Moje (2008) calls for a social justice approach to literacy across the curriculum, which resonates with critical literacy’s social justice agenda. This is given by the description that socially just literacy education is situated in, and instantiated with, ideology and issues of power. Significantly, Moje (2008:99) also states that such a take on literacy education is both a cognitive and socio-cultural practice, stating that ‘the disciplines themselves are replete with cultural practices and can be considered discourse communities students must navigate’. Disciplines are therefore positioned and positioning (Janks 2010) insofar as the choices of disciplinary insiders construct them. Such gatekeeping of content knowledge and practice is perhaps inherent in all subject areas and education at large. However, without a critical consciousness of how and why knowledge and practice might be selected, sequenced, and presented to students (un)wittingly perpetuates how different disciplines present claims to truth. This suggests that the very structures of disciplines have social and psychological effects on teachers and students, positioning disciplinary literacy and success within the potentially narrow confines of the selected knowledge and practice.

Three issues stand out here: one, that school disciplines are communities that value particular ways of using language that students need access to. Two, that navigating discourse communities suggests becoming proficient in both the cognitive requirements of disciplinary learning as well as the sociocultural practices of knowledge production (Moje 2008, 2015; Shanahan & Shanahan 2012, 2017). And three, that discourse communities themselves are socially constructed traditions of language use, genre, and identity performance, which should be open to deconstruction and reconstruction.

There is a fine distinction to be made between disciplinary literacies in this regard and content-area literacy. While content area literacy tends to focus on literacy as a cognitive exercise, disciplinary literacy focuses on both the cognitive and the socio-cultural. Goldman et al. and the READI project (2016) discuss this at length. They argue that in order for students to become literate in the practices of their disciplines, they must move across three main kinds of text-based meaning-making: (1) the surface level, where basic decoding skills are developed and students can reproduce ideas and texts verbatim; (2) the textbase level, where students’ meaning-making is reliant on their lexical knowledge, syntactic analysis, and memory of disciplinary concepts; and (3) the situation level, whereby students begin to interpret whole texts using their memory of the subject matter and some inferencing strategies.

These three levels of engagement work in conjunction with the core constructs of disciplinary literacy, which Goldman et al. (2016) list as epistemology, inquiry practices, overarching concepts, forms of information representation, and discourse and language structures. In a sense, disciplinary literacy is conceptualised as a set of relationships between content knowledge, the communities of practices that each discipline represents, and the text(-types) most prevalent and preferred by those disciplines (see Figure 1).

From this perspective, disciplinary literacy requires teachers and students to think carefully about how ‘literate disciplinary practice’ works at the interface of disciplinary knowledge, discipline-specific texts, and the valued activities within disciplines. If disciplinary knowledge drives what constitutes a discipline, then discipline-specific texts are the media through which that knowledge is represented. The texts of disciplines will also vary in genre (purpose) and multimodal composition (Kress 2015).

Therefore, between knowledge and text lies the question of how knowledge gets represented, for whom, and for what purposes (Govender 2020). Furthermore, constructing discipline-specific texts requires discipline-specific decoding/encoding practices of knowing, interpreting, analysing, arguing, evidencing, and explaining. The question raised between text and practice is, therefore, how knowledge is accessed through texts (reading), as well as how knowledge is conveyed (writing/[re]design). Finally, the question of how knowledge is identified, sourced, and used in the classroom lies between disciplinary knowledge and practice.

However, this model might be reconfigured as shown in Figure 2.

By making the role of sociocultural, historical, political and institutional context explicit (Vasquez, Janks & Comber 2019), CDL might enable teachers and students to engage with their disciplines in more socially conscious ways (Dyches & Gunderson 2021; Moje 2015; Villanueva 2001). Moving beyond disciplinary knowledge that only ‘addresses cognitive complexity by identifying that each subject presents diverse challenges’ (Hillman 2014:399) requires that the disciplines themselves be recognised as socio-cultural and ideological constructions as well that enable the maintenance, resistance, or transformation of a range of social issues, including racism, cisheteronormativity, xenophobia, environmental catastrophe, and so on.

For example, how many geography classrooms use Mercator projection maps without questioning their design? Mercator maps, like most other projections, necessarily distort some aspects of its representation of the world in order to maintain other aspects of representation. Specifically, this projection maintains the relative shape of the world’s continents but distorts relative size from a Eurocentric perspective (Roudometof 2017). This occurs when translating the 3D oblate spherical shape of Earth into a 2D image. However, designers’ decisions about what to distort suggest that alternative choices exist. As such:

It would be interesting to know how many geography classrooms make serious use of Hajime Narukawa’s Authagraph map, which has been heralded as the most accurate representation of the planet to date (Le Page 2018). Furthermore, it would be interesting to note whether teachers, teacher educators, or students themselves see these choices as both a broader sociocultural practice of power and a pedagogical one that shapes teaching, learning, and worldviews.

Science education is a broad field of study, and the exposure to scientific texts, printed or verbal, is not confined to science textbooks, a science curriculum and related scientific literature. It is much bigger and broader as it employs scientific knowledge gained from everyday experiences through students’ exposure to social media, newspapers, magazines, science centres, and conversations with people from different formal and/or informal social gatherings (Watts 2015). These everyday science experiences can be captured using the four CDL components (Figure 3). For instance, a young person can:

The nature of gaining knowledge from everyday science, which (in)directly links with formal science education, has become a worldwide effort to develop a ‘scientifically literate’ next generation. Norris and Philips (2003) pointed out two senses of scientific literacy: fundamental and derived. The fundamental sense requires students to acquire core concepts, ideas and relationships, whereas the derived deals with the nature of science, scientific enquiry, and the involvement of science with wider societal issues – connecting the world of science to everyday life. Supporting school students to develop Norris and Philips’s derived sense of scientific literacy along with fundamental knowledge is recognised by many science educators as a worthwhile goal (e.g. Fang 2013; Hassard & Dias 2009; Salehjee 2020).

Therefore, in becoming scientifically literate, there is no requirement for a person to be a science graduate and/or work in science-related professions. Instead, it requires a person who can read, write, comprehend, reason, and evaluate scientific knowledge, discoveries, and skills (Salehjee 2021). Language and literacy are fundamental to scientific learning and appreciation in the everyday lives of all children (Gee 2004; Fang et al. 2010; Osborne 2007), and developing scientific knowledge and skills to enhance scientific enquiry over time (Pearson, Moje & Greenleaf 2010). This aligns with Brickhouse’s (2007) ideology of scientifically literate people who can:

These four points specifically highlight the (everyday) use of scientific texts. However, it is noticed in the literature that one factor of students’ disengagement with science is their exposure to scientific texts, which focus on facts and theories (Archer, DeWitt & Dillon 2014). Moreover, it is observed that students believe they are confronted with sophisticated scientific vocabulary and a passive style of written and oral texts (Cervetti et al. 2006; Sutherland 2008). On the one hand, jargon presents science as an expert field that requires expert knowledge and unfamiliar terminology. On the other hand, passive voice removes the speaker from expression, presenting scientific concepts and phenomena (including the interpretive use of those concepts and reports on said phenomena) as timeless, unquestionable truth claims. Therefore, some students find it difficult to connect their everyday language and experiences to the specialised scientific literature they encounter within the discipline.

The four resources model of CDL (Figure 3) can guide science teachers and educators to engage students with scientific texts and support the development of future scientifically literate people. Therefore, we present some general aspects of the CDL model in the light of science (Figure 4), followed by a working example on the topic of polymers and plastics.

Geography is a diverse and multi-faceted discipline composed of human geography, physical geography, and environmental sciences (Bonnett 2008; Fouberg & Murphy 2020). For the purposes of this article, only one aspect of geography will be focussed upon – the spatial dimension. Many people argue that Geography, as a spatial discipline, is highly ‘visual’ (Driver 2003; Larangeira & Van Der Merwe 2016). Map work and geographic techniques (like the use of Geospatial Sciences and Geographic Information Systems – GIS) require practitioners to interpret and ‘read’ maps through an understanding of symbols and ‘conventional signs’ – so as to make meaning of the world. Maps, then, represent the meeting point of lived, imagined, and discursive space, which both not only shape the way map readers make sense of the world but also enable map-makers and users to interrogate ways of representing their world.

Although most geographic texts are both printed and verbal, most spatial information in Geography is available visually. Geography is increasingly being identified as a school discipline with the most 21st century skills necessary for students to solve the world’s problems in years to come (Dolan 2020; Nagel 2008; Whalley et al. 2011). For example, reading, interpreting, and understanding maps (digital or printed) have become commonplace (Johnson, Louis & Pramono 2006). So, this section of the article explores the CDLs of geography that are required in GIS.

The four resources model for CDL (Figure 3) can guide Geography teachers and students to strengthen and develop the core of making geographic literacy more accessible. Some aspects of the model in the light of Geography are depicted in Figure 5.

Using the four resources model of CDL, I provide one exemplar teaching plan on mapwork and geographic techniques (Figure 6). Teaching Geography through the use of maps and atlases is an important component of the discipline. To effectively teach ‘space and place’, geography teachers need to use topographical maps, orthophoto maps (OPM), and satellite images so that pupils get a spatial sense of their environments. In a Geography Module on mapwork and geographic techniques for a second-year BEd class in the Faculty of Education at the University where I teach, I designed a course to engage student teachers on how better to teach mapwork to primary and secondary school pupils. Much criticism on how poorly mapwork teaching in school geography (Larangeira & Van Der Merwe 2016; Naxweka & Wilmot 2019; Wilmot & Dube 2016) exists; therefore, student teachers were required to think critically about how best to teach children a spatial understanding of their local, regional, and international environments through effective integration of mapwork and geographic techniques (Mendoza 2018).

Students need to learn the ‘language of mapping’ to work effectively with maps. This involves understanding the symbols, colours, and notation (the code) used on maps to represent real-life landforms and features. To ascertain the student teachers’ baseline knowledge and understanding of working with topographic maps, we gave them this question at our first lecture for this module:

The image below (Figure 6) is a topographical map extract of the 2528CC Pretoria map sheet in South Africa. Part of our Education Campus has been pointed out as feature A. Using your knowledge of conventional signs, name the vegetation type on the feature and/or landform on the map, which is depicted as an area by the colour white, as indicated by the red oval shape.

The question was asked because all students would have driven past this area on their journey to or from campus.

When using topographical maps, colours, shapes, and types of symbols represent various features – for example, green (vegetation), blue (water), and red and black (human-made features). Of the 159 respondents in the class, 0.662% answered correctly, saying that all ‘white’ on the map represents veld (natural grassland or endemic vegetation). Most of the other responses incorrectly identified this ‘space’ as ‘just open land’, ‘contour lines’, or ‘undeveloped land’. It may not be explicitly explained in the conventional signs on maps, but Geography teachers need to know and teach that natural grassland exists across the landscape and is universally represented by the colour white on most maps.

Text decoder: After being taught the various types and colours associated with conventional signs, students can work with an OPM (or a true colour satellite image) of their local area. This can be displayed on a data projector to orientate and familiarise the class with the environments. Ask the students to identify the different land uses on the OPM or satellite image. This will enable students to make associations between conventional symbols and various features in reality (on the topographical map). Students can then work out how they think naturally occurring vegetation (not cultivated land, forested areas, or orchards and vineyards) should be depicted on the map – what colour and type of symbol would make the most sense, cartographically speaking?

Text participant: Having taught some basic conventions of map-making, the teacher can design an activity in which students think about why white would be a suitable colour to represent naturally occurring vegetation on a topographical map. The students could be tasked with drawing a sketch map of their local school in the suburb where it is found and thinking about what colours and symbols to use for each land use and/or feature on the landscape. By using too many colours (including one for natural grass and/or endemic vegetation), they should notice that maps become ‘too busy’. Furthermore, students might explore a range of examples of maps and the codes used to construct them to help demystify how map codes are generated across different cultures and contexts (see, e.g., Breda 2022, who explores how indigenous Amazon communities use spatial and other codes to construct artefacts for navigating and sustaining their environments).

Text user: Now the topographical map sheet of the local area can be used alongside the OPM and/or satellite image so that students see the representation of various land use, landforms, and features, which are represented on the topographical map (with various colours and symbols) using conventional signs. Across different examples, students can then begin to explore how maps are constructed across different contexts for different purposes to enable different understandings of and interactions with the environment and how different forms of knowledge beyond the Western episteme give rise to culturally and contextually specific mapping codes.

Text analyst: Students might then recognise the practical reasons why naturally occurring vegetation needs to be represented as ‘white on the map’ to avoid making it too ‘busy’ and keep it visually comprehensible for the user. The other colours and symbols used to represent all other features on maps can be explored. The grey, red, black, blue, green, and brown can be related to the various categories of features they represent. The types of symbols (points, lines and polygons, or area) can also be unpacked to show various features such as specific coordinate points (like trigonometrical beacons – used to show the highest places on the landscape), or linear features (such as roads, rivers, powerlines, etc.), and features that take up more space (like area symbols, such as dams, lakes, cultivated land, etc.). Similarly, other polygons such as a dam (blue), a cadastral district and/or built-up area (grey), and a piece of cultivated land (green) where maize is grown can be shown in representative colours.

In geography, there is a need to work with multiple maps to better understand both maps and the environments they visually represent. A more holistic perspective is necessary for the map user to see the ‘whole picture’. Students, therefore, not only need to access dominant colonial modes and codes for map-making but they also require access to a broad range of indigenous map-making practices and codes. Such critical access to diversity both displaces the power that colonial maps and map-making continue to have in education and places various indigenous knowledge and practices at the centre of teaching and learning. As such, a CDL model advocates for critical literacy development that enables students, teachers, and teacher educators to reimagine disciplinary content knowledge and practice beyond the bounds of predominantly Western traditions.

Reflect on knowledge, practice, and the use of texts in your classroom:

Consider how the different texts used and produced in your classroom resonate with out-of-school, activist, and indigenous literacies. How might students benefit from using social media to (re)design disciplinary texts, particularly where this might enable engagement with contemporary scholar-activist work? What alternative meanings might be made, and how might this relate to the decolonial turn in education? How might understanding be enhanced by making these intertextual connections that draw on students’ lives?