Character Education

Daniel K. Lapsley Darcia Narvaez

Ball State University University of Notre Dame

Handbook of Child Psychology

Abstract

Character education is both popular and controversial. A psychological

approach to understanding its central constructs is proposed. We review

philosophical conceptions of virtues and conclude that character education

cannot be distinguished from rival approaches on the basis of a distinctive

ethical theory. We review several educational issues, such as the manner in

which the case is made for character education, the implications of broad

conceptions of the field, whether character education is best defined by

treatments or outcomes, and whether character education is best pursued

with direct or indirect pedagogies, a debate that is placed into historical

context. We note that character education requires robust models of

character psychology, and review several new approaches that show

promise. Six general approaches to character education are then

considered. Integrative Ethical Education is described as a case study in

order to illustrate theoretical, curricular and implementation issues. We

summarize issues of implementation that are challenges to research and

practice. We conclude with several challenges to character education, chief

of which is the need to find a distinctive orientation in the context of

positive youth development. Problem free is not fully-prepared, but fully-

prepared is not morally complete.

To appear in Vol 4 (A. Renninger & I. Siegel, Vol. Eds.) Handbook of Child

Psychology (W. Damon & R. Lerner, Eds.). New York: Wiley.

I. Background to Character Education: Issues, Theories

Controversies

A. How is Character Defined?: Psychological considerations

1. The Problem with Habits

2. The Problem with Traits

3. The Problem with Virtues

B. Philosophical considerations

1. Bag-of-Virtues and Foundations

2. Character and Virtue Ethics

3. Virtues and Character Education

C. Educational considerations

1. Genre of Discontent

2. Broad Character Education

3. Direct and Indirect Methods

4. Mimesis and Transformation

5. Oratorical and Philosophical Traditions

D. New Approaches to Character Psychology

1. Identity, Exemplars and the Moral Self

2. A Social Cognitive Approach to the Moral Personality

II. Approaches to Character Education

A. The Eleven Principles of Effective Character Education

B. Caring School Communities

C. Service Learning and Community Service

D. Positive Youth Development

E. Social Emotional Learning

F. Character Education in Higher Education and the

Professions

III. A Case Study: Integrative Ethical Education (IEE)

A. Character as Expertise Development

B. Pedagogy for Cultivating Character Expertise

C. Self Regulation for Sustainability

D. An Implementation of IEE: The Community Voices and

Character Education Project

E. Lessons Learned

IV. Issues of Implementation

V. Open Questions and Future Directions

Character Education

I. Background to Character Education: Issues, Theories

Controversies

The moral formation of children is one of the foundational goals of

socialization. The ambitions that most parents have for their children

naturally include the development of important moral dispositions. Most

parents want to raise children to become persons of a certain kind, persons

who possess traits that are desirable and praise-worthy, whose personalities

are imbued with a strong ethical compass. Moreover, other socialization

agents and institutions share this goal. The development of moral character

is considered a traditional goal of formal education. It is a justification for

the work of youth organizations, clubs and athletic teams. It is the object of

homily and religious exhortation. It shows up in presidential speeches. It

has preoccupied writers, educators, curriculum experts and cultural scolds.

The number of titles published on character and its role in private and

public life has increased dramatically over past decades. So have curricula

for teaching the virtues in both schools and homes. Several prominent

foundations have thrown their resources behind the cause, and professional

meetings dedicated to character education are marked by significant

commitment, energy and fervor. And in 2003 a new periodical, the Journal

of Research in Character Education, was launched to bring focus to

scholarly inquiry.

Yet for all the apparent consensus about the need to raise children

of strong moral character, and for all the professional attention devoted to

the cause it is a striking fact that character education occupies contested

ground in American society. Indeed, the issues that surround character

education are riven with such partisan rivalry that the very terms of

reference seem to function like code words that betray certain ideological

and political commitments. Whether one is for or against the character

education movement is presumably a signal of whether one is a liberal or

conservative; whether one is sympathetic towards traditional or progressive

trends in education; whether one thinks the moral life is more a matter of

cultivating excellence than submitting to obligation, or whether moral

evaluation is mostly about agents than about acts; or whether one prefers

the ethics of Aristotle and classical philosophy to that of Kant and the

“Enlightenment Project.”

This ideological division sometimes surfaces as a technical

argument about pedagogy, for example, should one endorse direct or

indirect methods of instruction. It shows up in how one conceives

fundamental questions concerning, for example, the source of our moral

values or the epistemological status of our moral claims. It shows up in our

understanding of the very goals and purposes of education in liberal

democratic polities; and in our understanding of what an ethical life

consists of — what it means to be a moral agent, to possess virtue, and to

live well the life that is good for one to live. It shows up, too, in the sort of

developmental literatures, constructs and metaphors that one finds

compelling.

There is a certain value, of course, in casting large, fundamental

and deeply felt perspectives into such stark relief. It often is useful to draw

sharp boundaries around contesting points of view in order to discern better

their strengths and weaknesses. Yet Dewey (1938) warned of the folly of

construing educational options in terms of Either/Or. In so doing, he

argued, one runs the danger of advancing one’s view only in reaction

against the rival, which means that one’s vision is controlled unwittingly by

that which one struggles against. “There is always the danger in a new

movement,” he writes, “that in rejecting the aims and methods of that which

it would supplant, it may develop its principles negatively rather than

positively and constructively” (Dewey, 1938, p.20), with the result that it

fails thereby to address “a comprehensive, constructive survey of actual

needs, problems and possibilities” (Dewey, 1938, p. 8).

In this chapter we review the literature on character education but

in a way that avoids, we hope, the dangers of Either/Or. It will be

necessary, of course, to sketch the contours of the great debates that have

characterized this field. Fortunately, however, there has emerged in recent

years a literature that has attempted to bridge conceptual and ideological

divide (e. g., Benninga, 1991a,b; Berkowitz & Oser, 1985; Nucci, 1989;

Goodman & Lesnick, 2001; Ryan & Lickona, 1992a), or at least to face it

squarely. Our search is for the via media that provides, in Dewey’s words,

the “comprehensive, constructive survey of actual needs, problems and

possibilities.”

We do not approach our task in complete neutrality. Our own

view is that character education would profit from advances in other

domains of psychological science (Lapsley & Narvaez, 2005). Indeed,

character is a concept with little theoretical meaning in contemporary

psychology, although it has been the source of ethical reflection since

antiquity. An approach to character education that is deeply

“psychologized” would look for insights about moral functioning in

contemporary literatures of cognitive and developmental science, in the

literatures of motivation, social cognition and personality. Of course,

researchers in these areas rarely draw out the implications of their work for

understanding the moral dimensions of personality and its formation. Yet it

is our contention that a considered understanding of what is required for

effective character education will be forthcoming only when there emerges

a robust character psychology that is deeply informed by advances in

developmental, cognitive and personality research. Moreover, effective

character education will require deep integration with the educational

psychology literatures that constitute the knowledge base for instructional

best practice. In short, character education must be compatible with our

best insights about psychological functioning; character education must be

compatible with our best insights about teaching and learning (Lapsley &

Power, 2005; Narvaez, 2005a).

In the next section we take up important preliminary issues that

establish the context for our review. First, we attempt to understand the

various ways in which character has been conceptualized. Second, we

discuss what is at stake with these different conceptualizations for the

various theoretical, philosophical, and educational perspectives that have

taken up positions on the question of moral character. Third, we attempt to

place this discussion within an historical context. As we will see, there is

an enduring quality to much of the debate around character education.

Fourth, we review recent research on moral personality that could serve as a

basis for an integrated psychology of character. Following this discussion

we review promising character education strategies, describe an integrated

approach to ethical education, discuss various implementation issues that

are common to character education, and outline possible futures for the

field.

How is Character Defined?

Character is derived from a Greek word that means, “to mark” as

on an engraving. One’s character is an indelible mark of consistency and

predictability. It denotes enduring dispositional tendencies in behavior. It

points to something deeply rooted in personality, to its organizing principle

that integrates behavior, attitudes and values. There have been numerous

attempts to define character more precisely. It is a “body of active

tendencies and interests” that makes one “open, ready, warm to certain aims

and callous, cold, blind to others” (Dewey & Tufts, 1910, p. 256). It is

made up of dispositions and habits which “patterns our actions in a

relatively fixed way” (Nicgorski & Ellrod, 1992, p. 143). It refers to the

good traits that are on regular display (Wynne & Ryan, 1997). Character is

an individual’s “general approach to the dilemmas and responsibilities of

social life, a responsiveness to the world that is supported by emotional

reactions to the distress of others, the acquisition of prosocial skills,

knowledge of social conventions and construction of personal values”

(Hay, Castle, Stimson & Davies, 1995, p.24). It includes the capacity for

self-discipline and empathy (Etzioni, 1993). It allows ethical agents, as

Baumrind (1999, p. 3) put it, “to plan their actions and implement their

plans, to examine and choose among options, to eschew certain actions in

favor of others, and to structure their lives by adopting congenial habits,

attitudes and rules of conduct.”

As one can see, defining character is no straightforward matter.

Still, one can point to habits, traits and virtues as three concepts that are

foundational to most traditional accounts of moral character. These

concepts are interdependent and mutually implicative. Moral character,

then, on this view, is a manifestation of certain personality traits called

virtues that dispose one to habitual courses of action. Habits and traits carry

a heavy semantic load in the history of psychology that complicates their

being used in the context of character education with much conceptual

clarity. Virtues is a notion derived from ethics but has very little traction in

psychological science unless it is translated into terms like habits and traits

that are themselves larded with conceptual implications that are

controversial.

The Problem with Habits. According to a traditional view a habit

is a disposition to respond to a situation in a certain way. Repeating a

behavior or set of procedures over the course of socialization develops this

disposition. But right behavior serves not only to establish habits; they are

its consequence as well. Persons of good character behave well without

much temptation to do otherwise (Bennett, 1980), nor is their right behavior

a matter of much conscious deliberation —“they are good by force of habit”

(Ryan & Lickona, 1992, p. 20). Habits are sometimes used as synonyms for

virtues and vices, as in the claim that “character is the composite of our

good habits, or virtues, and our bad habits, or vices” (Ryan & Bohlin, 1999,

p. 9), and habits also stand in for the dispositional (or “trait”) qualities of

character as well.

The appeal of character educators to the role of habits in the moral

life has important classical sources. In Book II of the Nichomachean Ethics

(NE) Aristotle takes up the nature and definition of virtues. He argues that

moral virtue is not a natural part of the human endowment but rather must

come about as a result of habituation. We acquire virtues, on this account,

by exercising them. We learn what virtue requires by acting virtuously. No

one has the prospect of becoming good unless one practices the good. This

would not be unlike the acquisition of the arts or of crafts. Just as

individuals become “builders by building and harp players by playing the

harp, so also, then, we become just by doing just actions, temperate by

doing temperate actions, brave by doing brave actions.” (Aristotle, NE,

1103b).

According to Steutel and Spiecker (2004; Narvaez & Lapsley,

2005) the Aristotelian notion of habituation is best understood as learning

by doing with regular and consistent practice under the guidance and

authority of a virtuous tutor. This is not unlike the cultivation of skills

through coached practice, although the affinity of skills and virtues is

controversial (Peters, 1981; Ryle, 1972). The habits that result from

Aristotelian habituation are permanent or settled dispositions to do certain

kinds of things on a regular basis but automatically without reflective

choice, deliberation or planning (Steutel & Spiecker, 2004). In our view

there is a way of understanding Aristotelian habits that is completely

compatible with contemporary models of social cognition and cognitive

science, including the requirement of automaticity (Lapsley & Narvaez,

2004). For example, Aristotelian habituation can be understood by

reference to developing expertise and skill development, notions that

underwrite an integrative approach to ethical education that we discuss later

(Narvaez, 2005a).

However, retaining the language of habits comes at a cost. When

the notion of habits is invoked in the present context what comes to mind is

not classical ethical theory but rather a certain strand of behavioral learning

theory whose core epistemological assumptions have long been challenged.

It is linked with an epistemology that locates the developmental dynamic

solely in the environment and not with the active child. It is linked with a

mechanistic world view that understands the person to be reactive, passive

in her own development, and shaped by external contingencies arranged by

others. It suggests that learning takes place from the outside-in, where

learning is the acquisition of a repertoire of conditioned responses -- habit

family hierarchies -- that take little notice of the child’s own initiative in

transforming the learning environment in constructive acts of cognitive

mediation.

Hence an unvarnished behavioral account of habits is belied by

contemporary models of developmental science that emphasize the

cognitive-constructive activity of the developing child who is in dynamic

interaction with changing ecological contexts across the lifecourse.

Consequently when the notion of habits is invoked to account for moral

character it seems at odds with what is known about developmental

processes and constructivist best practice in education (Kohn, 1997).

Although invoking habits seems to keep faith with a certain understanding

of character in the classical sources it also has made it more difficult for

educators and researchers who reject the behaviorist paradigm to rally

around the cause of character education with much enthusiasm (Nucci,

2001). This is unfortunate, in our view, because Aristotelian habits are not

coterminous with the habits of behavioral theory. Aristotelian habituation

is not coterminous with behavioral laws of learning that use the same term.

Aristotelian perspectives contribute much of value to our current

understanding of character and its formation, although an understanding

adequate for psychological analysis will require translation into

contemporary models of developmental and cognitive science.

The Problem with Traits. The language of traits also presents a

terminological challenge. The notion that the dispositional features of

character are carried by a set of personality traits called virtues is both

deeply entrenched and controversial. In one sense there is something

completely obvious about trait language, at least in common parlance.

Human personality is marked by important continuities. We are disposed to

reach certain cognitive interpretations and judgments of events and to

experience certain affective and behavioral responses in ways that are

predictable and consistent, and these dispositional patterns we designate

with the language of traits. We use trait terms to pick out the dispositional

tendencies that serve as the basis for charting individual differences.

Moreover, our differential valuation of these trait differences provides the

basis for moral evaluation of persons. Some displays of individual

differences warrant praise and encouragement, and we designate them

virtues; others warrant condemnation and admonishment, and we designate

those vices.

This view of traits typically comes with two additional

assumptions. One is that traits denote stable behavioral patterns that are

evident across situations. Another is that traits coalesce as a unity within

the person of moral or vicious character. Both assumptions are problematic.

The first assumption follows from a traditional understanding that traits-of-

character generate dispositional tendencies that are on “regular display.”

They are adhesive, deeply constitutional aspects of our personality, thins

that are engraved “on our essence” (Ryan and Bohlin,1999, p. 10) that bid

us to respond to situations in ways typical of our character. Ryan and

Bohlin’s (1999, p. 9) example of character is instructive:

If we have the virtue of honesty, for example, when we

find someone’s wallet on the pavement, we are

characteristically disposed to track down its owner and

return it. If we possess the bad habit, or vice, of

dishonesty, again our path is clear: we pick it up, look to

the right and left, and head for Tower Records or the Gap.

This example illustrates what we take to be the received view: dispositions

are habits; some habits are good and carry the honorific title “virtues, other

habits are bad and are designated vices, and habit possession clears the path

to predictable and characteristic action. Indeed, a dispositional

understanding of traits seems part of our folk theory of human personality,

and would seem to translate into a straightforward goal for character

education: see to it that children come to possess the virtues as

demonstrable traits in their personality; see to it that children come to

possess good habits.

Yet to say that moral dispositions coalesce in individuals as traits

(or even as “habits”) strikes many researchers as a peculiar thing to say.

Indeed, in personality research the nomothetic trait approach has not fared

well. This is because the cross-situational generality and consistency of

trait behavior has not been demonstrated empirically, nor do trait models

have much to say about how dispositions are affected by situational

variability. As Mischel (1968, p. 177) put it, “individuals show far less

cross-situational consistency in their behavior than has been assumed by

trait-state theories. The more dissimilar the evoking situations, the less

likely they are to produce similar or consistent responses from the same

individual.”

This is remarkably close to conclusions reached by Hartshorne and

May (1928-1930) in their classic Studies in the Nature of Character,

published in three volumes. In one “terse but explosive statement”

(Chapman, 1977, p. 59) Hartshorne and May (1929, p. 379) concluded that

the

consistency with which he (sic) is honest or dishonest is a

function of the situations in which he is placed so far as

(1) these situations have common elements, (2) he has

learned to be honest or dishonest in them, and (3) he has

become aware of their honest or dishonest implications or

consequences.

These studies indicated that the virtue of honesty is not an enduring habit

marked indelibly on the essence of a child’s character, nor is dishonesty a

similarly enduring vice. Children cannot be sorted cleanly into behavioral

types on the basis of presumptive traits, habits or dispositions. In these

studies traits associated with moral character showed scant cross-situational

stability and very pronounced situational variability, which is precisely the

findings that later personality researchers would report for other traits.

The pessimistic conclusions of Hartshorne and May have been

described variously as a “body blow” (Leming,1999, p. 34) or “death blow”

(Power, Higgins & Kohlberg, 1989a, p. 127) to the cause of character

education, and, indeed, are often cited by partisans of the cognitive

developmental tradition as evidence of the poverty of the character

approach (e.g., Kohlberg, 1987). Certainly these studies, along with

Mischel’s (1990, 1999) analysis, seemed to cast doubt on the fundamental

assumption of the received view of character traits. Consequently, the

ostensible failure of traits in the study of personality made recourse to

virtues an unappealing option for many researchers in moral psychology

(Lapsley & Narvaez, 2004).

Still one should not draw the wrong conclusions from evidence

that traits show significant situational variability. What is doubted is not

the fact that personality shows important dispositional continuity, what is

doubted is the implausible view that trait possession invariably trumps the

contextual hand that one is dealt. The reality of cross-situational variability

is not a failure of the dispositional approach to personality; it is a failure

only of the received view of traits. There is, indeed, coherence to

personality, but personality coherence cannot be reduced simply to mere

stability of behavior across time and setting (Cervone & Shoda, 1999).

Instead coherence is evident in the dynamic, reciprocal interaction among

the dispositions, interests and potentialities of the agent and the changing

contexts of learning, development and socialization. Person variables and

contextual variables dynamically interact in complex ways, both are

mutually implicated in behavior, and it is here, at the intersection of person

and context, where one looks for a coherent behavioral signature (Mischel,

Shoda & Mendoza-Denton, 2002; Mischel & Shoda, 1995; Shoda, Mischel

& Wright, 1994).

The inextricable union of person and context is the lesson both of

developmental contextualism (Lerner, 1991) and social cognitive

approaches to personality (Mischel, 1999; Cervone & Shoda, 1999) and a

robust character psychology will have much in common with these

paradigms. Indeed, recent research already vindicates the promise of this

perspective. For example, Kochanska’s research program shows that the

development of conscience and internalization in early childhood requires a

goodness-of-fit between styles of parental socialization and children’s

dispositional temperament (Kochanska, 1993, 1997; Kochanska &

Thompson, 1997). In one study toddlers (age 2-3 years) who were

temperamentally fearful showed strong evidence of internalization when

maternal discipline was mildly coercive, while toddlers who were

temperamentally fearless profited from mother-child interactions that were

mutually-cooperative, positive and responsive (Kochanska, 1995), a pattern

that was longitudinally stable two years later (Kochanska, 1997). Other

studies showed that the quality of the parent-child relationship, as reflected

in attachment security, can itself moderate the relationship between

parenting strategies and moral internalization (Kochanska, Aksan, Knaack,

& Rhines, 2004), and that power assertion can have heterogeneous

outcomes for moral behavior and moral cognition (Kochanska, Aksan &

Nichols, 2003). Similarly, Eisenberg and her colleagues showed that a

prosocial personality disposition emerges in early childhood and is

consistent over time (Eisenberg, Guthrie, Cumberland, Murphy, Shepard,

Zhou & Carlo, 2002), although the manifestation of the “altruistic

personality” is mediated by individual differences in sympathy (Eisenberg,

Guthrie, Murphy, Shepard, Cumberland & Carlo, 1999) and the demand

characteristics of social contexts (Carlo, Eisenberg, Troyer, Witzer &

Speer, 1991). Finally, Mischel and his colleagues showed that dispositional

aggression in children is not, in fact, on regular display across settings but

is observed typically when aggressive children are placed in settings of a

certain kind, in settings, for example, where demands are placed on their

sense of competence (Shoda, Mischel & Wright, 1993). In these examples

evidence of dispositional coherence requires contextual specification.

A second assumption is that traits hang together to form a unitary

consistency within a person. On this view the various virtues cohere in

unified practice. One cannot adequately display courage unless one was

also prudent; one cannot be just without temperance, one cannot display

any one virtue without all the others. The unity of virtues is a notion that

has classical sources, and it is at least implicitly assumed in many

discussions about the role of character in public life. Carr (1991) points out

that the unity-of-virtues perspective is simply the claim that “if a quality of

character is a genuine virtue it is not logically inconsistent with any other

real virtue,” and that virtues “form a unity because they stand in a certain

direct relationship to the truth in human affairs” (p. 266). The unity of

virtues is a logical possibility; it is an ideal aspiration of the virtuous life.

Still, there are doubts about the adequacy of the unity thesis on

both ethical (MacIntyre, 1981; Kent, 1999) and psychological grounds.

One is not so much concerned with whether the various virtues cohere as a

logical possibility, but with whether the unity thesis satisfies a basic

criterion of minimal psychological realism that it be a possibility for

creatures like us (Flanagan, 1991). It is possible after all, given the exigent

contingencies of human development, that not all good qualities are equally

compatible, or that a good life lived well requires the full range of human

excellence. Rather we become specialists in limited domains of application

as a result of the particularities of our developmental experiences, the

choices we make, and the environments we select. Our choices canalize the

development of dispositions proper to our commitment and to our

aspiration, while leaving others unselected, undeveloped, and unobserved in

our behavioral repertoire. As a result certain character blindspots might

well be the price one pays for cultivating excellence in other domains of

one’s life. It may even be the case that our virtues are made possible just

because other aspects of our character have gone undeveloped.

The Problem with Virtues. The Character Education Manifesto

(Ryan,& Bohlin, 1999, p. 190) asserts that the business of character

education “is about developing virtues---good habits and dispositions which

lead students to responsible and mature adulthood.” We have seen that the

appeal to habits and dispositions is not entirely satisfactory given the status

of these notions in contemporary psychology. But talk about virtues is also

fraught with difficulties. One problem for virtues is the specification of

what it entails. How does one “fill out” a particular virtue? How should

any virtue be manifested in concrete situations? Aristotle argued famously

that virtue lies in the mean between excess and defect. Virtue aims for the

intermediate of passions, appetites and actions: “to feel them at the right

times, with reference to the right objects, towards the right people, with the

right motive, and in the right ways, is what is both intermediate and best,

and that is characteristic of virtue” (Aristotle, NE 1106b). Of course, it is a

complication that some actions and passions have no mean, and many states

of character have no name ---“Now most of these states also have no

names, but we must try, as in other cases, to invent names

ourselves”(Aristotle, NE 1108a). Kupperman (1999) points out that

Aristotle’s main point here is not moderation, as many assume, but

judgment and flexible response to individual cases. The virtuous person

does not follow habits or rules inflexibly but adapts conduct to particular

circumstances.

Noddings (2002) noted that the specification of the content of

virtue often derives from one’s religion or philosophy. Take, for example,

Lickona’s (1991) view that character education must take a stand on

whether it’s a good idea for adolescents to masturbate, use condoms or

engage in sexual activity—this is something “which is clearly wrong for

students to do” (Lickona, 1991, p. 364). “The truth is,” he writes, “that

sexual activity by unmarried teenagers is harmful to them and harmful to

society. The morally right value is for young people to avoid such activity”

(p. 364). While this makes the content of virtue quite clear, and quite

possibly correct, it does not entirely settle the matter, and one suspects that

very different calculations of what is “clearly wrong” and “harmful to

society” are possible given a different starting point.

Other times the moral basis for a specification of virtue is not

entirely apparent. One account of the characteristics of a moral teacher

suggests, for example, that teacher morality is made evident by small

actions, such as “presenting well-planned, enthusiastically taught classes,”

not being petty, not gossiping, getting homework and test papers returned to

students promptly, removing the wad of gum from the water fountain,

planning a surprise birthday party for a fellow teacher, going the “extra

mile” for a struggling student (Wynne & Ryan, 1997, p.123). Good student

character is similarly reflected in small acts: being a member of the math

team, tutoring, cleaning up the classroom, joining a sports team, serving as

an aide or monitor. One should not minimize praiseworthy behavior or

gainsay the value of small kindness and good deeds well-done, yet the

present examples either under specify the content of moral virtue (insofar as

these behaviors could be motivated not by a consideration of virtue but of

duty and obligation) or else link it with such commonplaces that virtue is

indistinguishable from any behavior that is simply well-regarded by others.

Most approaches to character education stress the importance of

practical reasoning in the life of virtue (e.g., Ryan & Bohlin, 1999;

Lickona, 1991). Knowing the good, sizing up the situation, gaining insight

about how to apply or use moral rules, are the work of practical wisdom.

Its importance to virtue is evident in Aristotle’s (NE, 1107a) definition of

virtue: “It is a state [of character] concerned with choice lying in a mean

relative to us, which is defined by reference to reason and in the way in

which the person of practical wisdom would determine it.” Moreover,

Aristotle seems to acknowledge that the proper display of virtue would

require keen attention to situational complexity, “to know the facts of the

case, to see and understand what is morally relevant and to make decisions

that are responsive to the exigencies of the case” (Sherman, 1999, p. 38).

Or, as Aristotle (NE, 1109b) put it, “for nothing perceptible is easily

defined, and since these circumstances of virtuous and vicious actions are

particulars, the judgments about them depend on perception” (emphasis

added).

So if virtues are habits, they must be habits of a certain kind. The

kind of habituation proper to virtues is a critical facility; it includes learning

how to discern, make distinctions, judge the particulars of the case, and

make considered choices (but sometimes automatically). They are

dispositions of interpretation (Rorty, 1988) that cognitive psychologists

might conceptualize as schemas, prototypes or scripts whose accessibility

and activation make possible the discriminative facility that allows one to

act in ways appropriate to the situation (and whose functional readiness

could approach automaticity).

The context specificity that attaches to the work of virtues would

suggest that one goal of character education would be to help children sort

through moral ambiguity by learning when and how to activate what virtue

requires given the concrete requirements of a specific context (Noddings,

2002). Of course, what the concrete situation requires of us, say, by way of

honesty might well conflict with the demands of compassion (for example),

which means that no account of the virtues can be absent the lesson of

developmental contextualism, which is that person and context

interpenetrate in complex ways and cannot be separated. One must learn,

during the course of character development, that the exercise of virtue

requires contextual specification; it requires triage with respect to the

dispositions required for particular settings, and an ordering of priorities for

their expression given the requirements of the situation. The work of virtues

is not unlike the work of any dispositional quality in that the coherence of

moral character, its dispositional signature, is to be found at the intersection

of person and context.

Philosophical Considerations

Bag-of-Virtues and Foundations. One suspects that there is deep

ambivalence among theorists of character education to consider how virtue

works in context for fear that it invites comparison to “situational ethics”

and ethical relativism. This is a charge that character education has had to

fend off ever since Kohlberg derisively characterized character education as

the “bag of virtues” approach. For Kohlberg and the cognitive

developmental tradition the study of moral development was a way to

provide the psychological resources by which to defeat ethical relativism.

In answer to the ethical relativist who claims that moral perspectives are

incommensurable Kohlberg asserted Piaget’s “doctrine of cognitive stages”

(Kohlberg, 1969, p. 352) that provides a developmental criterion for

assessing the adequacy of moral judgment. Moral judgments that approach

the moral ideal represented by the final stage of moral reasoning were more

adequate on both psychological and ethical grounds (Kohlberg, 1971,

1973). Moreover, justice reasoning at the highest stages made possible a set

of operations that could generate consensus about hard case moral

quandary. One defeats ethical relativism, then, by motivating justice

reasoning to higher stages of development (Lapsley, 2005).

But Kohlberg’s project left no room for traits, virtue or character,

for two reasons. First, there was no sensible way to talk about virtues if

they are conceptualized as traits-of-character. After all, the Hartshorne and

May studies appeared to show that the psychological reality of traits could

not be empirically confirmed (see also, Puka, 2004, for trenchant doubts

about the reality of virtues) or else could not be relied upon to document

dispositional consistency in moral behavior. Second, and perhaps more to

the point, the language of traits did not provide what was wanted most,

which was a way to defeat ethical relativism on psychological grounds. For

Kohlberg any compilation of favored or approved virtues is completely

arbitrary. It entails sampling from a “bag of virtues” until a suitable list is

produced that has something for everyone. What’s more, and worse, given

Kohlberg’s project, the meaning of virtue trait words is relative to particular

communities, for, as Kohlberg and Mayer (1972) put it, one person’s

integrity is another person’s stubbornness; one person’s honesty in

expressing true feelings is another person’s insensitivity to the feelings of

others. Not surprisingly, the character education movement uniformly

rejects the notion that character education gives comfort to ethical

relativism. Indeed, as we will see shortly, the reconstruction of educational

history favored by advocates of character education typically pins the blame

for “youth disorder” on the ethical relativism promoted by other trends in

American culture and education for which character education is the

remedy.

If the problem of settings and context-specificity is taken up at all

it takes the form of addressing the question of “whose values” are to be

taught in the schools. But this is unproblematic for many character

educators because, it is asserted, there are objective values universally

agreed upon that schools should address with confidence (Lickona, 1991).

One might, for example, appeal to natural law theory in order to “define

morality in rational terms agreeable to all” (Lickona, 1991, p. 141). One

might distinguish between universal core values that we all do agree upon

(e.g., respect, responsibility, honesty, justice, caring) possibly because they

meet certain canons of objectivity (e.g., Kant’s categorical imperative or

Kohlberg’s “Piagetian” criteria of reversibility) and additional values that

are unique to certain communities, such as the Amish, who might endorse,

in addition to core values, such things as piety, simplicity and modesty

(Davidson, 2005). Although the list of “common moral values” might

differ among communities, there is, nonetheless, a “core” and a “large

overlap in the content that emerges” (Ryan & Bohlin, 1999, p. 50).

Still, we think this debate has gone on long enough. The specter of

ethical relativism has been a bogey haunting moral psychology and

education for decades, but it has been a distraction, and it has distorted the

work of both the cognitive developmental and character education

paradigms. It has prevented the cognitive developmental tradition from

considering the role of personality and selfhood in moral reasoning because

these variables could not secure the autonomy of reason or the universality

of judgments (Walker, 2002; Lapsley, 1996). It has distracted character

education with worries about moral objectivity and foundations, and with

the seeming necessity to show that it is just as sternly anti-relativist as the

committed stage theorist. However, whether moral claims are universal or

incommensurable, whether there is anything like objective moral facts that

vouchsafe our moral convictions, are ethical-philosophical or theological

issues that psychological research is ill equipped to address with its

armamentarium of empirical tools (Blasi, 1990). The attempt to resolve

philosophical problems with empirical data has been a big mistake, in our

view, and has led to cramped and truncated research programs restricted by

perceived philosophical restrictions and boundaries.

Carr (1991) suggested that much of the anxiety about foundations

in moral education has got things the wrong way round. In his view we do

not start with principles and then derive practices, rather the principles are

induced from within the practices and experiences of our social life. The

principles, in other words, are underwritten by practices, not practices by

the principles. Practices are the “ product of a fallible human attempt to

understand the web of moral association by reference to consideration

of…what sort of conduct conduce to good and ill, wellbeing and harm.” (p.

4). One can reject the balm of foundationalism and still affirm that

workable criteria of right and wrong, of good and evil, of virtue and vice,

can be discovered “in the rough and tumble of human interpersonal

relations and conduct”(p. 4). Virtues, then, are not foundational axioms or

first principles; they are not

hard and fast principles which may be applied to any conceivable

circumstance but general patterns or tendencies of conduct which

require reasonable and cautious adjustment to particular and

changing circumstances and which may even, in some situations,

compete with each other for preference and priority (p. 5).

And although different communities may well flesh-out the meaning of

virtues (e.g., courage, or caring) in different ways, “it is hard to envisage a

human community in which these qualities are not needed, recognized or

held to be of any value at all” (Carr, 1991, p. 6;) given the affordances of

our shared biological and social nature (see also, Nussbaum, 1988).

One appreciates in Carr’s (1991) account of virtues and

foundations the notion broached earlier that virtues, and traits generally, do

not trump invariably the contextual hand one is dealt; that virtues must be

contextually-specified and situationally-ordered; that virtues are socially

implicated dispositions; and that the desired schedule of virtues, their

meaning and mode of expression, are deeply embedded in the practices,

customs and expectations of communities—and that none of this should

give comfort to the ethical relativist (or else the issue of ethical relativism is

a different sort of conversation). This also suggests, as we will see later,

that moral education can never be simply about the character of children

without also addressing the context of education, that is to say, the culture,

climate, structure and function of classrooms and schools (Berkowitz &

Bier, 2005). Persons and contexts are inextricably linked and cannot be

separated.

If Carr’s (1991) view is correct that virtues are dispositional

templates induced from social practices, whose meaning can be discovered

in the “rough and tumble of human interpersonal relations” (p. 4), then one

way to approach the problem of whether there are “core values” that

overlap is to determine if such templates are evident in the way ordinary

people think about character. That is, rather than nominate core values

from some alleged objective standpoint, from natural law or the perspective

of eternity; one might proceed inductively from the standpoint of individual

informants. There have been recent attempts to address the matter

empirically. Lapsley and Lasky (1999) provided evidence that conceptions

of good character are organized as a cognitive prototype, and that this

prototype has a significant influence on recognition memory and

information-processing. In this study the “top ten” traits with the highest

prototypicality ratings are honest, trustworthy, genuine, loving, dependable,

loyal, trusting, friendly, respectful, caring.

Similarly, Walker (2004; Walker & Pitts, 1998) has pursued

naturalistic studies of the prototype structure of a “highly moral person”

and has identified clusters or themes that commonly show up in people’s

understanding of moral maturity. One cluster, for example, is a set of

“principled-idealistic” commitments to strongly held values. Another

includes themes of “fairness.” Other clusters identify dependable-loyal,

caring-trustworthy, and confident-agency themes. Although these attributes

differ somewhat from the prototypic good character, as one might expect

with different targets, it would appear that a common core of trait attributes

for character and moral personality can be identified empirically

Character and Virtue Ethics. It is widely assumed that Kohlberg’s

cognitive developmental approach to moral education represents an

instantiation of an ethical theory associated with Kant; whereas character

education focuses on a different set of ethical concerns represented by

Aristostelian virtue ethics. Indeed, Steutel and Carr (1999; Carr & Steutel,

1999; Steutel, 1997) argued that if character education is to be

distinguished from other forms of moral education, such as Kohlberg’s, it

must be grounded by an explicit commitment to virtue ethics and not to

other ethical theories. If character education is in fact committed to virtue

ethics, what might that entail?

Watson (1990) suggested a useful tripartite division of ethical

theory: the ethic of requirement (where the primary moral considerations

concern rational judgments of obligation and duty and the moral appraisal

of action), the ethic of consequences (various forms of utilitarianism) and

the ethic of virtue. An ethics of virtue is distinguished from the others by

its claim that the basic moral facts are facts about the quality of character

(arête); that judgments about agents and their traits have explanatory

primacy over judgements about duty, obligation and utility; and that deontic

judgments about obligation and action appraisal are, in fact, derived from

the appraisal of character and is ancillary to it. “On an ethics of virtue,” he

writes, “how it is best or right or proper to conduct oneself is explained in

terms of how it is best for a human being to be” (Watson, 1990, p. 451).

Hence a virtue ethics has two features: (1) it makes a claim of

explanatory primacy for aretaic judgments about character, agents and what

is required for flourishing; and (2) it includes a theory about “how it is best

or right or proper to conduct oneself” in light of what is known about

human excellence. Surprisingly, neither feature has much resonance in

character education. In most accounts of character education one cultivates

virtues mostly to better fulfill one’s obligation and duty (the ethics of

requirement) or to prevent the rising tide of youth disorder (character

utilitarianism or the ethics of consequences). Although one can conceive of

virtues as providing action-guiding prescriptions just like deontological

theory (Hursthouse, 2003) the point of virtues in most accounts of character

education is to live up to the prescriptions derived from deontic

considerations: to respect persons, fulfill one’s duty to the self and to

others, submit to the natural law. When the goal of character education is to

help children “know the good” this typically means coming to learn the

“cross-cultural composite of moral imperatives and ideals” (Ryan & Bohlin,

1999, p. 7). Rather than emphasize agent appraisal the animating goal of

many character educators is appraisal of actions, for, as Wynne and Hess

(1992, p. 31) put it, “character is conduct,” and the best test of a “school’s

moral efficiency” is, “pupils’ day-to-day conduct, displayed through deeds

and words” (Wynne 1991, p. 145).

It would appear, then, that character education and cognitive

developmental moral education cannot be distinguished on the basis of the

ethical theory that animates them. Character education, for all its appeal to

virtues, seems to embrace the ethics of requirement just as surely as does

moral stage theory, rather than an ethics of virtue. The most important

moral facts for both paradigms are still facts about obligation, universal

principles and duty. The most important object of evaluation for both

paradigms is still action and conduct; it is still deciding the good thing to do

rather than the sort of person to become. The fact that character education

is so thoroughly deontological and utilitarian with so little in common with

virtue ethics is not inherently problematical, although it does attenuate some

hope that virtue ethics would open up a new front in moral psychology and

education (Campbell, Christopher & Bickhard, 2002; Campbell &

Christopher, 1996; Punzo, 1996).

Educational Considerations

Genre of Discontent. If character education cannot be

distinguished from rival approaches in terms of its justifying ethical theory

then perhaps its singularity is to be found elsewhere, say, in terms of its

educational practices or in the way that it frames its educational mission.

There does seem to be something quite distinctive about the way the case is

made for character education, what has been called the genre of discontent

(Lapsley & Power, 2005) and the litany of alarm (Arthur, 2003).

Typically the first move in “making the case” for character

education is to review a long list of social ills that characterize children and

adolescents in order to document the rising tide of youth disorder. Brooks

and Goble (1997, p.6) point to youth crime, violence, drug addiction and

“other forms of irresponsible behavior.” Wynne & Hess (1992; also,

Wynne & Ryan, 1997) review the statistics for homicide, suicide, out-of-

wedlock births, premarital sex, illegal drug use, delinquency and crime

rates, and plunging academic achievement test scores. Lickona (1991)

notes the increase in violence and vandalism, stealing, cheating, disrespect,

peer cruelty, bigotry, bad language, self-centeredness and use of illegal

substances.

After cataloguing these trends there is an attempt to understand

their source. Lickona’s (1991) account is paradigmatic. Like other writers

in this genre he draws attention to troubling evidence of cultural decline

that is attributed to broad changes in American education. There was a time

in the early days of the republic when children were instructed intentionally

on matters of character by the exhortation, discipline and example of

teachers, by the models of virtue encountered in the Bible and the

McGuffey Reader, and elsewhere in the curriculum. Eventually, however,

this “old-fashioned character education” was forced into retreat by a

convergence of larger forces that undermined the confidence of schools in

taking on their traditional moral educational responsibilities.

The influence of Darwin’s theory, for example, led people to

wonder if even moral sensibilities could be uprooted from fixed and static

foundations and regarded as something changeable and evolutionary.

Einstein’s theory of relativity encouraged a kind of moral perspectivism

that viewed moral claims as relative to a certain point of view. The

Hartshorne and May studies highlighted the role of situations in moral

behavior. And the general rise of logical positivism encouraged the view

that the only sensible things to say were those amenable to publicly

verifiable empirical demonstrations (as “facts”), while everything else

(“values”) was held to be subjective, personal and quite literally “non-

sense” (see, e.g., Ayer, 1952).

These four trends, then, according to Lickona (1991), forced

character education into retreat. “When much of society,” he writes, “came

to think of morality as being in flux [Darwin], relative to the individual

[Einstein], situationally variable [Hartshorne and May] and essentially

private [logical positivism], public schools retreated from their once central

role as moral educator” (p. 8).

This reconstruction of history, and others like it, has been called

the “cultural declinist” perspective (Nash, 1997) for perhaps the obvious

reason that it sees an empirical relationship between the neglect or

abandonment of intentional character education and the rise of disorder and

immorality among young people. This way of making the case serves as a

preface for three additional issues that we will consider here. The first issue

concerns whether the singularity of character education can be identified on

the basis of the sort of problems that it attempts to address, or the manner in

which it attempts to address them, or whether any conceivable intervention

targeting problematic behavior would qualify as an instance of character

education. Second, is character education identified by a commitment to

direct or indirect methods of instruction? We will see that this debate is

best understood in the context of much larger histories of teaching practice

and of the idea of liberal education. Third, in what sense is the cultural

declinist genre itself a recurring movement in educational history, and how

can we understand its resurgence over the last two decades? An

examination of the historiography of character education will show that

there are recurring cycles of concern about character education during

periods of rapid change, and that character education movements typically

fail without well-attested models of self and personality.

Broad Character Education. When the case is made for character

education by appealing to troubling social trends or to the epidemiology of

adolescent risk behavior, there is an implication that any program that

attempts to drive down these trends or ameliorate the incidence of risk

behavior might reasonably fall under the broad umbrella of character

education. If getting bad grades, cheating, dropping out of school, having

sex, bearing children, using drugs, getting into fights, committing status

offenses, breaking the law, attempting suicide, showing disrespect, being a

bully ---if these are the mark of poor moral character, then programs

designed to encourage school persistence, prevent teen pregnancy,

discourage the use of drugs and alcohol, improve social skills and social

problem-solving, increase resilience to social-affective problems, and the

like, might qualify as moral character interventions. There is evidence for

such a sweeping view of character education. In her study of the character

education practices of 350 Blue Ribbon schools, Murphy (1998) reported a

wide range of practices including self-esteem programs, general guidance

counseling, drug education, citizenship, discipline and conflict

management. However, in only 11% of schools was there explicit mention

of any program called “character education.”

Similarly, Berkowitz & Bier (2004) identified twelve

recommended and eighteen promising practices in a review of what works

in character education These practices covered a wide range of purposes,

including problem-solving, health education, empathy, social skills and

social competence training, conflict resolution, peace making, life skills

training, developmental assets and positive youth development, among

others. Although Berkowitz and Bier (2004a) concluded that these

programs “work” they also noted that most of these programs do not use the

term “character” to describe their intentions and objectives. Very few of

them were designed with any notion of virtues, character or morality in

mind, and were not described as instances of moral or character education.

Nonetheless the success of these programs is claimed for character

education just the same because their methods, outcomes and justifications

are similar to what might be expected of character education programs.

“After all,” they write, “they are all school based endeavors designed to

help foster the positive development of youth” (p. 5).

Of course by these criteria it is difficult to imagine what would not

count as character education or be excluded from its purview. If character

education is all of these things, and if the success of character education is

parasitic on the success of any well-designed intervention or prevention

program, then the singularity of character education as a distinctive

educational objective or pedagogy, with unique curricular and

programmatic features, appears to vanish.

It would seem paradoxical that the manner in which the case has

been made for character education actually results in its disappearance as a

distinctive educational objective in its own right. If the case is made on the

basis of disturbing trends in the epidemiology of adolescent risk behavior,

then it bids one to look for the success of character education in the

diminution of this behavior. But then character education becomes any

program that has a positive outcome with respect to adolescent risk

behavior. It becomes a catalogue of psychosocial intervention, promotion

and prevention programs whose objectives are framed by reference to an

entirely different set of theoretical literatures that make no reference to

morality, virtue or character. Moreover, there is little reason to appeal to

character education, or use the language of moral valuation, to understand

the etiology of risk behavior, or how best to prevent or ameliorate exposure

to risk or promote resilience and adjustment.

The problem with the broad view, then, is that it does not point to

anything distinctive about character education. Yet perhaps the problem of

singularity derives from the fact that all good causes in education, from

social-emotional learning, positive youth development, risk reduction,

psychosocial resilience, academic achievement and character education are

driven effectively by a common set of school practices. Just as problem

behaviors are interrelated and are predicted by a similar profile of risk

factors, so too are adaptive and prosocial behaviors interrelated and linked

to a common set of developmental factors and instructional practices.

Indeed, Berkowitz and Bier (2004b) nominate the term “positive youth

development” as the inclusive term to cover all of the program objectives,

and suggest that these objectives are simply part of “good education”

generally. The downside of this maneuver is that character education

appears to lose its singular focus. But the loss of conceptual distinctiveness

for character education is offset by the gain in instructional clarity for

practitioners. The problem for the practitioner is less the problem of

knowing which program “works” or of correctly labeling curricular and

programmatic activities, but rather one of mastering the instructional best

practices that are common to all of them (see also Howard, Dryden &

Johnson, 1999, for a similar point with respect to promoting resilience)

Yet there is a case to be made for character education that has little

need for troubling epidemiological trends. The case is made simply by

pointing to the fact that moral considerations are immanent to the life of

classrooms and schools; that teaching and learning are value-laden

activities; that moral aims are intrinsic to education (Bryk, 1988; Goodlad,

1992; Hansen, 1993; Strike, 1996). The case is made by reference to the

developmental objectives of schools; and to the role of schools in

inculcating the skills proper to democratic citizenship and to full

participation in the life of the community. The immanence of values and

the inevitability of moral education is an argument almost always found in

the character educator’s brief, but mostly for countering the charge of

indoctrination rather than for “making the case.” Yet the immanence-and-

inevitability thesis would seem to arm the character educator with all the

resources that are needed to defend an intentional and transparent

commitment to the moral formation of students. Moreover, the case that is

made from this standpoint is a positive one; it makes reference to

developmental purposes; to a conception of what it means to flourish; to the

skills, dispositions and excellences that are required to live well, and

competently, the life that is good for one to live in a democratic society.

This is in contradistinction to the traditional argument that builds the case

negatively by making character education just another prevention program;

that views character education as a kind of prophylaxis or cultural defense

against “youth disorder.”

Direct and Indirect Methods. In an early essay Dewey (1908) laid

down the markers of this debate. It “may be laid down as fundamental,” he

asserted, “ that the influence of direct moral instruction, even at its very

best, is comparatively slight in influence, when the whole field of moral

growth through education is taken into account” (p. 4, emphasis in

original). Rather, it is the “larger field of indirect and vital moral education,

the development of character through all the agencies, instrumentalities and

materials of school life” (p. 4) that is far more influential. This larger field

of indirect education reproduces within the school the typical conditions of

social life to be encountered without. “The only way to prepare for social

life is to engage in social life,” (Dewey, 1908, p. 15).

Moreover, this sort of moral education is possible only when the

school itself becomes an “embryonic typical community” (p. 15). Indeed,

for Dewey (1908), the school has no moral aim apart from participation in

social life. The rules of school life must point to something larger, outside

of itself, otherwise education becomes a mere “gymnastics exercise” that

trains faculties that make no sense and have no moral significance just

because they are disconnected from larger purposes. Absent these purposes

moral education is pathological and formal. It is pathological when it is

alert to wrong-doing but fails to cultivate positive service; when it stresses

conformity to school routines that are arbitrary and conventional but lack

inherent necessity. Moral training is formal when it emphasizes an ad hoc

catalogue of habits that are “school duties” not “life duties.” To the extent

that the work of schools is disconnected from social life, then insistence

upon these moral habits is “more or less unreal because the ideal to which

they relate is not itself necessary” (p. 17). The moral habits of interest to

Dewey concern an interest in community welfare, in perceiving what is

necessary for social order and progress, and the skills necessary to execute

principles of action. All school habits must be related to these “if they are

to be animated by the breath of life” (p. 17).

Dewey (1908) was critical of a traditional pedagogy of

exhortation, didactic instruction and drill. Such pedagogy fails to cultivate

a social spirit; it emphasizes individualistic motives, competition,

comparative success, dispiriting social comparison; it encourages passive

absorption; and emphasizes a preparation for life but in the remote future.

It reduces moral instruction to simply teaching about virtues or in instilling

certain attitudes about them. What is required instead is an approach to

education that links school subjects to a social interest; that cultivates

children’s ability to discern, observe and comprehend social situations; that

use methods that appeal to the “active constructive powers” of intelligence;

that organizes the school along the lines of a genuine community; and

selects curricular materials that gives children a consciousness of the world

and what it will demand. Only if schools are prepared to take on these

principles can it be said to be meet its basic ethical requirements.

Dewey’s vision of moral education is sometimes called a

“progressive” or “indirect” approach because it eschews traditional

pedagogy that relies upon didactic instruction and direct transmission of

moral content. Instead, indirect approaches emphasize the child’s active

construction of moral meaning through participation in democratic

practices, cooperative groupings, social interaction and moral discussion

(e.g., DeVries & Zan, 1994).

In contrast, the direct approach to instruction is widely associated

with traditional character education (Benninga, 1991; Solomon et al.,

2001). In a defense Ryan (1989) asserted that “character development is

directive and sees the teacher in a more active role than does the cognitive

developmental tradition” (p. 15). There is sympathy for what is called the

Great Tradition that views the educational encounter as one of transmission

from adults to children (Wynne & Ryan, 1997). For traditional character

education morality is ready-made and good character requires submission to

its preexisting norms. It is suspicious of indirect or constructivist

approaches that seemingly allow adults to abdicate their role as moral

teachers in favor of “consensual” democratic practices in schools. Such

practices are anti-tradition because it seems to allow students to engage in

“highly relativistic discussions about value laden issues” where alternative

views might emerge with respect to such things as obedience, or the limits

of loyalty to one’s country (Wynne & Ryan, 1997, p. 35). It seems to let

the kids decide what important values are, and naively assumes that

children will choose well when given opportunities for self-direction. “Is it

wise,” writes Wynne (1991, p. 142), “to ‘teach’ pupils that basic moral

principles and conventions generally accepted by responsible adults should

be considered de novo, and possibly rejected, by each successive adolescent

cohort? Must each generation try to completely reinvent society?”

(emphasis added).

Mimesis and Transformation. The debate over direct and indirect

methods of character education has a much longer history and, when

properly considered, points to a middle way for practitioners. Jackson

(1986) captures much of this history in his useful distinction between

mimetic and transformative traditions of education. Both traditions are

centuries old and describe a complex world view about the nature of

teaching and learning. These traditions are at the nexus of partisan rivalry

not simply because they articulate different perspectives on what constitutes

proper teaching, but because they each comprise a different “form of life”

(following Wittgenstein, 1968), a fact that raises the stakes considerably.

The mimetic tradition embraces a transmission model of teaching

and learning. Knowledge is considered as something detachable (it can be

preserved), second-hand (it first belongs to someone else before it is

transmitted), reproducible (which facilitates its transmission). As such

knowledge is presented to the learner, rather than discovered by the learner.

It can be judged as right or wrong, correct or incorrect. The mimetic

teacher is directive, expert in the substantive bodies of knowledge and in

methodological competence. The student is novice, without knowledge of

what teachers know, and hence the object of transmission. “In more

epigrammatic terms, the slogan for this tradition might be: ‘What the

teacher knows, that shall the student come to know’” (Jackson, 1986, p.

119).

In contrast the transformative tradition intends a qualitative change

in that which is deeply foundational in a person; in one’s character, set of

traits or other enduring aspects of one’s psychological make-up. The goal

of teachers in this tradition is to “bring about changes in their students (and

possibly in themselves as well) that make them better persons, not simply

more knowledgeable or more skillful, but better in the sense of being closer

to what humans are capable of becoming---more virtuous, fuller

participants in the evolving moral order” (Jackson, 1986, p. 127). And

transformative teachers attempt to bring about these changes not through

dogmatic presentation of foundational texts, not by means of didactic

instruction, but by discussion, argumentation, and demonstration. The

transformative teacher, in other words, attempts to influence students by

philosophical means. As Jackson (1986, p. 127) put it, “Armed only with

the tools of reason the transformative teacher seeks to accomplish what can

be attained in no other way.”

Oratorical and Philosophical Traditions. The distinction between

direct and indirect character education can be framed historically not only

by reference to (mimetic and transformative) traditions of teaching, but also

by reference to the history of liberal education. According to Kimball

(1986) the history of liberal education from the ancients to the present is the

struggle between two distinct traditions that he termed “philosophical” and

“oratorical.” Moreover, the value conflicts between these traditions has

resulted in recurring cycles of educational reform as first one then the other

tradition becomes ascendant.

The “philosophical” tradition is aligned historically with Socrates,

Plato and Aristotle. It asserts that the pursuit of knowledge and truth is the

highest good; that because truth is elusive and because there are many

uncertainties one must cultivate the philosophical dispositions, be open

minded, judge fairly, reason critically. In this tradition it is freedom of the

intellect and diligent inquiry that is the goal and purpose of education.

The “oratorical” tradition is aligned historically with Isocrates and

Cicero. It is committed to the public expression of what is known through

classic texts and tradition. One becomes a virtuous citizen-orator by

becoming acquainted with the wisdom evident in rhetoric and in the

classics. If the philosophical tradition saw truth and goodness as something

elusive and unsettled, as something not yet realized or achieved, but can be

grasped only by the critical discernment of speculative reason, the oratorical

tradition locates truth and goodness in the great texts and in past traditions.

If the philosophical tradition conceives the search for truth as an act of

discovery, it is an act of recovery for the oratorical tradition. If the

philosophical tradition intends to equip individuals to face an uncertain

future, the oratorical tradition intends to equip individuals with the certain

and settled verities of the past.

Featherstone (1986) points out that the great strength of the

philosophical tradition is its emphasis on the free exercise of reason in

pursuit of the truth, but that its weakness as an educational philosophy is its

silence on just what is to be taught. It urges one to seek the truth like a

philosopher, but cannot say what it is with much certainty. It is strong on

method, weak on content. This is where the oratorical tradition has an

advantage. The educational point of the oratorical tradition is to master the

content of traditional texts. In the oratorical tradition the task of education

is to impart the truth, not to help students seek it (Featherstone, 1986). It is

strong on content, weak on method.

It would seem, then, that the contemporary debate concerning

direct and indirect methods reflects deeper and longer standing conflicts

over the role of mimesis or transformation in teaching, or the relative value

of preparing orators or philosophers in education. Yet it also seems clear

that the modern expression of direct character education reveals a

fundamental confusion about its sources, aims and traditions. For example,

although direct character education intends to transform students’ character

in the direction of virtue, it attempts to do so with teaching that is mimetic

rather than transformative. Moreover, in spite of its frequent invocation of

classical sources such as Socrates, Plato and Aristotle, it is apparent that

direct approaches to character education are not, in fact, the heirs of the

philosophical tradition but of the oratorical tradition. Indeed, the direct

approach is largely mimetic and oratorical, whereas the indirect approach is

transformative and philosophical.

Of course it is not hard to see the middle way in this debate.

There are occasions in teaching for both mimesis and transformation. We

need both orators and philosophers. The best teachers are experts in

pedagogical content knowledge (Shulman, 1987) and are able therefore to

use instructional methods appropriate for teaching specific content. The

best approaches to character education flexibly balance the philosophical

methods of inquiry, discussion and discernment with the oratorical respect

for text and tradition; both direct and indirect approaches find a place in the

curriculum (Benninga, 1991b). Lickona’s (1991a, b; 1992; 1997; Lickona

& Davidson, 2004) integrated approach to character education is a good

example. Although this approach has decided oratorical sympathies, and

resorts to the genre of discontent to makes its case, there is also significant

and welcome appreciation of the constructivist nature of learning and of the

necessity for transformative approaches to teaching. Alongside directive

advocacy of certain value positions there is use of indirect strategies as

well, including cooperative learning, conflict resolution, classroom

democratic processes, moral discussion and reflection and the need to build

a sense of moral community within the school.

Historical Lessons. We noted earlier that a “cultural declinist”

reading of American history is commonly used to “make the case” for

character education. And that the debate between traditionalists and

progressives, between advocates of direct and indirect methods of character

education, is just the contemporary manifestation of more fundamental

conflicts concerning the nature of teaching (mimesis v. transformative) and

of liberal education (oratorical v. philosophical) that have quite

longstanding historical roots. But what of the history of character

education itself? Chapman’s (1977) observation summarizes a common

theme. “It is curious to note,” he writes, “how the concern for character

seems to have been associated with time of rapid social change” (p. 65).

McClellan (1999) notes, for example, in his influential history of

moral education, that the nineteenth-century ushered in a revolution in

moral education that was motivated by massive social upheaval and the

collapse of the old order brought about by urbanization, mobility and

immigration. “Traditional sources of social order—stable hierarchical social

structures, patterns of cultural and political deference, webs of extended

kinships and tight-knit communities---weakened as images of control and

orderly change gave way to visions of movement and opportunity”

(McClellan, 1999, p. 15). The response was to urge early instruction of a

common moral code, taught largely through a new genre of children’s

stories and by the suffusion of maxims and moral lessons throughout

textbooks. Typical themes included the certainty of progress and the

perfection of the United States, love of country, duty to parents, the

importance of thrift, honesty, and hard-work for accumulation of property,

among others.

In the early twentieth-century the demands of modernity further

sundered the seamless weave of the community into largely disconnected

sectors of home, employment, marketplace, church, recreation, each

operating with seemingly different value systems. Schools were now

required to prepare students to take up “a variety of roles across the

differentiated spheres of a segmented social order” (McClellan, 1999, p.

47). Schools became complex institutions with varied purposes, only one of

which was moral education.

Among character educators there was a sense that modernity

presented important challenges to traditional values that could be mastered

only by vigorous teaching of specific virtues and character traits, not just in

school but in a variety of clubs and youth organizations that proliferated in

the early twentieth century. Codes of conduct were promulgated and

teachers were expected to use these codes to provide themes for instruction.

Much like today these themes were exhibited in classroom posters and

laws-of-the month. Citizenship and comportment grades were commonly

taken as signs of character development. Moral education itself was

directed largely to the problem of motivation and will rather than to

reasoning. The problem was how to make moral conduct habitual rather

than to teach ethical decision-making, a notion that has a familiar ring a

century later.

The progressive alternative, as we have seen, rejected the emphasis

on teaching particular virtues as being unsuited to help children meet the

demands of a changing social order, and it rejected, too, the “direct”

approaches to instruction as pedagogically ineffective. Instead it

emphasized ethical sensitivity to the demands of changing society; the

ability to make moral judgments; and the larger civic and political purposes

of moral education as opposed to the traditional emphasis on private virtue

and conduct. Hence, rather than focus on traditional texts the progressive

alternative encouraged democratic decision-making, critical thinking and

scientific inquiry as the methods best able to equip students to take up their

obligations in modern society. These are the very terms of reference for

the current debate concerning character education.

Indeed, Cunningham (2005) points to many common themes

between the current popularity of character education and its predecessor

movements earlier in the twentieth-century. He notes that many modern

proponents of character education who ardently look back to the Great

Tradition when traditional character education was allegedly pervasive,

widely embraced and successfully implemented might be surprised to learn

that the educational “tradition” of which they seek was not apparent to

contemporaries. Widespread anxiety about social disintegration was as

common to the first decades of the twentieth-century as the latter decades.

Both periods exhibited alarm at the sorry state of moral character among

business leaders and politicians, as well as youth. Both periods saw

evidence of cultural decline, loss of traditional values, and abandonment of

foundational principles. Both periods saw the formation of character

education lobbies, pressure groups and professional societies; both saw

state action by legislatures to mandate character education in the schools;

both saw the need for experiential or service learning; both saw the

promulgation of widely divergent lists of urgently needed virtues, debates

about direct and indirect methods, and the proper place of coercion and

democratic practices in the schools. Moreover, the chasm between

educators and researchers, between the ardent confidence of character

educators in their favored curriculum and the skepticism of researchers

about its efficacy, also has a long history (see also, Leming, 1997).

Moreover, Cunningham (2005) argues that while the “rise” of traditional

character education in the twentieth-century typically accompanied periods

of great social ferment and rapid social change, when there were profound

challenges to national identity and widespread anxiety about social

cohesion and the unsettling forces of modernity, its “fall” is inevitable

without an adequate character psychology to guide curricular development

and instructional practice. “Unless psychology can provide a better model

of human development,” he writes, “character will continue to receive

sporadic and faddish treatment and the public’s common school will

continue to be undermined” (Cunningham, 2005).

We return, then, to a central claim of this chapter which is that the

conceptual grounding required for any minimally adequate character

education must be found in robust models of character psychology

(Cunningham, 2005; Lapsley & Power, 2005). Although ideological

commitments are notoriously immune to influence, it is our view that

consensual frameworks for addressing character education will be

forthcoming when controversies are anchored to appropriate psychological

literatures. In the next section we take note of relatively recent approaches

to character psychology that provides new ways of conceptualizing the

moral dimensions of personality.

New Approaches to Character Psychology

There are at least two new approaches that have emerged for

conceptualizing moral character. One approach argues that a moral identity

results when the self identifies with moral commitments or a moral point of

view. A second approach conceptualizes character in terms of the expertise

literatures of cognitive science and social cognitive approaches to

personality. We briefly consider each approach in turn.

Identity, Exemplars and the Moral Self. One way to conceptualize

character is in terms of moral identity. According to Blasi (1984, 1985,

1995), one has a moral identity to the extent that the self is organized

around moral commitments. One has a moral identity when moral notions

are central, important and essential to one’s self-understanding. This yields

a personality imbued with a deep, affective and motivational orientation

towards morality. Blasi (1984) insists, however, that any account of the

moral personality be grounded on the premise that rationality is the core of

the moral life. To have a moral identity is to have good moral reasons for

the identity-defining commitments that one makes.

Of course, not everyone has a self-concept that is constructed by

reference to moral reasons. Some individuals organize self-related

information around moral categories, others do not. Some individuals let

moral notions penetrate to the core of what and who they are as persons;

others have only a glancing acquaintance with moral notions but choose to

define the self in other ways, by reference to other values and commitments

(Walker, Pitts, Hennig & Matsuba, 1995). Even those who define the self in

moral terms may do so in different ways, emphasizing different sets of

moral priorities. In this way moral identity is a dimension of individual

differences; it is foundational to the moral personality (Blasi, 1995). One

has a moral identity when moral commitments are judged to be central,

important and essential for one’s self-understanding, and when one

commits to live in such a way that one keeps faith with these identity-

defining commitments. Indeed, not to act in accordance with one’s identity

is to put the integrity of the self at risk. Not to act with what is essential,

important and central to one’s self-understanding is to risk losing the self, a

possibility that introduces a motivational property to the moral personality

(Bergman, 2002; Blasi, 1999; Hardy & Carlo, in press).

Blasi (2005) recently proposed a psychological approach to moral

character that trades on these themes. According to this view moral

character is best described not by reference to lower order virtues, such as

honesty, generosity, humility, among numerous others, but by three sets of

higher order virtues that include willpower (as self-control), integrity and

moral desires.

Willpower as self-control is a toolbox of strategic and

metacognitive skills that allow one to break down problems, set goals,

focus attention, delay gratification, avoid distractions, and resist temptation.

These virtues are necessary to deal with obstacles that we encounter

invariably in the pursuit of long-range objectives. The cluster of integrity

virtues connects our commitments to a sense of self and is responsible for

feelings of responsibility and identity. Integrity is felt as responsibility

when we constrain the self with intentional acts of self-control, effort, and

determination in the pursuit of our moral desires; when we make the self

conform to the moral law out of a felt sense of necessity and obligation; and

when we hold the self accountable for the consequences of actions.

Integrity is felt as identity when a person constructs the very meaning of the

self by reference to moral categories. In this case living out one’s moral

commitments does not feel like a choice; living in ways that offend what is

central and essential about oneself is unthinkable self-betrayal.

But the virtues of self-control and integrity do not have inherent

moral significance. Both are morally neutral unless they are attached to

moral desires. Both require a will that desires and tends towards the moral

good. The language of moral desires is distinctive of Blasi’s theoretical

system, but “moral desires” is an expression he prefers to the closely related

notion of moral motivation, and for three reasons. First, the expression

connotes an intensity of affect that connects to traditional notions of

character as that which gives direction to one’s life. Second, insofar as

moral desires clearly belong to a person, it is preferred over other

psychological accounts that treat motivation as an impersonal regulatory

system or in terms of cybernetic models of self-control. Third, the notion of

desires aligns closely with Frankfurt’s (1988) concept of will and his

distinction between first- and second-order desires. A person certainly has

(first-order) desires, but one can also reflect upon them, order them, and

have desires about some of them (second-order desires). One has a will

when one desires to implement and put into effective action that which is a

first-order desire. Here one transforms impulses into something that is

reflected upon from a greater psychological distance. The will is an

intervention on oneself that turns a first-order impulse into something that

can be rejected or accepted and on this foundation rests the possibility of a

moral self if the distancing and appropriating is governed by a

consideration of the moral good.

Blasi’s approach to moral self-identity is associated with an

important line of research on moral exemplars. Colby and Damon (1992)

interviewed 23 individuals whose lives demonstrated exceptional moral

commitment in such areas as civil rights, civil liberties, poverty and

religious freedom, among others. Although the specific commitments of

each exemplar was a unique adaptation to the situational challenges that

each faced, one of the most important common characteristics of exemplars

was the fact that moral goals were so closely aligned with personal goals.

There was an identification of self with moral commitments. Moral goals

were central to their self-understanding, to their sense of identity, to such a

degree that moral choices were not seen as a burden but simply as a way to

advance one’s personal objectives. Exemplars also were characterized by a

sense of certainty and clarity about what was right and wrong, of their own

personal responsibility, and by a sense of optimism about how things would

turn out.

A similar theme is evident in the research by Hart and his

colleagues (Hart & Fegley, 1995; Hart, Yates, Fegley & Wilson, 1995;

Hart, Atkins & Ford, 1998) who studied inner-city adolescents who had

been nominated by community organizations for their uncommon prosocial

commitment. In contrast to matched comparison adolescents, care

exemplars more often included moral goals and moral traits in their self-

descriptions; included ideal self representations and parental representations

in their actual self descriptions; articulated a mature self-understanding

whereby beliefs generated coherence among elements of the self; and

perceived continuity of the self that extended from the remembered past

into the projected future. Moral exemplars also have been reported to show

advanced moral reasoning, more mature faith and identity development, and

an affinity towards agreeableness (Matsuba & Walker, in press).

In a separate line of research Aquino and Reed (2002) designed an

instrument that measures the degree to which having a moral identity is

important to one’s self-conception. They assumed, following Blasi (1984,

1985), that moral identity varies in content and in the degree to which moral

traits is central to one’s self-understanding. They identified nine moral

traits (caring, compassionate, fair, friendly, generous, helpful, hardworking,

honest, kind ) that individuals regard as characteristic of a moral person

which then served as “salience induction stimuli” to activate a person’s

moral identity when rating the self-importance of these traits on their

instrument. Factor analysis revealed two factors: a Symbolization factor

(the degree to which the traits are reflected in one’s public actions); and an

Internalization factor (the degree to which traits are central to one’s private

self-concept).

Aquino and Reed (2002) showed that both dimensions predict the

emergence of a spontaneous moral self-concept and self-reported

volunteering, but that internalization showed the stronger relation to actual

donating behavior and to moral reasoning. Subsequent research (Reed &

Aquino, 2003) showed that individuals with a strong internalized moral

identity report a stronger moral obligation to help and share resources with

outgroups; to perceive the worthiness of coming to their aid; and to display

a preferential option for outgroups in actual donating behavior. Hence

individuals with internalized moral identity are more likely to expand the

circle of moral regard to include out-group members. Moreover, moral

identity is thought to mediate the relationship between deviant

organizational norms and deviant behavior. If moral identity is highly

salient in comparison to other identities within the self-system, then

internalized moral identity is likely to inhibit the motivation to respond to

deviant norms within the culture of organizations (Bennett, Aquino, Reed,

& Thau, in press). The authors have employee behavior within business

organizations in mind, but there is no reason to limit the identity-moderator

hypothesis solely to this context.

Research on moral self-identity and on the qualities of individuals

who demonstrate exceptional moral commitment is a promising avenue for

character psychology, although the implications for character education are

not clearly understood. One implication of Blasi’s theory is that character

education should encourage children and adolescents to develop the proper

moral desires and master the virtues of self-control and integrity. But how

is this possible? How do children develop self-control and a wholehearted

commitment to moral integrity? There are intriguing clues about possible

pathways to moral identity from research on the development of conscience

in early childhood. For example, Kochanska and her colleagues

(Kochanska, 2002; Kochanska et al., 2004; Kochanka, Aksan & Koenig,

1995) proposed a two-step model of emerging morality that begins with the

quality of parent-child attachment. A secure, mutually-responsive

relationship with caregivers characterized by shared, positive affect orients

the child to be receptive to their influence and eager to comply with

parental suggestions, standards and demands. This encourages

wholehearted, willing, self-regulated and “committed” compliance on the

part of the child to the norms, values and expectations of caregivers which,

in turn, motivates moral internalization and the emergence of conscience.

The model moves, then, from security of attachment to committed

compliance to moral internalization. Moreover, the child’s experience of

eager, willing and committed compliance with parents’ socialization agenda

is presumed to influence the child’s emerging internal representation of the

self. “Children who have a strong history of committed compliance with

the parent are likely gradually to come to view themselves as embracing the

parent’s values and rules. Such a moral self, in turn, comes to serve as the

regulator of future moral conduct and, more generally, of early morality

(Kochanska, 2002, p. 340). Indeed, children are more likely to regulate

their conduct in ways that are consistent with their internal working model

of the self.

This model of the emergence of conscience in early childhood

suggests that the source of wholehearted commitment to moral

considerations, and the cultivation of the proper moral desires characteristic

of what Blasi requires of a moral personality, lies in the mutual positive

affective relationship with socialization agents and the quality of the child’s

network of interpersonal relationships. The source of self-control, integrity

and of moral desires is deeply relational. It is motivated by the sense of

moral self-identity that emerges within a history of secure attachment. If

true such a model underscores the importance of school bonding (Catalano,

Haggerty, Oesterle, Fleming & Hawkins, 2004; Libby, 2004; Maddox &

Prinz, 2003), caring school communities (Payne, Gottfredson &

Gottfredson, 2003; Solomon, Watson, Battistich, Schaps & Delucchi, 1992)

and attachment to teachers (Watson, 2003) as a basis for prosocial and

moral development. For example, Payne et al. (2003) showed that schools

that were organized and experienced as a caring community had higher

levels of student bonding to school and greater internalization of common

norms and goals which, in turn, was related to less delinquency. Similarly,

the Seattle Social Development Project has documented its theoretical claim

that strong bonds of attachment and commitment to school and clear

standards of behavior creates a press towards behavior consistent with these

standards (Hawkins, Guo, Hill, Battin-Pearson & Abbott, 2001; Hawkins,

Catalano, Kosterman & Hill, 1999). Evidence from the Child Development

Project showed that elementary school children’s sense of community leads

them to adhere to the values that are most salient in the classroom

(Solomon, Watson, Battistich, Schaps & Delucchi, 1996). Moreover,

perceptions of moral atmosphere in high school promote prosocial and

inhibit norms-transgressive behavior (Brugman, Podolskij, Heymans,

Boom, Karabanova & Idobaeva, 2003; Power, Kohlberg & Higgins, 1989).

These findings are quite close to Kochanska’s model of early conscience

development: secure attachment promotes committed compliance which

leads to internalization of norms and standards. Hence there appears to be

continuity in the mechanisms of socialization in both families and schools

in early and middle childhood and adolescence.

The moral exemplar research holds out another goal for character

education, which is to encourage the sort of prosocial commitment

observed in care exemplars. This would certainly be a welcome alternative

to the more typical understanding of character education as a risk-and-

deficits prevention program. How do individuals come to align personal

goals with moral ones, or come to identify the actual self with ideal

representations? One mechanism suggested by Colby and Damon (1995) is

social influence. In their view social influence plays a decisive role in

transforming personal goals into important moral commitments. Social

influence instigates moral development. It provides a context for

reappraisal of one’s current capabilities, guidance on how best to extend

one’s capabilities and the strategies required to pull it off. “For those who

continually immerse themselves in moral concerns and in social networks

absorbed by such concerns, goal transformation remains the central

architect of progressive change throughout life” (Colby & Damon, 1995, p.

344). Other mechanisms include participation in voluntary organizations

(Hart, Atkins & Ford, 1998; Flanagan, 2004), school attachment (Atkins,

Hart & Donnely, 2004) and service learning opportunities more generally

(Waterman, 1997; Youniss, McLellan, Su & Yates, 1999; Youniss,

McLellan & Yates, 1997; Youniss & Yates, 1997).

These mechanisms may provide the means not just for the

transformation of personal into moral goals, but it may provide also an

opportunity for adolescents to experience other characteristics of moral

exemplars, such as coming to see moral concerns with greater clarity,

developing a greater sense of personal responsibility for the welfare of their

communities, and a sense of optimism and efficacy that personal effort pays

off and makes a difference. We will have more to say about community

service and service learning. But if these mechanisms are critical to the

formation of moral identity, then the challenge for character educators is

one of how best to transform the culture of schools so that they become

places where social networks are absorbed by moral concerns; where

attachment to school is encouraged; where opportunities abound for broad

participation in the sort of voluntary associations that predict prosocial

engagement with the community.

Social Cognitive Models Cantor (1990) has written about the

“having” and “doing” approaches to the study of personality. The “having”

approach views personality as the sum of traits that one has. Personality is

a matter of trait possession. In contrast, the social cognitive approach

emphasizes the “doing” side of personality. It draws attention to what a

person does in particular situations, and “what people do encompass not

just motor acts, but what they do cognitively and affectively, including the

constructs they generate, the projects they plan and pursue, and the self-

regulatory effort they attempt in light of long term goals” (Mischel, 1990, p.

117). The personal constructs generated in concrete situations include

schemas, scripts, prototypes, and other cognitive frameworks. These social

cognitive units influence social perception but also serve to create and

sustain patterns of individual differences. If schemas are readily primed and

easily activated (“chronically accessible”), for example, then they direct our

attention selectively to certain features of our experience at the expense of

others. This selective framing disposes one to choose compatible or

schema-relevant life tasks, goals or settings that are congruent with one’s

social perceptions. Repeated selection of schema-congruent tasks, goals

and settings serves over time to canalize and sustain dispositional

tendencies and to result in highly practiced behavioral routines that provide

“a ready, sometimes automatically available plan of action in such life

contexts” (Cantor, 1990, p. 738). According to Cantor (1990) this makes

one a “virtual expert” in highly-practiced regions of social experience

demarcated by chronically accessible schemas, and allows schemas to

function as the cognitive carriers of dispositions.

Lapsley and Narvaez (2004; Narvaez & Lapsley, 2005) have

appealed to chronicity and expertise to account for moral character. They

argued that a moral personality can be understood in terms of the

accessibility of moral schemas for social information-processing. A moral

person, a person who has a moral character or identity, is one for whom

moral constructs are chronically accessible, where construct accessibility is

a dimension of individual differences that emerges because of each person’s

unique social developmental history (Bargh, Lombardi & Higgins, 1988).

Indeed, “certain categories or constructs are primed so frequently by some

individuals that they may endure within the individuals in a state of

potential activation, ready to be primed by minimal cues in the situation”

(Mischel, 1990, p. 119). These chronically accessible categories provide a

dispositional preference or readiness to discern the moral dimensions of

experience, as well as underwrite a discriminative facility in selecting

situationally-appropriate behavior. Moreover, available constructs can be

made accessible by situational priming as well as by chronicity, which

combine in an additive fashion to influence social perception (Bargh, Bond,

Lombardi & Tota, 1986). This supports the social cognitive view that

dispositional coherence is to be found at the intersection of person

(chronicity) and context (situational priming).

A social cognitive approach to moral character has a number of

benefits. It provides an explanation for moral identity. For Blasi, one has a

moral identity when moral notions are central, essential and important to

one’s self-understanding. We would add that moral notions that are central,

essential and important to self-understanding would also be chronically

accessible for appraising the social landscape. The social cognitive

approach also accounts for at least one characteristic of moral exemplars.

As Colby and Damon (1992) have shown individuals who display

extraordinary moral commitment rarely report engaging in an extensive

decision-making process. Rather, they “just knew” what was required of

them, automatically as it were, without recourse to elaborate and effortful

cognitive exertion. This is also experienced by exemplars as a kind of moral

clarity or as a felt conviction that one’s judgments are appropriate, justified

and true. Yet this is precisely the outcome of preconscious activation of

chronically accessible constructs that it induces strong feelings of certainty

or conviction with respect to one’s social judgments (Bargh, 1989; Narvaez

& Lapsley, 2005). Moreover, the automaticity of schema activation

contributes to the tacit, implicit qualities often associated with Aristotelian

and traditional understanding of the “habits” of moral character. To put it

differently, the moral habits of virtue theory are social cognitive schemas

whose chronic accessibility favors automatic activation.

One challenge for a social cognitive theory of moral character is to

specify the developmental sources of moral chronicity. Indeed, most social

cognitive approaches to personality are silent on the developmental

trajectory that makes adult forms of social information processing possible.

One speculation is that moral personality development is built on the

foundation of generalized event representations, behavioral scripts and

episodic memory that characterize early sociopersonality development

(Kochanska & Thompson, 1997; Lapsley & Narvaez, 2004; Thompson,

1998). Event representations have been called the “basic building blocks of

cognitive development” (Nelson & Gruendel, 1981, p. 131), and it is our

contention that they are the foundation as well of emergent moral character.

They are working models of how social routines unfold and of what one

can expect of social experience. These prototypic knowledge structures are

progressively elaborated in the early dialogues with caregivers who help

children review, structure and consolidate memories in script-like fashion

(Fivush, Kuebli & Chubb, 1992).

But the key characterological turn of significance for moral

psychology is how these early social-cognitive units are transformed from

episodic into autobiographical memory. Autobiographical memory is also a

social construction elaborated by means of dialogue within a web of

interlocution. Parental interrogatives (“What happened when you pushed

your sister?” “Why did she cry?”, “What should you do next?”) help

children organize events into personally relevant autobiographical

memories which provide, as part of the self-narrative, action-guiding scripts

(”I share with her” and “I say I’m sorry”) that become frequently practiced,

over-learned, routine, habitual and automatic. These interrogatorives might

also include moral character attributions so that the ideal or ought self

becomes part of the child’s autobiographical narrative. In this way parents

help children identify morally relevant features of their experience and

encourage the formation of social cognitive schemas that are chronically

accessible (Lapsley & Narvaez, 2004). Moreover, as Kochanska’s (2002)

model suggests, there is every reason to suppose this developmental process

is affected both by variations in the quality of the parent-child relationship

and its goodness-of-fit. One implication of this account, and of

Kochanska’s research on the emergence of conscience, is that character

education is not something that takes place initially in schools as a formal

curriculum, but rather is embedded within the fabric of family life and early

socialization experiences. In the next section we take up school- and

community-based programs that are of significance to character education.

II. Approaches to Character Education

In this section we review promising or prominent school- and

community-based approaches to character education. The range of

programs that are claimed for character education is quite diverse and there

are very many of them. Our intention here is not to review the full range of

specific programs but rather to identify general categories of programs that

make some claim for character education. Some of the programs that we

review might also be considered examples of one or more of the Eleven

Principles of Effective Character Education (Lickona, Schaps & Lewis,

2003) adopted by the Character Education Partnership (CEP). We begin

our review by a consideration of these principles given their prominence

among character educators.

The Eleven Principles of Effective Character Education

The Character Education Partnership is a coalition of

organizations and individuals dedicated to helping schools develop moral

and character education programs. Many school districts embrace

approaches to character education that are guided by principles developed

by the CEP. The first principle asserts that good character is built on the

foundation of core ethical values, such as caring, honesty, fairness,

responsibility and respect. Sometimes core values (alternatively, traits,

virtues) are selected by school districts after broad consultation with the

community. More often the core values are those endorsed by national

advocacy organizations, such as the six “pillars” of character

(trustworthiness, respect, responsibility, fairness, caring, citizenship)

articulated by the Aspen Declaration and the Character Counts movement.

What is critical is that the values selected for character education be

universally valid, promote the common good, affirm human dignity,

contribute to the welfare of the individual, deal with issues of right and

wrong, facilitate democratic practices.

Accordingly, programs should teach core values holistically with

cognitive, affective and behavioral components (Principle 2), and in a way

that engages school personnel in an intentional, proactive and

comprehensive way (Principle 3). It is particularly important to create

caring school communities (Principle 4) and to provide students with

opportunities to engage in moral action, such as service learning and

community service (Principle 5). Effective character education does not

neglect rigorous, challenging academic curriculum (Principle 6). It fosters

intrinsic motivation to do the right thing by building a climate of trust and

respect; by encouraging a sense of autonomy; and by building shared norms

through dialogue, class meetings and democratic decision-making

(Principle 7). Moreover, the core values that animate student life should

engage the school staff as well (Principle 8). Furthermore for character

education to take root it must result in shared educational leadership that

makes provision for long-term support of the initiative (Principle 9); it must

engage families and community stakeholders (Principle 10); and be

committed to on-going assessment and evaluation (Principle 11).

This remarkable set of principles provides a useful guidepost for

the design and implementation of intentional, programmatic and

comprehensive character education. It insists that ethical considerations be

the transparent rationale for programmatic activities and, on this basis (e.g.,

Principle 3), would not support efforts to broaden the definition of character

education to include all manner of prevention and intervention programs

absent an explicit, intentional concern for moral development. It endorses a

set of well-attested pedagogical strategies that are considered educational

best practice, including cooperative learning, democratic classrooms, and

constructivist approaches to teaching and learning. It endorses practices that

cultivate autonomy, intrinsic motivation and community engagement

(Beland, 2003). Indeed, the CEP Principles look more like the blueprint for

progressive education, and would seem to settle the historical debate

concerning direct and indirect approaches to character education in favor of

the latter paradigm.

Yet the Principles are not without its discontents. Principle 1

insists on core values that are foundational, objectively true, universally

valid, immanent to human dignity, crucial to democratic practice, yet its

elision over familiar anxieties about the source and selection of favored

values gives one pause. This insistence that character education first be

grounded on objectively valid core values is, in our view, a misleading and

unnecessary distraction. It is misleading because it assumes that practices

are derived from principles rather than the other way around (see e.g., Carr,

1991). It is distraction because it forces educators to defend a transparent

and intentional approach to the moral formation of children on grounds

other than on its immanence-and-inevitability.

Moreover, the first principle smuggles a premise into character

education, e.g., core values are objectively true, foundational and

universally valid, that is itself a deeply contentious matter for epistemology

and ethics, and attempts to settle an argument about ethical relativism that it

is ill-equipped to address except by dogmatic assertion. The necessity,

inevitability and desirability of character education does not hinge on the

outcome of this argument. Indeed, to suggest that it does is to repeat the

mistake on the educational front that the cognitive developmental tradition

commits on the psychological front. Just as Kohlberg attempted to use

stage theory to provide the psychological resources to defeat ethical

relativism, so too does the first principle of character education attempt to

take up arms against the bogey of relativism on the educational front.

Although the Principles call for comprehensive infusion of ethical

concerns throughout the curriculum and in all facets of school life, and

although the Eleven Principles Sourcebook (Beland, 2003) encourages a

variety of pedagogical strategies that are compatible with best instructional

practice, we observe that not much of contemporary character education

gets past the first principle, or else reduces character education to simply

teaching about values and the meaning of trait words. The broad school

reform and commitment to best practice required by the remaining

principles is too often neglected in favor of fussing over the meaning of

words denoting core values (leaving aside the problem of how one “fills-in”

the meaning of these words). The hard work of character education is not

learning about core value words but rather learning to engage the range of

developmental and educational experiences countenanced by the remaining

principles.

Although there is value in a first principle that requires educators

to make explicit the moral implications of school practices, it would be far

better, in our view, if CEP’s first principle articulated a commitment to a

distinctly virtue-centered approach to education that gave primacy to aretaic

concerns about agents and flourishing rather than Kantian concerns about

universality and objectivity. What is required as a first principle is not a

disguised stance on the epistemological status of “values” ---that certain of

them are foundational, universal and objectively valid--- but rather a

statement that makes explicit the ethical commitments immanent to

educational practices endorsed in the remaining principles. The goal of

character education, in other words, is less about enlisting children in the

battle against ethical relativism, and more about equipping them with the

moral dispositions and skills required for effective citizenship in a liberal

democracy.

A Conceptual Framework We think there is a better way to “make

the case” for character education that has little to do with taking a stance on

the question of ethical foundations. The conceptual framework for

character education is adequately anticipated by a commitment to a

developmental systems orientation. A developmental systems approach to

character education draws attention to embedded and overlapping systems

of influence that exist at multiple levels; to the fact that dispositional

coherence is a joint product of personal and contextual factors that are in

dynamic interaction across the lifecourse. As Masten (2003, p. 172) put it,

“Dynamic multisystem models of human learning, development and

psychopathology are transforming science, practice and policies concerned

with the health, success and wellbeing of children and the adult citizens of

society they will become.” A credible character education must resemble

dynamic multisystems models of development and be located within

contemporary theoretical and empirical frameworks of developmental

science if it is going to understand adequately the mechanisms of change,

plasticity, prevention, resilience and the very conditions and possibilities of

what it means to flourish---to live well the life that is good for one to live.

Moreover, a developmental systems perspective already

underwrites more specific approaches to youth development. For example,

Lerner and his colleagues (Lerner, Dowling & Anderson,2003; Lerner,

Fisher & Weinberg, 2000) make the case for “thriving” as basis for

understanding the role of adaptive person-context relations in human

development. “An integrated moral and civic identity,” they write, “and a

commitment to society beyond the limits of one’s own existence enables

thriving youth to be agents both in their own healthy development and in

the positive enhancement of other people and of society (Lerner et al.,

2003, p. 172). Indeed thriving and character education point toward the

same end, as do other notions derived from developmental contextualism,

such as developmental assets, resilience and positive youth development.

Moreover, developmental contextualism provides not only a basis for

understanding the dispositional qualities of personality (“character”), but it

also provides a vision of what it means to flourish (e.g., thriving and

positive development). These developmental considerations already carry

the conceptual load for understanding constructs that are crucial to broad

conceptualizations of character education, and would hence serve much

better as a first principle of character education than the CEP’s current

emphasis on foundational core values.

Educating for Character. Lickona (2004, 1997, 1991a,b) has

developed an integrative approach to character education that is largely

congruent with CEP principles. Along with a commitment to core values

he also advocates a variety of strategies that are broadly compatible with

instructional best practice for elementary (Lickona, 1992) and high schools

(Lickona & Davidson, 2004). A distinction is drawn between two aspects of

character: performance character and moral character. Performance

character is oriented towards mastery of tasks and includes such qualities as

diligence, perseverance, a positive attitude, a commitment to hard work.

Performance character is what is required in order to develop talents, skills

and competencies. Moral character, in turn, is a relational orientation that is

concerned with qualities of integrity, caring, justice, respect and

cooperation. It is an ethical compass that guides the pursuit and expression

of performance character. If performance character makes it possible to

live a productive life, moral character is required to live an ethical life

(Lickona & Davidson, 2004). Effective education should aim to develop

both aspects of character.

Lickona & Davidson (2004) recently articulated seven principles

of schools that effectively address elements of moral and performance

character. These schools (1) make the development of character the

cornerstone of the schools mission and identity; (2) cultivate an ethical

learning community that includes staff, students and parents who share

responsibility for advancing the school’s character education mission; (3)

encourage the professional staff to form a professional ethical learning

community to foster collaboration and mutual support in advancing the

ethical dimensions of teaching and student development; (4) align all school

practices, including curriculum, discipline and extracurricular activities,

with the goals of performance excellence and moral excellence; (5) use

evaluation data to monitor progress in development o strengths of character

and to guide decision-making with respect to educational practices; (6)

integrate ethical material into the curriculum while encouraging life-long

learning and a career orientation; (7) treat classroom and school-wide

discipline as opportunities to support the ethical learning community by

emphasizing the importance of caring, accountability, shared ownership of

rules and a commitment to restitution.

One salutary feature of this framework is that it urges schools to

understand their educative mission in terms of a moral framework. A

second salutary feature is that many of its instructional strategies are

informed by the research literatures of developmental and educational

psychology. It promotes for example, instructional practices that encourage

mastery motivation, metacognitive instruction, cooperative learning. It

sanctions constructivist strategies that embrace the active participation of

students in learning. It advocates strategies (e.g., dilemma discussion, just

community) more commonly associated with development moral education.

Indeed, many of the suggested practices that attempt to link home and

school, influence school culture, involve community stakeholders, or

capitalize on the unique developmental needs of students, could be

underwritten by a developmental systems orientation.

Caring School Communities

The fourth of the CEP’s Principles of Effective Character

Education states that “Effective character education creates a caring school

community.’ There is a strong consensus that effective character education

must include efforts to promote Acommunities of caring@ within classrooms

and schools (Battistich, Solomon, Watson & Schaps, 1997; Berkowitz &

Bier, 2005). A school climate that encourages social and emotional

bonding and promotes positive interpersonal experiences is one that

provides the minimum necessary grounding for the formation of character

(Schaps, Battistich & Solomon, 1997). Indeed, as Berkowitz (2002, p. 58-

59) put it, ARelationships are critical to character education, so character

education must focus on the quality of relationships at school.@

Research has shown, for example, that the quality of early teacher-

student relationships can have a strong influence on academic and social

outcomes that persist through eighth-grade (Hamre & Pianta, 2001).

Moreover, in schools where there is a strong perception of communal

organization there is less student misconduct (Bryk & Driscoll, 1988) and

lower rates of drug use and delinquency (Battistich & Hom, 1999). Student

attachment or bonding to school also improves school motivation

(Goodenow, 1993) and counterindicates delinquency (Welsh, Greene &

Jenkins, 1991) and victimization of teachers and students (Gottfredson &

Gottfredson, 1995). In a study of a nationally representative sample of 254

high schools Payne et al (2003) found a connection between communal

organization and student bonding to school. Schools characterized by

communal organization, that is, by mutually supportive relationships among

teachers, administrators and students, a commitment to common goals and

norms, and a sense of collaboration, tend to have students who report an

attachment to school (an emotional bond to teachers or school and a sense

of belonging), a belief in the legitimacy of rules and norms, and a high

value placed on school work. Moreover, bonding to school was related, in

turn, to lower levels of student misconduct and victimization. Payne et al

(2003, p. 773) suggested that by “improving the relationships among

school members, the collaboration and participation of these members and

the agreement on common goals and norms, schools could increase

students’ attachment to school, commitment to education and belief in

school rules and norms,” and thereby reduce misconduct, delinquency and

victimization.

The work of two research teams, the Social Development Research

Group at the University of Washington, and the Child Development Project

of the Developmental Studies Center, has provided particularly impressive

evidence on the role of school bonding and caring school communities for a

range of outcomes of interest to character educators.

Social Development Research Group. This group launched the

Seattle Social Development Project (SSDP) in 1981 in 8 Seattle public

elementary schools. The project initially provided an intervention to first-

grade pupils, but the program expanded by 1985 to include all 5

-grade

students in 18 elementary schools, with additional intervention components

that targeted parents and teachers as well. The longitudinal assessments of

participants continued throughout adolescence and subsequently every three

years after graduation until age 27. The SSDP was guided by a social

development model that assumes that behavior is learned within social

environments. One becomes socialized within the norms of a social group

to the extent that (1) one perceives opportunities for involvement, (2)

becomes actually involved, (3) has the skill for involvement and interaction,

and (4) perceives that it is rewarding to do so. When socialization goes

well a social bond of attachment and commitment is formed. This social

bond, in turn, orients the child to the norms and expectations of the group to

which one is attached and to the values endorsed by the group. “It is

hypothesized that the behavior of the individual would be prosocial or

antisocial depending on the predominant behaviors, norms and values held

by those individuals and institutions to which/whom the individual bonded”

(Catalano, Haggerty et al., 2004, p. 251).

The SSDP included interventions that targeted three primary

socialization agents of school-age children: teachers, parents and peers.

Teachers were given training in proactive classroom management,

interactive teaching to motivate learners, and cooperative learning. The

intervention for children targeted social and emotional skill development,

including interpersonal cognitive problem-solving skills and refusal skills.

Parental training targeted behavior management, how to give academic

support and skills to reduce risks for drug use.

Research showed that training teachers to use targeted teaching

practices was successful in promoting both school bonding and academic

achievement (Abbott, O’Donnell, Hawkins, Hill, Kosterman & Catalano,

1998). Moreover, the SSDP demonstrated long-term positive effects on

numerous adolescent health-risk behaviors (e.g., violent delinquency, heavy

drinking, sexual intercourse, having multiple sex partners, pregnancy and

school misconduct) and on school bonding (Hawkins et al., 1999, 2001).

For example, school bonding at 12

-grade, and increases in school bonding

between 7

- to 12

-grade, was negatively correlated with use of alcohol,

cigarettes, marijuana and other drug use at 12

-grade. Students bonded to

school at 5

and 6

-grade were less likely to become minor or major

offenders in middle school. Students with lower sense of school attachment

and commitment were twice as likely to join gangs as were students with a

stronger sense of school bonding. Moreover school bonding also had

positive academic outcomes. For example, an increase in school bonding

between 7

- and 12

-grade was associated with higher GPA and lower

student misconduct at 12

-grade. Students with greater bonding to school

at 8

-grade were less likely to drop out of school by 10

-grade (see

Catalano, Berglund, Ryan, Lonczak & Hawkins, 2004, for a review).

Hence the intensive, multi-component interventions of the SSDP

had clear effects on school bonding and on a range of outcomes of

traditional interest to character educators, including substance use,

delinquency, gang membership, violence, academic problems and sexual

activity. But is this character education? It depends on whether character

education is defined by treatment or by outcomes. The SSPD has generated

empirical outcomes that are claimed for character education broadly

defined, although the SSPD “treatment” is guided by the theoretical

considerations of the social development model and not of virtue, morality

or character. Still, if character education is to be considered a treatment or

intervention in its own right then it must possess the characteristics of

successful interventions like the SSDP. It must be guided by explicit

theory. It must be comprehensive. It must involve multiple components, be

initiated early in development and sustained over time.

Developmental Studies Center The Developmental Studies Center

(DSC) has been particularly influential in documenting the crucial role that

children’s sense of community plays in promoting a wide-range of

outcomes commonly associated with character education, including

altruistic, cooperative and helping behavior, concern for others, prosocial

conflict resolution, and trust in and respect for teachers (Solomon, Watson,

Delucchi, Schaps & Battistich, 1988; Watson, Battistich & Solomon, 1998).

The research agenda of the DSC assumed that children have basic needs for

belonging, autonomy and competence and that their engagement with

school depends upon whether these needs are adequately met (Battistich,

Solomon, Watson & Schaps, 1997). It was assumed further that “when

children’s needs are met through membership in a school community, they

are likely to become affectively bonded with and committed to the school,

and therefore inclined to identify with and behave in accordance with its

expressed goals and values” (Schaps, Battistich & Solomon, 1997, p. 127

In 1982 the DSC initiated the Child Development Project (CDP) in

three program schools in suburban San Francisco to examine these core

assumptions. It was first implemented by teachers in kindergarten, with one

grade level added each year until 1989. Program evaluation followed the

cohort annually from kindergarten to sixth grade, with a two-year follow-up

assessment when the program cohort was in eighth grade. The evaluation

also included students and teachers from three demographically similar

comparison schools.

The programmatic focus of the CDP was designed to enhance

prosocial development by creating the condition for a caring school

community (Battistich et al., 1997). A sense of community was encouraged

through activities such as collaborating on common academic goals;

providing and receiving help from others; discussion and reflection upon

the experiences of self and others as it relates to prosocial values such as

fairness, social responsibility and justice; practicing social competencies;

and exercising autonomy by participating in decisions about classroom life

and taking responsibility for it. Moreover the CDP encouraged an approach

to classroom management that emphasized induction and developmental

discipline (Watson, 2003).

Hence the CDP provided numerous opportunities for children to

collaborate with others in the pursuit of common goals, to give and receive

help, to discuss and reflect upon prosocial values, to develop and practice

prosocial skills, to exercise autonomy through democratic classroom

structures. Research studies of CDP implementations indicate that in

comparison to control schools, students make positive gains in targeted

areas. Using classroom observations, individual interviews and student

questionnaires, program students exhibited more prosocial behavior in the

classroom (Solomon, et al. 1988), more democratic values and interpersonal

understanding (Solomon, Watson, Schaps, Battistich, & Solomon, 1990),

social problem-solving and conflict resolution skills (Battistich, Solomon,

Watson, Solomon, & Schaps, 1989). Students in CDP schools were more

likely to view their classrooms as communities which led them to adhere to

whatever norms and values were salient in the classroom. For example, in

classrooms that emphasized teacher control and student compliance, student

reasoning about prosocial dilemmas was oriented toward heteronomy and

reward-and-punishment. In contrast, in classrooms that emphasized student

participation, autonomy, democratic decision-making and interpersonal

concerns, student prosocial reasoning emphasized autonomy and other-

oriented moral reasoning (Solomon et al 1992; 1996). When program and

control students entered the same intermediate school, former program

students were rated higher by teachers at 8

-grade in conflict resolution

skills, self-esteem, assertion and popularity (Solomon et al., 2002).

The most important variable positively influenced by participation

in CDP programs is students’ sense of community which is promoted

through structures of the classroom and school (Solomon et al, 1997). For

example, teachers who hold class meetings, use cooperative learning

strategies, and discuss prosocial values are more likely to foster a sense of

community in students. Schools that provide cross-age buddies, homework

that links school and family, and school-wide projects also promote a sense

of community. Student sense of community is positively related to self-

reported concern for others, conflict resolution skills, altruistic behavior,

intrinsic prosocial motivation, trust in and respect for teachers, enjoyment

of helping others learn as well as observations of positive interpersonal

behavior and academic engagement (Battistich, Solomon, Watson, &

Schaps, 1996; Watson, Battistich, & Solomon, in press;).

Other Approaches Other approaches have focused similarly on

building a sense of community within classrooms and schools. For

example, the Don’t Laugh at Me curriculum attempts to sensitize children

to the painful effects of peer ridicule, ostracism and bullying and to help

them transform their classroom and school into “ridicule-free zones”

characterized by a climate of respect. A recent efficacy study using a

within-school quasi-experimental methodology showed that program

participants (4

-and 5

-graders) reported significant gains in psychological

sense of school membership, increases in quality of relational experiences

and in the desire to stop dissing and ridicule, and declines in bullying,

compared to youngsters in the control group (Mucherah, Lapsley, Miels &

Horton, in press).

Similarly, the Resolving Conflicts Creatively Program (RCCP)

attempts to build peaceable schools and classrooms through an emphasis on

conflict resolution and positive communication skills (Lantieri & Patti,

1996). The curriculum cultivates a selected set of skills that target conflict

resolution, cooperation, caring, appreciating diversity and countering bias,

responsible decision making, and appropriate expression of feelings. The

curriculum emphasizes the importance of adults coaching these skills as

students practice them across a variety of contexts. Students learn to give

“I” messages about their feelings, listen actively to others, mediate peer

conflict, and become interculturally competent. An evaluation of RCCP

performed by the National Center for Children in Poverty at Columbia

University (1999) showed that students from grades two through sixth who

were involved in an average of 25 lessons per year had a significantly

slower growth rate in self-reported hostile attributions, aggressive fantasies

and problem-solving strategies than students who received fewer lessons.

High-exposure students also showed greater improvement on academic

achievement scores in the two-year study.

Service Learning and Community Service

As we have seen classroom practices that include democratic

cooperation, problem-solving and decision-making encourage the

cultivation of skills and dispositions that are crucial for citizenship, and are

hence an important component of character education. The fifth of the

CEP’s principles for effective character education urges schools to provide

students with opportunities for moral action. In some sense democratic

classrooms include important moral lessons concerning fair play, civility,

civic friendship, cooperation. Children learn how to sustain moral

conversation in the context of joint decision-making. They develop a

“deliberative competence” (Guttman, 1987) in solving problems, resolving

conflict, establishing shared norms, balancing perspectives, and other skills

crucial for effective citizenship (Power et al., 1989). But the effort to

cultivate democratic dispositions and a sense of community within

classrooms is being joined by efforts to connect students to the larger

community through service learning and community service.

According to Tolman (2003, p. 6), “Service learning is rooted in

the notion that acts of ‘doing good’ for others—anything from cleaning up

neighborhoods, to teaching younger students, to spending time with elderly

community members—are the basis for significant learning experiences, for

community development and for social change.” Service learning is

distinguished from community service by the degree to which it links

service activities to clearly defined learning objectives and to an academic

curriculum (Pritchard, 2002). Both kinds of activities are now a ubiquitous

and pervasive feature of American education. A national survey conducted

by the National Center for Educational Statistics estimates that 64% of all

public schools, including 87% of public high schools, had students

participating in community service activities. About a third organized

service learning as part of their curriculum, which is typically justified by

the desire to strengthen relationships among students, the school and

community (Skinner & Chapman, 1999).

The desire to strengthen connections among home, school and

community is supported by ecological perspectives on human development.

There are adaptational advantages for children whose developmental

ecology is characterized by a richly connected mesosytem (Bronfenbrenner,

1979). Indeed, Warter and Grossman (2002) appeal to developmental

contextualism to provide a justification for the specific case of service

learning and its implementation. Yates and Youniss (1996a; Youniss &

Yates, 1997) argue similarly for a developmental perspective on service

learning that is strongly influenced by Erikson’s conceptualization of

identity. According to this view, service learning opportunities provide an

important context for helping adolescents sort out identity issues. For

Erikson identity work requires psychosocial reciprocity between the

characteristics, identifications and ideals of the young person and the

affirmation of the community that give these choices significance and

meaning. Identity is deeply characteristic of persons, to be sure, but like

dispositional coherence of any kind, it plays out in dynamic interaction with

community, culture and context. In this way is identity compatible with the

person-context interactionism that is characteristic of a developmental

systems approach.

Research has documented outcomes that are of interest to character

education. Service learning experiences, and participation in voluntary

organizations, increase one’s sense of social agency, responsibility for the

moral and political dimensions of society, and general moral-political

awareness (Youniss, McLellan & Yates, 1997). Indeed, youth who

participate in service experiences often report significant transformation in

personal values and orientations, an increased civic-mindedness and sense

of social responsibility, along with enhanced learning and better grades

(Pratt, Hunsberger, Pancer & Alisat, (2003; Scales, Blyth, Berkas &

Kielsmeier, 2000; Pancer & Pratt, 1999; Markus, Howard & King, 1993).

They report higher levels of trust and more positive views of others in their

communities (Hilles & Kahle, 1985). Similar findings were reported in

national evaluations of two Federally-funded national service learning

initiatives (Serve America and Learn and Serve). Melchior and Bailis

(2002) report, for example, positive effects of service learning on the civic

attitudes of adolescents. In addition there was a reduction in absenteeism

for program participants and a lower incidence of teenage pregnancy. High

school participants showed more school engagement, better math and

science achievement, and a lower incidence of course failure. Middle

school participants did more homework, got better grades in social studies,

and got into serious legal and disciplinary problems less often.

Moreover, service learning and community service may be critical

to political socialization and the process of forming a moral-civic identity

(Yates & Youniss, 1999; Flanagan, 2004). In one study Yates and Youniss

(1996b) examined the reflective narratives of Black parochial high school

juniors who worked at a soup kitchen for the homeless as part of a service

learning commitment. Over the course of a year the researchers noticed

that these youth came to invest their service with greater meaning and at a

higher level of transcendence. Initially participants tended to view the

homeless in terms of stereotypes; then, at a higher level of transcendence,

started to think about the consequences of homelessness for one’s own life,

or to compare one’s lot to theirs; and finally to reflect on homelessness

from the perspective of social justice or in terms of appropriate political

action. Over the course of a year, then, serving the homeless in a soup

kitchen motivated reflective judgments about weighty matters of justice,

responsibility and political engagement.

In addition to promoting moral-civic identity there is evidence that

participation in service activities and voluntary organizations also increases

civic participation in later adulthood (Youniss et al., 1997). Indeed,

Flanagan (2004) argued that membership in community-based

organizations, along with extracurricular activities at school, provides a

“sense of place” wherein youth “develop an affection for the polity” (p.

725). “Affection for the polity,” she writes, “and engagement in

community affairs are logical extensions of the sense of connection youth

develop from involvement in community based-organizations” (Flanagan,

2004, p. 725).

Service learning and community service, then, are significant

components of a school’s commitment to character education. It is justified

on the grounds that service significantly transforms moral-civic identity and

predicts civic engagement in later adulthood (Youniss &Yates, 1999), both

of which are foundational goals of character education. Of course, much

depends on how service learning is implemented. It is generally agreed that

successful service learning programs include opportunities for significant

student reflection as part of the experience. Matching students to projects

consistent with their interests, holding them accountable for outcomes but

giving them autonomy in selecting goals, are also important program

elements (Stukas, Clary & Snyder, 1999; Warter & Grossman, 2002).

There is evidence that service learning is particularly effective at high

school than in middle school, and that positive outcomes are most likely to

be evident in areas directly related to the service learning experience

(Melchior & Bailis, 2002).

Positive Youth Development

We noted earlier that a developmental systems approach (Lerner et

al., 2003) might well serve as a conceptual framework for character

education, as opposed to the current epistemological preoccupation with

core values. A developmental systems orientation is foundational to the

positive youth development perspective that has emerged as a counter to a

risks-and-deficits model of adolescent development. Although adolescents

certainly do face risks and obstacles there is an emerging consensus that

effort to ameliorate risk exposure, overcome deficits or prevent problems is

not sufficient to prepare young people adequately for the competencies that

will be required of them for successful adaptation to adulthood. The mantra

of positive youth development is problem-free is not fully prepared.

Children and adolescents must be equipped with the strengths that will

allow them to thrive, be resilient, take initiative and contribute productively

to society (Larson, 2000). This will require programmatic effort to help

children develop what Lerner (2001, 2002) calls the “5C’s of positive youth

development”---competence, confidence, character, caring and compassion,

and connection to the institutions of civil society.

The work of the Search Institute on the developmental assets is

one instantiation of this general approach (Scales & Leffert, 1999; Benson,

Scales, Leffert, & Roehlkepartain, 1999). Developmental assets are those

features of a developmental system that promote positive outcomes. Forty

assets have been identified on the basis of research, 20 of which are

external and contextual, 20 of which are internal and personal. The external

assets are grouped into four categories: support (assets 1-6), empowerment

(assets 7-10), boundaries and expectations (assets 11-16) and constructive

use of time (assets 17-20). These refer to the positive developmental

experiences that result from the network of relationships that youth have

with adults in family, school and community. The internal assets are

grouped similarly into four categories: commitment to learning (assets 21 to

25); positive values (assets 26-31); social competencies (assets 32-36); and

positive identity (assets 37-40). These refer to endogenous skills,

dispositions and interests that emerge over the course of education and

development.

In many ways the developmental assets approach already

constitutes a richly articulated conceptual framework for character

education that has little need for epistemological wrangling over

foundational core values. Virtually all of the internal assets are familiar

targets of character education, such as the positive values assets (caring,

equality and social justice, integrity, honesty, responsibility), social

competency assets (decision-making, interpersonal competence, cultural

competence, resistance skills, conflict resolution,) and identity assets

(personal power, self-esteem, sense of purpose, positive view). The external

assets are similarly crucial for any comprehensive approach to character

education insofar as it targets sources of mesosytem support for positive

development (e.g., family support, caring schools and neighborhoods,

parental involvement in schooling), ways to empower youth (perceptions of

communal support, service learning), the importance of setting appropriate

boundaries and expectations (including adult role models, positive peer

influence and high expectations) and constructive use of time (including

creative activities, youth programs, participation in a religious community,

and time spent at home away from peer influence).

Moreover, all of the CEP principles for effective character

education, save the first principle, are well in evidence among the 40

developmental assets. Principle 10 is of particular interest. It states that

“Effective character education engages families and community members

as partners in the character-building effort.” The Search Institute has

argued similarly that the success of positive youth development depends

upon community resolve to construct the building blocks (“assets”) of its

developmental infrastructure. However, communities vary in the assets that

are available to support positive youth development (Benson, Scales,

Leffert, & Roehlkepartain, 1999).

One study assessed the perceived availability of assets in a 1996-

1997 survey of over 99,000 youth in grades 6-12 from 213 cities and towns

across America (Benson, Leffert, Scales & Blyth, 1998). In this sample

62% of adolescents experience at most half of the developmental assets

associated with positive youth development. The mean number of assets for

the aggregate sample was 18,and the least and most affluent communities in

the sample differed by only three assets (in favor of the more affluent

community), indicating that students typically experience less than half of

the developmental assets and that even wealthy communities have work to

do on building their developmental infrastructure. Notably from the

perspective of positive youth development and character education, three of

the least experienced assets are a caring school, youth being treated as a

resource, and community valuing youth (Scales, 1999).

Benson et al. (1998) reported dramatic differences in the

percentage of youth with low (0-10) and high (31-40) assets who engage in

risk behavior: low asset youth are more likely than high asset youth to use

alcohol (53% vs. 3%); to smoke tobacco (45% vs. 1%); to use illicit drugs

at least 3 or more times in the last year (45% vs. 1%); to have had sexual

intercourse at least 3 or more times (42% vs. 1%); to report frequent

depression or to have made a suicide attempt (40% vs. 4%); to report at

least 3 incidents of antisocial behavior (52% vs. 1%); to engage in at least 3

acts of violence (61% vs. 6%); to report school problems (43% vs. 2%); to

drink and drive (42% vs. 4%) and gamble (34% vs. 6%). The conclusion is

inescapable: youth who report fewer developmental assets tend to engage in

more risk behavior. Youth who report more assets engage in fewer risk

behaviors (see also, Oman et al., 2004). Moreover, youth who are more

vulnerable, that is, who carrying more deficits and risk factors (e.g.,

physical abuse, experiencing violence, unsupervised time) profit the most

from assets (Scales, 1999).

Benson et al. (1988) also report a strong connection between asset

levels and thriving factors. High asset youth are more likely than low asset

youth to report getting mostly A’s in school (53% vs.7%); to place a high

value on cultural diversity (87% vs. 34%); to help friends or neighbors at

least 1 hour a week (96% vs. 69%); to be a leader in a group or

organization in the last year (87% vs. 48%); to resist doing dangerous

things (43% vs. 6%); to delay gratification by saving money rather than

spending it right away (72% vs. 27%); and to overcome adversity and not

give up when things get tough (86% vs. 57). Although not as dramatic in

every instance as in the comparison of risk behavior, these data indicate that

youth who report the fewest assets also report fewer thriving factors; and,

conversely, that youth who report more developmental assets also report

more thriving indicators.

These data underscore the importance of Principle 10 for effective

character education. It requires a fundamental mobilization of the

community. There must be an intentional commitment to become an asset-

building community, to construct the developmental infrastructure to

support the positive development of all youth. The Search Institute suggests

some core principles of asset building communities. There must be broad

collaboration among all of the socializing systems within a community.

The community initiative must be comprehensive; it should seek to promote

all 40 assets and not just a sub-set. It should promote the civic engagement

not just of traditional leaders but all of the residents within the boundaries

of a community. It should involve youth as partners with adults.

Many adolescents participate in largely community-based youth

programs that are guided by a positive youth development orientation.

Roth and Brooks-Gunn (2003) surveyed 71 youth serving organizations in

order to determine the characteristics of programs designed to promote

healthy adolescent development. Consistent with the youth development

philosophy, 77% of the programs said that their primary goal was to build

competencies; 54% also indicated prevention goals. However, prevention

goals were strongly in evidence when asked specifically about whether the

program was designed as prevention against high risk behaviors, such as

substance abuse (76%), school dropout (63%), violence (73%) and gang

activity (59%). Interestingly, not one of the youth development programs

apparently viewed their competency-building and prevention work in terms

of moral or character development.

Another perspective is what adolescents themselves report learning

in organized youth activities. In one study (Hanson, Larson & Dworkin,

2003) 450 adolescents in a medium size ethnically diverse school

responded to the Youth Experiences Survey (YES), which asks respondents

to report their experiences in several domains (identity, initiative, basic

emotional, cognitive and physical skills, teamwork and social skills,

interpersonal relatedness, connections with adults, and negative

experiences). Learning in these contexts were compared against “hanging

out with friends” and with academic classes. The results showed that

organized youth activities were a better context for learning initiative skills

(e.g., goal setting, problem-solving, effort, time management) exploring

identity and reflection, and learning to manage anger, anxiety and stress,

than hanging out with friends or taking required classes. Moreover,

adolescents reported learning about teamwork, social and leadership skills

in organized youth activities. Interesting learning differences emerged

among program activities. For example, the development of identity,

prosocial norms and ties to the community were said to be learned in faith-

based, community service and vocational activities, but participation in

sports was associated with mostly gains in personal development (e.g., self-

knowledge, physical skills, and emotional regulation) but not teamwork,

social skills, prosocial norms or positive peer interactions. Perhaps the

competitive nature of sports works against the development of skills

required for interpersonal competence (see Shields & Bredemeier, 2005).

Two recent reviews have attempted to gauge the effectiveness of

youth development programs. Roth, Brooks-Gunn, Murray and Foster

(1998) examined 15 program evaluations that met criteria for

methodological rigor. Six programs largely met the goals of the positive

youth development framework by focusing on competency and asset

building. Six programs were designed as preventions against specific

problem behaviors, albeit by strengthening competencies and assets. Three

programs were preventions designed to teach skills for avoiding risk

behaviors (e.g., assertiveness training, peer resistance, planning for the

future) and were the least representative of the ideal youth development

program. In general all 15 programs showed evidence of effectiveness,

although a number of general themes emerged. For example, programs that

are more comprehensive and sustained tend to result in better outcomes.

Program effectiveness was also linked to the continuity of caring adult-

youth relationships, and the extent and quality of youth engagement with

program activities.

Catalano, Berglund et al. (2004) identified 25 programs that

addressed one or more positive youth development constructs (e.g.,

bonding, resilience, socio-emotional, cognitive, behavioral or moral

competence, self-efficacy, self-determination, spirituality, identity, belief in

the future, recognition for positive behavior, prosocial norms and prosocial

involvement) in multiple socialization domains (or many constructs in a

single domain), using children from the general or at-risk population (but

not in treatment). These studies also met strong methodological criteria.

The analysis of program characteristics showed that effective programs

addressed a minimum of five positive youth development constructs.

Competence, self-efficacy and prosocial norms were addressed in all 25

programs; opportunities for prosocial involvement, recognition for positive

behavior, and bonding were noted in over 75% of programs; and positive

identity, self-determination, belief in the future, resiliency and spirituality

were noted in half of the programs. Effective programs also measured both

positive and problem outcomes; had a structured curriculum and frequent

youth contact for at least nine months; and took steps to insure fidelity of

implementation.

Social-Emotional Learning

We noted earlier that a developmental systems orientation that

focused on positive youth development would constitute a powerful

conceptual framework for character education. A similar claim can be

made for social-emotional learning (SEL). The Collaborative to Advance

Social and Emotional Learning (CASEL) has developed a unifying

framework to promote the development of important competencies that

both enhance strengths and prevents problem behavior (Graczyk, Matjasko,

Weissberg, Greenberg, Elias & Zins, 2000; Payton, Wardlaw, Graczyk,

Bloodworth, Tompsett & Weissberg, 2000; Weissberg & Greenberg, 1998).

Its focus on competence and prevention place it well within the positive

youth development framework (Catalano, Hawkins, Berglund, Pollard &

Arthur, 2002), although it’s longstanding concern with school-based

implementation makes it particularly attractive for character education

(CASEL, 2003; Elias, Zins, Graczyk & Weissberg, 2003; Elias, Zins,

Weissberg, Greenberg, Haynes, Kessler, Scwab-Stone & Shriver, 1997).

Indeed, CASEL insists that effective programming for SEL competencies

have an instructional component with well-designed and organized lesson

plans that are sequenced in a coherent curriculum that is programmatic over

consecutive grades (Payton et al., 2000), as well as broad parent and

community involvement in planning, implementation and evaluation

(Weissberg & O’Brien, 2004).

The key SEL competencies identified by CASEL include self-

other awareness (awareness and management of feeling, realistic self-

assessment of abilities, perspective taking), self-management (self-

regulation of emotions, setting goals, persevering in the face of obstacles),

responsible decision-making (identifying problems, discerning social

norms, accurate and critical appraisal of information, evaluation solutions,

taking responsibility for decisions) and relationship skills (cooperation,

expressive communication, negotiation, refusal, help seeking and conflict

resolution skills). All of these competencies are familiar targets of

character education.

A substantial research base links these competencies to effective

and adaptive functioning and to prevention of risk behavior. For example,

evidence cited earlier for the Child Development Project and the Seattle

Social Development Project are claimed as support for school-based social-

emotional learning objectives (Greenberg, Weissberg, et al.,2003;

Weissberg & O’Brien, 2004). Similarly a substantial literature shows that

programs that address SEL competencies are effective in preventing

problem behaviors (Durlak & Wells, 1997; Wilson, Gottfredson & Najaka,

2001), drug use (Tobler, Roona, Ochshorn, Marshall, Streke & Stackpole,

2000) and violence (Greenberg, Kusche, Cook & Auamma, 1995;

Greenberg & Kusche, 1998). SEL is also a strong predictor of academic

outcomes (Elias et al., 2003). One study showed, for example, that the best

predictor of eighth-grade academic achievement was not third-grade

academic achievement but rather indices of social competence (Caprara,

Barbanelli, Pastorelli, Bandura & Zimbardo, 2000).

One crucial issue that CASEL has taken on concerns program

implementation and sustainability. As Elias et al. (2003, p. 308) put it,

“Even widely acclaimed evidence-based approaches to classroom

organization and instruction that integrate both academics and SEL are

dependent for their success on the delivery systems into which they are

embedded.” We will review various implementation issues in a later

section.

Character Education in Higher Education and the Professions

Higher Education. Character education does not end with high

school. Indeed, a developmental systems perspective on moral character

would lead us to expect opportunities for dynamic change across the

lifecourse. Although there has been comparatively less programmatic

emphasis or research on character development in post-secondary

institutions, there are notable recent efforts to explore the contributions of

the collegiate experience to the moral formation of undergraduates (e.g.,

Colby, Ehrlich, Beaumont & Stephens, 2003; Mentkowski & Associates,

2000). One survey, for example, identified an honor roll of 134 colleges

and universities to serve as exemplars of character-building institutions

(Schwartz & Templeton, 1997; Sweeney, 1997)). These institutions

emphasized students’ moral reasoning skills, community-building

experiences, and spiritual growth, while advocating for a drug-free

environment. They also conducted critical assessments of their character

building assets and programs.

The emphasis on moral reasoning skills is premised on the

expectation that the critical engagement and inquiry that is ideally

characteristic of post-secondary education will stimulate moral deliberation

to higher stages of complexity. Indeed, one of the best documented

changes that result from the collegiate experience is a significant increase in

the quality and complexity of moral reasoning (Pascarella & Terenzini,

1991). College environments that encourage questioning, inquiry, and

openness to evidence and argument foster the largest gains in moral

reasoning (e.g., Rest & Narvaez, 1991; Rogers, 2002), although this

relationship is attenuated in collegiate environments that are narrowly

careerist and where critical inquiry is not valued (McNeel, 1994).

There are indeed differences among colleges and universities in

the degree to which they make moral and civic education a central

institutional commitment. Colby et al. (2003) noted that moral and civic

development is not a high priority for most American universities and

colleges. “We have been struck again and again,” they write, “by the very

many lost opportunities for moral and civic growth in curricular and

extracurricular programs on most campuses” (p. 277). In their study of 12

universities that do make moral and civic growth an institutional

commitment Colby et al. (2003) identify (1) the important dimensions of

moral and civic maturity that should be addressed, (2) the sites where these

dimensions can be exploited, and (3) the thematic perspectives that a fully

rounded commitment to moral and civic education should embrace.

With respect to the dimensions of moral and civic maturity Colby

et al. (2003) nominated three categories, understanding (e.g., key ethical

and civic concepts, knowledge of democratic principles, expertise in one’s

field), motivation (e.g., hope and compassion, desire to be an engaged

citizen, sense of political efficacy, sense of civic responsibility as a part of

self-understanding) and skills (e.g., communication skills, ability to

collaborate, forge consensus, compromise). These dimensions are

exploited in the curriculum, in extracurricular activities and in the general

campus culture. The curriculum, for example, presents numerous

opportunities to cultivate moral and civic maturity. Moral and civic

understanding, motivation and skills can mutually enhance academic

learning (e.g., Markus et al., 1993). A wide range of pedagogical strategies,

including service learning, project-based learning, field placements, site-

base practicum experiences, collaborative work, among others, encourages

student engagement with the broader community and has significance for

moral learning (Brandenberger, 2005). Moral and civic issues can be

framed in core courses and in the coursework of one’s major, and be the

target of faculty development.

Finally, a comprehensive and intentional commitment to moral and

civic growth by universities and colleges takes on three themes: community

connections, moral and civic virtue, and social justice (“systemic social

responsibility”). According to Colby et al. (2003, p. 284), “moral and civic

education is incomplete if it does not somehow take account of all these

themes.” Feeling a connection to a community cultivates a sense of

allegiance and duty, where the benefits and burdens of cooperation, and of

citizenship, can be experienced and practiced. Postsecondary institutions

are also places where the virtues proper to democratic citizenship can be

cultivated. Although these dispositions have been variously conceived,

there is a strong consensus that a deliberative character (Guttman, 1987) is

minimally required, a character that is able to carry on the public

conversation in a way that is tolerant, respectful, generous. Nash (1997)

has noted, too, that democratic dispositions are essentially “conversational

virtues” that take on moral significance because they are necessary for

living well in a democracy. The democratic citizen must engage in public

discourse with toleration, fairness and respect for different perspectives and

for the canons of civility. Civic engagement in a democratic society

requires a disposition to listen with generosity, to compromise, to argue on

the basis of factual evidence, to abide by outcomes, to affirm the validity of

a democratic process even if it results in outcomes that are contrary to one’s

own preferences (Knight Higher Education Collaborative, 2000).

Moreover, the democratic citizen must have hope and confidence in the

value of deliberation, and be able to engage in adversarial discussion in a

way that does not compromise civic friendship, mutual respect and sense of

common purpose. Hence an important moral responsibility of higher

education is to cultivate “dialogic competence in public moral language”

(Strike, 1996, p. 889), and to provide occasions, in the context of scholarly

engagement and intellectual inquiry, where these virtues are on frequent

display and avidly practiced.

The third theme encourages curricular and extracurricular

activities that allow undergraduates to take on “systemic social

responsibility”---to be active in the democratic process, to take a stand, to

take an interest in social policy, to view the life of the community through

the lens of social justice and one’s own responsibility as an engaged citizen.

Postsecondary institutions will vary in how they address these three themes,

but what is crucial is that colleges and universities make moral and civic

maturity an explicit, intentional and comprehensive part of their educational

mission.

Professional Education “Professional practice,” according to

Bebeau (2002, p. 271),” is predominantly a moral enterprise.” Indeed,

ethical development is a concern for schools across the professional

landscape, including, business, law, medicine, dentistry, nursing, and

education. An increasing number of professional schools have taken up

ethics education with increasing frequency.

Rest & Narvaez (1994) point out specific methods that promote

moral reasoning development in professional educational programs. First,

following Dewey’s advocacy of immediate experience and active problem

solving, one of the most effective methods is deliberative psychological

education, reading academic theory, providing direct experience, and

reflection that integrates theory with the direct experience (Sprinthall,

1994). The individual’s conceptual frameworks developed from these

integrated experiences are not only more sophisticated but resilient. Studies

have documented that the most popular and successful methods of

instruction for moral reasoning development involves student discussion

about dilemmas and cases in the field (e.g., Hartwell, 1995). Moral

dilemma discussion is particularly effective when students are coached to

develop the skills necessary for expert moral problem solving such as role

taking and logical analysis for determining valid and invalid arguments

(Penn, 1990; McNeel, 1994). However, even less experiential courses such

as film-based courses and writing-intensive courses can have positive

effects (e.g., Self, et al., 1993; Bebeau, 1994).

The most integrative programs have moved beyond a sole focus on

moral reasoning to include other aspects of moral functioning, such as those

described by the Four Component Model (Rest, 1983). For example,

programs at the University of Minnesota in nursing and in dentistry assist

students in developing ethical sensitivity, ethical motivation and ethical

implementation as well as ethical judgment. Recently Bebeau (2002) has

addressed the importance of developing a professional moral identity. She

suggests that “the conceptual frameworks of professional identity are not

part of an initial self-understanding, and must be revisited frequently during

professional education” (Bebeau, 2002, p. 286). The study of professional

exemplars is a useful method for providing concrete models for

professional ethical identity formation. Such studies offer glimpses to

novices of what a virtuous professional looks like, how she conducts herself

in typical and non-typical situations, and provide role models for initiates.

III. A Case Study: Integrative Ethical Education

Integrative Ethical Education (IEE) is a conceptual framework that

attempts to incorporate insights of developmental theory and psychological

science into character education (Narvaez, 2005a; Narvaez, Endicott &

Bock, 2003). It is integrative in several senses. It attempts to understand

character and its development in terms of cognitive science literatures on

expertise and the novice-to-expert mechanisms of best practice instruction.

It attempts to keep faith with classical sources by linking Greek notions of

eudaimonia (human flourishing),

arête (excellence), phronesis (practical

wisdom) and techne (expertise) with developmental and cognitive science.

It is compatible with positive youth development in its claim that the goal

of integrative ethical education is the development of important

competencies that contribute to productive adaptation to the demands of

adulthood, but that these competencies are understood as clusters of skills

that one may learn or practice to varying degrees of expertise. It assumes

that the best context for expertise development is a caring relationship with

teacher-mentors wherein skills are learned by means of coached practice

and “guided autonomy.” In delineating the elemental skills of good

character, IEE addresses character education by integrating the findings

from developmental psychology, prevention science, and positive

psychology. In proposing the best approach to instruction, IEE addresses

character education by integrating contemporary findings from research in

learning and cognition. In the next section we outline some of the key

features of IEE. IEE is predicated on the importance of caring classroom

environments, but we will focus on just three components of the model:

character as expertise development, the cultivation of character as the

cultivation of expertise, and the importance of self-regulation for

developing and maintaining virtuous character.

Character as Expertise Development.

Human learning is increasingly conceptualized as a matter of

novices developing greater expertise in domains of study (Ericsson &

Smith, 1991; Sternberg, 1998a). A domain expert differs from a novice by

having a large, rich, organized network of concepts or schemas that include

declarative, procedural and conditional knowledge. Unlike novices, experts

know what knowledge to access, which procedures to apply, how to apply

them and when. Expertise refers not to mere technical competence but to

the multi-track capacities and sensibilities of an exemplar, the refined, deep

understanding built from lived experience that is evident in practice and

action (Spiecker, 1999; Hursthouse, 2003).

In The Republic Plato describes virtue as a type of techne, or

“know-how” that is characteristic of experts (e.g., painters, writers,

politicians) in specific domains. Similarly, the virtuous person has ethical

know-how, that is, ethical skills honed to a high degree of expertise. Ethical

expertise refers not only to behaviors, sensibilities, and orientations but also

to feelings, motives and drives. Ethical expertise is not just what a person

does but that which the person

likes to do (Urmson, 1988). It is a complex

of characteristics skills and competencies that enable ethical behavior and

sustain one in pursuing the life that is good for one to live.

Rest (1983; Narvaez & Rest, 1995) identified four

psychologically distinct processes that must occur to enable ethical

behavior: ethical sensitivity, ethical judgment, ethical motivation/focus, and

ethical action. The four-process model provides a holistic understanding of

the ethical exemplar, one who is able to demonstrate keen perception and

perspective taking, skilled reasoning, ethical focus, and skills for

completing moral action (Bebeau, Rest & Narvaez, 1999; Narvaez, 2005a;

Narvaez, Endicott, Bock, & Lies, 2004). Each process is represented by a

set of skills as listed in Table 1 (Narvaez, Endicott, & Bock, 2003; Narvaez,

Bock, Endicott, & Lies, 2005). For example, experts in the skills of Ethical

Sensitivity are able to more quickly and accurately "read" the moral

implications of a situation and determine a suitable response. They are

better at generating usable solutions due to a greater understanding of the

consequences of possible actions. Experts in Ethical Judgment are more

skilled in solving complex problems, seeing the syntactic structure of a

problem quickly and bringing with them many schemas for reasoning about

possible courses of action. Their information processing abilities are both

complex and efficient. Experts in the skills of Ethical Focus are able to

sustain moral priorities in light of the commitments of a moral self-identity.

Experts in the skills of Ethical Action engage the self-regulation that is

necessary to get the ethical job done.

Pedagogy for Cultivating Character Expertise.

The IEE model emphasizes two critical features of successful

pedagogy. First, it must be constructivist. Second, it must attend

simultaneously to cultivating expertise on two fronts: conscious explicit

understandings, and intuitive, implicit understanding. IEE adopts the

cognitive-mediational view that learning depends upon the cognitive

activity of students; that learning occurs when incoming information is

actively transformed in light of prior knowledge; and that teachers facilitate

learning by engaging students in active cognitive processing about content

and facilitating self-monitoring understanding (Anderson, 1989). It

assumes that learners are active constructors of meaning, competencies and

skills, and that individuals build conceptual frameworks--declarative,

procedural, and conditional-- in the process of learning to get along with

others. And when these skills are practiced extensively in multiple contexts

they take on the qualities of tacit, implicit knowledge and the automaticity

characteristic of the “unconscious” mind (Hassin, Uleman & Bargh, 2005;

Hogarth, 2001).

A model of instruction that captures these pedagogical goals is

coached apprenticeship. A coached apprenticeship model involves using

both direct and indirect instruction, mimesis and transformation, a focus on

both content and process, tuning both the deliberate conscious mind and the

inutitive mind. In an apprenticeship, the guide provides examples and

models of skilled behavior and provides theoretical explanation for why

things are done one way and not another. At the same time, the apprentice

is immersed in well-structured environments that cultivate appropriate

intuitions (Hogarth, 2001).

Teaching for ethical expertise requires coached apprenticeship and

extensive practice in multiple contexts. IEE offers instructional guidelines

for helping children move along a continuum from novice to expert in each

ethical content domain that is studied. In order to do this, children must

experience an expert-in-training pedagogy for each skill that they learn.

Teachers can set up instruction to help students develop appropriate

knowledge by designing lessons according to the following four levels

(based on Marshall, 1999). At Level 1 (“Immersion in examples and

opportunities”) teachers draw student attention to the “big picture” in a

subject area and help the students learn to recognize basic patterns. At

Level 2 (“Attention to facts and skills”) teachers focus student attention on

the details and prototypical examples in the domain in order to build more

elaborate concepts. At Level 3 (“Practice procedures”) the teacher provides

opportunities for the student to try out many skills and ideas in a domain to

build a procedural understanding of how skills are related and best

deployed to solve domain-relevant problems. Finally at Level 4 (“Integrate

knowledge and procedures”) students gradually integrate and apply

systematically knowledge across many contexts and situations.

Self Regulation for Sustainability

The role of self-regulation in character development is of

longstanding interest. Aristotle emphasized that virtues are developed with

extended practice, effort, and guidance from parents, teachers and mentors

until the child is able to self-maintain virtue (Urmson, 1988). Recent

research demonstrates that the most successful learners are those that self-

monitor their success and alter strategies when necessary. Thus, self

regulation requires sophisticated metacognition. According to a social-

cognitive view, self-regulation is a cyclical, ever-changing interaction

among personal, behavioral and environmental factors, involving three

phases: forethought, performance or volitional control, and self-reflection

(Zimmerman, 2000).

IEE infuses self-regulation on two levels, the teacher level and the

student level. First, in order for school reforms to be sustainable, educators

must take on a self-regulatory orientation for the implementation of

character education. This means taking a systematic intentional approach to

building a caring ethical school community, facilitating the development of

instructional and ethical skills in all members of the school community,

including teachers, administrators, and other staff, as members of a

comprehensive learning community.

In order for students to develop and maintain ethical skills, they

must increase their metacognitive understanding, self-monitoring skills, and

self-regulation for ethical and academic development. Individuals can be

coached to domain-specific self-efficacy and self-regulation (Zimmerman,

Bonner, & Kovach, 2002). In the IEE model, teachers continuously draw

student attention to the moral issues immanent in classroom life and

learning (Narvaez, 2005b). Students are provided guidance and tools to

answer one of the central questions of their lives: “Who should I be?” As

McKinnon (1999) points out, individuals must ‘do the work necessary for

constructing a character’ (p. 42). The IEE model helps students develop the

skills for ethical behavior but require their active participation in making

the decisions that are crucial and relevant for the construction of their own

characters. To develop ethical know-how, one must be self-directive; one

must take seriously the charge of continually building one’s character.

Ethical know-how must be trained holistically, as a type of expertise, at first

coached, then increasingly self-directed.

An Implementation of IEE: The Community Voices and Character

Education Project

The Community Voices and Character Education Project (CVCE)

was an early prototype of the Integrative Ethical Education conceptual

framework. CVCE was a federally-funded project implemented in the state

of Minnesota, USA, from 1998-2002

. It was a collaborative effort among

the Minnesota Department of Education (called at the time the Department

of Children, Families, and Learning), the University of Minnesota, and

educators across the state. The focus of the CVCE project was to develop

and provide a research-based, framework for character education at the

middle school level with teacher-friendly guidelines for how to incorporate

ethical development into standards-driven instruction. Classroom activity

guidebooks were created along with other supportive materials, including

teacher-designed lesson plans.

Reflecting both an empowerment model and the historical and

legislative emphasis in Minnesota on local control of curricular decisions,

the CVCE project used a “common morality” (Beauchamp & Childress,

1994) approach of presenting research-based principles (top down) to a

local team who adapted them for the local context (bottom up), formulating

a unique intervention. The top-down recommendations included fostering a

caring climate conducive to character growth, using a novice-to-expert

approach to ethical skill instruction, developing self-regulatory skills in

students as they practice ethical skills, and including parents and

community members in cultivating character in students. School teams and

their leaders were guided in designing a local vision for character education

with specific action steps for how to incorporate ethical skill instruction

with links to the community. As Elias et al. (2003) pointed out, all program

implementations are limited because they must be adapted to local

circumstances. “Too often it is assumed,” they write, “that evidence-based

programs can be ‘plugged-in’ and then work effectively” (p. 310). Each

team developed a unique approach to cultivating character, using school-

wide projects, advisory/homeroom lessons, and/or infusion into academic

instruction into some or all subjects. Some teams incorporated existing

character interventions (e.g., Lions Quest) into their CVCE intervention.

Indeed, the IEE framework provides a comprehensive approach within

which existing character education programs can be integrated, extended

and strengthened.

Evaluation of CVCE In the final year evaluation only five of

eight experimental schools and one control school provided completed

pretest-posttest data. The evaluation had several components that

correspond to the emphasis of the project (for a more detailed discussion,

see Anderson, et al., 2003; Narvaez et al., 2005).

The primary focus of the project was to design a conceptual

framework for character education at the middle school level along with

activity books to guide teams of teachers in incorporating character skill

development into regular instruction. Both participating and non-

participating teachers from partner schools thought the framework was

valuable. The majority of respondents reported “easy” or “so-so” for the

ease of use of the activity books.

We also evaluated the quality of the implementation.

Implementation varied across sites in terms of depth and breadth.

Differences in local implementation design, leadership, stability of the

leadership and of the core team, as well as demands on teachers, led to

differences in depth and quality of implementation and how many students

were influenced. In only two of the five schools was there full

implementation of the model. In these schools, all teachers were involved in

teaching ethical skills during advisory/homeroom, in their academic

instruction and in school-wide projects. In these two schools, significant

effects were found in student pre-post tests. The other schools addressed a

wide number of skills in a limited manner by only a subset of teachers.

Other approaches have required the full participation of the school for

implementation (e.g., the Child Development Project) so that the student

experience is consistent across teachers. As a pilot program emphasizing

local control, CVCE did not.

The substantive evaluation addressed effects on students and

school climate. Four student measures of climate were used: staff tolerance,

student tolerance, student self-report of climate perceptions and attachment

to school, and student perception of peer ethical behavior. One or more

general measures of each of the four ethical processes were also used. For

Ethical Sensitivity, we used the Child Development Project’s Concern for

Others Scale. For Ethical Judgment we used a global moral judgment scale.

For Ethical Focus we used measures of citizenship, community bonding

and ethical identity. For Ethical Action we used a measure of moral

assertiveness and prosocial responsibility.

Student survey responses were compared with a matched control

group (n=125) from another school not involved in the project. Across

schools the findings with the ethical development scales were mixed. Most

scales indicated non-significant improvements in comparison with the

control group with one exception. Program students reported more

sensitivity to intolerance than did control students. The two schools that

implemented fully emphasized Ethical Sensitivity. In comparison to the

control group, program students in these schools reported significant gains

on ethical sensitivity. Moreover, in these two schools positive gain scores

were obtained for most of the other ethical skill measures but these were

not significantly different from the control group.

There were three challenges to finding significant differences in

pre-post student assessments. First, leadership changes at three schools

undermined the test administration in one way or another so that only five

sets of usable pre-post data were extant. Second, given the amount of time

required for successful interventions to demonstrate an effect, it was

deemed a challenge to find significant pre-post differences within one

year’s time. Third, one of the strengths of the program – local control and

local distinctiveness—meant that cross-site comparisons were not possible,

insofar as each sites’ implementation was not strictly comparable with other

sites. Hence for a particular implementation the numbers tested were small.

These features of CVCE are relevant also to the question of

replicability. Replicability typically refers to successful implementation in

more than one school. This definition assumes that what is being

implemented is identical across sites. This is contrary to the approach taken

in the CVCE project. Instead, the emphasis was on local control and local

adaptation of the conceptual framework. Replicability did not refer to

identical implementation but instead to the replicability of the process and

the general features of the model. Based on the lesson plans teachers

created in virtually every subject area, CVCE evaluators determined that

teachers were able to integrate character skills development into standards-

driven academic instruction. Based on the teacher-created lesson plans and

the local team and local leader reports, educators were generally able to

implement the model with minimal supervision.

The key features of the model were largely followed by most

schools. Most teams viewed character as a set of ethical skills derived from

four processes. According to the lesson plans teachers devised, most sites

did use a novice-to-expert approach to teach character skills. Most sites at

least attempted to involve the community in planning and implementation

in one way or another, although outcomes were mixed. It is not clear how

empowered the students felt as the university human subjects committee did

not give permission to interview student participants.

Lessons Learned. The IEE model provides a conceptual

framework for character cultivation that guides educators in how to think

about what character entails and how to nurture it in students. The

implementation of IEE in the CVCE project was locally controlled,

providing maximum flexibility and allowing for adaptations that met local

needs and issues (and which are unforeseeable by a curriculum writer).

However, the fact that CVCE did not provide a script for teachers made it

necessary for teachers to put in time to modify their lessons to incorporate

ethical skill development. With minimal training, teacher teams were able

to construct multiple units and lessons. Lessons that a teacher modified

herself were lessons that she would use again and again. This is an

advantage. Nevertheless, sometimes modifying lessons can be a daunting

first step in character education, especially for inexperienced teachers.

Consequently, a year-long scripted curriculum for homeroom/advisory

purposes is currently under development that will familiarize the teacher

with the conceptual framework and scaffold understanding of how to apply

the model to classroom activities. Maximum flexibility and local control

also made it difficult to measure replicable program effects. A scripted

approach will make possible a cleaner estimation of replicable program

effects.

IV. Issues of Implementation

Our examination of the IEE case study revealed a number of

interesting challenges to successful implementation of a character education

intervention. In this section we summarize some of the enduring

implementation issues that have emerged in the various character education

literatures and from our own experience.

One enduring problem concerns the fidelity of implementation

(Laud & Berkowitz, 1999). In the CVCE project the quality of

implementation was related to disparate outcomes. Schools with a broader

(across more classrooms and by more teachers) and deeper (more frequent

and focused) implementation were more successful, a finding corroborated

by other character development programs (see Solomon et al., 2002). This

underscores a point made by Elias et al. (2003) that interventions are rarely

delivered as planned, even in trials marked by stringent methodological

rigor. And even if the program is implemented and delivered as planned,

there are few assurances that it would be received by students as intended.

As Elias et al (2003, p. 309-310) put it, “if children are inattentive, a

classroom is chaotic, or the material is not at the right developmental level,

“delivery’ by instructors may not strongly predict children’s skill

acquisition and use.” Thus in addition to implementation fidelity, one must

also attend to factors that limit students’ exposure to the intervention

(Berkowitz & Bier, 2004).

In their analysis of implementation and sustainability of social-

emotional interventions Elias et al. (2003) note a number of additional

obstacles that are highly relevant to character education. For example, one

obstacle to implementation fidelity is turnover in teachers and program

staff. Other issues concern the characteristics of adults who are charged

with implementing the intended innovations. Not all roles are equally

satisfying, level of commitment varies, tacit knowledge is not

communicated to new staff. As the authors put it, “it is not the same thing

to create, to deliver, to administer and to continue” an innovative program

(p. 314). Working out role differences and supporting new staff is crucial

to sustainable programming. Indeed, “success seems to accompany a spirit

of continuous improvement and reinvention without excessive divergence

from what exists” (Elias et al, 2003 p. 314). In addition, although virtually

every approach to character education calls for extensive and active

collaboration with family and community, the difficulties in forming,

effectively utilizing and sustaining these partnerships are often

underestimated.

Elias et al (2003) note a number of additional factors associated

with successful and sustainable program implementation. Such programs

(1) have a program coordinator, preferably with appropriate preparation, or

a committee, to oversee implementation; (2) involve committed individuals

who have a sense of ownership of the program; (3) have continuous formal

and informal training; (4) have varied and engaging instructional materials

that map onto goals of the school or district; (5) have buy-in of key

educational leaders and the consistent support of critical constituencies.

Elias et al. (2003) also suggest that a pragmatic, theoretically-informed

perspective is essential. “Local ecologies,” they write, “will not support an

infinite variety of possibilities. What has a chance to work is what fits. (p.

314).” What is required, in other words, is a goodness-of-fit between

program planning, its objectives and goals, and its flexible implementation

“in the spirit of continuous improvement.”

The reference to the local ecology of schools and to obstacles and

opportunities that is endemic to complex organizations draws attention to

the culture of schools as an arena for character education. The cultivation of

a professional learning community within a school is critical to sustainable

school reform efforts (Fullan, 1999, 2000). For example, schools that were

successful in raising student achievement and improving school climate had

staffs that developed a professional learning community, addressed student

work through assessment and changed their practice to improve results

(Newmann & Wehlage, 1995; Pankake & Moller, 2003). Professional

learning communities (PLC) have particular characteristics. They take the

time to develop a shared vision and mutually-held values that focus on

student learning and foster norms for improving practice. Leadership is

democratic, shared among teachers and administrators. The entire staff

seeks and shares knowledge, skills and strategies to improve practice. The

school structure supports an environment that is collaborative, trusting,

positive and caring. Peers open their classrooms to the feedback and

suggestions of others in order to improve student achievement and promote

individual and community growth. We believe that these same practices are

critical not only to sustain a commitment to academic achievement but to

moral learning as well, and it is welcome to see a commitment to learning

communities in a prominent report on high school character education

(Lickona & Davidson, 2004).

We suggested that if character education is to be considered an

instance of primary prevention then it should possess the features of any

well-designed intervention. It should be comprehensive, have multiple

components, address multiple assets at different levels of the ecological

setting, and be implemented in the early grades and sustained over time. It

is now a truism to remark that one-trial or short-term intervention programs

have little lasting impact. Moreover, insofar as dispositional coherence is

located at the interaction of persons and context, there is little hope for

enduring character education that does not attend also to the climate and

culture of classrooms and schools. Effective character education requires a

pervasive commitment to change the culture of schools as much as

changing the behavior of children.

Payton et al. (2000) note a number of specific features of quality

social emotional learning programs. These programs (1) articulate a

conceptual framework that guides the selection of program and learning

objectives; (2) provide professional development instruction to teachers to

enable their effective implementation across the regular academic

curriculum, (3) including well-organized and user-friendly lesson plans

with clear objectives and learning activities and assessment tools.

Moreover they note that successful programs take steps to improve school-

wide cooperation, and school-family and school-community partnerships.

There is a significant literature on the school characteristics that

promote academic achievement. Schools with high achievement are orderly

and safe; they are respectful and provide students with moral and personal

support while expecting them to achieve (Sebring & Bryk, 1996).

Achieving schools have a strong sense of community and high academic

press (strong norms and high expectations for achievement; Bryk, Lee, &

Holland, 1993). Interestingly, the characteristics that foster achievement

overlap with characteristics that nurture prosocial development. Schools

that foster prosocial development have caring climates that nurture a feeling

of belonging and competence in students (Watson, Battistich & Solomon, in

press). There are not two sets of instructional best practice, one for

academic achievement and one for character. Both objectives work out of

the same playbook. In this sense effective character education is, indeed,

good education.

This suggests, of course, that effective character education

ultimately comes down to what teachers do in their classrooms. It is not

clear the extent to which moral and character education is taught explicitly

in teacher preparation programs. It is well-known that teachers who have

more expertise in both content and pedagogical content knowledge conduct

their classes more effectively than do novice teachers (Berliner, 1994;

Sternberg & Horvath, 1995; Shulman, 1987). However, if explicit

instructional focus on moral content knowledge and pedagogy is limited or

absent during preservice teacher training, then one cannot be optimistic that

efforts to expand character education will be met with the requisite levels of

teacher expertise.

On the other hand Carr (1991) argued that if teachers fail in their

implementation of moral education it is not because they lack knowledge of

curriculum theory or lack pedagogical skills. Indeed, he argues that we do

our student teachers in education programs “no great favours by proceeding

as though education and learning to teach are matters only of the mastery of

certain pedagogical skills, knacks or strategies apt for the successful

transmission of value-neutral knowledge or information” (p. 11). Rather,

teachers fail because the value questions immanent to teaching are not

systematically addressed in their professional formation. Instead, there is

instead “something approaching a conspiracy of silence among teacher

educators on this topic” (p. 10). Carr contends that when teacher education

programs do not require “sensible reflection upon the moral character of

human life and experience, the nature of values and the ethical aspects of

the educationalist’s role” then the resulting intellectual vacuum leaves

teachers vulnerable to faddism; it leaves them ill-prepared to make

transparent the immanence-and-inevitability of fundamental value questions

that attend education, teaching and learning. Sensible reflection might also

point to how preservice teachers are taught to frame the moral significance

of daily classroom life. A recent study showed, for example, that teacher

discourse which draws student attention to the moral significance of

classroom activities has positive effects on character, classroom climate and

academic motivation (Mullen, Turner & Narvaez, 2005). For example,

when teachers framed classroom events in terms of the needs of the

community, helping others, classroom identity, and peer solidarity, students

responded with greater commitment to citizenship, ethical knowledge,

moral self-regulation and moral locus of control.

V. Open Questions and Future Directions

We have argued that character education requires a defensible

psychological understanding of dispositional coherence and of

development; and a defensible approach to education that conforms to what

is known about effective teaching and learning. We proposed a

developmental systems perspective as a conceptual framework for character

education, and reviewed several categories of youth development and

prevention programs that show promise as school-based or community-

based interventions.

It is an enduring question, however, whether these programs are

rightfully considered instances of character education. We made a

distinction between character education as a treatment, and character

education as an outcome. As our review makes clear, there is very little

that is distinctive about traditional character education that warrants it be

considered an educational “treatment” in its own right. Indeed, when

advocates point to character education programs that “work,” it to programs

motivated by an entirely different theoretical agenda than one of morality,

virtue or character. It is to programs associated with positive youth

development or social-emotional learning. Developmental science,

including developmental psychopathology and the science of prevention

already provide powerful frameworks for understanding risk, resilience,

adaptation and thriving that has little need for the language of character.

On the other hand, if character is considered not a treatment but a set of

outcomes then, of course, there is nothing untoward about claiming the

findings of developmental interventions as its own. In this case,

interventions that are motivated by developmental science, by perspectives

on youth development and SEL (for example,) provide outcomes that are

relevant to a certain understanding of character, and give insights about

how to prepare youth for the travail and opportunities of adulthood.

Yet we do not want to give up on the idea that character education

can be a distinctive educational intervention. Although the literatures on

youth development and social-emotional learning provide an attractive

vision of adaptation, thriving and positive adjustment, and although it is

tempting for character educators to want to claim these literatures as their

own, we think that this vision of successful adulthood is incomplete without

a specification of the moral dimensions of selfhood, identity and

community. The metaphors of thriving and flourishing and positive

development point mostly toward the notion of what it means to live well.

But living well is only half of the challenge. We must not only live well,

but live well the life that is good for one to live. Discerning the life that is

good for one to live is a moral question; it has profound moral dimensions

that are not exhausted by avoiding risks and acquiring social-affective

competencies.

Certainly the life that is good for one to live requires avoidance of

significant risk behavior, and so character education embraces the science

of prevention as a prophylaxis against risks-and-deficits. Certainly the life

that is good for one to live requires the cultivation of competencies that

prepares one for the challenges of adulthood, and so character education

embraces positive youth development in its several forms, along with its

slogan: problem free is not fully prepared. Yet fully-prepared is not

morally complete. In our view character education should aim minimally

for full-preparation of young people for adulthood, but should not be

content with full-preparation for living well; but aim, too, for helping

students cope with the ethical dimensions of the good life lived well.

The challenge for character education, then, is how to maintain a

distinctive voice in educational innovations, psychosocial interventions and

youth programming. An approach to positive youth development that is

also an instance of character education would be marked, in our view, by an

explicit conceptual framework that embraces a developmental systems

orientation while articulating a moral vision of what it means to flourish.

This moral vision is ideally a virtue ethic that articulates a positive

conception of moral agency as a deeply relational and communitarian

achievement that expresses the nature of our self-identity through our lived

moral desires.

Another challenge is to exploit the resources of psychological

science in framing a defensible notion of moral agency, self-identity and

dispositional coherence. We have made a number of suggestions along the

way for a “psychologized” approach to moral character. In our view social

cognitive theories of personality and the cognitive science literatures on

expertise provide useful frameworks for understanding the moral

dimensions of personality, although other literatures may be exploited with

profit as well. We reiterate our conviction that an adequate character

education will require robust models of character psychology, and the latter

will be characterized by deep integration with multiple psychological

frameworks.

Moreover, a developmental systems orientation broadens our

perspective on character and of character education. There is a tendency,

for example, to regard character education as something that takes place in

schools as a formal curriculum. Yet, as we have seen the foundations of

emergent morality and of conscience are evident quite early in childhood,

and the developmental dynamic and pattern of socialization in early family

life is most assuredly a kind of character education that will be of interest to

researchers for some time to come. What’s more, a developmental systems

perspective bids us to examine the possibilities of dynamic change in

character psychology throughout the lifecourse as well. Perhaps a

lifecourse perspective on character will require additional constructs, such

as wisdom (Staudinger & Pasupathi, 2003; Sternberg, 1998b), purpose

(Damon, Menon & Bronk, 2003), personal goals (Emmons, 2002),

spirituality and self-transcendence (Seligman & Csikszentmihalyi, 2000),

ecological citizenship (Clayton & Opotow, 2003 and character strengths

(Peterson & Seligman, 2004) to capture adequately the complexity of

phase-relevant dispositional coherence and human flourishing.

End Notes

[1] U.S. Department of Education Office of Educational Research and

Improvement Grant # R215V980001). Copies of CVCE materials on CD

are available from the Minnesota Department of Education.

Acknowledgements

We express our appreciation to the following colleagues who read and

commented on previous versions of this chapter: Jack Benninga, Jerrell

Cassady, Kathryn Fletcher, Lisa Huffman, Jim Leming, Tom Lickona,

Kristie Speirs Neumeister, Sharon Paulson, Ben Spiecker, Jan Steutel,

Larry Walker, and Marilyn Watson.

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Table. Integrative Ethical Education Processes and Skills

Process 1: Ethical Sensitivity

ES-1: Understand Emotional Expression (e.g., identify and express

emotions, manage anger)

ES-2: Take the Perspectives of Others (e.g., take a cultural perspective)

ES-3: Connecting to Others (e.g., relate to others, show care, be a friend)

ES-4: Responding to diversity (e.g., perceive diversity, become

multicultural)

ES-5: Controlling Social Bias (e.g., diagnose bias, overcome bias, nurture

tolerance)

ES-6: Interpreting Situations (e.g., perceive morality, respond creatively)

ES 7: Communicate Well (e.g., speaking and listening, monitor

communication)

Process 2: Ethical Judgment

EJ-1: Understanding Ethical Problems (e.g., gather information, categorize

problems)

EJ-2: Using Codes and Identifying Judgment Criteria (e.g., discern code

application)

EJ-3: Reasoning Generally (e.g., use sound reasoning, make scientific

method intuitive)

EJ-4: Reasoning Ethically (e.g., judge perspectives, reason about standards

and ideals)

EJ 5: Understand Consequences (e.g., choose environments, predict

consequences)

EJ-6: Reflect on the Process and Outcome (e.g., reason about means/ends,

re-design the process)

EJ 7: Coping (e.g., apply positive reasoning, develop resilience)

Process 3: Ethical Focus

EM-1: Respecting Others (e.g., be civil and courteous, be non-violent,

show reverence)

EM-2: Cultivate Conscience (e.g., self command, manage influence and

power, be honorable)

EM-3: Act Responsibly (e.g., meet obligations, be a good steward, be a

good citizen)

EM-4: Be a Community Member (e.g., cooperate, share resources,

cultivate wisdom)

EM-5: Finding Meaning in Life (e.g., center yourself, cultivate

commitment, cultivate wonder)

EM-6: Valuing Traditions and Institutions (e.g., understand social

structures)

EM-7: Developing Ethical Identity and Integrity (e.g., build identity, reach

for your potential)

Process 4: Ethical Action

EA-1: Resolving Conflicts and Problems (e.g., negotiate, make amends)

EA 2: Assert Respectfully (e.g., attend to human needs, build assertiveness

skills)

EA-3: Take Initiative as a Leader (e.g., take initiative for and with others,

mentor others)

EA 4: Planning to Implement (e.g., think strategically, determine resource

use)

EA-5: Cultivate Courage (e.g., manage fear, change, uncertainty; stand up

under pressure)

EA-6: Persevering (e.g., be steadfast, overcome obstacles, build

competence)

EA-7: Work Hard (e.g., set reachable goals, manage time, take charge of

your life)