not continue to work productively with her mentor and asked me if she could be moved to a different school. I told her that I would investigate this possibility; however, the following weekend, without conferring with either her mentor or any of her instructors, Suzannah went into school to remove her belongings. She returned briefly on Monday to return her keys and say goodbye to the students and to several members of the school staff. What precipitated this extreme action, one that was, to many of those associated with Suzannah, so out of character with her way of addressing conflict and stresses she encountered earlier in the year? A narrative framing suggests that the tension confronting Suzannahs first-person identities as a TC was so great that she could not envision a way of successfully negotiating the terrain that surrounded her. She decided to exit that terrain and enter another that would provide her with a mentor who would meet her needs and expectations for content expertise, classroom leadership, and collegial interaction; new students, moreover, would allow her to continue to fulfill her goal of providing content and social and emotional support and to serve as a positive role model. The following week, after multiple additional conversations with the various stakeholders, I made the decision to move Suzannah to a new placement. In identifying an appropriate placement, I addressed two issues. The first of these was identifying the problems with the first relationship, and what it was about Suzannahs developing identity that made

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it difficult for her to continue on a productive professional trajectory in that context. Suzannah had expressed concerns, both directly and indirectly, about her own subject matter expertise (her particular strengths being in biology, even though she was receiving an endorsement in integrated science) and expectations for such expertise from her mentor, and neither of these were addressed. She was expected to teach an earth science curriculum, and although her mentor had taught this subject previously, Tammys greatest strengths were in chemistry (her major), and she herself struggled with the new earth science-focused curriculum. Suzannah also had expectations about the shape of mentoring she would receivecollegial, with lots of time for planning and lots of initial coplanning and coinstruction; this expectation was not consistently met either. And Suzannah thought that a mentor should know how to do all these things and that she had no reason to be an active participant in helping the mentor figure out how this role and relationship should unfold. The second issue was identifying the kind of context and relationship that would allow her to continue developing as a teacher. From the narrative I had constructed of Suzannah as a TC, I felt that certain contextual factors would be important for her success: a teacher who had served previously and successfully as a mentor, a teacher who had significant content matter strengths and who had an established positive relationship with her students, a curriculum in an area in which Suzannah felt most comfortable (i.e., biology), and, if possible, an urban context, because this was so much a part of Suzannahs developing identity as a teacher. Fortunately, another of my former students, Jerilyn, taught biology and environmental science in a high school in the same district and met these criteria. After the winter break, Suzannah was placed in a high school with Jerilyn, and her relationship with her new mentor unfolded in a quite different manner. Only a week into the new year, Suzannah was already writing in her journal that coming to school is like therapy. She stated that she was learning from Jerilynwhom she thought was helpful and friendlyabout how to relax and how to strategically pick her battles. By her second week in the class, Suzannah was reporting that she and Jerilyn were power planning (i.e., having long sessions periodically after school to debrief and collaboratively plan multiple days lessons). She also commentedverbally to her course instructors and to me, as well as in her journalsthat it felt great to be able to work with her new mentor. Jerilyn seemed to expect Suzannah to share her concerns, to be direct in asking for her assistance, and to gradually become independent. In fact, Jerilyn had Suzannah taking the lead in teaching one class within two weeks of her arrival, and eventually, Suzannah took on an AP

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Environmental Science class and three regular ninth-grade biology classes. Jerilyn communicated nothing but positive remarks to Pam about Suzannahs preparation, classroom presence, compassion for students, and mature attitude. As May approached, Jerilyn reported having enjoyed her work with Suzannah; her second- and third-person narratives included liberal use of descriptors such as knowledgeable, openminded, friendly, and able to develop strong relationships with her students. Suzannah successfully completed her internship at the end of April. DISCUSSION In this article, we have explored the challenges facing teacher candidates as they navigate various institutional contexts on their pathways toward a designated identity: becoming recognized as teachers. The resulting narratives traced the process by plotting landmark moments and interactions along three TCs trajectories of identity development. In the narratives of Kirk and Sally, the goal of this trajectory was not realized, at least not at our institution at the time we worked with them. In the narrative of Suzannah, this goal was achieved, although the trajectory posed challenges for the teacher educators involved, as well as the TC herself, to negotiate. To offer a tool for conceptualizing how identity work is negotiated and accomplished in teacher education programs, we have introduced the notions of first-, second-, and third-person narratives, building on the work of Sfard and Prusak (2005). Each of the TCs described here had to navigate among different ways of identifying themselves in relation to their developing teacher identity: stories they told about themselves to others and to themselves (first-person narratives); stories others told about them to them (second-person narratives); and stories others told about them to others (third-person narratives). These narratives map onto what we refer to as first-, second-, and third-person identities. The narratives we have construed about each TC also illuminate how TEs must navigate among the first-, second-, and third-person narratives of TCs as they make professional and moral decisions along the way about whether individuals should continue on in a teacher preparation program. This narrative framework for conceptualizing teacher identity development across contexts provides several insights and raises questions as we consider ways to foster identity development for the work of teacher education. The development and expression of first-person narratives, and the assertion of what Olson (1995) termed narrative authority, are critical to TCs knowledge development. However, second-person narratives can be

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challenging for TEs to communicate productively to TCs. As third-person narratives, easily shared with colleagues, narratives about interns become more challenging when face-to-face with the aspiring teacher who is struggling. This challenge arises because second-person narratives can often express serious doubts about the TCs capabilities and judgments, as we saw in the narrative about Kirk. However, it is critical for TEs not only to communicate these second-person narratives but also to have difficult conversations in ways that support the identity development of TCs. This challenge relates to a prevailing discourse of support within teaching and teacher education. Teacher education is unlike many other (e.g., scientific or medical) training contexts, in which agonistic discourse practices seem more focused on weeding persons out than on supporting them through the process. In second-person narratives to TCs, however, TEs face the opposite danger of being too supportive and not effectively communicating significant problems that are discerned in the trajectory of identity development. Further, because these identity issues are often so personal (e.g., narratives of self-centeredness we constructed about Kirk and Sally), second-person narratives can feel like a personal attack rather than a professional assessment. Second-person narratives can, quite bluntly, pose a face threat to TCs, as Kirks e-mail explicitly stated, and as Sallys reactions to her mentor teacher and field supervisor implied. This, in turn, can have the effect of closing down the TC and putting her on the defensive, something that seemed visible in Sallys interactions with her mentor and her field instructor and in Kirks interactions with Mike and the course instructors. Further, a TCs identity trajectory is constructed in at least two institutional contexts: the university and the school. These two contexts have distinct functions and norms. An evaluative/gatekeeping norm characterizes the university context: Coursework and resulting grades measure performance and development toward a particular goal, and failure to meet evaluative criteria prevents a candidate from gaining access into valued territory. This gatekeeping function is particularly salient in teacher preparation, in which a professional certificate conferred by the university is a requirement for entry into the field. The school context is more complex. The primary work of the school context is about educating students, not educating the teachers (and TCs) who make up the schools staff. TCs are therefore immersed in the closed-door, nonevaluative norm that pervades teacher communities (e.g., Cochran-Smith, 2000; Lortie, 1975). Additionally, mentors frequently see their roles as providing emotional support for the day-to-day struggles of a TC, often to the exclusion of the kind of substantive feedback about teaching and learning that would foster development along an identity trajectory (Feiman-Nemser,

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2001). These differences suggest that various types of narratives are likely to be constructed in each context, leaving the TC with the challenging task of negotiating and integrating them into their developing first-person narrative. In each of the three narratives presented here, this conflict caused the TC to dismiss narratives from one context or the other, or to privilege the narratives of one context more strongly in their developing identity. It is the job of TEs to support TCs not just in navigating conflicting narratives, but in learning to integrate them in a way that increases the power of the narrative for the TC and furthers his or her identity development, a theme we elaborate further in the Implications and Conclusions section. The differences among first-, second-, and third-person narratives also point to the difference between actual identities and designated identities that TCs are negotiating (Richmond & Anderson, 2005; Sfard & Prusak, 2005). Their AIs represent what they are doing right now (and how they achieve recognition according to those actions), and their DIs represent who they might becomea vision that is held by TEs, mentors, and other more knowledgeable and experienced others. Moreover, the student role is still highly salient in most TCs AI, in which success is measured by achieving good marks and turning in assignments that meet a single instructors expectations. In the cases of all three TCs presented in this article, we observed tensions associated with the gap between AIs and DIs. Kirk, for example, thought that the gap between his AI and DI was small; the TEs with whom he worked thought it was huge, and likely insurmountable. Sally seemed to have a weak sense of purpose, and thus an unclear sense of her DI. If this is so, it may have meant that she did not have a clear sense of her desired professional goals, which may have led to the shifting allegiances and the tendency to lay blame on others for her difficulties. And because Suzannah saw the gap between her AI and DI as manageable, the tensions did not arise from this discrepancy, but rather from the fact that her conception of AI was considerably different from her mentor Tammys conception of AI, and this ultimately proved to be unworkable. This interpretation is supported by the way in which the second half of her internship year unfolded and suggests that Jerilyns notions of AI were much more consonant with Suzannahs, and together they were able to narrow whatever gap did exist. The narrative notion of teacher identity we espouse understands teacher identity development to be a multivocal process that involves conflict, struggle, and negotiation among first-, second-, and third-person narratives. One particularly important voice in TCs developing identity is that of mentor teachers. A salient issue, then, is how mentors narrate their own identities to teacher candidates and to themselves. It seems to

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us that the mentor identity narratives about themselves as teachers and as mentors, about other TCs they have worked with in the past (as we saw with Sallys mentor Violet), and about a TC they are working with can be enormously influential for TCs. Therefore, mentor teachers notions of their own identification trajectory can play crucial roles in shaping the key context in which TCs develop: their placement classroom. This dynamic also raises the question of who is student and who is teacher. In the case of Tammy and Suzannah, we saw how the student teacher role and the mentor teacher role were not fixed and unchanging, but could shift. Indeed, any teacher preparation program relishes identifying a mentor teacher who wishes to work with TCs because of her own desire to learn from the new generation. Further, we did not include Kirk, Sally, and Suzannah as coauthors of the narratives we composed about thema choice we might have made. Would these TCs (especially Kirk and Sally, who did not succeed in being recognized as teachers in our program) recognize themselves and their stories in these third-person stories we tell about them? Teacher preparation programs also have narratives constructed by those who play a role within and beyond their boundaries. In the case of those individuals who have some instructional and administrative responsibility for teacher education, these narratives find their way into such elements of the program as standards and course assignments, but they also must be interpreted by TCs and mentors, whose AIs and DIs may prioritize different values and goals than the ones prioritized by TEs. Our challenge is finding ways to maintain these goals and standards while remaining responsive and flexible to the many reasons that candidates resist programmatic expectations (Carroll, 2007). For example, Sallys resistance often seemed to us to be purely oppositional (i.e., opposition for the sake of opposition) and passive. Kirks resistance was active, but it was unaccompanied by any kind of articulated rationale. By contrast, Suzannahs stance seemed one of persistence more than resistance. It emerged in the face of growing frustration that her professional needs were not being met. In the narratives she (and we) constructed, the origins of this frustration seemed well articulated; however, this awareness was largely retrospective. Our analysis of Suzannahs narrative reveals what might have been a missed pedagogical opportunity. Had Gail and her colleagues provided more opportunities for Suzannah to construct narratives of her identity trajectory, those narratives might have substantially grounded the conversation among all stakeholders and, independent of the final decision, would have been both more inclusive and more generative for both Suzannah and others involved. We have focused our narratives on secondary TCs across content areas

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and within a very large (in terms of number of TCs certified every year) and long (five-year) teacher preparation program. Teacher preparation programs are instantiations of knowledge communities, which are critical catalysts in fostering teachers narrative identity development (Olson & Craig, 2001). A program like ours in which more time is spent in knowledge communities may have allowed us unique access and insight into identity issues, especially with respect to the dynamics we saw with Sally and Suzannah. We wonder if these insights would have had time to surface in a shorter program. We further speculate that if they had, they might have been more easily resolved (for better or for worse) because TCs are expected to achieve recognition as teacher in a semester, rather than over the course of a year, meaning there is less time and less tolerance for a slow learner. Sally, for example, would likely have straightforwardly failed the internship had it been only a semester long. The narrative approach we illustrate here can help TEs better understand and support candidates in moving through the complex identity terrain of teacher candidacy. In what follows, we suggest specific ways in which teacher preparation programs can actively support identity development through narrative integration, from overall program design to construction of course assignments and design and oversight of schoolbased field experiences. IMPLICATIONS AND CONCLUSION The development of knowledge for teaching and of teaching practices is assessed by program- and state-level standards, evaluated through course assignments and field observations, and quantified in a way that allows the program and state certification agency to determine whether the candidate is worthy to be recognized as teacher. If the development of teacher identity is an important aspect of teacher preparation, then how do various stakeholders work toward this goal in the different institutional contexts in which teacher education occurs? Further, if a key priority in teacher education is creating environments in which first-, second-, and third-person identities are developed, articulated, and collaboratively explored, do current teacher preparation program structures and cultures actually facilitate or inhibit this goal? What does this suggest about program standards? Such standards can be a double-edged sword. We are suspicious that program structures and cultures might in fact inhibit the development of teacher identities because the development of teacher identity is an implicit judgment that primarily comes into play only when TCs encounter problems that require the involvement of TE leaders. When TEs invoke the standards in

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such cases, they seem to serve as a safety valve for those TCs who appear unsuccessful in developing the knowledge, practices, and identity critical for teaching. However, if standards were used as an interpretive space (Feiman-Nemser, 2007) in which TCs created narratives that speak to (and perhaps even back to) the standards, as compared with articulating how they conform to them, candidates could begin to do the important work of integrating the multiple and diverse narratives generated in teacher preparation programs. It is also likely that this shift in stance with respect to standards would support the transition from student (measuring up to a set of criteria determined by an external authority) to teacher (interpreting multiple and diverse goals and demands and describing ones performance with respect to them).2 Fostering the development of first-person narratives about teaching is a reality for TCs in a teacher preparation program; however, this development often occurs in informal settings among candidates (Olson & Craig, 2001), or it occurs formally but does not engage TCs in sustained efforts to integrate conflicting narrative accounts, over time, into their developing first-person narratives. Many programs depend on secondperson identifying narratives that TCs must receive and interpret and that become bases for assessments of progress. When narratives are incorporated into the courses of teacher education, they frequently appear in the form of snapshot assignments such as literacy autobiographies or narratives about past influences that have shaped ones decisions to become a teacher. Some university course experiences embed pieces of first-person narratives in assignments or course activities, such as regular discussions of the goings-on in a field placement or the preparation of a teaching philosophy narrative in anticipation of the job search. Often these narratives fail to become living tools for the candidates and their instructors to trace and address the development of the TCs identity over time. Moreover, TE narrative work is rarely pulled together in a single artifact or set of artifacts that empower a beginning teacher, as she progresses through a teacher preparation program, to describe, reflect on, and shape her own first-person identity in dialogue with the secondand third-person identities circulating about her. We propose more explicit narrative work in teacher preparation that frames becoming a teacher as negotiation and integration among multiple, sometimes conflicting, narratives. We see this as a two-stage process, in which TCs have (a) many informal and formal opportunities to articulate their own first-person narratives using a range of artifacts, and (b) regular opportunities to integrate their narratives with the second- and third-person identifying narratives from course instructors, university personnel, and mentor teachers. We see a need for TEs to create more

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opportunities for TCs to author first-person narratives that can be plotted along a trajectory over time and that can be read as responses to the emerging second- and third-person narratives. So if students write a literacy autobiography or a Why I want to become a teacher story early on in their program, we believe it is worthwhile to challenge students to continue to write and speak narratives about various experiences they have along the way in their programs, turning this snapshot narrative into an evolving account of their developing identity trajectory. These first-person narrative opportunities might include teaching notebooks; online discussion groups about placement experiences; course time devoted to narrative talk; low-stakes narrative writing; and, perhaps most promisingly, video-based narrative work in which TCs videotape themselves teaching and narrate their teaching identities through video evidence, and then have various others (for example, other TCs, mentors, course instructors, and field supervisors) respond to their video. To achieve the second stage of the process, however, TEs must push TCs to narrate firstperson narratives that respond to and actively integrate the full range of narratives told by and about them. We are beginning to explore video-based narrative work with TCs. As TEs, we particularly like video work because, when structured inventively, it helps us to move beyond a pattern that we often witness occurring in teaching methods classes, where discussions about placements devolve into a series of personal and unassailable narratives that take the periodic formWell, in my ways that do not seem to open up new conversations and new possibilities for TCs who are the narrators. The English instructional team at our institution, for example, has developed a culminating assignment at the end of the student teaching practicum that asks TCs to develop digital reflections that tell a compelling story about their development as teachers over time by incorporating multiple video clips from their teaching at different points in time (see especially Appendix of Juzwik, Sherry, Caughlan, Heintz, & Borsheim-Black, in press). In this video narrative, interns must include multiple narrators discussing their work. Science methods course instructors at our institution are exploring a kind of writing that invites the construction and reconstruction of teaching identities by TCs as they move through the program. For example, at the beginning of their senior year, TCs write a vignette of what they consider to be exemplary science teaching. As they come to the completion of their internship year, the TCs again compose such a vignette, this time making explicit use of their own experiences to narrate their own teaching. And then, both individually and collectively, instructors and TCs compare and co-construct narratives of change in practice. Using video and other classroom artifacts provides

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a common set of narratives from multiple perspectives around a reviewable and portable evidence source. Thus, instructors can have at hand strategies for productive narrative construction sensitive to trajectory development in which these artifacts play a grounding role. Because it can be difficult for individuals to address others stories about them, TEs need to scaffold TCs integration of second- and third-person narratives into their developing identities. Such narrative construction and comparison activities can raise the notion of an identity trajectory and designated identity to an explicit level of salience for TCs. This framework suggests that TEs, including mentors, need to be both more explicit and more rhetorically careful about the second-person narratives that they tell to TCs. These narratives are hugely consequential, and too often, especially with struggling TCs, the second- and third-person narratives may not seamlessly align across contexts. This can provide opportunities for TCs to select or reject narratives in relation to their own identity trajectories. As we saw, Sally seemed to create oppositions and conflicts among the various second-person narratives she was hearing through what appeared to us to be a self-preserving defensive stance. We challenge TEs (ourselves included) to frame narratives in descriptive terms of what TCs do and have done (verbs), rather than in terms of who they are (i.e., is-statements) (cf. Sfard & Prusak, 2005). This move can allow TEs to reframe generalized third-person judgments as sequences of action and the ways in which particular people evaluate those actions. For example, instead of saying Sally, you seem not to be open to suggestions from me as your mentor, it might be more productive to say, Sally, I noticed the other day that after we brainstormed a dozen creative ways of incorporating more technology into your teaching work, you did not respond by incorporating technology into your lessons. This seems like a big area in which you need improvement and Im wondering why you chose to respond as you did to that conversation? Ive also noticed similar responses to some of my other suggestions, for example, when we talked about ways to engage the diversity of your students in your unit on Huck Finn. Im starting to be puzzled about this pattern more generally. This tack keeps the narrative grounded in events, evidence, and interpretive stance-taking available to both TE and TC. The approach also involves I statements, which open up interpretive spaces to interactionally negotiate meaning about a problematic pattern in a TCs identity trajectory. This kind of talk, as with the video-based assignments we

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described earlier, also has the advantage of being grounded in observable behaviors, an aspect of teacher work more easily accessed and more likely to be valued by TCs. It provides evidence for claims both parties might make. Such talk might have prompted Sally to respond with a first-person narrative focused on her knowledge and practice rather than with an emotional rebuke. Such an approach might have opened the door to more fruitful communication between Suzannah and her mentor, by directing each of them to attend to the conflicting narratives of particular interactions with an invitation to consider alternative narratives that arose from their own identities as educators. Another fruitful strategy would be the creation of narratives that illuminate TCs actual and designated identities. For example, when faced with challenges in getting Kirk to consider alternative points of view, Mike and his colleagues created a scenario in which they asked him to consider what might happen if a student had difficulty understanding an explanation in his class. In posing this hypothetical situation, they offered Kirk an opportunity to create a first-person narrative about his designated identity. His inability to do so revealed a rather profound gap between his AI and DI, one that they had hoped would provide him with information as to how to modify his own identity trajectory. When this was not the case, and when Kirk saw no problem with this gap, their concerns as TEs were deepened. Providing TCs with opportunities to project their designated identities through structured imaginings such as this one can provide useful information about a candidates developing identity trajectory. Finally, the development of a TCs identity as a teacher is a critical aspect of the professional preparation process. As the three accounts in this article describe, the narratives that TCs create about their identity influence all aspects of their professional work: their developing practice, the appropriation of new knowledge for teaching, their stance toward professional learning, professional relationships, and their communications in the university and field contexts. Yet the narratives we construct and provide to TCs, as well as those we ask them to provide about themselves, are often static, evaluative, summative snapshots of a moment in time. Our recommendations for supporting the development of TCs narratives build on the notions of developing teachers narrative authority (Olson, 1995) and conceptualizing teaching standards as a flexible, interpretive space (Feiman-Nemser, 2007). These lines of research advocate for the importance of and provision of space for the development of TCs first-person narratives. By providing regular opportunities to construct such narratives and by further adding a means to integrate them with second- and third-person narratives in the service of charting a trajectory of identity development, teacher educators have the opportunity

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to proactively support teacher candidates transition from student to teacher. Acknowledgments

We thank our colleagues Samantha Caughlan and Beth Herbel-Eisenmann and two anonymous reviewers for their feedback on earlier drafts of this paper.

1. Pseudonyms have been given to all individuals and school sites. 2. We note that current federal educational policy conversations appear to be pushing for teachers to instead measure up to a set of criteria determined by an external authority.

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GAIL RICHMOND is an associate professor of science and teacher education at Michigan State University. Her research interests include the development of critical knowledge and practices for scientific inquiry and teaching, the structure and development of teacher identity, and the role of professional learning communities in sustaining teacher growth. Her recent peer-reviewed publications include articles in the Journal of Research in Science Teaching and CBE Life Sciences Education, and several conference proceedings. MARY M. JUZWIK is an associate professor of language and literacy at Michigan State University. Her research interests include narrative discourse theory and methodology, classroom discourse analysis, and English teaching in culturally and linguistically diverse contexts. Recent publications include a book, The Rhetoric of Teaching: Understanding the Dynamics of Holocaust Narratives in an English Classroom, and articles in American

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Educational Research Journal, English Education, and Teaching and Teacher Education. MICHAEL D. STEELE is an assistant professor of mathematics education at Michigan State University. His research interests include the form and development of mathematical knowledge for teaching, trajectories of teacher learning, and mentoring and induction. His work has recently appeared in Journal for Mathematics Teacher Education, the Association of Mathematics Teacher Educators Monograph Series, and Cognition and Instruction.