Exploring the Global/Local Boundary in Education in Developing Countries: The Case of the Caribbean June George, Ph.D.* Professor School of Education, University of the West Indies St. Augustine, TRINIDAD, West Indies Telephone: 868-776-2411 (M) Email: June.George@sta.uwi.edu Theodore Lewis, Ph.D. Professor Studies in Learning, Cognition and Education University of Trinidad and Tobago Valsayn Campus TRINIDAD, West Indies Telephone: 868-744-7004 (M) Email: theodore.lewis@utt.edu.tt * Author to be contacted Exploring the Global/Local Boundary in Education in Developing Countries: The Case of the Caribbean Abstract This article focuses on education in developing countries in the context of globalization and with specific reference to the Caribbean. It examines the concept of globalization and related concepts and positions developing countries within this context. It explores the possibility of the creation of a third space where the local and the global can comingle and new understandings can emerge. The article argues that although the global/local interface constitutes a zone of tension, it can, in the realm of education, become an area of creative opportunity. It outlines some parameters that can guide the way in which the third space can be shaped when Caribbean and other developing countries are faced with the challenge of accommodating external ideas into local education. Keywords: Developing countries; Caribbean; globalization; indigenous knowledge; local knowledge; third space ; hybridity; school curriculum Introduction Globalization is upon us and we see in the literature some concern about the nature of the boundary conditions at the interface of the global and the local. In the Caribbean, with its history of post-colonial strivings for meaningful independence, this question of engagement with the world beyond is of great importance. While these states must reach out for purposes of trade, they are open, vulnerable economies, without the political wherewithal to dictate terms with the more powerful countries of the world. Globalization therefore poses a real challenge for these states. The global-local interface is a realm of both trepidation and possibility. This article joins a conversation on challenges in the Caribbean region posed by globalization (Louisy 2001, 2004; Hickling-Hudson 2004) and the response that is required in education. It is our contention that the response of Caribbean states must include deliberate processes intended to unearth, document, preserve and disseminate local knowledge especially via the school curriculum. By “local knowledge” here we mean both indigenous expressions of creativity that have been passed down across generations, in the form, say, of herbal remedies, food technology, marine technology, myths, dance, and songs; as well as more conventionally generated knowledge in realms such as geography, history, biology, art, music, literature, or language. Since the documenting of local knowledge and its dissemination through formal or informal modes of education are not a priority that has been articulated by multilateral agencies, and given that many Caribbean states are dependent on these agencies for educational funding, an obligation of the article is to anticipate the challenges and issues to be addressed when the global and the local meet. In the remainder of the article, we first briefly examine the concept of globalization and related concepts. We then position developing countries (and the Caribbean in particular) within this context and argue that there is need for their local knowledge to be positioned within a third space along with global knowledge so that new understandings would emerge. We see such an approach as one with the potential to prevent re-colonization but we show that we are mindful of the challenges that such an approach would throw up. Globalization and a new global education agenda Globalization Globalization is a multifaceted concept that reflects an interconnected world. Kellner (2002) points to the complexities as new technologies provide the means for the restructuring of global capitalism, creating a milieu in which cultural, political, technological and economic strands can be discerned. Offering a view from the IMF, Prasad, Rogoff, Wei and Kose (2003) have identified financial globalization, that is, increased linkages through cross-border financial flows. Brady, Beckfield and Zhao (2007) speak of economic globalization, where cross-border flows include people, service, capital and information, the result of trade and investment. Some scholars speak of cultural globalization, the processes by which everyday life in countries across the world is undermined by the diffusion of commodities and ideas from the dominant countries. Some developing countries are viewing education as the means through which globalization could be encountered without surrendering national identity. For example, Kamat (2004) has provided an account of educational reform in India that deliberately set out to stem the effects of cultural globalization through increased focus on Hindu history and philosophy. In the Caribbean there is similar need for preservation of regional identity, given the ready exposure through the electronic media to other cultures, particularly that of North America. A new global education agenda Kenneth King (2007) has recounted the way in which multilateral agencies came together in the period 1990-2006 to fashion a global agenda for education. He identifies the beginning as The World Conference on Education for All, held at Jomtien, Thailand in 1990, sponsored by four leading agencies - the UNDP, UNESCO, UNICEF, and the World Bank. The main idea pressed at the conference was that countries should invest in basic education. King notes the paradox that while multilateral agencies were advocating country ownership of education goals, they themselves had fashioned the global agenda, without the participation of partners from the south An example of an intervention that is a part of the new global education agenda is the decentralization of school systems. Support for this intervention in developing countries comes from the USAID (Winkler and Yeo 2007) and from the World Bank (Florestal and Cooper 1997). In theory, decentralization affords the transfer of educational decision making from national to sub-national authorities, increasing the possibility that local educational solutions, including a focus on indigenous knowledge, might be enacted. But as Rose (2003) documents in the case of Malawi, goals such as the preservation of indigenous knowledge become lost in projects funded by multilateral agencies, superseded by what seems to be the primary aim of these agencies when they mandate decentralization—to reify local control per se as a desirable democratic value. In the project she observed, the World Bank required local communities to co-fund 20% of the costs as the basis of their participating. This , however, often proved counterproductive, since those communities too poor to raise the required funding were left out of projects—communities most in need of educational intervention. Hans Weiler (1990) has contended that the three main arguments in support of decentralization (redistributive power, greater efficiency, and improved learning) are at odds with powerful political forces that are vested in centralization. But his analysis does not address the observation that decentralization in the service of multilateral agencies is often imposed as a condition of funding, and that this element of coercion is a reason why this method of governance fails. Beyond centre-periphery tensions on the ground issuing from unmet expectations for increased voice and control of resources at the local level, is the overarching tension of governments being dictated to by external agencies in ways that suggest the improvement of education to be but a secondary goal of funding. A global education agenda fashioned from a distance by powerful agencies and intended to be adopted by developing countries is inherently unrealistic. Since education is such a critical dimension of the struggle for selfhood, post-colonial governments cannot be expected to abandon their own ideas for education reform and to adopt wholesale received ideas that do not necessarily take the specific circumstances of their countries into account. We contend that with the advent of globalization, a full accounting of local knowledge stands as important work needing to be done in the Caribbean and other developing countries. Globalization and an unfinished Caribbean education agenda The Caribbean is a mosaic of former colonies, the varied languages across the countries —variants of Dutch, Spanish, French, English—being evidence of a globalized past from which many are still seeking to emerge. The new wave of globalism has met many of the countries still economically and politically weak, and still vulnerable when dealing with the powerful multilaterals. Pearlette Louisy (2001) has expressed concerns that Caribbean states risk being marginalized in the global economy if the region does not take steps to improve its standing and image. She calls attention to the untoward cultural effect of globalization, which is a particularly acute issue in the region due to its proximity to the United States. She wonders how can the Caribbean region differentiate itself in this new globalized world against which it seems to have little defense. One area of need here, according to Louisy, is that greater attention should be devoted to the indigenous Creole language used by many of the countries of the region. Other Caribbean writers have highlighted other education needs in this era of globalization. In articulating a vision for education in the Commonwealth Caribbean that will situate the citizens of the region to become global citizens, armed with the new forms of literacy that the new globalized economy demands, Hickling-Hudson (2004) expresses skepticism as to whether global education initiatives such as EFA will have traction given the inequality of school quality in the region. Her concerns are corroborated in an assessment of the effects of educational reforms in the Commonwealth Caribbean since the independence era (the 1960s) in which Errol Miller (1998) points to an unfinished agenda on the question of equality of access. Scholars who view the Caribbean through post-colonial lenses (e.g. Cameron McCarthy and Bob Lingard) have been calling for open-mindedness in education as a response to globalization. McCarthy is associated with a call for rethinking culture and identity given the reality of globalization. Globalization requires reform that rejects the dominant curriculum paradigm in which the Western canon is positioned in opposition to the knowledges of minority and third world peoples across the globe (McCarthy, Giardina, Harewoood and Park, 2003). In calling for the deparochialising of educational research, Lingard (2006) has provided insights on lingering colonial effects on Caribbean education, pointing out that his master’s students from the region take texts as received, and are unwilling to interrogate the writings they encounter in their studies. Generations of Caribbean citizens have come to view education as an import, no different from other spheres of the political economy of the region such as government, law or religion. Although there are some initiatives aimed at creating learning materials with a Caribbean flavor, that history of looking beyond the region for content and standards is not easily repaired. For example, the seas and ocean that define the region are almost totally excluded as a curricular focus, at a time when sustainability of eco-systems has become a crucial matter for small states around the globe and when coral reefs and fisheries in the region are under stress. Thus, the unfinished agenda of Caribbean education can also be defined in terms of the lack of articulation of ways in which the gap between local and global knowledge could be negotiated. In the following sections in the article, we draw on the concept of the third space in exploring how indigenous knowledge (including Caribbean indigenous knowledge) might be more appropriately treated in the context of globalization. The third space as a site of reform If globalization is not to be colonialism revisited, then developing countries must be prepared to design conditions under which external encroachments on national culture will be accommodated. In education this will include finding ways to give expression to local knowledge. In his book The Location of Culture, Homi Bhabha (1994) discusses the conjunction of cultures of colonizer and colonized, and the prospects for the latter finding space for creative expression. He arrives at two related constructs mimicry and hybridity, each of which blurs the otherwise sharp distinctions between master and subject, making possible the emergence of a “ Third Space of enunciations” (Bhabha 1994, 56). He asserts further: …we should remember that it is the ‘inter’--the cutting edge of translation and negotiation, the inbetween space—that carries the burden of the meaning of culture. It makes it possible to begin envisaging nation, anti-nationalist histories of ‘people’. And by exploring this third space, we may elude the politics of polarity and emerge as the others of our selves. Bhabha rejects the notion of cultural purity in plural societies and postulates instead the notion of cultural hybridity resulting from the interaction of different cultures in a third space. It is in this third space that there are possibilities for the transformation of different strands of knowledge into new hybrid understandings. Examples of hybridity are evident in several aspects of Caribbean life including language use and culinary patterns. Mimicry was an ironic way in which subjugated Caribbean peoples signaled their fertile imaginations. Rex Nettleford (2007, 1) speaks of: this heritage (tangible and intangible) that has been bequeathed to the region by forebears who found solace, resilience and renewal in masking, metaphor and myth. They all provided a route to redemption and certitude in coping with the obscenities of slavery, indentureship and the dehumanization which those socio-economic systems imposed… Performative dimensions of this have survived as retentions seen in annual carnival festivals across the islands, when mimicry abounds in the portrayals; Kings and Queens on the streets and on stage, Lords in the calypso arena. We now extend the exploration of the third space into the field of education. Bringing local/indigenous knowledge to the third space in education Knowledge generation and utilization In the current dispensation of a knowledge economy an exploration of how and by whom knowledge is produced and how knowledge is utilised is critical if we are to gain clearer understandings of the role of knowledge (local and global) in our education systems. This is particularly pertinent given that institutions such as the World Bank (with their own storehouse of knowledge) impact on educational policy globally. We draw on the concept of the third space in this exploration. While the Caribbean region is our target, the attendant challenges to which attention is drawn here are applicable across developing countries that are in the post-colonial condition. Knowledge generation It has been argued that all knowledge is first of all local, that is to say, first generated in a particular context (Turnbull 1997a; Gough 2002; Okere et al. 2005). However, not all knowledge is counted as legitimate knowledge. Knowledge generated in Euro-Western settings holds sway while that generated in non-industrialized or partially industrialized settings that characterize developing countries has not typically been accorded much status. Much of post-colonial discourse has focused on this state of affairs. The power differential between developed and developing countries and the dominant influence of institutions such as the World Bank and other international organizations and agencies have, in the past, contributed to this non-recognition of knowledge generated in non/partially-industrialized settings. Some (for example, Turnbull 1997a; Gough 2002; Okere et al. 2005) call for the creation of spaces and opportunities for the various knowledge traditions to be brought together so as to produce appropriate understandings. This idea of knowledge spaces resonates with the work of cultural theorist and post-colonial scholar Homi Bhabha (1994) as detailed above. In exploring the concept of knowledge spaces, Turnbull (1997a) has examined the ways in which Euro-Western science (which he terms “technosciences”), despite its localness, has been able to have such a great impact on our lives. He draws on the work of Bruno Latour in indicating that the powerful effects of science are due to the “technology of representation” employed, two important characteristics of such devices being that they are mobile and immutable. Turnbull further explains the strategy by citing an account of how the seventeenth century scientist, Robert Boyle, was able to overcome arguments made against his experimental work. A system of “reliable witnesses” was created through the use of journal accounts that comprised clear texts and diagrams to provide others in other places with the opportunity for “virtual witnessing” and also to open up the possibility for replication of the work. In other words, Boyle created a space for his empirical work to be considered. Turnbull (1997b) shows that the creation of knowledge spaces is not limited to excursions in the Euro-Western scientific realm only. Through an examination of diverse activities such as the building of the Gothic cathedrals, the Polynesian colonisation of the Pacific, the establishment of modern cartography, and Indonesian rice farming, he shows that different knowledge spaces have been created in other contexts. In focussing on the activity of science and other knowledge forms, Turnbull (1997b) emphasizes the performative aspect of knowledge, as distinct from the purely representational aspect with its focus on the cognitive and intellectual characteristics of the knowledge. He contends that a greater focus on the performative aspects provides an avenue for comparing and framing different knowledge traditions. He sees this as vitally important for the future of local knowledge traditions. A characteristic of indigenous knowledge is that it encapsulates tacit knowledge (Polanyi 1966). Consideration must therefore be given to how the tacit knowledge is likely to fare in these third spaces. Contentions around tacit knowledge focus not just on the validity of such knowledge, but on how it is produced, how it can be located and appropriated, and how it can be reproduced or shared (Gertler, 2003). A point of interest from this debate that is relevant here is whether the fact that tacit knowledge is thought to be “person-embodied” and “context dependent” renders it locationally “sticky” (Morgan 2004, 7). In other words, how feasible would it be for the tacit knowledge of local people in developing countries to be identified and incorporated into the reframing and decentring that Turnbull speaks of? And, if it is that only codified knowledge from these settings can be dealt with appropriately in the third spaces because of difficulties associated with working with tacit knowledge (see Drucker 1993), how will that impact on the integrity of the indigenous knowledge so represented? What then would be the chances for really innovative activity that is thought to be so dependent on tacit knowledge (Gertler 2003)? These are issues that continue to be debated. Knowledge utilization Indigenous knowledge has typically not been recognised as being of value to any kind of production or developmental process. This, however, has been changing in recent times. For example, concerns about the degradation of the environment have forced mainstream scientists to examine Traditional Ecological Knowledge (TEK) and to incorporate some of this knowledge into the formal scientific arena. There are several other examples of how indigenous knowledge is now being used at “official” levels in important and productive ways. For example, in St. Lucia in the Caribbean, the knowledge of local sea urchin harvesters was taken into account in the management of sea urchin habitats, in a process of co-management. Older harvesters had a wealth of knowledge about urchins including the location of best sites and best times for diving and this knowledge was fully utilized in the management process (Warner 1997). In the African context, Semali (1999) details traditions of technologies relating to fishing and post-harvest pest control, and the use of herbs and plants for disease management and food preservation. The slowly evolving global recognition of indigenous knowledge is also exemplified in UNESCO’s Local and Indigenous Knowledge Systems (LINKS) project (Nakashima 2007) and the World Bank’s Indigenous Knowledge for Development Program (World Bank 2004). The LINKS project acknowledges the crucial role that the environmental knowledge of local people must play in the thrust for sustainable development. The World Bank project has similar aims. It involves the documentation, publication and dissemination of indigenous solutions to development problems in areas such as agriculture, health, natural resource management, and so on. Interestingly, there does not seem to be much effort to view a consideration of indigenous knowledge as a possible solution to problems in the formal school system in developing countries. We address this issue later in the article. Carter (2008, 19), in commenting on Snively and Corsiglia’s (2001) call for consideration of TEK as valid knowledge and a valid basis of inquiry, cautions that this embracing of indigenous knowledge is more complex than it might appear to be. She argues that the translation of TEK by dominant forces can make it “familiar, comprehensible, predictable and controllable.” In a related vein, in the midst of efforts globally to document and categorize indigenous knowledge through the creation of databases, there remains the concern that “those who possess indigenous knowledge have not possessed much power to influence what is done with their knowledge” (Agrawal 2005, 380) and that the potency of indigenous knowledge may be lost if the focus is on deriving classification schemes for it (generating forms of representation) with little attention being paid to the many ways in which it is practised (the performative aspect of it). Thus, although there is growing recognition of the potential value of indigenous knowledge, ways of treating with it that are fair and just may still need to be negotiated. Indigenous knowledge in the formal school system We shift the discourse now to a sharper focus on the role of indigenous knowledge in the formal school system in developing countries. In the post-independence period there have been some attempts to reshape the colonial school curriculum to meet local needs and conditions. Despite these efforts, the problem of re-designing an education system to cater for specific local, economic and cultural issues still persists. When we add to this scenario the fact that many developing countries rely heavily on aid and/or loan money from international lending agencies such as the World Bank for restructuring their education system, yet another set of influences on educational policy becomes apparent as has been discussed above. During colonial times, the local context into which curricula from developed countries were being imported was seldom ever considered. Several obstacles are now faced in the attempt to change this. There are economic and human resource factors that impact on any such attempts. Changing historically entrenched curricula requires appropriate human resources and sufficient funding. Opposition to change has come from many quarters, including school personnel and, most significantly, parents. Some of those in positions of power are likely to have been educated in the colonial mode and may find it difficult to understand why that which has “worked” in the past should be changed. Furthermore, it is sometimes argued that we live in a global society and students in developing countries should be prepared to function in a global world by following curricula that are similar to those followed in developed countries. This kind of thinking forestalls the acceptance of local knowledge. It also makes it very difficult for experimentation with a third space. Yet, it is a challenge that must be faced head on if developing countries are to value and make maximum use of what they have. We suggest that one of the ways in which this can happen is through a consideration of how local knowledge can be “performed together” with knowledge from other places in transactions that take place in the formal education system. Indigenous knowledge that has the potential for use in the classroom comes in different forms. There are practices and beliefs associated with various aspects of everyday living; local technologies; and expressions in special prose, poetry and drama, for example, as stories, calypsos, proverbs, jokes, chants and dance. Since indigenous knowledge arises directly out of students’ real-life experiences its incorporation into school work can motivate them to see that their knowledge is appreciated. It can also open up opportunities for students to build on the knowledge of their forebears as they explore the borders between what they bring with them and what formal schooling has to offer. Three boundary conditions There are at least three boundary situations that must be considered if indigenous knowledge is to be moved to centre stage in the formal school system. First, there are content areas that are covered in the formal, conventional school curricula that are also covered in indigenous knowledge. For example, prior to formal schooling, children in developing countries would have learnt traditional practices and beliefs pertaining to health care, food preparation, agriculture, the care of infants, and so on. Sometimes, such indigenous knowledge can be explained by conventional science but at other times it bears no relationship to conventional science (for a fuller account of the relationship between conventional science and Caribbean traditional knowledge, see for example, George 1995, 1999; George and Glasgow 1988). The point of tension here is that while it will be useful in the third space to identify instances where conventional knowledge and indigenous knowledge are analogous, this must not mean that the latter must derive validity on the basis of its correspondence with the former. Nor must it be the only basis on which indigenous knowledge is considered. Performative demonstration over time must be reason enough to warrant the co-performance of indigenous knowledge with conventional school knowledge in the school curriculum, resulting in the negotiation of meaning by students in an atmosphere of respect and trust. Secondly, in a related but more philosophical vein, students in developing countries bring to school their own basic assumptions of how the world functions - their worldview -that may be different from prevailing “official” ones. For example, the desire to exploit and manipulate nature has been a characteristic of conventional science for some time. This orientation has been fuelled by technological advancements over the years. Although there is some concern now in conventional science circles about the degradation of the environment, there is still much evidence of exploitation. The April 2010 tragedy of the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico is a good example of human interaction with nature not being properly handled by a global oil company. In contrast, in some developing countries, there exists the view that nature provides everything that one needs for one’s survival and it must be treated with respect. Thirdly, there is the arena of communication. Formal modes of communication, as are required in formal school systems, are likely to be at variance with the ways in which some students in developing countries communicate in their everyday lives. Such students often recount their experiences through stories, songs, dances, and so on. Indeed, they would have learnt much of the indigenous knowledge in their community through these performative modes. Then, there is the question of how one structures one’s argument. Explanations in formal schooling rely heavily on formal logic. On the other hand, some claims made in everyday conversations in a developing country context are likely to be supported by warrants consisting of personal experiences and the authority of elders. This is a major difference which is probably not even consciously recognized by teachers and students in classrooms in developing countries. Another communication issue is likely to be the difference in the language used in formal schooling vis a vis that used in everyday life. In those Caribbean countries where English is the official language, there exist Creole languages side-by-side with the official language and although some of these Creole languages use English words, their syntactical structure and the meanings ascribed to some “English” words are different. In a few of these countries, the situation is even more complex as there are French-lexicon Creoles as well (Bryan and Burnette 2006; Simmons-McDonald 2006). In a sense, these Creole languages are indeed hybrids that were created largely by the colonized. Generally, although these local languages help to generate a sense of pride and belonging among even the most educated, they do not typically bear the mark of officialdom. There is thus a disconnect between the language of instruction and the everyday language of students – a situation that is to be found not only in the Caribbean, but in other developing countries as well ( see Campbell, 2007; McKinley 2005). This is a point of tension in the shaping of the third space. In summary, we have highlighted above some of the boundary conditions that exist in formal school systems in developing countries when the global meets local knowledge. There has been some curriculum development work in the Caribbean and elsewhere that has begun to adopt this conceptual framework but much more needs to be done, particularly at the official level of education departments,. Recent attempts to include a consideration of indigenous knowledge in the new South African curriculum, (Breidlid 2009; Van Damme and Neluvhalani 2004) perhaps represent the boldest steps in this direction to date. The third space as contested terrain We have contended in this article that globalization in the Caribbean, and in the developing world more generally, can be more successfully encountered if countries take deliberate steps to infuse local knowledge into school curricula. Furthermore, we have argued that children in developing countries are likely to be more motivated and to be better positioned to learn if their background knowledge and experiences are catered for in the teaching/learning milieu. This call for indigenization of the curriculum is not a call to insularity. Children need to be broadly educated so they can be citizens of the world. Where the global and the local meet in education constitutes a zone of possibility. We have adopted Bhabha’s notion of a third space, within which knowledge traditions comingle, but we caution that this is a political space. The third space must be viewed as contested terrain where the indigenous comes up against barriers not just from the usual external quarters, but from within. A good part of the challenge of indigenization is to convince locals of the value of their own creative efforts. This is the challenge we see, for example, in Jamaica where Jamaican Creole must contest with Jamaican Standard English. Okere et al. (2005), speaking from an African perspective, posit that the onus is on African people to first be cognisant of what knowledge is of their making, and then be willing to promote it so that others will come to know what they have to offer to the world In concluding the article we reflect on requirements that are needed to deal with the boundary conditions we have identified as being constitutive of the third space. Altering power arrangements We have highlighted the fact that the power differential between developed and developing countries contributes in no small measure to the lack of attention to indigenous knowledge. Some of that power possessed by developed countries comes by default, because the local sector does not bring sufficient resources to the table. In education, if there are local poems or stories but they are not in published form, such as school books, then the default is to teach the foreign poem, or story, from the ever present foreign text. In the absence of documented knowledge about local flora and fauna, available for use in schools, foreign biology texts will continue to be used. This needs to be rectified. Contesting hybridity As we have indicated above with respect to the development of Creole as a language form in the Caribbean, the third space can indeed be a site of hybridity where a new form emerges out of global-local interplay. But hybridity cannot be taken as a passive, value-free merging of cultures. When cultural forms merge, the evidence of history is that there is local loss. For example, only remnants of African languages are to be found in the Caribbean today. We contend that within the third space developing countries should first strive for stasis, an equilibrium condition made so by the counterforce of local culture. Local knowledge occupies the space as does conventional knowledge, each on its own terms. We extend this idea further by examining what is likely to happen in classrooms in developing countries if this approach to knowledge generation were to be adopted as policy. Even with official pronouncements, a lot would depend on teachers, some of whom might be aspiring to the elite class and increasing their distance away from rich sources of indigenous knowledge. All of this points to the need for this issue to be treated comprehensively in teacher education programmes and in the work and research agendas of educators, including those who have come from backgrounds rich in indigenous knowledge (see, for example, Emdin, 2009). Richardson Bruna (2009) cautions that we should not simply be content with the display of hybrid practices in the classroom but we should also be concerned with the business of agency, that is, the impact that this will have on life outside of the classroom. Making the familiar strange The term “creole” is a common one in the Caribbean region. We have already mentioned its use with respect to the hybridization process pertaining to language. But the term is also used with respect to people, food, and culture generally, in each case denoting some form of mixing (of races, culinary practices, dance, dress etc.) resulting in something unique. There is sometimes a degree of lightheartedness associated with the term, signifying that it is something from the ground, to be enjoyed, but perhaps not to be given full status. This lack of status no doubt is tied to colonial legacies. The hybridization of which we speak here, relating to the incorporation of indigenous knowledge in the school curriculum, should not be viewed simply as another instance of the familiar concept of creolization as it is commonly conceived and used, with questionable status. Rather, it is hoped that in the process indigenous knowledge would be given equal status as teachers and students explore what the two forms of knowledge have to offer as they attempt to make sense of the world. Local input in externally funded projects Funded educational projects in the Caribbean have tended to take on centre-periphery dimensions. Our history has been that the terms of engagement and the expectations of foreign agencies and partners when conducting educational projects are that the flow of ideas will be unidirectional--North to South. Powell (2001) has documented this in a study of the funding of technical and vocational projects in Jamaica by external agencies. She notes that the problems begin at conception, with projects being initiated without local input and based on foreign models. A standard design parameter was that projects had to engage foreign consultants, whom locals could not choose and over whom they had little control. The relationship between external funding agencies and local personnel is a space that is in clear need of re-design, because it is one within which we see much opportunity for creative expression, particularly for collaborative research. The lesson from Powell’s account is that agencies such as the World Bank should pay more attention to increasing the likelihood of the sustainability of projects, by forging genuine collaborative partnerships with local counterparts. Such partnerships would see locals involved at all stages in the lives of projects, from problem-identification to implementation. Locals and external partners can work together so that their mutual strengths can be drawn upon. Parity of esteem Perhaps the most important factor attending a paradigm shift to third space operations in a Caribbean education system and in education systems in other developing countries is parity of esteem. A hallmark of colonial methodology was a lack of regard for indigenous creations. This attitude persists in the present day with multilateral agencies taking a one-size-fits-all approach to global educational policy and planning. Such an approach leads to self doubt which can be pervasive. Local people come to believe that things local are inferior to things foreign. They value the advice of the foreign expert over the local one. Accordingly, a critical design feature for the third space is that local knowledge must be held to be as important as more conventional knowledge, and deserving of much more attention than ordinarily obtains. This is a call for parity of esteem. Parity of esteem means acceptance of multiple knowledge traditions as valid sources of knowledge, worthy of consideration in the school curriculum and in the process of development... The global/local interface is indeed a realm of both trepidation and possibility. Yet, if people in the Caribbean and other developing country states are to maintain their identity while at the same time extracting that which is good in the globalization process, attention must be paid to the storehouse of local knowledge residing in these countries, especially their potential use in the school curriculum, performing along with conventional knowledge. . References Agrawal, A. 2005. Indigenous knowledge and the politics of classification. In Knowledge: Critical concepts, ed. N. Stehr and R. Grundmann Vol. 2, 370-384. London: Routledge. Bhabha, H.K. 1994. The location of culture. London: Routledge. Brady, D., J. Beckfield, and W. Zhao. 2007. The consequences of economic globalization for affluent democracies. Annual Review of Sociology 33: 313-34. Breidlid, A. 2009. Culture, indigenous knowledge systems and sustainable development: A critical view of education in an African context. International Journal of Educational Development 29, no. 2: 140-49. Bryan, B., and R. Burnette. 2006. Language variation in Dominica: Perceptions, practice and policies. Caribbean Journal of Education 28, no. 1: 26-50. Campbell, J. 2007. Parallel space but disparate usage: Negotiating language use in a bilingual society. Caribbean Quarterly 53, no. 1/2: 95-103. Carter, L. 2008. Recovering Traditional Ecological Knowledge (TEK): Is it always what it seems? Transnational Curriculum Inquiry 5, no. 1: http://nitinat.library.ubc.ca/ojs/index.php/tci (accessed June 3, 2010) Drucker, P. 1993. Post-capitalist society. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Emdin, C. 2009. Reality pedagogy: Hip hop culture and the urban science classroom. In Science education from people for people, ed. W-M Roth, 70-89. New York: Routledge Florestal, K. and R. Cooper. 1997. Decentralization of education: Legal issues. Washington D.C.: The World Bank. http://siteresources.worldbank.org/EDUCATION/Resources/278200-1099079877269/547664-1099080000281/Decent_ed_legal_issues_EN97.pdf (accessed June 6, 2010). George, J. 1995. Health education challenges in a rural context: A case study. Studies in Science Education 25: 239-62. George, J. 1999. Worldview analysis of knowledge in a rural village: Implications for science education. Science Education 83, no. 1: 77-95. George, J. 2006. The evolution of science curricula in developing countries and the issue of relevance. In St. Martin Studies 2006: Conference Proceedings, ed. M. Cijntje-Van Enckevort, M.A. George, and S.S. Scatolini Apostolo, 89-94. St. Martin, Netherlands Antilles: University of St. Martin. George, J., and J. Glasgow. 1988. Street science and conventional science in the West Indies. Studies in Science Education 15: 109-18. Gertler, M.S. 2003. Tacit knowledge and the economic geography of context, or The undefinable tacitness of being (there). Journal of Economic Geography 3: 75-99. Gough, N. 2002. Thinking/acting locally/globally: Western science and environmental education in a global knowledge economy. International Journal of Science Education 24, no. 11: 1217-37. Hickling-Hudson, A. 2004.Towards Caribbean `knowledge societies': Dismantling neo-colonial barriers in the age of globalization. Compare 34, no. 3: 293-300. Kamat, S. 2004. Postcolonial aporias, or what does fundamentalism have to do with globalization? The contradictory consequences of educational reform in India. Comparative Education 40, no. 2: 267-87. Kellner, D. 2002. Theorizing globalization. Sociology Theory 20, no. 2: 285-305. King, K. 2007. Multilateral agencies in the construction of the global agenda on education. Comparative Education 43, no. 3: 377-91. Lingard, B. 2006. Globalisation, the research imagination and deparochialising the study of education. Globalisation, Societies and Education 4, no. 2: 287-302. Louisy, P. 2001. Globalization and comparative education: A Caribbean perspective. Comparative Education 37, no. 4: 425-38. Louisy, P. 2004. Whose context for what quality? Informing education strategies for the Caribbean. Compare 34, no. 3: 285-92. McCarthy, C., M.D. Giardina, S.J. Harewood, and J-K Park. 2003. Contesting culture: Identity and curriculum dilemmas in the age of globalization, post-colonialism and multiplicity. Harvard Education Review 73, no.: 3, 449- 65. .Mc. Kinley, E. 2005. Locating the global: Culture, language and science education for indigenous students. International Journal of Science Education 27, no. 2: 227-41. Miller, E. 1998. Education reform in the Commonwealth Caribbean: An assessment. In Educational reform in the Commonwealth Caribbean, ed. E. Miller. Washington, D.C.: Organization of American States. Morgan, K. 2004. The exaggerated death of geography: Learning proximity and territorial innovation systems. Journal of Economic Geography 4: 3-21. Nakashima, D. 2007. The local and indigenous knowledge systems programme of UNESCO. Indigenous peoples’ centre for documentation, research and information (doCIP), Update 76 July/September 2007, 20-23. Nettleford, R. 2007. The arts and post colonial certitude. Caribbean Quarterly 53, no. 1/2: 1-7. Okere, T., C.A. Njoku, and R. Devisch. 2005. All knowledge is first of all local knowledge. Africa Development 30, no. 3: 1-19. Polanyi, M. 1966. The tacit dimension. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul Ltd. Powell, M. 2001. A comparative study of TVET projects — implementation experiences from Jamaica and The Gambia. International Journal of Educational Development 21: 417–31. Prasad, E.S., K. Rogoff, S-J. Wei, and M.A. Kose. 2003. Effects of financial globalization on developing countries: Some empirical evidence. Occasional Paper 220. Washington, D.C.: International Monetary Fund, Publication Services. http://www.nber.org/~wei/data/prwk2003/prwk2003.pdf (accessed June 11, 2010) Richardson Bruna, K. 2009. Jesús and María in the jungle: Possibility and constraint in the third-shift third space.  Cultural Studies of Science Education 4: 221-37. Rose, P. 2003. Community participation in school policy and practice in Malawi: Balancing local knowledge, national policies and international agency priorities. Compare 33, no. 1: 47-64. Semali, L. 1999. Community as classroom; Dilemmas of valuing African indigenous literacy in education. International Review of Education 45, nos.3-4: 305-19. Simmons-McDonald, H. 2006. Attitudes of teachers to St. Lucian language varieties. Caribbean Journal of Education 28, no.1: 51-57. Snively, G., and J. Corsiglia. 2001. Discovering indigenous science: Implications for science education. Science Education 85: 6-34. Turnbull, D. 1997a. Knowledge systems: Local knowledge. In Encyclopedia of the history of science, technology and medicine in non-western cultures, 485-90. Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publications. Turnbull, D. 1997b. Reframing science and other local knowledge traditions. Futures 29, no. 6: 551-62. Van Damme, L.S.M., and E.F. Neluvhalani. 2004. Indigenous knowledge in environmental education processes: Perspectives on a growing research arena. Environmental Education Research 10, no. 3: 353-70. Warner, G. 1997. Participatory management, popular knowledge, and community empowerment: The case of sea urchin harvesting in the Vieux Fort area of St. Lucia. Human Ecology 25, no. 1: 29-46. Weiler, H.N. (1990). Comparative perspectives on educational decentralization: An exercise in contradiction? Educational Evaluation and Policy Analysis 12, no. 4: 433-48. Winkler, D.R. and B-L. Yeo. 2007. Identifying the impact of educational decentralization on the quality of education. USAID Working Paper. Washington D.C. : USAID. World Bank. 2004. Indigenous knowledge: Local pathways to global development. Washington, D.C.: Knowledge and Learning Group, World Bank.