Empowering Students As Self-Directed Learners of Qualitative Research Methods: Transformational Practices for Instructors and Students [1 ed.] 9789004419551, 9789004396104

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Empowering Students as Self-Directed Learners of Qualitative Research Methods

Practice of Research Method Series Editor Wolff-Michael Roth (University of Victoria, Canada)

Volume 6

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/prmd

Empowering Students as Self-Directed Learners of Qualitative Research Methods Transformational Practices for Instructors and Students Edited by

Janet C. Richards and Wolff-Michael Roth

leiden | boston

Cover illustration: Drawing by C. Jacobowitz, 2019 All chapters in this book have undergone peer review. The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available online at http://catalog.loc.gov

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. issn 2542-8853 isbn 978-90-04-41954-4 (paperback) isbn 978-90-04-39610-4 (hardback) isbn 978-90-04-41955-1 (e-book) Copyright 2020 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi, Brill Sense, Hotei Publishing, mentis Verlag, Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh and Wilhelm Fink Verlag. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, usa. Fees are subject to change. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

To our students of qualitative research, who always make our lives interesting and full of joy

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Contents List of Figures and Tables ix Notes on Contributors xi 1 Introduction 1 Janet C. Richards and Wolff-Michael Roth

PART 1 Teaching for Empowerment Introduction to Part 1 13 Wolff-Michael Roth and Janet C. Richards 2 Empowering Students of Qualitative Research to Take Charge of Their Academic Writing 17 Janet C. Richards 3 A Mindfulness-based Approach to Teaching Qualitative Research Methods 39 Margrit Schreier 4 Empowerment through Understanding the Interaction between Philosophical Stance (Positionality) and Qualitative Research 58 Suzanne Franco and Erin B. Lunday 5 An Inaugural Interviewing Course: Promoting Continuous Reflexivity, Balancing Theory and Skills, Building a Community of Learners 78 Anna Gonzalez-Pliss and Alisha M. B. Braun

PART 2 Experiencing Empowerment Introduction to Part 2 95 Janet C. Richards and Wolff-Michael Roth

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6 From Opportunities to Realities: On Being Empowered through Active Learning in Educational Research 99 Yew-Jin Lee 7 A Framework for Niching Scholarship and Expanding Competency in Arts-based Research 117 Steve Haberlin 8 Transmediation of Qualitative Text Information: Encouraging Students to Employ Special Aptitudes and Talents 128 Kia Sarnoff 9 Simulations as a Teaching Method 139 Christy Bebeau 10 How Andragogy Principles of Teaching Empowered Me: The Perspective of a High-Achieving Nontraditional Black Male Student 159 William D. Thomas

PART 3 Empowerment beyond Schooling Introduction to Part 3 169 Wolff-Michael Roth and Janet C. Richards 11 Empowerment through Apprenticeship in the Teaching of Research Methods 173 Wolff-Michael Roth 12 Living the Praxis of Method, or How I Learned Letting Worldly Practices Organize My Professional Gaze as Scholar 190 Alfredo Jornet 13 Adoption and Long-term Personal Effects of Reflexive Grounded Theory 205 Franz Breuer Index 221

Figures and Tables Figures 4.1

4.2

4.3

4.4

6.1 6.2 6.3 6.4 7.1 7.2 9.1 9.2

9.3 9.4

Worldview self-assessment. Example of exercise (Student #13). Selections taken from the exercise. Spelling, grammar, and style left in the original format, other than ellipses inserted to show removal of certain selections. 66 Worldview self-assessment. Example of exercise (Student #10). Identifying information is replaced with capital letters and italics. The Learning Management System remained closed (students could not read postings) until the student posted their own assignment. 67 Worldview self-assessment (Student #14). Identifying information is replaced with capital letters and italics. The learning management system remained closed (students could not read postings) until the student posted their own assignment. 71 Worldview self-assessment exercise. Replies from Student #10 and Student #13 to Student #14. (Student #10). Identifying information is replaced with capital letters and italics. I required the students to post response to an initial post, then a second response to a critique of someone’s response to an initial post. 72 The lunchroom at Shallow River Hatchery where vital knowledge and information flowed and was exchanged among hatchery staff. 106 Part of the field notes from my notebook regarding the “egg take” in which I participated during the winter of 2003. 108 Part of the same cleaned-up field notes describing the “egg take” account. 109 A photograph of the brailer that was described in the set of field notes concerning the “egg take” (photograph © Yew-Jin Lee). 110 Conceptual framework for emerging arts-based researchers. 118 Framework for emerging arts-based researchers (balancing the roles of researcher/artist). 125 Excerpt from the qualitative methods course syllabus providing guidelines for critiquing a qualitative methods study (from Richards, 2017). 141 An example of an early simulation assignment. In addition to the scenario, the instructor provided a list of steps students would follow to complete the assignment (from Richards, 2017). 143 An example of a simulation for students who are familiar with the group activity and require less support. 146 One slide from my authentic presentation, showing the themes that emerged from my data analysis. 148

x 9.5 9.6 11.1 11.2 11.3

11.4

11.5 12.1

Figures and Tables Anatomy of a qualitative research study used in a chemistry education qualitative methods course (from Raker, 2019). 149 Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. 153 The structure of practical action. 175 First draft and edit of the opening of an article by an MA student subsequently published in a leading journal. 179 (a) A fish culturist (left) and a graduate student are bringing a bucket with a sample of fish into the wet laboratory and are hooking up the oxygen supply. (b) The fish culturist in the process of collecting measuring the length of a fish, which subsequently is weighed on a scale (on the left in c). (c) The graduate student is entering the called-out data into a spreadsheet. 180 A data session with colleagues and a postdoctoral fellow. Visible on the left border is a camera recording the session to be used during subsequent analyses and to produce an audit trail. 182 Gazing at the transcript (Section 3.4.1) on the monitor (also projected onto the screen for students to see) while doing an analysis in real time. 185 Extract from a PhD student’s draft, published here with permission of the student. 196

Tables 2.1 2.2 4.1 4.2

A list of academic writing principles. 23 A suggested model of a qualitative research design. 25 Worldview exercise (based on table 1.3 in Jones et al., 2014, p. 13). 60 Participant profile exercise. Examples of exercise (Student #13 and Student #10). Identifying information is replaced with capital letters and italics. The Learning Management System remained closed (e.g., students could not read postings) until the student posted their own assignment. 64 7.1 Comparison of qualities between qualitative researcher and artist. 125 10.1 Andragogy: Adult learning theory. 165

Notes on Contributors Christy Bebeau is a doctoral student in geology at the University of South Florida focusing on geoscience education. Her research interests include innovative teaching practices in undergraduate geology courses, improving spatial visualization skills of students, and fostering student science literacy and numeracy. She is co-founder of an innovative K–12 not-for-profit school in Tampa where she teaches STEM classes to all grades and an occasional high school literature class. Her undergraduate degree is a Bachelor of Science in engineering with a focus on industrial engineering. She worked in industry, including owing her own computer consulting company, for more than 20 years before returning to university. Alisha M. B. Braun is an assistant professor of social foundations in the Department of Educational and Psychological Studies at the University of South Florida. Alisha’s research agenda examines educational policies and practices related to access to quality education for marginalized children, especially disadvantaged children in developing contexts. Her current research focuses on inclusive education policy for students with disabilities in sub-Saharan Africa. Her qualitative research has appeared in Educational Action Research, as well as comparative and international educational journals such as the International Journal of Disability, Development and Education. Franz Breuer was a professor of psychology at the University of Muenster (Germany) until 2014. His main interests in recent years have been predecessor-successor transitions in different social contexts, the ageing of and in families, and the development of grounded theory methodology under a perspective that pays special attention to the researcher as subject. To this day, he gives grounded theory courses and workshops for students at various universities. Suzanne Franco is a professor of research and statistics in the College of Education at Wright State University in Dayton, Ohio. She also serves as the director for a doctoral program in organizational studies and as a program evaluator for funded programs in K–12 and higher education. Her research interests include qualitative research methods, mixed methods, teacher instruction, and P–16 STEM education. She has served as a principal and co-principal investigator in several

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National Science Foundation (NSF) research projects regarding STEM education topics and K–12 teacher education. Franco has authored and co-authored numerous articles and chapters. Her teaching assignment includes introductory and advanced qualitative research methods courses in graduate programs at Wright State University. Anna Gonzalez-Pliss originally from Russia, is a doctoral student at the University of South Florida where she studies educational research, measurement, and evaluation. Although her goal is to become proficient in both quantitative and qualitative designs, she structured her doctoral coursework to explore qualitative methods in depth. A former advertising artist and an experienced visual communicator, Anna seeks to bridge her professional past with the present academic pursuits through experimentation with text transmediation, post-qualitative writing, and arts-based research. Her scholarly interests span a wide range of topics, such as philosophies of inquiry, multidisciplinary research, integrated mixed method designs, and more recently, autistic identity and performativity of high-functioning autism. Steve Haberlin is a doctoral candidate at the University of South Florida. His research agenda focuses on the instruction and practice of qualitative methods, including arts-based inquiry. A practicing poet, Steve’s current work involves exploring how poetic inquiry might lend new perspectives to traditionally studied disciplines, including teacher education, and how he might assist other emerging arts-based researchers to discover their niche. His qualitative research has appeared in The Qualitative Report, The Journal of Education & the Arts, Gifted Education International, and Action in Teacher Education. Steve currently serves on The Qualitative Report’s editorial board. Alfredo Jornet is associate professor in the Department of Teacher Education and School Research, University of Oslo. Jornet investigates learning, creativity and innovation in and across school, out-of-school, and professional settings, with a focus on transformative, participatory and design-based methodologies. He teaches methods courses at both the master and the PhD levels. His methodological approach, anchored in dialectical, socio-material, and ecological epistemologies, has been shaped through years of hands-on apprenticeship in qualitative research. Today, he uses apprenticeship as a teaching and learning method, and still considers himself an apprentice in qualitative research. He has mul-

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tiple research publications addressing theory and methods in qualitative research, and is editor of the international journal Mind, Culture, and Activity. Yew-Jin Lee is an associate professor at the Nanyang Technological University, Singapore. He began his professional career as a secondary school biology teacher in Singapore. His current interests are in primary science, curriculum research, scientific ways of knowing, and informal learning environments as well as classroom assessment. Overall, he tries to understand how people learn and under what conditions does effective and powerful learning take place. He was the past co-editor of Pedagogies: An International Journal (Routledge) and serves on the editorial boards of Research in Science Education, Studies in Science Education, and Asia-Pacific Science Education. In 2015, a co-authored review on cultural-historical activity theory in education (Roth & Lee, 2007) achieved a well-cited SSCI article status (top 1%) within the discipline of the Social Sciences. Erin B. Lunday is currently a doctoral student in organizational studies within Wright State’s College of Education and Human Services. Her masters’ thesis applied critical discourse analysis to trace the genealogy (verbal and visual) of an U.S. Army artifact and its construct. Her continued academic research interests include the formation of identities and the development of communities within organizations. Her additional interests include utilizing research methods in unusual ways, particularly qualitative methods. She is a scholar-practitioner and draws on much of her practitioner experience, having served in a variety of organizations: as an army officer, the Chair for Character Development at the U.S. Military Academy, research consultant; and a vice-president of training for an international non-profit. In addition to her doctoral student studies, she currently serves as adjunct professor at the Air Force Institute of Technology’s Department of Operational Sciences and Logistics Management teaching research methods and organizational behavior to graduate students. Janet C. Richards is a professor of literacy and qualitative research at the University of South Florida, Tampa, FL. She was selected as a visiting scholar at the University of Victoria, BC Canada and as an International Literacy Association/USAID scholar where she worked many times in Azerbaijan, Pakistan, Hungary, Romania, Estonia, and in jungle camp between Myanmar and Thailand with Burmese political refugees. She is the senior editor of the journal Literacy Practice and

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Research, and has won awards for her scholarly writing. She has previously published 14 books. Wolff-Michael Roth is Lansdowne Professor of applied cognitive science at the University of Victoria. His research focuses on knowing and learning related to mathematics and science across the lifespan. He has been trained as a statistician for the social sciences and, subsequently, taught and published on the use of qualitative methods. He has been a co-editor of FQS: Forum Qualitative Sozialforschung/ Forum Qualitative Social Research for nearly 20 years, and has published a number of books on qualitative methods, including Rigorous Data Analysis: Beyond Anything Goes (2015), First-Person Methods: Towards an Empirical Phenomenology of Experience (2012), Doing qualitative research: Praxis of methods (2005), and, with K. Ercikan, he edited Generalizing from Educational Research: Beyond Qualitative and Quantitative Polarization (2008). Kia Sarnoff currently is a doctoral student in Teacher Education with an emphasis on Middle Grades Mathematics Education at the University of South Florida. Kia works primarily in the Helios STEM Middle School Residency Program where she teaches middle level coursework and supervises undergraduate preservice teachers during their yearlong residency experience. Kia also teaches classroom management to secondary preservice teachers for the Department of Teaching and Learning. Kia taught middle school mathematics in public, Title I schools in Charleston, South Carolina. Kia was an active Positive Behavior Interventions & Supports (PBIS) committee member and a robotics coach. She held various leadership roles in her time as a classroom teacher such as grade level team leader, Teacher Curriculum Team (TCT) leader, and PBIS data adviser. Margrit Schreier has been a professor of empirical research methods at Jacobs University Bremen, Germany, since 2003 (PhD Psychology, Heidelberg University; Habilitation Psychology, University of Cologne). Her research interests include qualitative research methods and methodology, mixed methods, high sensitivity, and health research. She has been a principal investigator in several externally funded research projects, and she has (co-)authored several books and more than 100 book chapters and articles. Based on a mindfulness practice of several years, she has recently started to work on integrating mindfulness into qualitative research methodology and into teaching qualitative research. To deepen her understanding of the role of mindfulness in these and other contexts, she

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is currently enrolled in the Mindfulness Meditation Teacher Certification Program led by Tara Brach and Jack Kornfield. William D. Thomas is a doctoral student in the College of Education at the University of South Florida. His educational experiences include classroom instruction, behaviour specialist, assistant principal, technology resource specialist and adjunct professor and department coordinator at the college level. Outside of education, he has served in various IT roles at the university level and with multinational corporations. William has participated in a variety of social services and juvenile justice programs. His is a site director for a local non-profit organization, serving as a truancy navigator. He works with at-risk youth in school environments, as well as in truancy and delinquency courts.

CHAPTER 1

Introduction Janet C. Richards and Wolff-Michael Roth

It is not enough to explain that qualitative data are rich and culturally sensitive. Students need to experience that richness and sensitivity. It is not enough to explain qualitative procedures, present the rationale for qualitative research, and discuss ethics. Instructors should also provide challenging activities that encourage students to use qualitative methods, reflect on them, and explore complex dilemmas. Fontes & Piercy (2000, p. 27)

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Introduction

In our work as long time instructors of qualitative research we often noted there was little information about how to help students learn to actively engage in qualitative inquiry, such as how to articulate appropriate research questions to guide a study, write in active voice, or select suitable theoretical frameworks, which support the rationale for an inquiry (see Grant & Osanloo, 2014). We also recognized there were scant ideas offered for new, or experienced instructors of qualitative research to learn about innovative, constructivist approaches and group activities that connect and empower students as a community of learners. For example, recently an instructor of qualitative instructor commented, “I’m teaching a Qualitative Research Methods course. I like teaching this course but sometimes I find it to be dull and boring … bombarding the students with lectures and technical stuff. Give me some ideas” (fiaba, 2007). Another instructor wrote, “What is the best way to teach qualitative research? My students find it difficult to apply theory to practice” (Dsane, n.d.). Such comments encouraged us to organize this unique volume to meets the needs of both students and instructors of qualitative research. In this book we present chapters that illuminate classroom tested processes and pedagogy that we and other United States and international qualitative instructors offer to develop students’ abilities and motivation as qualitative © koninklijke brill nv, leideN, 2020 | DOI: 10.1163/9789004419551_001

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researchers. The ideas shared in the book also hone instructors’ abilities as mentors and coaches. Chapter authors who are instructors candidly describe their innovative pedagogy. In addition, chapter authors who are doctoral students share their perceptions of their experiences as they (a) learned to work collaboratively in inquiry simulations to construct a qualitative study; (b) came to recognize how their personal epistemological world views impact the qualitative research they choose to conduct; and (c) in what ways they might interpret and analyze data. This book is not a typical qualitative methods textbook. Rather, this volume offers practices and approaches designed to assist instructors of a variety of qualitative research methods courses to position students as active, empowered, self-directed learners who learn to do qualitative research by doing qualitative research (see Roth, 2005; Zimmerman & Schunk, 2001). Students in an array of qualitative methods courses will also find this book useful because of the inclusion of (a) authentic student work, (b) student reflections, (c) factual classroom scenarios of professors guiding students as they devise a priori research questions and determine the qualitative genre to best answer those questions, and (d) a chapter that includes a checklist to help students plan, revise, and edit their academic writing before they hand in assignments for a grade, or a manuscript for publication consideration. Each of these approaches and activities is supported by a paradigmatic point of view. These points of view conceptualize qualitative research methods as a craft to be practiced within communities of practice, which include knowledgeable others and students as apprentices (Breuer & Schreier, 2007) or indeed students as less-experienced peers. Some approaches are strongly influenced by constructivism; and they take teaching, and learning as an active, creative, transformational process. Moreover, integration of knowledge entails active involvement with peers and student participation in activities that align with, or involve real-life activities. Thus the experiences and approaches follow tenets of andragogy—“core adult learning principles that apply to all adult learning situations” (Knowles, Holton, & Swanson, 2015, p. 4). This book brings together scholars from the United States, Canada, Germany, Singapore, and Norway with the voices of past and current doctoral students of qualitative research methods. Chapter authors who are instructors are all committed to serving as facilitators of learning. They are passionate about relationship building, and trust, and they encourage student initiatives (see Knowles, Holton, & Swanson, 2015). They support and sustain their teaching/learning practices through socio-constructivist theory, adult leaning theory, Ethos of Care Theory, transformational teaching theory, and self-directed learning theory. Doctoral students who authored or co-authored chapters write about their empowerment as confident learners who recognized fundamental changes in

Introduction

3

their views of themselves as learners and researchers as they were encouraged to take charge of their learning.

2

Empowerment Empowerment: the capacity of individuals groups and/or communities to take control of their circumstances, exercise power and achieve their own goals, and the process by which, individually and collectively, they are able to help themselves and others to maximize the quality of their lives. (Adams, 2008, p. xvi)

A key term in the title of our book is empowerment. It has become a fashionable concept in a number of different contexts and whenever there are inequities involved, whether these are based on gender, color, race, social status, or income. The colonial and patriarchal take of empowerment is that those already on the more desirable side (e.g., teachers) transfer something to the other side, which is said to empower those on the less desirable side (e.g., students). Indeed, in the field of education, a condescending attitude has often manifested itself in the replies to students’ question, “Why do I have to learn this?” which included, among others, “Because it is good for you” or “Because you need to know this subject matter for a successful career.” The definition of empowerment in the introductory quotation is written from a different point of view. Accordingly, empowerment is the capacity of those on the less desirable side to take control of their circumstances, which, in educational settings, would be taking control of their own learning (cf. Jornet, Chapter 12). A quintessential and often-cited example exists in the work of the Brazilian educator Paulo Freire. Rather than telling the illiterate and semi-literate peasants with whom he worked that they needed to learn to read and write, he engaged them in discussions through which they become conscious of their situation (Freire, 1970). In this process—conscientização [critical consciousness]—the peasants became aware that they needed to become literate, a form of expanding their control over the conditions that had them in the position of the oppressed. Increasing control over conditions and expanding one’s power to act, therefore, are core ideas for thinking empowerment in ways that does not disempower those at the receiving end. We can learn from Freire’s Brazilian peasants that the expansion of control and power to act increases with the relevance that the goal of the current activity has to the individual life of the learner. Teaching–learning situations too often are thought and theorized through the lens of the instructor, who designs the curriculum based on what the

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community of practice has defined to be the essence of its subject matter. Most formal educational settings are characterized by a fiction: administrators or instructors can plan students’ future learning ahead of time (Holzkamp, 2013). The instructor also marks students assignments and gives them their grades. Thought in this way, education becomes disempowering. A better way of thinking about the empowerment of students is through the lens of the learners based on a psychology from the standpoint of the subject. In such an approach, learners learn while pursuing goals they have set for themselves and, in the process, seek and receive assistance from others, including the teacher and resources made available (Holzkamp, 1993). Both Freire and Holzkamp emphasize the collective nature of the work of empowerment, work that is carried out with those traditionally on the receiving end (in educational contexts, these are students). What then might empowerment mean in the context of working toward an academic degree generally (MA, MEd, or PhD) and in (qualitative) research methods courses specifically? In the context of the research conducted as part of their degree requirements, students generally identify what they want to do. They then choose their research methods accordingly, either on their own or in and through the exchange with their advisors. From experience we know that the graduate students then might opt for learning some method because in the conversation with their supervisor (or others), they have developed the sense that doing so would expand their possibilities with respect to understanding the phenomenon they research. For example, one of our graduate students wanted to better understand how and what the high school students she was studying were learning while doing an internship in a university laboratory. She had recorded those visits in their entirety and thus was able to have transcriptions of the interactions with their university mentors (laboratory assistants, undergraduate students). Because she was interested in process, we ultimately turned toward applied conversation analysis. As she did not know this method, she asked for some pertinent resources and then, through first collaborative analysis of her data, which she then implemented on her own, she learned doing applied conversation analysis by doing applied conversation analysis. Some readers might think such an approach is not possible in regular methods classes and that graduate students—as students at any other levels—need to be instructed and held to be accountable for following precepts given to them. But this would not be empowering in the sense the term is defined above. A first step would be to create opportunities for students to select and begin with questions and problems in which they are interested and to build their own projects from there. We know from experience that these are then projects that they really own. In Chapter 11, Roth shows how a course meeting can be arranged to learn doing applied conversation analysis by actually practicing this method (see also Roth, 2015). Thus, the graduate students (MEd

Introduction

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students in the case described) bring transcriptions from situations in which they are interested, the instructor begins the analysis thinking-aloud during the process, and the graduate students then begin contributing to the point of taking over. The graduate students subsequently develop their entire course work around those cases they have brought to the class and in which they are inherently interested. To sum up: We understand empowerment and the liberation deriving from it is neither a gift nor an individual self-achievement. Instead, along with Freire and Holzkamp we understand it as a mutual process, where institutionally designated students and institutionally designated instructors engage in a mutual process. In the collaboration of instructors and students under the more general goal of maximizing the quality of teaching (as seen by instructor) and maximizing the quality of learning (as seen by student) all parties gain greater control over the conditions as pertinent to them. The empowerment of (graduate) students as self-directed learners of qualitative research methods, the theme of our book, therefore arises neither from the doings of teachers nor from the “self-directed” doings of the graduate students. Instead, it empowerment is the result of the submission to the collective and collectively defined endeavor. And in tune with relational approaches to the question of power (e.g. Foucault, 1975), the empowerment arises for both instructors and graduate students alike.

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Praxis of Research Method

This book emanated from our own experiences as researchers and teachers employing qualitative research methods, and it is based on our concerns for creating empowerment-enabling conditions. It is also based on our understanding that instructors and graduate students, each in their own ways, come to be empowered through the teaching–learning of qualitative research methods. Collectively, we (Janet, Michael) have taught qualitative (and quantitative) research methods at different universities for nearly four decades. Although we tend to receive high student evaluations for the courses we teach, we have heard one frequent complaint: The chosen textbooks generally treated the subject matter in a way that was difficult to understand, was abstract, and was quite distant from the actual practice of research. Michael: Over the past decades, many graduate students, postdoctoral fellows, and colleagues from around the world asked frequently, “How do you do your research?” “How do you make sense of so much data?” and “How do you write your research?” During my early years as a researcher and university professors, the questions were surprising because I was mostly doing qualitative research as rigorously as I could and wondered what to call the methods

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only during the time I was writing up the results. I was simply doing research. I had developed expertise in qualitative research by doing qualitative research, not by taking any courses during my own PhD program but while I was a high school teacher trying to find out how students learned under the conditions and with the curriculum materials I provided. I was not orienting my research according to this or that method but tried to do research such as to arrive at results that were like those that I was reading in the published research literature. It was in and through doing the different parts of qualitative research project—from planning to publishing—that I learned doing qualitative research. My way of planning, doing, and writing research was a practice of method rather than an implementation of a method of practice as articulated in one of the many books on research methodology. These experiences have shaped my own teaching of qualitative research methods, in regularly scheduled classes, in my work with junior researchers—Master’s and PhD students, postdoctoral fellows, junior colleagues—and even with established colleagues. Janet: Similar to Michael, and other instructors of qualitative research, I never studied qualitative research methods. And in my award-winning dissertation, I employed difficult statistical analysis (canonical correlation) to analyze teachers’ beliefs about literacy instruction. However, I decided to also use narratives to portray teachers’ voices about their teaching. I found first-person accounts illuminated the teachers’ beliefs and understandings much more than canonical correlation analysis of a survey could ever do. For example, as I observed a first grade teacher for the fourth time, she said to me, “I don’t know why every time you are here I find myself telling students to ‘sound it out’ when they ask for a spelling of a word. I do not believe in phonics. I am a whole language teacher.” Her words transformed my idea of research. She had scored high on whole language beliefs on a survey deemed valid and reliable. Yet, when I observed her teaching of literacy, she clearly offered phonics instruction. It struck me then that if researchers depended only on survey responses the perceptions and beliefs of study participants all too often would remain unclear and skewed. Fast-forward and when an opportunity arose for me to teach qualitative research at my university, I jumped at the chance. As a teacher of literacy I believed in the strong connections among student empowerment, student involvement in their own learning, and student achievement. And since I was teacher who believed in socio-constructivist teaching and learning, I applied these ideas to my course on qualitative research methods. I continue to contribute to the empowerment of students of qualitative research by providing support and direct feedback. I help them become active participants in their own learning. I work to establish a classroom climate in which students feel

Introduction

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free to explore and make decisions. Most importantly, I promote a safe learning environment in which students enjoy liberating, unrestricted opportunities to develop their skills as qualitative researchers who learn how to do research by doing research (see Richards, 2018).

4

Audience for the Book

The chapters in the book meet the needs of qualitative instructors who are new to the field of qualitative research and instructors who have taught qualitative research for a number of years and wish to make some changes and extend their teaching repertoires. The book also meets the instructional, cultural, and psychological needs of diverse learners, including students who matriculate in various disciplines; exceptionally able students; those with creative and artistic aptitudes; students from marginalized populations; those who struggle to master qualitative theory and research methods, and English language learners.

5

Organization of This Book

We organized this book into three main parts according to the themes of (a) teaching for empowerment, (b) experiencing empowerment during graduate work, and (c) orienting educational experiences toward the empowerment that goes beyond formal schooling (university). The first part includes four chapters written by professors teaching qualitative methods courses and who organize and enact their curriculum with an explicit orientation toward student empowerment. The topics include ways of assisting students in their writing (Richards), focusing on mindfulness (Schreier), orienting toward philosophical stance and positionality (Franco and Lunday), and promoting reflexivity in a community of practice in a course on interviewing (Braun and Gonzales). The second part of the book includes five chapters written from the perspective of doctoral students, who, during their coursework, experienced empowerment. All chapters focus on how the empowerment came about, and the authors provide narratives of their own activities and the contextual particulars that allowed empowerment to emerge. The chapters describe (a) learning to do qualitative fieldwork by doing fieldwork along with others (Lee), (b) ways in which scholarship may be niched within arts-based research (Haberlin), (c) the technique of writing texts in forms other than original course readings (“transmediation”) for the purpose of accessing difficult-to-understand topics (Sarnoff), (d) how lecturer-produced simulations provide students with ways of

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developing an understanding of research design (Bebeau), and (e) andragogy principles that allowed a non-traditional (high-achieving) African-American doctoral student to get his foothold in the academic context. The third part of this book includes three chapters that take the issues of empowerment beyond the formal university context; these chapters therefore also include aspects that go across the preceding themes. The first of the contributions describes apprenticeship as a theory and practice that puts graduate students on a trajectory taking them from coursework through their own empirical fieldwork to their subsequent careers; an integral part of this apprenticeship is an orientation to publishing in academic journals (Roth). The next chapter shows how the context of apprenticeship allowed the emergence of a scholar who develops his professional gaze, who then creates the same kind of opportunities for his own students with the express purpose to assist them in developing their professional vision (Jornet). The last chapter describes how former graduate students (many at the MA level) see themselves as having been empowered beyond the university while participating in a university seminar (course) on grounded theory method (Breuer). For the purpose of setting appropriate contexts, we open each of the three sections with an introduction that also includes paragraph-length descriptions of each of the chapters included in that section.

6

Possible Ways to Read This Book

The book can be read from beginning to end, chapter-by-chapter because of the way we have structured the book into three discrete, evolving sections from (a) teaching for empowerment, (b) experiencing empowerment during graduate work, and (c) orienting educational experiences toward the empowerment that goes beyond formal schooling (university). Or, instructors might choose specific chapters for students to read because of the relevance of these chapters to the curriculum, or to their students’ interests and instructional needs. In other words, besides offering a solid corpus, each chapter can stand alone as an exemplar, such as academic writing, transmediation of difficult text, andragogical tenets of instruction, or apprenticeship as a means of nurturing a mentee’s scholarship. Since each chapter supplies valuable references, chapters can be read in conjunction with a student’s work on any of the topics in the book. The book also is suitable for seminars in qualitative research in which different groups of attendees collaborate to read and report back to the audience on sections or chapters of interest.

Introduction

7

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The international contributions offer cross-cultural insights to experiences of teaching and learning qualitative methods. Moreover, chapters authored by former and current students of qualitative research methods who participated in the practices described in the book are invaluable. They candidly discuss their reactions, reflections, and, perceptions about their experiences engaging in independent and collaborative transformative experiences. Thus, social interaction and social processes are at the center of the book’s premises and, as such, exemplify traditions from which qualitative inquiry emerged (e.g., Agee, 2008). A variety of methods are represented—including ethnographic field work, historical studies, art-based research, and grounded theory—covering a spectrum of the ways in which researchers, concerned with the sense of people’s lives, investigate the specific topic of their interest.

References Adams, R. (2008). Empowerment, participation and social work. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Agee, J. (2008). Developing research questions: A reflective process. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 22(4), 431–447. Breuer, F., & Schreier, M. (2007). Issues in learning about and teaching qualitative research methods and methodologies in the social sciences. Forum Qualitative Sozialforschung/Forum Qualitative Social Research, 8(1), Article 30. Retrieved from http://nbn-resolving.de/urn:nbn:de:0114-fqs0701307 Dsane, S. (n.d.). What is the best way to teach qualitative research? [Web log message]. Retrieved from https://www.researchgate.net/post/What_is_the_best_way_to_ teach_qualitative_research fiaba. (2007, January 11). Fun ways in teaching research methods? The Chronicle (Online forum comment). Retrieved from https://www.chronicle.com/forums/ index.php?topic=32891.0 Fontes, L. A., & Piercy, F. P. (2000). Engaging students in qualitative research through experiential class activities. Teaching of Psychology, 27(3), 174–179. Foucault, M. (1975). Surveiller et punir: Naissance de la prison [Discipline and punish: Birth of the prison]. Paris: Gallimard. Freire, P. (1970). Pedagogy of the oppressed. New York, NY: Continuum. Grant, C., & Osanloo, A. (2014). Understanding, selecting, and integrating a theoretical framework in dissertation research: Creating the blueprint for your “house.” Administrative Issues Journal: Connecting Education, Practice, and Research, 4(2), 12–26.

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Holzkamp, K. (1993). Lernen: Subjektwissenschaftliche Grundlegung [Learning: Subjectscientific foundations]. Frankfurt/M: Campus. Holzkamp, K. (2013). The fiction of learning as administratively plannable. In E. Schraube & U. Osterkamp (Eds.), Psychology from the standpoint of the subject: Selected writings of Klaus Holzkamp (pp. 115–132). Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Knowles, M., Holton, E., & Swanson, R. (2015). The adult learner. New York, NY: Routledge. Richards, J. (2018). Qualitative research methods #2 [Class notes]. Tampa, FL: University of South Florida. Roth, W.-M. (2005). Doing qualitative research: Praxis of methods. Rotterdam, The Netherlands: Sense Publishers. Roth, W.-M. (2015). Rigorous data analysis: Beyond anything goes. Rotterdam, The Netherlands: Sense Publishers. Zimmerman, B. J., & Schunk, D. (Eds.). (2001). Self-regulated learning and academic achievement: Theoretical perspectives (2nd ed.). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

PART 1 Teaching for Empowerment

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Introduction to Part 1 Wolff-Michael Roth and Janet C. Richards

Empowerment, as we write in our introductory chapter, is not a thing that instructors can confer to their students. This is an immediate upshot of a relational way of understanding the relation between power and knowledge (e.g., Foucault, 1975), relational not only between the two terms but also between the related subjects in which struggles of power and knowledge work themselves out. In institutional settings generally and in educational institutions particularly, including graduate school, some mechanisms are such that they make us believe that the instructor of a course has power. But, as exemplified in Chapter 13, students have the option to drop a course. Students generally may challenge traditional forms of relations, leading to shifts in the way courses unfold and what they actually teach. Instructors can be “good” instructors only if the students allow it to be; and students can be “good” students only if the instructors allow it to be. Thus empowerment is to be understood not as a onesided concept and phenomenon but something that instructors and students bring about together. The outcome depends on the way in which their living relation works itself out, for no course design and no instructor intention, as we point out in the introduction, can guarantee the learning actually occurring as a curriculum unfolds (Holzkamp, 2013). It is a chicken and egg situation, and the joint work of both parties is required for empowerment to occur. When we entitled this first part of the book “Teaching for Empowerment,” then this is to be understood in this general framework. It then consists of actions constituting something like an initial offer, which will be paired with the students’ actions that also constitute an initial offer. It is out of the joint work of beginning and setting up a course that empowerment may arise or not. Importantly, all of the instructors contributing to Part I of this book envision what they do as working toward empowerment. In Chapter 2, Janet Richards describes a course on qualitative research methods in which she introduces graduate students to the writing of research, allowing the latter to take charge of their academic writing. The term academic writing refers to particular forms of prose that conform to specific expectations of language, structure, and purpose, such as writing required in writing dissertations and qualitative research studies for publication in scholarly journals. In contrast to experimental research following objectivist ideals—which also include a much higher frequency of graphs, charts, equations, and the like than typical for qualitative studies—much qualitative research is communicated © koninklijke brill nv, leideN, 2020 | DOI: 10.1163/9789004419551_002

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through academic prose (i.e., words, phrases and sentences, and longer discourse). Consequently, one goal of qualitative research methods students is to create opportunities for students to develop exemplary academic writing, which may include how to place comma, using specific expressions (e.g., writing “thought, perceived, or believed” in place of “felt like”), limiting adjectives and adverbs, writing in active voice, never ending a sentence with a preposition, or forgoing wordiness. The declared goal for the chapter is to make academic writing less mysterious and perplexing and thus, create opportunities for students to take charge of their academic writing by following specific revision and editing tenets. Richards supplies an extensive listing of academic writing principles and presents a structured model that her students use to critique their weekly assignments. She also describes how students present their end-of semester final projects in the two qualitative research methods courses she offers for doctoral students. Whereas Chapter 2 provides specific techniques directly related to a particular set of “academic skills,” Margrit Schreier describes in Chapter 3 how she offers an opportunity for students to engage in mindful (contemplative) practice. Such practice therefore shape the ways in which students approach qualitative inquiry more broadly, that is, it allows them to take up particular stances toward the world more broadly. The author notes that the instructors of qualitative research methods are often caught between the conflicting demands of (a) students asking for technical information and (b) the realization on the part of the instructors that research is more than a set of methods. The students are caught between the inherent openness even the most specific desired precepts provide and the openness typical of qualitative research specifically and the forms of life investigated more generally. Schreier, as the authors of the subsequent chapter, understands that forms and content of research are premised on the ontological and epistemological assumptions and presuppositions of the researchers, themselves embedded in an ever-evolving research field. To help students understand the dilemmas, she describes a course in which contemplative practices are offered as an entry to the philosophy undergirding qualitative research. Accordingly, contemplative practices invite students to use various forms of introspection and reflection. They are intended to engage students, to make connections between their own private worlds and society at large. The author describes a wide range of practices used in teaching the contemplative approach, including stillness, creativity, taking an active stance, or ritual activities. Schreier includes references to research indicating how mindfulness increases students’ abilities to sustain attention over a longer period of time, switch between different foci of attention, or de-center from their own initial perspectives. She relates these contemplative practices to

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particular aspects of qualitative research, including its inductive nature, openness, flexibility, and reflexivity. Chapter 3 shows how qualitative research instructors may provide not only instruction in research design and data analyses but also opportunities for students to explore their philosophical stance. In Chapter 3, this exploration is done through the practices of being contemplative and mindful. Chapter 4 also is concerned with philosophical stance, but provides opportunities for development that begin with student self-evaluations using a brief questionnaire. Suzanne Franco and Erin Lunday describe in their chapter how they guide students to (a) identify their personal orientations—which they conceive in terms of the notion of positionality—and (b) understand the impact that positionality has on all aspects of qualitative research. The authors ground their work in adult and experiential learning theories, which reappear in Chapter 10 written from the perspective of an adult learner. Franco and Lunday offer what they consider opportunities for engaging in transformative learning, and they both facilitate active learning through discussions, collaborations, and field experiences in the online and classroom contexts in which they teach. They might ask their students to reflect on how a research design or data analysis might change when research positionality is changed. The authors describe their individual experience, which, in the case of Franco, concerns doctoral students, who come to participate in facilitated class discussions based on texts that either directly address researcher positionality or, more indirectly, exhibit positionality in the descriptions of data collection and analysis. Lunday teaches online courses in a military graduate level program in which she offers opportunities for the rather unique student body to investigate their ontological and epistemological positions and to understand the relationship between position and exemplary qualitative research. The authors include quotations from students in their classes who reflected on their transformations while becoming aware of positionality in their own work. Franco and Lunday reflect on how their ways of teaching qualitative inquiry provided students with experiences of evolving levels of ease in identifying the interactions between positionality and qualitative research. In Chapter 5, a professor (Alisha Braun) and one of her graduate students (Anna Gonzales-Pliss) use an interview format for describing their experiences of a course on interviewing, which the former had offered. As other authors (e.g., Roth, Chapter 11) Braun had experienced her coursework in qualitative research methods as too abstract. She exposed to knowledge of different methods, genres, and theoretical perspectives, but when she collected her dissertation data, she needed knowing-how to act in the contingencies that come with any form of practical action generally. Just as Roth (Chapter 11), Braun describes

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how she had to learn by learning from her actions. But she continuously wondered about the adequacy of what she was doing related interviewing style and she asked herself about the relationship between research method and the depth required by her topic. These experiences shaped how, as a new professor, she approaches the task of teaching. In this chapter, she shares the fundamental ideas underlying an inaugural interviewing skills class. She does so while reflecting together with one of the students taking the course (Gonzales-Pliss). Importantly—and consistent with the framework on empowerment outlined in the introduction and above, the authors focus on the lessons that both of them learned in and from participating in the course. The authors use the interview format, thus creating a match between experience and representation of the experience. Their approach thus reflects what sociologists have come to know as reflexivity, an example of which we had already used in a study of the dialogic nature of epistemology and the representation of the findings in the form of dialogues and metalogues (Roth, McRobbie, & Lucas, 1998). The two authors talk about the match or lack thereof between (a) face-to-face and online sessions and (b) teaching and learning objectives and needs. Their conversational topics include how to build a learning community, foster meaningful student-student and student-professor relationships, practice reflexivity, provide honest feedback, and find positionality in qualitative research courses. The authors close their chapter with some ideas for future courses.

References Foucault, M. (1975). Surveiller et punir: Naissance de la prison [Discipline and punish: The rise of the prison]. Paris: Gallimard. Holzkamp, K. (2013). The fiction of learning as administratively plannable. In E. Schraube & U. Osterkamp (Ed.), Psychology from the standpoint of the subject: Selected writings of Klaus Holzkamp (pp. 115–132). Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Roth, W.-M., McRobbie, C., & Lucas, K. B. (1998). Four dialogues and metalogues about the nature of science. Research in Science Education, 28(1), 107–118.

CHAPTER 2

Empowering Students of Qualitative Research to Take Charge of Their Academic Writing Janet C. Richards

Good writing isn’t forged by magic or hatched out of thin air. Good writing happens when human beings take particular steps to take control of their sentences, to make their words do what they want them to do. Fletcher (2000, p. 5)

… Do not separate your personal self from your professional self when writing qualitative inquiries. Be brave and refer to yourself, as “I.” Don’t call yourself “The researcher.” Do not be afraid to write, “We.” Above all else, write in active voice. Adopt the voice of authority! Richards (2019)

∵ 1

Introduction

Most doctoral students enter my qualitative research classes uncertain about how to write in an academic voice. In an attempt to solve their writing confusions, early in the semester I offer a Saturday workshop in which I provide an overview of the tenets of exemplary academic writing. I also present some in-class guided writing instruction. In addition, as I grade my students’ weekly assignments (e.g., a critique of a qualitative research publication, an overview of some tenets of post structuralism, writing as inquiry, or arts-based research), I revise and edit (i.e., correct) their writing problems if necessary. Then, I offer opportunities for them to follow my suggestions, and return their assignments for a final grade. I note my efforts improve students’ academic writing abilities to some extent. However, many continue to feel insecure about turning in assignments, or writing for publication. © koninklijke brill nv, leideN, 2020 | DOI: 10.1163/9789004419551_003

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I recently concluded by editing my students’ writing, I did all the work, and thus, contributed to their lack of confidence, and inability to exercise control over their writing. To try to rectify these concerns, I made a decision to place students in charge of their writing and situate myself not as an instructor who corrects writing problems, but as a writing coach who supports and enables students’ abilities to appraise their own writing efforts. Accordingly, I offer the information in this chapter to empower students of qualitative research to self-regulate their academic writing, make sound composing decisions, and feel confident in their writing efforts. I begin the chapter by explaining why it is necessary for qualitative researchers to follow principles of exemplary academic writing (I do this because each semester a few students ask me why they need to learn how to write in an academic voice). I then describe authors’ composing styles and the recursive nature of composing. Next I offer an extensive list of academic writing principles, which I compiled for my students followed by a suggested model to help emerging qualitative researchers develop their research designs. I emphasize: there are many ways to arrange qualitative studies depending upon researchers’ goals, chosen a priori research questions that guide an inquiry, and connected decisions about data collection and analysis. I close the chapter with a “Putting it all Together” section in which I share an example of one of my recent conference proposals and a doctoral student’s PowerPoint slide projects accomplished in my arts-based research class. Both examples, although diverse, illustrate exemplary academic writing principles and follow the suggested model of a qualitative research design.

2

What Is Academic Writing in Qualitative Research?

Question: Why is it necessary for students of qualitative research to become exemplary academic writers? Answer: Unlike quantitative studies in which researchers can rely on statistical graphs, charts, and equations to portray and explain data, qualitative researchers follow tenets of academic prose to report their research. Consequently, if students of qualitative inquiry are unfamiliar with academic writing, they will find it difficult to complete class assignments, dissertations, or manuscripts for publication. Academic writing is neither effortless nor commonplace. It is a style of writing we, who publish our qualitative research, have had to master (Golden-Biddle & Locke, 2007). This style of writing follows specific expectations of written academic language recommended for those in the social and behavioral sciences as published in the Publication Manual of the American Psychological Association (APA, 2010). Therefore, a first step toward exemplary

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academic writing is to become familiar with the APA manual. Take note! Following APA format is only the first step in your academic writing journey.

3

What Else Do You Need to Know?

As scholars, we all need to know our own composing style; that is, our own idiosyncratic writing processes—in other words, what works best for us (Golden-Biddle & Locke, 2007). Writing experts typify authors as adhering to a specific composing style, or a blend of styles. They categorize these distinctive approaches to writing as: (a) heavy planners who characteristically organize their manuscripts prior to writing; (b) heavy revisers who forgo planning and instead revise as they write; (c) sequential composers who devote equivalent time to planning and revising; (d) procrastinators who seem to enjoy pressure created by deadlines, and; (e) discovery writers who find out what they want to write and need to know about their topic through the process of writing (Murray, 2001; Richards & Miller, 2005). I am a discovery-heavy reviser writer. That means I take a considerable amount of time to complete a piece because I discover what I want to write as I compose, and I revise and re-revise and then revise again as I move through a manuscript. In fact as I write this section I do not know how I will end this chapter and I already edited the beginning section 37 times to make my prose smoother. Since I am a heavy revisionist, I always start to write sooner rather than later. I could never procrastinate and then write rapidly to meet a looming deadline. I am a tenacious, steady, persevering writer who writes every day even if I write for only 30 minutes on Saturday and Sunday. Sometimes I am at my computer for hours. When I finally stand up, my knees hurt because they have been bent so long. Prior to writing, l am also unable to create an outline to plan what I want to say. A case in point is recently I was asked to supply an outline for a book chapter. To create the outline I had to write the chapter first and then create the outline from the completed chapter. When the outline was accepted, I had already written the chapter. I have exhibited the same writing behavior for years because it works for me. So, what type of writer are you? You need to know who you are as a writer of academic prose and cultivate a style of writing that makes you feel most comfortable. In that way you will become a productive scholar.

4

You Need to Know about the Recursive Stages of the Writing Process

Although I devote this section of the chapter to the stages of writing, many writers do not specifically follow these step-by-step patterns of composing.

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Writing is a recursive process. By that I mean, writers may write a sentence or a paragraph or two and then go back and alter a word, or phrase. Or, they may write a few pages and then revise, or edit. Still, others might complete a section of a draft and then revise and edit their work. In fact I wrote this section last week but yesterday reread this section and changed the term “lock-step” to “step-by-step.” To paraphrase Mark Twain (1987), the difference between an almost right phrase and precisely the right phrase is the difference between almost good writing and exemplary writing. Stage 1: Invention: We consider the first stage of writing the invention phase in which writers engage in specific prewriting techniques. Yet, many authors do not specifically engage in structured planning. All writers write differently (Richards & Miller, 2005). For example, Donald Murray (1987) believes writing is a process of discovery: “writers much of the time don’t know what they are going to write … [and they] use language as a tool of exploration to see beyond what they know” (p. 90). But, in contrast to Murray’s statement, some renowned authors plan considerably before they write. In fact, prior to composing, J. K. Rowling, author of the famous Harry Potter series, meticulously plans her novels by filling in and color-coding large charts. When I wrote my dissertation I initially did not plan my writing at all because I did not know how to write in an academic voice. As a result I struggled with the beginning of the manuscript. In fact, my dissertation file overflowed with pages of abandoned first paragraphs. I now recognize even though I am a discovery-high revision writer it is beneficial for me to mull over ideas for a book, chapter, or manuscript. I just don’t write my ideas down, or plan in a systematic way. Instead I ponder a few possible ideas. Then I write some sentences or paragraphs and “see,” or discover where writing takes me. Many writers do not seem to know beforehand what it is they will say. For them, “writing is a process through which meaning is created” (Zamel, 1982, p. 195). In other words, writing is a process of attempting to discover what it is they want to say (Emig, 1971). However, if you think you might benefit from planning your writing systematically rather than contemplating possible ideas like me, you might want to consider some of following strategies some of my students find helpful: Creating sketch journals and drawings; generating concept maps and webs; engaging in free writing; listing questions you may have about a topic; thinking aloud and speaking into a tape recorder; talking about your ideas with others; making lists; devising Venn diagrams; constructing an outline, and; combining invention strategies (e.g., a concept map combined with a flowchart). On-line writing invention sites are also available (see Richards & Miller, 2005, for a complete description of these strategies and resources). Stage 2: Drafting: Some writers do their prewriting like me, trying out ideas and discovering as they write a draft. Others begin writing by moving back and forth between invention and drafting. There is no perfect formula for writing

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a draft. But, drafting does take perseverance, motivation, and hard work. Furthermore, you cannot write a cohesive draft unless you know a lot about your topic. But, if you find you cannot move forward with your draft, do not excuse yourself and say you have writer’s block. Pay attention to what Donald Murray (2001) repeated about a famous columnist who declared: “There is no such thing as writer’s block. My father drove a truck for forty years. And never once did he wake up in the morning and say, “I have truck driver’s block today. I am not going to work” (p. 22). I agree with this statement. Writer’s block is no excuse for not writing. If I cannot think of what else to write I do not have writer’s block. I have reader’s block. I have not learned enough about my topic, which was another one of my problems writing the beginning of my dissertation. Yet, I also know delaying writing a draft over time is useless for me. I, like other discovery writers, have to see what I wrote to know what I think and want to say. Stage 3: Revision: The Heart of Writing: Murray (2001) believes “writing is revision … through revising we learn about what we know, what we know that we didn’t know we knew, what we didn’t know” (p. 9). And I add, “What we need to know.” Revision often requires writers to make major changes, such as moving small, or large sections of text to other places in a manuscript, composing more paragraphs, or adding or deleting sections of text to make ideas clearer. As with the other stages of writing, there are no magic prescriptions, or formulae for the revision process. Some writers, like me, prefer to revise as they write and then they revise and revise again even after they think they have finished their manuscripts. Others complete an entire draft and then revise. Thus, “there are all kinds of writers and all kinds of methods, and any method that helps you to say what you want to say is the right method for you” (Zinser, 2001, p. 5). Stage 4: Editing (Note my use of active voice in this and other sections): Now we get to my favorite part of the writing process. I have revised and re-revised and revised my manuscript again. I have placed topics under appropriate subheadings. I have a completed draft. Relief!!!! Am I ready to edit my work? Yes, even though I have edited as I write. I can never edit enough. “Editing is finishing. Editing is making a text convey precisely what you intend to say in the clearest way possible. Editing is sentence level work, attended to after a text’s ideas are in order” (Fulwiler, 2002, p. 178).

5

A Systematic Editing Plan

I tell my students I edit a manuscript at least 100 times but they don’t believe me. They think I am speaking metaphorically. Yet, I do engage in considerable editing. I edit so much I know every word I have written and I know why I chose each word in my manuscript. I have organized “A List of Academic Writing

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Principles” (Table 2.1) to guide my students’ editing efforts and I, too, follow these precepts (refer to the next section for this list). I advise my students to keep this list by their computers. I tell them, When you think you have completed revising your final draft, use the Academic Writing Principles list in the following way. Choose the first statement on the list and go through your entire document editing your writing in accord with this first statement. For example, the first recommendation on the list below is, “Above all write in active voice.” Heed this advice and edit the entire document accordingly. Now read the second recommendation on the list, “Limit use of weak ‘ing’ verbs, such as walking, reading, running.” Once again, go through your entire manuscript and edit appropriately (e.g., I walk; She read; He ran). My students follow this procedure (or they should), with each suggestion on the list until they reach the last tenet, which is, “Create a final title when your draft is complete and revised and edited. The title reflects the content of your manuscript. APA titles contain no more than 12 words.” Is this editing process time consuming? Well, yes! Is this process worthwhile? Yes again. As you check your manuscripts with each statement on the list after a few weeks you will notice you have memorized some of the tenets listed and have automatically written in accordance with some of the recommendations. Therefore, it takes you less time to methodically check your work. Not only that but you have become an active participant in your own writing and you will get top grades on your assignments.

6

Writing for Publication and Presentation

In addition to the requirements and principles of academic writing, students of qualitative research need to know how to manage the key components required in qualitative studies so they can contribute to the extant literature. Thus, in this section I list and provide information about the necessary sections of a qualitative research design. Note: Research designs may vary because of differences in qualitative genres, such as case studies, narrative inquiry, grounded theory, autoethnography, etc. and in relationship to researchers’ goals and purposes (e.g., Johnson, Chisam, Smagorinsky, & Wargo, 2018). All qualitative research designs are flexible, interactive, and recursive in nature (Maxwell, 2013; Robson, 2002). Therefore, I provide the model in Table 2.2 only as a suggestion for emerging qualitative researchers. I do not offer this scheme as the only procedural format. However, it is a model that often works for me

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table 2.1  A list of academic writing principles

1.

2. 3. 4.

5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

11.

12. 13. 14. 15. 16.

Above all else write in active voice (e.g., “I (or we, or they) collected the data” rather than, “Data were collected by me (or them). If you have to ask “By whom?” You have composed a passive voice construction. Use of passive voice takes the researcher/writer out of out of the text and makes the writing awkward and the reading slow. Limit use of weak “ing” verbs (e. g. “He was reading”; “He was running”). (Write “He read”; “He ran”). Limit use of adverbs, such as brilliantly, decidedly, and lovely, and adjectives, such as, great, bad, and good. Delete unnecessary use of the word, that. Count the number of times you use the word, that in your manuscript and delete when you can. I think you will be surprised. Also note how few that’s there are in this chapter. Refer to people as who—not as that (e.g., “People who ate the hamburgers were hungry”). Avoid wordiness. Delete unnecessary words. Always place a comma before the word, “which” unless you write, “In which case.” Use the words that or what in place of the word which if you can. An editor told me when I wrote my first book, “Which is not an attractive word.” Remember—good writing is good thinking. Start off with a simple on-topic sentence. Don’t digress. Don’t take forever to get to the point. My linguistics professor, John Barnitz, once crossed off the first three pages of a manuscript I turned in for a grade. On the fourth page he wrote, FINALLY!!! Avoid jargon and acronyms unless you first explain their meaning. Acronyms are special words, initials, phrases, or expressions used by a particular profession, or group and are difficult for others to understand (e.g., ADHD for a chronic condition marked by persistent inattention, hyperactivity, and sometimes impulsivity). Vary vocabulary, but if you begin your manuscript using the term student stick with that term. Don’t switch to children or pupils. Be writer hot—reader/critic cold. Put your writing away for a day or two. Then, review your work with a critical eye. Monitor your writing at every word. Know exactly what you say and why. Remember time spent revising and editing is time well spent. End a sentence with something other than a preposition. Prepositions include the words, “are,” “to,” “under,” “over,” “at”) (see https://www.talkenglish.com/ vocabulary/top-50-prepositions.aspx). (cont.)

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table 2.1  A list of academic writing principles (cont.)

17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22.

23.

24. 25. 26. 27.

28. 29.

Erase these words from your writing vocabulary: very, or really. Always begin a new paragraph after dialogue, such as in a conversation indicated by quotation marks. Consider your audience at all times. Guide your audience through your report with sub headings. Data are always plural. Remember in qualitative research we explore phenomena. We do not examine phenomena. Keep in mind studies cannot explore anything. Only researchers can explore phenomena. Do not anthropomorphize your inquiry and write, “This study explored …” The study is inert. Studies cannot think. Write, “In this study I (or we) explored …” Always write “We (or I) believe (or perceive, or think”). Remove the word feel from your academic writing vocabulary (e.g., “I feel our study was appropriate”). Remember we only feel in love, ill, heartbroken, mad, or confused. We also feel with our hands. Do not switch back and forth between active and passive voice. Edit one problematic writing issue at a time. Write, “It is likely” or, “In all probability” rather than make absolute statements. Write the Abstract that follows directly after the title page of a manuscript after you have completed your final draft. The Abstract is a succinct summary of your purpose, research questions, methods, discoveries, and conclusions. (Note, not the paper’s purpose, etc.). Remember: Either/Or, Neither/Nor. Either is always paired with or, and neither is always paired with nor. Create a final title when your draft is complete and revised and edited. The title reflects the content of your manuscript to help scholars find topics of interest. Your APA style titles should contain no more than 12 words.

(also see Creswell, 2009, and Maxwell 2013, for examples of other qualitative research design formats).

7

Putting It All Together

In this last section of the chapter, I present two diverse manuscripts. Both contain many of the components I listed under the “Suggested Model of a

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table 2.2  A suggested model of a qualitative research design

1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

6.

7.

8. 9. 10.

Title. Devise the title as a last step. Remember: 12 words or less, but your title must reflect the content of your manuscript. Abstract. Compose the Abstract when you have completed your final draft. Abstracts follow the sequence of your manuscript. Rationale (or significance of the inquiry including the statement of the problem(s)). Purpose of the Research (e.g., “In this study I (or we) …”) Remember to include why you decided to conduct the study. Theoretical Perspectives (a term used by Crotty, 1998) also referred to as theoretical frameworks (Anfara & Mertz, 2013), theoretical stances (Meriam & Associates, 2002), theoretical traditions (Patton, 2002), a theoretical lens (Creswell, 1998), or paradigms (Denzin & Lincoln, 2013). Refer to Anfara and Mertz (2013) for more information about theoretical perspectives. (Note: Often researchers must look outside of their discipline parameters for appropriate theoretical frameworks.) A Priori Questions. I suggest you begin your inquiry by first designing a priori questions because these questions are at the heart of your research design. They represent what you want to learn, discover, or understand, are task specific and influence all parts of your study. A priori research questions are open-ended. They cannot be answered with a yes, or a no, or with percentages, or numbers. Good a priori questions might begin: (1) “In what ways do?”; (2) “How do four students describe …”; (3) “What perceptions do?” Refer to Maxwell (2013) for a thorough overview of qualitative research questions. Qualitative genre chosen to conduct the inquiry (e.g., case studies, (Refer to Lichtman (2010) for popular research methods, such as case studies, phenomenology, narrative, autoethnography, and grounded theory, and Leavy (2015), for a comprehensive overview of arts-based research approaches. Context for the inquiry (i.e., where the study takes place and some description about the study’s context). Study participants (refers to how you chose the study participants, and the number and description of study participants). Data sources and data collection methods. These methods vary depending upon your a priori questions, and include individual interviews; focus groups; on-line surveys; self-portraits, and other arts-based methods such as photographs; videos; texts, and; study participants’ and researchers’ journals, including electronic dialogue-journaling. (cont.)

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table 2.2  A suggested model of a qualitative research design (cont.)

11.

12.

13. 14. 15. 16. 17.

Data analysis methods. Refer to Bernard and Ryan (2010) for systematic approaches for analyzing qualitative data that include discourse analysis, content analysis, narrative analysis, and grounded theory. Limitations of the inquiry (e.g., researcher biases; study participants’ memory distortions, or memory lapses; study participants’ inabilities, or unwillingness to communicate their perceptions, ideas, and truths, and; hermeneutic considerations that posit others may interpret the data differently because of differences in world views and experiences). It is not a limitation if a researcher chose to study third grade students and then apologizes for not exploring students in second, or fourth grade. I always tell my studenta, “It is what it is. You chose it, Own it.” Discoveries. Connect your discoveries to the theoretical frameworks supporting the inquiry. Researchers often overlook this step. Contributions of the inquiry. Connect your conclusions to the theoretical frameworks supporting the inquiry. Researchers often overlook this step. Implications (implications for whom, such as, administrators, parents, medical personnel, etc.) References. Refer to the current APA style manual. Appendices (if appropriate)

Note: researchers often interchange the following components: #5, #6, #7, #8, and, # 9.

Qualitative Research Design.” The first manuscript is a qualitative conference proposal I recently submitted for review. The proposal follows the guidelines set out by the conference organizers, which had specific page requirements. Following this proposal, I share a more informal PowerPoint slide presentation of a mini inquiry created by one of my arts-based research doctoral students (Nhu Le).

8

Proposal: Poetry—A Communicative Platform to Stimulate Education Majors’ Reflections about Teaching Literacy Reflection on practice rooted in poetic form can illuminate … tensions [and], foreground previously silenced experiences. (Kinsella, 2006, p. 35) Poetic inquiry, as a category of arts-based research, is the incorporation and exploration of poetry as a component of a qualitative study. (Prendergast, 2008)

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Poetry can be used as an analytical or reflexive approach as well as a representational form in qualitative work. It is a form of inquiry. (Butler-Kisber & Stewart, 2009, p. 3) 8.1 Purpose To: (a) describe a poetic inquiry I conducted to explore in what ways composing poetry might stimulate education majors’ motivation and abilities to thoughtfully consider their teaching; (b) model poetic analysis; (c) share examples of education majors’ reflective poetry; (d) compare the content of the education majors’ Level One/Technical prose with their reflective poetry. 8.2 Theoretical Frameworks Beginning teachers usually need interventions to carefully consider the consequences of their work in order for them to learn the attitudes and dispositions required for the reflective process (Author, 2015; Richert & Bove, 2010; Schön, 1996). Moreover, ideas “predicated on a constructivist epistemology posit there are multiple realities and ways of doing and understanding” (Butler-Kisber, 2010, np). Accordingly, post structuralism and post modernism tenets urge researchers to “uncover and deconstruct previously accepted ways of using language, genres, methodologies, and paradigms of research (Shidmehr, 2014, p. 165). Poetic inquiry that connects the lyric qualities of poetry with sensitivity, insightfulness, emotion, intuition, and intensity meets these criteria. Background and Methodology: As supervisor of a literacy field program, I asked education majors to send weekly teaching reflections to me via e-mail in which they considered their lessons with small groups of K-5th grade children from diverse ethnicities. Despite my modeling and encouragement (e.g., “So tell me more about how you might help your group pay attention to your lessons?”), they displayed little understanding of critical reflection. Instead, they composed bland, happy messages that Korthagen (2001), van Manen (1977), and Zeichner (1987) typify as non-reflective Level One/Technical, superficial e-mail reflections (e.g. descriptive writing: e.g., “We love our little group of first graders. They are so sweet”). They also complained (e.g. “We had to make extra nametags, journals, dictionaries, and prediction and literature logs in a hurry and that wasn’t easy and the kids speak variations of standard English”). Thus, the education majors’ e-mail reflections obscured phenomenon rather than illuminated their concerns challenges, and successes. In essence, their prose was disengaged from their teaching experiences (see Merleau-Ponty, 1962). I recognized their lack of reflexivity most likely ensued from lack of teaching experience. Moreover, as Fuller and Brown (1975) found, most beginning teachers, such as the education majors in this study, are in the survival stage of professional development and tend to concentrate on their own well-being

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rather than their pupils’ needs. As a faulty member who intertwines the arts with literacy, I knew “poetry allows the heart to lead the mind rather than the reverse. Therefore, in the hopes of stimulating their reflexivity I asked the education majors to substitute writing reflective poems four times during the semester rather than reflect through prose. I received permission to conduct this study from our institution’s IRB. 8.3 A Priori Questions a. In what ways does creating poetry stimulate education majors’ reflections about teaching K-5th grade children from diverse ethnicities in an after school literacy program? b. What themes are evident in the education majors’ poetic reflections? c. In what ways does the content of the education majors’ reflective poems vary with respect to themes (i.e., ideas, values, emotions, insights, concerns, and understandings about self, children, and teaching)? d. In what ways do the education majors’ prose reflections differ from their poetic reflections? 8.4 Data Sources and Analysis Arts-based researchers search for and document patterns in data (Leavy, 2015). Accordingly at the end of the semester, I chose constant comparative analysis (Stake, 2014) as the most appropriate method to analyze the education majors’ poetry. I chronologically collated the four data sets. Next I read and reread the data, discovering, comparing, and making notes about what I believed was pertinent information for each education major (e.g., I jotted down our assumptions, underlined possible patterns, and compared the emerging content for possible themes and connections (Stake, 2014). Then I engaged in axial coding (Patton, 2015), where I looked for similarities and differences between the data sets for each education major. Finally, I employed selective coding to devise encompassing themes. 8.5 Discoveries My analysis of the poetry showed that unlike their weekly prose reflections, emotionality and feelings were at the heart of the poems and the first three poetic data sets portrayed the education majors’ anxieties, confusions, and insecurities about teaching (see example below). Palms are sweaty Heart is racing

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My biggest fear Is what I’m facing Voice is trembling Knees are weak Can’t find the words With which to speak Stomach in knots Mind goes blank Inch by inch I walk the plank Do I have what it takes? Or will this end in heartbreak? This is not surprising given the research base about beginning teachers’ “Novice teachers tend to begin their professional lives initially concerned with self and their own survival in the classroom” (Jenkins & Lloyd, 2001, n.p.). In this survival stage beginning teachers are preoccupied with their own security rather than on their lessons, or their students’ learning and instructional needs (Borich & Tombari, 1995; Fuller, 1969; Fuller & Brown, 1975). Surprisingly, 12 poems authored at the end of the semester illuminated the education majors’ solicitude and compassion and concern for individual children’s well being. The extant literature on phases of teacher development indicates it is only when teachers are comfortable about their teaching abilities that they feel secure enough to turn their attention to their pupils’ needs (Author; Borich & Tombari, 1995; Fuller, 1969; Fuller & Brown, 1975). The following free verse poem illuminates an education major’s preoccupation and worry for an individual child who needs help in reading and writing. She slipped through a crack She can hardly read or write She can’t recognize alphabet letters I worry for lost children like these My heart pounds, and I feel weak in my knees Left behind in writing Left behind in reading 8.6 Making Sense of the Data As I analyzed and reanalyzed the data, I was a bit surprised all of the education majors’ poetic forms were fraught with emotionality. Yet, although there are some conflicting theories surrounding human emotions (Johnson,

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2015) and a “lack of agreement on [what constitutes] basic emotions” (Scheff, 2015, p. 111), psychoanalytic theories explain aesthetic processes offer a communicative platform for emotions (e.g., joy, sorrow, anger, grief). Emotions reflect individual’s needs and concerns (Burton, Western, & Kowalski, 2013). Thus, it is reasonable to assume the education major’s emotionality reflected their strong apprehensions and worries (concerns for self and end-of semester concerns for individual children. Recognizing that poetry allows individuals to express emotions too elusive to capture in prose (Trainor & Graue, 2012), or were “not quite conscious prior to writing” (Kinsella, 2006, p. 42), I believe the act of creating poetry provided an experiential conduit that permitted the education majors’ emotions to emerge (Burton et al., 2013). Views from symbolic consciousness (i.e., the ways we think and communicate through symbols and images) elaborate on this phenomenon (e.g., see Langer, 1948). Philosophical insights also help to explain the connection between emotionality and poetry. For example, Suzanne Langer, a renowned philosopher, developed a seminal theory that explains artistic expression as forms of feeling that communicate lived experiences (1953, 1957a, 1957b). She observed the emotional quality of an event, or ongoing experiences is vividly clear in artistic expressions (such as poetry) and this emotionality reveals individual’s subjective realities as knowledge and truth that embody the externalization of subjective perceptions and feelings (Langer, 1953). Moreover, Elliot Eisner, esteemed professor of art and education, believed the arts liberate emotions by providing opportunities that are “free from the structures of literal description” (2002, p. 89). To that end, it appears poetry served as a communicative platform that liberated the education majors to write from their hearts and discover their innermost feelings rather than cautiously monitor their words and conceal their emotions from us and perhaps even from themselves. As Leavy (2015) states, “poems push feelings at the forefront” (p. 77). Simply put, the process of creating poetry allowed the education majors feelings to emerge. 8.7 Educational Significance, Contributions and Interest to the Audience Notwithstanding limitations of the study, the inquiry expands understanding of poetic inquiry. Another contribution is the research can be considered trustworthy because it meets a critical principle of arts-based investigations; that is, arts-based research must be at the heart of the inquiry (Sinner, et al., 2006) and “the chosen art is an integral and informative part of the process, producing knowledge otherwise inaccessible” (Suominen, 2003, p. 34). Although the

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education majors’ poetry did not focus on their lessons, their poems, revealed considerably more about their emotions and perceptions than did their weekly prose communication. Certainly the arts framed, influenced, and informed this inquiry. Minus the arts, the study would have provided entirely different, incomplete, and largely inaccurate perspectives of the education majors’ perceptions about their teaching experiences. There is scant literature that provides information about employing poetry as a communicative platform to liberate education majors’ reflections about their teaching (Savin-Baden & Major, 2013). Therefore I believe this session will prove useful to faculty who seek new ways of nurturing education majors’ reflections about teaching literacy. In truth, we find ourselves in poems.

9

PowerPoint Slide: Refugee Students’ Perceptions of Their Past, Present, and Future Selves through Drawings1

Rationale: While ‘travel ban’ immigration executive order under President Trump administration is still a ‘hot-button’ issue, the United States maintains the largest host country of resettled refugees and the second largest one of Syrian refugees in the United Nations High Commissioner on Refugees (UNHCR) system (Khurma, 2017). Refugee students face many challenges including emotional and economic struggles as well as language barriers (Lee & Walsh, 2015). Despite these challenges, refugee students are often a forgotten population at schools even when they have the greatest needs (Dryden-Peterson, 2015).

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I am a volunteer tutor for a group of refugee students in an after-school program run by WOKE Inc., a non-profit organization that strives to support the students in their academic and social lives. As part of the final project in my Arts-based Research class, I conducted a mini-inquiry to explore how three adolescent refugee students perceived their past, present, and future selves through drawings. I hope to learn more about my students’ self-perceptions to better accommodate them and see how the art could help bridge the language barriers.

Refugees are people who have fled war, violence, conflict, or persecution and have crossed an international border to find safety in another country.2

The after-school tutoring program for refugee students takes place on Mondays and Wednesdays at a major southeastern urban university in the United States. The tutors help students with homework or activities to enhance their

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literacy (e.g., learning with flashcards, reading books, learning through vocabulary games, etc.).

Possible-selves theory explores how people conceptualize their potential selves and how they direct them from the present toward the future, which impacts their intrinsic motivation along with their regulatory behaviors (Markus & Nurius, 1986). Attempts to reduce discrepancies between present and future selves can lead to academic success and identity development. Nevertheless, the theory neglects one critical component of a self—past-self.

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‘Image Guide’ helps guide the students portray their past, present, and future selves during their journey from homeland to new countries.

Drawings of a 14-year old girl from Ethiopia.

Drawings of a 13-year old girl from Ethiopia.

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Drawing of an 18-year old boy from Egypt. In the top left drawing, my participant described what he saw on the street in Cairo two years ago: A police officer beat a man who was in a march to fight against corruption. In the top right drawing, he described how a police officer helped him when he was lost at the airport. In the bottom drawings, my participant describes his hectic schedule but expresses he would like to become a psychiartist to help people.

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Discoveries of the inquiry are in line with disciplines of the temporally extended self: “Learners” current identity its constantly constructed not only in the present but also by reflection back to past selves and forward to future selves” (Ross & Wilson, 2002, p. 937).

Limitations: (a) Participants might have withheld information; (b) Participants might have memory lapses or distortions about their experiences; (c) Participants might lace the English skills needed to explain their drawings; and (d) Hermeneutic considerations posit that other researchers might interpret the data differently than I because of differences in experiences and world views.

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Acknowledgments The artwork was produced by Nhu Le, who is from Vietnam and is a doctoral candidate in Technology in Education/Second Language Acquisition (TESLA) program at University of South Florida. Her research interests include learning motivation, literacy development, digital literacy, and visual arts-based research.

Note 1 This PowerPoint presentation was created by Nhu Le, doctoral student. 2 See https://www.unhcr.org.en-us/what-is-a-refugee.html.

References American Psychological Association (APA). (2010). Publication manual of the American Psychological Association (6th ed.). Worcester, MA: American Psychological Association. Creswell, J. (2013). Qualitative inquiry & research design: Choosing among five approaches. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Emig, J. (1971). The composing processes of twelfth graders. Urbana, IL: National Council of Teachers of English. Fletcher, R. (2000). How writers work: Finding a process that works for you. New York, NY: HarperCollins. Fulwiler, T. (2002). College writing: A personal approach to academic writing. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.

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Golden-Biddle, K., & Locke, K. (2007). Composing qualitative research (2nd ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Johnson, L., Chisam, J., Smagorinsky, P., & Wargo. K. (2018). Beyond publication: Social action as the ultimate stage of a writing process. L1—Studies of Language and Literature Education, 18, 1–21. https://doi.org/10.17239/L1ESLL-2018.18.03.09 Maxwell J. (2013). Qualitative research design (3rd ed.). Los Angeles, CA: Sage. Murray, D. (1987). Internal revision: A process of discovery. In C. Cooper & L. Odell (Eds.), Research on composing: Points of departure (pp. 85–103). Urbana, IL: National Council of Teachers of English. Murray, D. (2001). My twice-lived life: A memoir. New York, NY: Ballentine Books. Richards, J. (2019). Qualitative research methods #1 [Class notes]. Tampa, FL: University of South Florida. Richards. J., & Miller, K. (2005). Doing academic writing in education: Connecting the personal with the professional. New York, NY: Routledge. Robson, C. (2002). Real world research (2nd ed.). Oxford: Blackwood. Twain, M. (1987). The wit and wisdom of Mark Twain. Mineola, NY: Dover Thrift Editions. Zamel, V. (1982). Writing: The process of discovering meaning. Tesol Quarterly, 16(2), 195–209. Zinser, W. (2001). On writing well: The classic guide to writing nonfiction (9th ed.). New York, NY: HarperCollins.

CHAPTER 3

A Mindfulness-based Approach to Teaching Qualitative Research Methods Margrit Schreier

The faculty of voluntarily bringing back a wandering attention, over and over again, is the very root of judgment, character, and will …. An education which should improve this faculty would be the education par excellence. James (1890, p. 424)

∵ 1

Introduction

Anyone who has ever taught methods classes in the social sciences is well aware that methods are usually not among students’ favorite courses. Over and above this general skepticism of anything methods-related, teaching qualitative research methods comes with its own unique set of challenges—even more so if students have already been trained in the post-positivist, quantitative view of research. Not only are interpretive, constructivist approaches based on very different ontological and epistemological assumptions, but they require a very different attitude from the researcher as well, an attitude that is characterized above all by flexibility and openness (e.g., Schreier & Breuer, 2017). Teaching qualitative research methods is therefore not only and not even primarily about teaching students about different approaches or about specific research methods. To my understanding, it is at least as much about teaching a general attitude towards research. Qualitative researchers have made a number of suggestions for how to go about creating and co-creating this kind of attitude together with students. This typically involves a socialization process where students and instructors engage in the learning process together, and where students carry out their own research in a community of peers (Ballard & Jensen, 2007).

© koninklijke brill nv, leideN, 2020 | DOI: 10.1163/9789004419551_004

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But the large majority of these suggestions are aimed at courses at the graduate or postgraduate level, at fairly homogeneous student groups from similar majors, and at teaching comparatively small classes where intensive discussion and exchange is possible. My situation is different in that I teach qualitative methods at the undergraduate level, to sometimes large groups of students who come from a variety of disciplines, including majors as diverse as psychology, international business administration, logistics, or international relations, politics, and history. Especially students from business and economicsrelated majors are primarily interested in hands-on learning about how to apply specific research methods. If we engage in classroom discussion about issues related to epistemology, I invariably quickly lose most of them. My main challenge in teaching such courses has therefore been: how to convey to these undergraduate students a sense of the attitude underlying qualitative research, without engaging in lengthy classroom discussions about its epistemological foundation? Having maintained a practice of mindfulness meditation for several years, I have long been intrigued by the parallels between mindfulness and the principles underlying qualitative research (Schreier, in press). Moreover, mindfulness has increasingly come to be used as an element in higher education (Block-Lerner & Cardaciotto, 2016). I therefore decided to design a course that combined the teaching of qualitative research methods to undergraduates from diverse majors with selected mindfulness practices designed to illustrate core principles underlying qualitative research and implemented the course in the fall of 2018. In this chapter, I start out by defining mindfulness, showing how mindfulness has been used in college classrooms so far and to what effects and how it relates to core ideas in qualitative research. I then describe the course and some of the core mindfulness practices and how they were used to illustrate ideas in qualitative research. To show how the course was received and what did and did not work, I draw upon my own impressions as well as the reflections of two students who took the course about the practices and what they took away from them.

2

Mindfulness and Its Relevance for Teaching Qualitative Research Methods

In this section, I first review concepts of mindfulness and briefly describe how mindfulness can be practiced and attained. On this basis, give an overview of how mindfulness has been used in higher education and what effects of mindfulness are especially pertinent here. To conclude, I then explore the

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relationship between mindfulness and qualitative research and where core ideas from both traditions overlap. 2.1 What Is Mindfulness? 2.1.1 Definitions of Mindfulness Mindfulness has been conceptualized and defined in a number of different ways. The term can refer to “(1) a form of awareness, (2) the practices that elevate that form of awareness, and (3) guidelines for applying that awareness to specific perceptual, behavioral, or psychospiritual goals” (Young, 2016, p. 29). In this chapter, I focus on mindfulness as a form of awareness as a momentary state, and I use the following, often-cited definition according to which mindfulness is “the awareness that emerges on paying attention on purpose, in the present moment, and nonjudgmentally to the unfolding of experience moment-by-moment (Kabat-Zinn, 2003). According to this definition, mindfulness consists of two core components. The first component refers to intentionally directing our attention to what is happening in the present moment. The second component refers to doing so in an accepting, non-judgmental manner. Kabat-Zinn (2009) further mentions a number of attitudes that he considers especially helpful in attaining a state of mindful awareness. These include, among others, the suspending of judgment, curiosity, patience, trust, nonjudging, kindness, as well as beginner’s mind, i.e. being prepared to see and experience everything as though it were for the first time. 2.1.2 Practices for Developing Mindfulness Mindfulness is typically cultivated through formal practice consisting in regular meditation sessions. The first step is to cultivate attention and quieting the mind. This is done by choosing an anchor on which to focus, commonly the breath (Nhat Than, 2008). Whenever the mind deviates from the anchor, one gently directs it back. As meditators do this, they typically become aware that their mind does not stay with the anchor, but takes off in various directions. This is perfectly normal, and the goal of this practice is not to empty the mind of all thought. Instead, mindfulness occurs whenever one becomes aware that the mind has gone elsewhere and directs it back to the anchor. Once the mind has quieted, one begins cultivation of mindfulness proper. This is done in four steps (the four “principles of mindful transformation,” Kornfield, 2009): recognizing what the mind has wandered to by gently naming it; accepting what the mind is dwelling on; investigating it; and not identifying with it, letting it go. In between, the mind returns to the breath, until the meditator recognizes that something else has come into the foreground of awareness. In addition to the above practices, mindfulness training also involves a number of other practices designed to strengthen attitudes that support

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mindfulness. These include, for example, practices of loving kindness (mettā), compassion, equanimity, and forgiveness. In mettā practice, we send kind wishes for safety, happiness, and wellbeing to ourselves and to others, including those with whom we are in a relationship of conflict, and to all beings, acknowledging that all beings strive to be happy (Salzberg, 1995). 2.1.3 Effects of Mindfulness There exists by now an extensive body of research that demonstrates the benefits of mindfulness (Wolf & Serpa, 2015). Mindfulness has been shown to positively affect the immune system. It decreases perceived stress, anxiety, depression, and it increases wellbeing, vitality, and life satisfaction (metaanalyses by Ebert & Sedlmeier, 2010). When it comes to using mindfulness practice in a university context, neurophysiological studies are of particular interest. fMRI studies, for example, have demonstrated both structural and functional brain changes as a consequence of meditation, related to increased attention, awareness, emotional and cognitive regulation (Bresciani Ludvik, Evrand, & Glodin, 2016). Meditative practices have also been related to better retention of course content (Barbezat & Bush, 2014). 2.2 Mindfulness in Higher Education 2.2.1 Mindfulness in Educational Settings Considering this range of benefits, it is not surprising that mindfulness has also been used in classroom settings (Schonert-Reichl & Roeser, 2016). There exist a number of programs designed for school-aged children where mindfulness practices have been adapted for children of various age groups, such as the Inner Kids , the MindUP , and the Moment program that aim to improve academic achievement. Initial evaluation results for all these programs have been encouraging and in line with the above findings concerning the overall positive effects of mindfulness. The use of mindfulness practices in higher education settings, on the other hand, is more recent. Here, mindfulness practices have been discussed and implemented as part of a wider contemplative tradition (Zajonc, 2016). In this context, meditation is conceptualized as one form of deep engagement. 2.2.2 Uses of Mindfulness in Higher Education Several rationales underlie the use of mindfulness practices in higher education. In the first place, mindfulness has been used towards improving students’ mental health, wellbeing and for increasing their resilience (Schonert-Reichl & Roeser, 2016). A second rationale concerns the key role of attention in the learning process (Bresciani Ludvik et al., 2016): Through building the ability to

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focus attention, mindfulness is used to further academic achievement. Finally, in a broader contemplative context, mindfulness is assumed to support students in their own agency and in building their own values, aligning mindfulness practices in the classroom with other agentic learning theories such as Kolb’s experiential learning cycle (Bush & Barbezat, 2014). The ways in which mindfulness has been used in the college classroom mirrors these different rationales. First, it has been used to support the training of professionals from specific groups where mindfulness is considered important both as a professional skill and to prevent burnout, especially with nursing, psychology, and medical students. Second, it has been used with (undergraduate) students in general, regardless of major, so as to improve mental health and academic achievement (e.g., Galante et al., 2018), and many universities especially in Anglo-American countries have implemented mindfulness courses as part of their counseling services. Third, mindfulness has been integrated into courses from a variety of disciplines by designing activities that make use of mindfulness to deepen the understanding of specific course content (see many examples in Barbezat & Bush, 2014). 2.2.3 Evaluation of Mindfulness in Higher Education Evaluation of these offerings has been positive overall. Mindfulness practices in higher education have in particular been shown to reduce physiological measures of stress, perceived stress, and anxiety (Bamber & Borpeth, 2019; Block-Lerner & Cardaciotto, 2016). Whereas there seems to be a consensus that mindfulness practices have to be adapted to the developmental level of college students and to the specific college setting characterized by busy schedules, it is by no means clear as yet which adaptations are most effective for which student populations (Schonert-Reichl & Roeser, 2016). Even though the details require more research, the overall usefulness of mindfulness practices in higher education has been convincingly established. 2.3 Qualitative Research and Mindfulness 2.3.1 Principles Informing Qualitative Research and Mindfulness There are a number of overlaps between the core principles of mindfulness and qualitative research that render it especially promising to make use of mindfulness practices in the teaching of qualitative research methods. In qualitative research, the researcher is the instrument for data collection; the quality of the data thus crucially depends on the quality of that instrument, i.e. the quality of the researcher’s mind and how it informs her procedure. Among the core principles in qualitative research, Patton (2015) lists naturalistic inquiry, emergent design flexibility, qualitative data, personal experience and engagement, empathetic neutrality and mindfulness, inductive analysis and creative

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synthesis, and reflexivity. Among these are naturalistic inquiry, the “nonmanipulative and noncontrolling openness to whatever emerges” (p. 46), and qualitative data that result in thick descriptions point towards the importance of openness in the qualitative research process. As noted, openness constitutes the first component of the two-component definition of mindfulness. Openness characterizes the attitude in mindfulness that carefully and thoroughly examines everything that comes into awareness, without judging it. Developing openness as conceptualized in mindfulness therefore allows the qualitative researcher to open up to whatever emerges in the field in greater detail, with a fresh mind, noticing more than she otherwise would, resulting in more detailed and therefore ‘thicker’ data. Emergent design flexibility and inductive analysis both emphasize the role of flexibility and adapting to what unfolds in qualitative research. In the practice of mindfulness meditation, flexibility is an important element in switching between different objects in the field of awareness. When cultivating attention, flexibility is required in directing the attention back to the breath whenever the mind has gone elsewhere. When investigating the four foundations of mindfulness (bodily sensations, feelings, mind, and the way the mind operates), flexibility is crucial in redirecting the attention first from the breath to another object of awareness and then back to the breath or to another object once that first object begins to recede. In developing mindfulness, the qualitative researcher thus builds the flexibility that allows her to adapt her research design and her data collection to what is happening in the field and to abandon prior assumptions and concepts in favor of concepts that emerge from the data. Personal experience and engagement as well as empathetic neutrality refer to the relationship between the researcher and the participants or the field in general and to the researcher’s attitude that is supposed to combine neutrality on the one hand and empathy and engagement on the other hand. In mindfulness, neutrality constitutes the second part of the above two-component definition of the term. It refers to that non-judgmental quality in mindful awareness that is extended towards everything that enters awareness. At the same time, in more closely investigating what comes into awareness, mindful awareness also involves an attitude of friendly curiosity indicative of the willingness to engage with that object of awareness. By developing mindful awareness, qualitative researchers can learn to bring to the field and to their participants both the nonjudgmental attitude informed by kindness that is so essential for building rapport and the willingness to engage with and investigate whatever they encounter during the research process. A final important quality is the researcher’s reflexivity of her own perspective and how it informs the research process. Mindfulness practice, when directed

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inward towards examining own bodily sensations, feelings, and thoughts, invariably also involves developing reflexivity and greater self-awareness that can in turn inform the research process. 2.3.2

Examples of Using Mindfulness in Qualitative Research Methodology The use of mindfulness to methodologically support the qualitative research process ranges from individual researchers employing mindfulness practices in their own research to qualitative approaches that incorporate mindfulnessrelated elements. Lemon (2017), for example, deliberately made use of mindfulness practice in conducting interviews within a phenomenological tradition by meditating before each interview. Her goal was to support reflexivity, increase her felt sense of presence in the interview situation, and to develop an attitude of beginner’s mind towards her interviewees and her data. Other individual applications of mindfulness to the qualitative research process include, among others, the strategy of mindful walking (Jung, 2014) and the development of a mindful ethics (Gonzalez-Lopez, 2011). Entire approaches where mindfulness is valued as a core component have been developed in transpersonal psychology (e.g., intuitive inquiry, integral inquiry; Anderson & Braud, 2011). Here the focus is on studying holistic and potentially transformative experience that connects the individual to a larger whole. Mindfulness practices are valued not only for their ability to support focusing and developing beginner’s mind, but also for their potential in developing compassion and empathic identification with the research participants. Mindfulness is at the very center of the approach of mindful inquiry (Bentz & Shapiro, 1998), which incorporates elements from hermeneutics, phenomenology, critical social science, and Buddhism. They conceptualize the research process as a spiral encompassing 16 meditative states, four for each of the four traditions. The meditative states from a Buddhist perspective aim at developing awareness of own needs and desires and how these may impact the research question and process, awareness of how researchers construct everyone involved in the research process, awareness of the suffering of others and how research can contribute to diminish that suffering, and developing mindfulness through meditative practices.

3

An Undergraduate Course Including Mindfulness Elements

In the previous section I show that mindfulness is now commonly used in higher education, both to increase student wellbeing in general and to support the teaching and learning of specific course content. I also show that there

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exist overlaps between core principles underlying mindfulness and qualitative research respectively, and that methodologists have incorporated mindfulness elements into individual studies as well as into entire research approaches. Together, these make for a strong foundation for including mindfulness in a course designed to teach qualitative research methods to undergraduate students and to demonstrate to them key elements of the open, curious, nonjudgmental and empathetic attitude that underlies qualitative research. In the following sections, I describe the course with a focus on the mindfulness activities used and I include sections from the reflections of two students who took the course to show how the practices affected the students and their understanding of qualitative research. 3.1 General Description of the Course 3.1.1 Background Information The course is part of the undergraduate methods curriculum of Jacobs University Bremen, an international, English speaking campus university in northern Germany, with approximately 1,400 students from 111 countries. In their first semester, students from various majors in the social sciences attend an introductory lecture on empirical research and research methods. In the second through the fourth semester, qualitative research methods, inferential statistics, questionnaire design and other methods topics are offered in parallel. Qualitative research methods are taught in a sequence of two courses. The first course focuses on qualitative approaches, case selection, and data collection. This course is mandatory for students from all social science majors, except psychology. The second course covers qualitative methods for data analysis. Students are supposed to take these courses in their second and third semester. The first mandatory course is currently attended by around 100 students, the second optional course by around half that number. I implemented mindfulness elements into the first of these courses, Qualitative Research: Methods and Design, taught in the fall semester 2018, and will focus on this course only in the following. 3.1.2 General Course Description The course consists of 14 sessions of 75 minutes each. The goals of the course are to familiarize students with ideas underlying qualitative research, with strategies for purposefully selecting participants and cases, with methods for collecting qualitative data, and to enable them to apply at least one of these methods in their own research. Topics covered are: core ideas in qualitative research and research approaches, ethics in qualitative research, purposive strategies for case selection, observation and ethnography, interviews, focus groups, using visuals,

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photovoice, transcription, and evaluating the quality of qualitative research. To make sure that students have the opportunity to learn by doing, seminar-type sessions alternate with lab sessions. At the core of course assessment is a small research project that the students carry out in groups of three. 3.2 Integrating Mindfulness Elements In designing the course, I used mindfulness elements both to develop a more open, curious, and non-judgmental attitude in general among students and to support the learning and application of specific strategies and methods. Whereas research so far provides a wealth of evidence concerning the positive effects of mindfulness, mindfulness practices can nevertheless also have adverse effects on especially vulnerable persons (e.g., persons who have experienced trauma, sexual abuse, who have panic disorders, dissociative disorders, and who are on the autism spectrum). In the classroom, it is to be expected that some students will be vulnerable and are at risk of experiencing negative effects. To take this into account, I made sure to leave it open to the students whether to participate and asked them to stop participating if any activity started to feel unpleasant. 3.2.1 Using Mindfulness to Develop an Attitude of Openness To support students in developing a more open and nonjudgmental attitude, I included a brief mindfulness meditation in every session. I kept these practices brief (2 to a maximum of 5 minutes). I also wanted to use these meditations to introduce students to a variety of different insight meditation strategies and tools for calming the mind and therefore employed a different type of meditation each time. The practices included, but were not limited to: focusing on the breath; counting the breath; saying a phrase such as “As I breathe in, I calm my body; as I breathe out, I calm my mind” with each breath, saying a mantra, doing a short body scan, or walking meditation. Sharing one’s experiences is an important part of mindfulness practice. The reflection involved in sharing can deepen the practice, and even more importantly, sharing allows everyone to see that they are not alone in their “monkey mind” taking off in various directions. Sharing also shows that there is no single right way to practice and to experience a practice. I therefore tried to provide an opportunity for sharing after the practice in class. This turned out to be difficult, as students tended to be shy. Only few students responded and made use of this opportunity, most likely also inhibited by the large class size. Moreover, I felt time pressure, wanting to discuss a certain amount of methods-related content in addition to giving the students the opportunity to talk about their experience.

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To nevertheless allow students to share, I gave them the option to earn bonus points by submitting up to a maximum of four journal entries about their experience of a class practice within one hour after the end of class. The short time frame was chosen so as to make sure that students wrote down their experience while it was still fresh in their minds. Approximately 40% of the students attending class made use of this opportunity and submitted at least one such journal entry, while others submitted even more than the maximum number of four. Students could further earn bonus points by engaging in either one (or both) of two activities and submitting a journal entry about their experience. The first of these activities was called Stopping in your tracks and asked students to stop what they were doing at any moment during the day, to pay close attention to their environment and their own experience, and to write this own. The other, similar, activity was called Being fully present and asked students to describe a recent moment when they felt that they were fully present and their experience of that moment. Approximately one third of the students in the class submitted a journal entry on at least one of these activities. To show students how these practices related to the ideas underlying qualitative research, I talked about the connection in the first session and came back to it repeatedly during the semester. I tried to show to the students that the course did not consist of learning about qualitative research with mindfulness practices added on, but that the practices served an integral role in developing the general attitude important in conducting qualitative research. 3.2.2 Using Mindfulness in Relation to Specific Methods/Strategies In addition to using general mindfulness meditation to support developing an open attitude, I included additional specific practices that were related to the respective session topic and intended to support learning about that topic. Here I went beyond mindfulness in the narrow sense and also employed practices adapted from a wider contemplative tradition. To support understanding of core ideas from qualitative research, I used a contemplative reading activity that was designed to support students in fully focusing and reflecting upon those ideas (adapted from Barbezat & Bush, 2014). Students were asked to sit together in small groups, and each group received slips of paper with a quote from Patton (2015) about one of the core strategies of qualitative research. Together with the quote, students received instructions asking them to alternate between reading the quote out loud, reflecting upon it, and voicing their associations in several iterations. Later during the semester I used a similar contemplative reading practice to illustrate core ideas from participatory research.

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Being aware of ethical implications of one’s research relies fundamentally on an attitude of empathy towards and connectedness with the research participants. To support students in developing empathy towards others, I used a compassion practice common in mindfulness and mettā meditation that emphasizes our common humanity. The practice (taken from Barbezat & Bush, 2014, p. 180f.) asked students to sit together in pairs, to silently repeat phrases that I presented to them (such as: “This person has in his or her life experienced physical and emotional pain and suffering, just like me.”), and to then silently voice wishes corresponding to the phrases commonly used in metta meditation (such as: “I wish for this person to be free from pain and suffering”). Methods for data collection such as the interview and observation rely for the quality of the data on focusing and paying close attention, be it to what the other person is saying or to what is occurring. To support students in developing their listening skills, I adapted existing mindful listening instructions (Barbezat & Bush, 2014). Students were asked to sit in pairs. Following a moment of silence and focusing on the breath, one student was to ask the other to tell them about a moment in their life when they had felt truly happy. Once the speaker had finished, the listener was to repeat their answer back to them. Following this, they were to switch roles. To develop their observation skills, students were asked to closely observe a part of the landscape outside the classroom window (facing towards a lawn with benches, trees, and a path) for ten minutes. In qualitative research, cases are often selected for information richness, using purposeful strategies. Cases are viewed holistically, and the uniqueness of each case is emphasized. To support students in seeing the uniqueness of each case, I used the “raisin meditation” (Wolf & Serpa, 2015). Each student was given a raisin and was asked to first look at it, turn it around in their fingers, smell it, then carefully place it in their mouths, probe it with their tongue, before, very slowly, chewing and finally swallowing it. 3.3

Reflections on Mindfulness Practices in Teaching Qualitative Research In this section, I present some reflections on using the above contemplative and mindfulness practices in teaching qualitative research. I draw on my own experience, on paraphrases from student journal entries and end of the semester course evaluations, and I integrate the voices of two students who took the course, Clara Sophie Cramer and Amelie Stötzel. Both students were in their second semester when they took the course, and they both study international relations, politics, and history. I approached these two students in particular because they had shown great interest in the mindfulness practices and had

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contributed many insightful journal entries. In case study terminology, they are both “extreme cases,” demonstrating how students can profit from this instructional approach under the best of circumstances. Conversely, it is safe to assume that practices that did not work for them are unlikely to work for any other students, either. They are certainly not in any way representative of the students who took the course. 3.3.1 Calming the Mind As it turned out, some students were already familiar with the basic mindfulness practices. Some were even more familiar with the practices than I—I am thinking of one student in particular here who had used mindfulness to work with traumatized refugee children in a shelter in her home country. I felt humbled when reading her journal entry telling me about this. My experience in using various meditations to focus on an anchor differed considerably, depending on the circumstances. The first time I used it, in our very first session, it was palpable how the atmosphere in class changed, in spite of the many (approximately 100) students present. There was focus, there was quiet, and some students remarked on this afterwards in their journal entries, how they enjoyed the moments of quiet that they considered to be rare on campus. But there were also times when this did not work out, when students came in late, had not turned off their smartphones, and noisily crushed paper bags as they were eating their sandwiches. Students often remarked on this as well, that they found it difficult to engage in the practices in a large group, with many noises surrounding them. This entry from Amelie’s journal illustrates the problems: In today’s meditation it was hard for me to focus on my breath, as there was a lot of noise surrounding me. There was a mobile phone making sounds and from the coffee bar outside I heard a lot of people talking and shouting. It was also hard to follow the rhythm of the counting because my breath was too fast for it. Therefore I found it hard to relax and focus before today’s session. Sometimes students pointed out problems in their journal entries that I had not anticipated. One student, for example, wrote about having a cold and how unpleasant this made the task of focusing on her breath. As a consequence, I stressed in the instructions to participate only to the extent that students felt comfortable. The walking meditation in particular did not work well for the majority of students. In spite of the large lecture hall, many students felt that there was not enough space to move mindfully; and one student felt extremely embarrassed by the squeaking of her shoes. Sometimes the sheer pressure

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of deadlines and assignments made it difficult for students to focus on their breath or another anchor. Nevertheless, some of them were able to develop awareness. This is beautifully illustrated by the following excerpt from a journal entry by Clara: However, I have to admit that particularly at this time of the semester where one deadline follows the other, a so-called brain break is nearly unthinkable. During the activity, I first tried to feel my breath in my chest, but then realized that closing my eyes actually hurt a bit due to my current lack of sleep. From there on, it was impossible to focus on my breath only. I thought about the reasons why I slept too little, what I studied last night and consequently about all the things I still have to do this week. In discussing and reflecting upon these brief meditations in class, it turned out that the majority of students had heard about meditation in the context of relaxation. I found it difficult to clarify that relaxation was not the goal—that the purpose was to mindfully and nonjudgmentally notice whatever came into awareness. Because of this, I am not at all sure to what extent I was able to actually get across the connection between mindfulness meditation and qualitative research and how mindfulness meditation can help to develop the open, nonjudgmental attitude underlying the qualitative research process. Amelie, for example, did however learn from the practices about the importance of focused attention: “Focusing on one single thing, in this case breath, is required when doing qualitative research: focusing on one paragraph of text, one person for an interview, one picture for an analysis, or one gesture during a focus group.” 3.3.2 Journal Entries The entries about the in-class practices provided me with crucial feedback about what did and did not work, and I hope that the opportunity to further reflect on the practices was helpful for the students as well. This was especially noticeable with the journal entries on the practices on Stopping in your tracks and Being fully present, perhaps because students engaged in those exercises out of class and in a context of their own choosing. A retrospective reflection by Amelie on the exercise Stopping in your tracks demonstrates what the activity showed her about attention and its importance in the qualitative research process: qualitative research demands high attentiveness. It is not only about what people say in interviews or what people do during observations. It is also about how they say it and how they do it. Every detail, no matter whether it is observed with the eye, ear or skin, can be important and has to be

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recognized as such. Doing this exercise makes evident how much can be missed when rushing into the researching process instead of being aware of the surrounding with all possible senses. Later in the same (longer) entry she further reflects on the role of the person of the researcher and how they can affect the research process. 3.3.3 Contemplative Reading The first time I used a contemplative reading practice to support students in immersing themselves in the meaning of a single quote and reflecting upon it, the students’ journal entries showed me a number of problems. In the first place, I had perhaps used too many (three) cycles of reading the material out loud. Also, merely associating to the quote without discussing its meaning in the small group was experienced as too unfamiliar and somewhat disorienting by the students. I suggested fewer cycles of reading out loud and included an opportunity for discussion the second time I used the practice, but did not receive any feedback on this specifically. 3.3.4 Just Like Me This practice evoked perhaps the strongest reactions in students. When we started the practice, there was a lot of giggling among the student pairs. As we continued, students quickly became more serious and began to really engage with the phrases I read out to them. I encouraged students to do the practice together with someone they did not know, and in their journal entries students described how the practice had led them to see unexpected similarities between themselves and the other student and to truly experience their common humanity. It was the only practice where students subsequently asked me about the source—which I take to indicate that the students felt touched. Clara’s reflection shows how she translates that felt sense of common humanity into realizations about what it means to engage in research not on, but together with other human beings: Particularly relevant to qualitative research (especially for interviews or focus groups), one is “forced” to acknowledge that this person is not only “an object of study,” but a sensitive human being with feelings, personal issues, a specific background, i.e. “exactly like the researcher.” 3.3.5 Listening Closely and Observing Closely Among these two activities, the close observation did not yield any particular reaction from students, suggesting that this practice needs to be modified so

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as to convey the importance of noticing, for example, small details. The listening practice, on the other hand, was commented upon by several students in their journal entries. Some remarked upon the contrast of switching between a focus on the inside (during an initial short breathing meditation) to focusing on another person and the difficulty of doing so, and several students emphasized the experience of being entirely present for another person, as does Clara in this excerpt: Every day, we are communicating a lot with other people, but I would assume, that the majority of the time, we are not paying full attention to what our opposite actually says (verbally, but particularly, non-verbally). “Listening does not equal listening”—there are several variations. 3.3.6 The Raisin Meditation This activity turned out to be very engaging, although not necessarily as I had intended it to be. Where the meditation is described in the literature on insight meditation, the emphasis is usually on the beauty of the practice and of mindful eating, the way the practice allows us to savour the raisin in every respect. Some students, however, did not like raisins, or they found it disgusting to place the raisin on the desk in front of them or touch it with their fingers and then put it in their mouths. I had taken care to wear plastic gloves when handing out the raisins for reasons of hygiene, but had not considered the desk. (Similar reactions are described by Burrows, 2018.) Nevertheless, many students understood the relationship between case selection in qualitative research and the raisins that seem similar, but are each of them unique when looking closely. The importance of close observation was therefore illustrated better by the raisin practice than by Looking closely. Both the adverse reaction to the raisin practice and the learning from the practice are illustrated by Amelie’s reflections: We were asked to focus only on the raisin in our hands. It was interesting how every little detail suddenly became very important. At some point, I was able to recognize the different colours of the raisin and I was able to see all the small wrinkles of it. However, I found it difficult to concentrate on the raisin, since I do neither like the taste nor the smell of raisins which is why I could not and did not want to really focus on its taste. Instead, I rather tried to not spit it out immediately after it touched my mouth. … This exercise is again an example of focus and attentiveness that is required for qualitative research: A raisin is a raisin, but every raisin is different and the more time and senses the researcher uses to exam-

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ine the object, the more he/she will learn about it. The same holds true for other research objects: The method of observation, for example, takes time and all our senses to get the most information out of it and thus, to develop and understanding for the “object” examined. These are of course merely subjective impressions and cannot replace an evaluation proper. Nevertheless both my own impressions and the student reflections suggest that mindfulness practices do indeed have the potential to illustrate some core features of qualitative research by making the students experience these features instead of discussing them in the abstract. Short practices outside the classroom setting (Being fully present, Stopping in your tracks) and the practice Just like me seem to be especially powerful and promising.

4

Outlook

In recent years, mindfulness practices have increasingly been used in higher education, and they have been shown to be effective both in improving student wellbeing in general and in supporting the teaching of specific course content. Based on similarities between the concept of mindfulness and core ideas underlying qualitative research (concerning in particular the role of openness, flexibility, reflexivity, and a non-judgmental, empathetic attitude), I suggest that mindfulness practices can be used to demonstrate such core concepts from qualitative research to students by making them experience their importance for themselves. In the previous section I presented the conceptualization of such a course that integrates general short mindfulness meditations and practices designed to demonstrate specific course content with (a) seminar-type presentations and discussion of information about qualitative research methods and (b) a hands-on project where students carry out their own research. Student journal entries, classroom discussions, and the reflections by two purposefully selected and especially interested students show that mindfulness practices do indeed have the potential to support the teaching and experiential learning of qualitative research methods—although it remains to be explored why some practices (such as Just like me) seem to be more effective than others (such as Looking closely). They also show, however, that there are obstacles in the classroom setting that need to be taken into account in designing and teaching such a course.

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Such obstacles as well as general precautions have been addressed and discussed with the express goal of making mindfulness more inclusive (Burrows, 2018). Burrows stresses that mindfulness is not simply a technique that can be adopted by anyone. To use mindfulness effectively and safely, it is important that instructors have their own mindfulness practice. I can only confirm this from my own experience. Having one’s own practice is important in leading a meditation, in gauging student reactions, and in leading the subsequent discussion and responding to students’ questions. Burrows further emphasizes that participation in mindfulness practices must always be optional and that it is important to provide an opportunity for sharing. Making participation optional is difficult where mindfulness practices are used in teaching specific content. Whereas I left it up to the students whether to participate, I also stressed that the practices were an important part of the course and that participating would help with understanding course content. In this way I put pressure on the students, and in retrospect I would de-emphasize the importance of participation. Providing an opportunity for sharing also turned out to be difficult, partly because of the large class size, partly because of my own felt pressure to “cover” additional course content. Submitting journal entries for bonus points provided some opportunity for sharing with me, but sharing with the course instructor is subject to its own pressures, and it does not include the opportunity to hear about the experience of the other students. When teaching the course again, I would include fewer mindfulness practices so as to leave more room for sharing and discussion, and I would provide students with the opportunity to share in small groups. The point that Burrows emphasizes above all others concerns the potential risk of mindfulness practices to especially vulnerable students—and as he points out, the probability is high that from among the many students in a large college classroom some are vulnerable and should use caution when engaging in mindfulness practices. For anyone who has experienced trauma, focusing on the breath can act as a trigger; students with anxiety disorders may experience light-headedness; for students with eating or sensory integration disorders, a body scan meditation may be too intense; and students with dissociative disorders may have out of body experiences (Burrows, 2018). I must admit that, along with other educators who have been intrigued by the many documented positive effects of mindfulness practices, I also got carried away when designing and teaching the course and did not sufficiently take those vulnerabilities and associated risks into account. I did have the good sense to leave it up to the students, for example, whether to keep their eyes open or closed during practice, and I said to break off a practice if it started to feel uncomfortable. But it would

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certainly have been worthwhile to emphasize this more, and to explicitly tell the students that they should take care about engaging in mindfulness practices if they, for example, had ever experienced trauma, an eating disorder, an anxiety disorder or the like. Burrows also points out practices that are generally safe to use whatever the individual background, such as grounding practices and mandala activities. Whereas I used elements from grounding practices (such as feeling the ground underneath one’s feet), I would include more of these in the future when teaching the course again.

Acknowledgments I thank Clara Sophie Cramer and Amelie Stötzel for kindly contributing their journal entries and for engaging in additional reflections about course practices for this chapter.

References Anderson, R., & Braud, W. (2011). Transforming self and others through research. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Ballard, J. D., & Jensen, V. (Eds.). (2007). Teaching qualitative methods. A collection of syllabi and instructional methods (4th ed.). Washington, DC: ASA. Bamber, M. D., & Borpeth, E. (2019). Effects of mindfulness meditation on college student anxiety: A meta-analysis. Mindfulness, 10(2), 203–214. Barbezat, D. P., & Bush, M. (2014). Contemplative practices in higher education. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Bentz, V. M., & Shapiro, J. J. (1998). Mindful inquiry. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Block-Lerner, J., & Cardaciotto, L. (2016). Making the case: Mindfulness- and acceptancebased interventions in higher education. In J. Block-Lerner & L. Cardaciotto (Eds.), The mindfulness-informed educator (pp. 3–21). New York, NY: Routledge. Bresciani Ludvik, M. J., Evrard, M. R., & Goldin, P. (2016). Strategies that intentionally change the brain. In M. J. Bresciani Ludvik (Ed.), The neuroscience of learning and development (pp. 73–97). Sterling, VA: Stylus. Burrows, L. (2018). Safeguarding mindfulness in schools and higher education. A holistic and inclusive approach. Abingdon: Routledge. Ebert, J., & Sedlmeier, P. (2012). The effects of mindfulness meditation. A meta-analysis. Mindfulness, 3(3), 174–189. Galante, J., Dufour, G., Vainre, M., Wagner, A. P., Stochl, J., Benton, A., … Jones, P. B. (2018). A mindfulness-based intervention to increase resilience to stress in univer-

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sity students (The Mindful Student Study): A pragmatic randomised controlled trial. Lancet Public Health, 3(2), e72–e81. Gonzalez-Lopez, G. (2011). Mindful ethics: Comments on informant-centered practices in sociological research. Qualitative Sociology, 34(3), 447–461. James, W. (1890). Principles of psychology. New York, NY: Henry Holt. Jung, Y. (2014). Mindful walking. The serendipitous journey of community-based ethnography. Qualitative Inquiry, 20(5), 621–627. Kabat-Zinn, J. (2003). Mindfulness-based interventions in context: Past, present, and future. Clinical Psychology: Science and Practice, 10(2), 144–156. Kabat-Zinn, J. (2009). Full catastrophe living (5th ed.). New York, NY: Bantam. Kornfield, J. (2009). The wise heart. A guide to the universal teachings of Buddhist psychology. New York, NY: Bantam Books. Lemon, L. (2017). Applying a mindfulness practice to qualitative data collection. The Qualitative Report, 22(12), 3305–3313. Nhat Than, T. (2008). The miracle of mindfulness. London: Rider. Patton, M. Q. (2015). Qualitative evaluation and research methods (4th ed.). Newbury Park, CA: Sage. Salzberg, S. (1995). Loving-kindnesss. The revolutionary art of happiness. Boulder, CA: Shambhala. Schonert-Reichl, K. A., & Roeser, R. W. (2016). Mindfulness in education: Introduction and overview of the handbook. In K. A. Schonert-Reichl & R. W. Roeser (Eds.), Handbook of mindfulness in education (pp. 3–16). New York, NY: Springer. Schreier, M. (in press). Achtsamkeitsbasierte Verfahren in der qualitativen Gesundheitsforschung [Mindfulness-based research methods in qualitative health research]. In M. Niederberger & E. Finne (Eds.), Forschungsmethoden in der Gesundheitsförderung und Prävention [Research methods in health promotion and prevention]. Berlin: Springer. Schreier, M., & Breuer, F. (2017). Lehren und Lernen qualitativer Forschungsmethoden in der Psychologie [Learning and teaching qualitative research methods in psychology]. In G. Mey, & K. Mruck (Eds.), Handbuch qualitative Forschung in der Psychologie [Handbook of qualitative research in psychology]. Wiesbaden: Springer. Wolf, C., & Serpa, J. G. (2015). A clinician’s guide to teaching mindfulness. Oakland, CA: New Harbinger. Young, S. (2016). What is mindfulness? A contemplative perspective. In K. A. Schonert-Reichl & R. W. Roeser (Eds.), Handbook of mindfulness in education (pp. 29–45). New York, NY: Springer. Zajonc, A. (2016). Contemplation in education. In K. A. Schonert-Reichl & R. W. Roeser (Eds.), Handbook of mindfulness in education (pp. 17–28). New York, NY: Springer.

CHAPTER 4

Empowerment through Understanding the Interaction between Philosophical Stance (Positionality) and Qualitative Research Suzanne Franco and Erin B. Lunday

1

Introduction

In this chapter we (Suzanne and Erin) describe meaningful experiences that have guided our students to understand better the relationship between a researcher’s personal positionality and her qualitative research designs, data collection approaches, and analyses. Our goal is to empower our students to be able to design and implement research projects that align with their personal positionality. We define positionality as one’s epistemology and ontology; we also refer to this concept as worldview. We invite you into our real and virtual classrooms to understand the active learning strategies we implemented regarding the exploration of personal positionality. Student reflections about the experience accentuate how students perceived our instructional strategies and how students embraced the importance of knowing their philosophical stance as qualitative researchers and as graduate students. We include the theories and rationale for the described instructional strategies in the second part of this chapter. My (Suzanne) traditional doctoral students attend class once a week throughout a semester; Erin’s graduate level military students participate in an online distance learning environment. Our individual style of instruction varies, but we each teach qualitative research methods using a pragmatist approach. We consider the importance of researcher philosophical stance and the relationship between philosophy and research as paramount. For exploring one’s personal worldview, I (Suzanne) allot two class periods over six weeks of qualitative methods introduction; however, the interactive nature of philosophical stance and research design remains an integral part of the discussions in the majority of the remaining four weeks. The course is the first course new doctoral students complete. As a distance learner instructor, I (Erin) allot one class period (one week) to the introduction of worldview; however, like Suzanne, I integrate the concept of worldview within the entire ten-week distance learning course. The © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2020 | doi: 10.1163/9789004419551_005

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distance learning program is structured so that each student completes 12 fourcredit-hour courses within a three-year period. As such, the research methods course may only be offered every three years, which leads to a situation where my students represent various stages in the program. For example, my most recent class comprised 40% third year students, 40% second year students, and 20% first year students.

2

Introducing Worldview

2.1 Traditional Students For my (Suzanne) traditional students, the first assignment is to complete an activity that allows them to self-identify their worldview. The out-of-class activity requires students to consider a set of statements organized in four columns (Table 4.1). For each horizontal line of four statements crossing the columns, we ask students to circle the statement that best identifies their beliefs. Unbeknownst to them, the columns represent one of the four broad worldviews (positivism/post-positivism, interpretivism, critical theory, and post-modernism). Students bring their completed worldview document to the next class, during which I provide the headings for each column. As a class, we research definitions and examples of worldviews. Students are not required to share their personal positionality during the exploration of the meanings of and differences among the four positionalities (columns). However, for those who in the past chose not to share, student reflections of the first class discussions regarding worldviews indicate that the worldview exercise seemed misplaced in a research methods course. I failed to see how my worldview might influence my research. Discussing worldview and completing the worldview exercise was akin to taking a Cosmo quiz, What’s your worldview and what does it say about you?!, an interesting blip on the road to “real research,” but not essential to my work. (Student A) Who would have thought we would be studying philosophy in qualitative research class? (Student B) The first three times I used the worldview exercise as described, most students identified with the Positivist/Post-positivist column. One student shared, “I know I am a positivist because my parents are.” Some students circled

Researchers cannot know or create truth. Researchers should reject objectivity & not force natural science criteria onto social sci.

Researchers serve as witnesses. Knowledge is not guaranteed. Space for the not known allows the exposure of binaries as well as the juxtaposition and paradox of such binaries.

Truth is influenced by history and societal structures. The view of objectivity as a goal is harmful; advocacy is the aim of research.

Researcher transforms with a community by imagining and helping to create alternatives. It is through theoretical perspectives of societal structures in conjunction with the people who are most afffected that knowledge is gained.

Truth is an agreement between members of a stake-holding community.

Objectivity is impossible; rather, researcher serves as avenue for the representation of multiple voices.

Values are a means of understanding.

Researchers live a question with participants.

It is through voices and acknowledgment of both participants and a researcher that knowledge is gained.

Validity is participant and inquirer consensus.

Truth is universal and verifijiable; fijindings are considered true.

The researcher can and should be objective.

Good research is value free.

Researchers study a problem.

It is through the voice and jurisdiction of an expert that knowledge is gained.

Validity is data that can be duplicated. History is progress.

Valid research is that which creates action.

The goal of dissensus is preferred over consensus. History portrays cultural shifts.

Values are personally relative and need to be understood.

The aim of research is democratization and uncovering what is intrinsically valuable in human life.

The purpose of research is transformation, and its aim to emancipate so that people are capable of controlling their destiny.

The aim of research is increased understanding of complex human phenomena to alter existing power relations.

The aim of research is to predict and explain, generalizing results.

Values are formative.

Reality is socially co-created by individuals through the surrounding environment.

Reality is shaped by social, political, economic, and other values crystallized over time.

Reality is constructed through local human interaction.

Post-modernism

Reality is a physical and observable event.

Critical theory

Interpretivism

Positivist/Post-positivist

table 4.1  Worldview exercise (based on table 1.3 in Jones et al., 2014, p. 13)

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statements that spanned multiple columns/worldviews and wondered how to interpret the results. During the initial discussions, I learned that simply identifying a personal worldview did not mean that the students understood the relationship between worldview and qualitative research. Some student reflections indicated that I had more work to do for the understanding to happen by stating, for example, (a) “I dutifully completed the assignment on Ontology and Epistemology, but the connection was not there” (Student C) or (b) “I cannot believe that my worldview, or whatever you want to call it, impacts my research design or analysis” (Student D).

2.2

Distance Learning Students

For distance learning students, I (Erin) designed my class knowing that most of the students would create their required research projects as quantitative studies since the institution is an engineering school. However, as an instructor of a research methods survey course, I wanted the students to think about who they are, how their approach to the world might bias or focus their research question, and whether the methodological approach would truly address the students’ curiosity about the world. I knew that the client organization (e.g., the military) viewed the world in a general modernist/objectivist approach. However, how might my students address important logistics management questions from multiple views of reality? The military is comprised of human beings; as such, “how” and “why” questions inevitably exist beyond the question “does x happen because of y?” I want my students to understand that the question should drive the methods employed and to become aware of beliefs and actions which might bias them towards their research based on their professional and academic upbringing. Nevertheless, I wanted to leave room for those who see the world through an objectivist lens and to create opportunities for change that addresses this lens. Failure to do so would be a disservice to the process of change. The introduction to worldview and paradigms during my own master’s program and the reinforcement through my doctoral program convinced me that I quickly needed to find a way to introduce students to the importance of worldview within research, particularly when we ask those “how” and “why” questions. This is so because philosophical assumptions and the way in which we view the world affect our design and the methods we employ, as well as the data we examine (Creswell & Creswell, 2018). Since research is an act, and worldview is, at its core, a compilation of beliefs that drive action (Guba, 1990), the inability to understand individual worldview and how our academic and

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professional upbringing add to our worldview fails to address potential bias in our research. In past courses, I asked students prior to the start of the class to complete a brief introduction of themselves using focused questions. I then required the students to upload an appropriate digital image of themselves and their introduction into the learning management system prior to their first lesson. Unbeknownst to the students, the data generated would provide student-created material for later online discussion. In fact, any item uploaded into the learning management system would be used as data when I introduced the students to qualitative data and the collection of such data. In addition, the written and portrait information became an important foundational process in relationship building in the classroom. I assigned the first required reading to address purposefully worldviews and positionality. I use the text Research Design: Qualitative, Quantitative, and Mixed-Methods Approaches (Creswell & Creswell, 2018). I supplement the text with the first chapter of The Foundations of Social Research (Crotty, 2015); The Three Bears and Goldilocks Meet Burrell and Morgan (Dennard, 1989); and a YouTube video Research Paradigms by Burrell and Morgan (Lyon, 2017). After absorbing the first week’s reading assignment, students write a short discussion post describing their worldview. I require students to support their self-identification of worldview either from the reading assignment publications or from other available data (e.g., their participant profile and digital image assignment). The process of self-identification from known data slowly socializes the student into the importance of supporting one’s assertions. By using material with which the student is familiar, the act becomes a reflective process and supports the concepts of facilitating learning, thereby creating self-directed learners (cf. Knowles, 1988). Readers may ask, “Why are these self-assessment descriptions important when discussing ways to empower students as self-directed learners of qualitative research methods?” An understanding and a shift in worldview are, at the individual level, similar to a paradigm shift, which might occur in science, or might occur as a revolution that transforms the world as we know it (cf. Kuhn, 1996). In addition, as the students progress throughout the exercise, they begin to shift and reflect whether their initial assessment was an accurate self-assessment of their true worldview. The exercise allows students to address worldview in three different ways: (a) reflect and write about the concept of worldview, (b) actively dialogue and engage with classmates regarding their understanding of the concept of worldview as it applies to themselves, and (c) learning to critique and provide feedback in an academic way in order to address gaps or bridge multiple ideas (not dissimilar to the peer-review process and literature review process).

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This exercise supports the students as self-directed learners, in that they are working with peers collaboratively in their learning process (Knowles, 1998). In addition, the exercise creates more data and material that I use later in the course as examples of data when describing textual analysis, content analysis, phenomenology, hermeneutics, etc. Furthermore, I also use the material when addressing purpose and motivation during the introduction of an assignment to create a research mini-proposal. The material provides an effective method to discuss how a student might choose a research question (based on their worldview), the choice of method, and the bias associated with that choice, and interpretation of the results. By the time students write their mini-proposals, most understand the importance of incorporating their philosophical stance as part of their proposal, particularly if they choose a qualitative method. For a recent semester, I presented Table 4.2 to the students halfway through the course (week 5). At this point in the course, students began to understand some preliminary connections between designing research and the use of theory. Here again I seek to empower my students as independent learners. To provide examples for students, I place two students’ narrative responses sideby-side to introduce the concept of language as well as visual space as data. I explained that from a purely visual perspective, one might conclude that Student #13’s narrative suggested a positivist or post-positivist worldview. From a content point of view, his narrative is succinct and data-driven, resulting in few words. He writes what he needs to meet the assignment requirements and does not expand beyond the requested material. When writing his (Student #13) Worldview Self-Assessment (Figure 4.1), the student suggested he fell mostly within the pragmatist world view. This stance does fit since he focused on the problem and developed a solution. Student #10’s Participant Profile (Table 4.2) suggests a constructivist or even transformative worldview. He tells us a story beyond simple answers. Interestingly, his Worldview Self-Assessment (Figure 4.2) stated he felt he related more with a post-positivist worldview; yet, even when relaying this worldview, he constructed a story and shared why he enjoys the scientific method. His focus is on method and an explanation about why this focus fits. The student has been forced to fit within the positivist/post-positivist worldview based on his upbringing, in which we learn from his story created a worldview which is very objective (e.g., learning the scientific method as espoused by “natural scientists” in school and that of his job), but his narrative provides evidence that even the student might not see. At this point, I explain to students in a recorded lecture video: The surface purpose behind this exercise was to share what you learned regarding the concept of paradigms and worldviews and how they might

(cont.)

While enlisted I began taking classes for my undergrad in Business Management through NAME OF UNIVERSITY and ended up completing enough credits for two CCAF degrees (Criminal Justice & Instruction of Technology and Military Science).

Academic Information

I am currently stationed at DUTY STATION NAME & LOCATION and have been here since 2008 – Yes, I wrote “2008” and no it is not a typo. In July I will have been here for 10 years and at the end of my current assignment I will have been here almost 12 years. I am an Acquisition’s Offfijicer (63A) by trade and in December 2017 I began working at MILITARY CONTINUING EDUCATION SCHOOL NAME as an Instructor teaching the NAME OF COURSE. Personally, I absolutely love teaching. I am prior service and during my enlisted time I taught at the NAME of MILITARY CONTINUING EDUCATION COURSE & LOCATION, that is where I think my passion for teaching began. A few assignments before my CURRENT DUTY STATION tour I taught at NAME OF UNIVERSITY (through Air Force Reserve Offfijicer Training Corps).

Professional Information

Hey all, I am FIRST & LAST NAME and I am currently a Major in the United States Air Force. Below is a little about myself:

Professional Narrative

I am an Aircraft Maintenance Offfijicer stationed at U.S. DUTY STATION NAME. I have been there for 2.5 years. I was an AOIC for the NAME OF UNIT, and then we had a reorganization that merged flightline maintenance and the fijighter squadrons. I am now the Sortie Support Flight Commander for NAME OF UNIT, with responsibility for Phase, Support, and Supply. I enjoy working this job because of the troops and being able to apply my NAME OF GRADUATE SCHOOL experiences to make my flight better.

Student #10 Narrative

Student #13 Narrative

table 4.2 Participant profijile exercise. Examples of exercise (Student #13 and Student #10). Identifying information is replaced with capital letters and italics. The Learning Management System remained closed (e.g., students could not read postings) until the student posted their own assignment

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I grew up in NAME OF STATE. I enjoy hiking, hunting, fijishing, flying, skiing; basically, all things outdoors.

Personal Information Narrative

I look forward to learning with all of you in these next few weeks! v/r, FIRST NAME

So I have the typical family construct – wife, three kids, dog, cat, bunny, guinea pig, umpteen number of fijish. I am somewhat of a workaholic (given I am taking this class as a non-degree seeking student). I enjoy reading about history and I’m currently reading up on investment strategies as my oldest is two years away from college and I just hit my 20-year mark in the Air Force. One interesting fact about me is that my favorite fijish is the Humuhumunukunukuapua’a.

Personal Information

I completed my undergrad while I was stationed at NAME OF DUTY STATION and after about a year or so I began my M.B.A. with a focus on Human Resource Management through NAME OF UNIVERSITY. I completed my M.B.A. while stationed here at NAME OF CURRENT DUTY STATION. This is my fijirst class towards a PhD in Logistics through NAME OF GRADUATE SCHOOL and I am super excited to get back in the classroom as a student. My professional goals following the completion of this program are to leverage what I learn to make me a better program manager and in-turn improve Air Force Acquisitions. (I know, a lofty goal).

Academic Information Narrative

I earned a BA in Geographic Information Systems from the UNIVERSITY NAME. I am on my fijifth class in the MS of Logistics Management program.

Student #10 Narrative

Student #13 Narrative

table 4.2 Participant profijile exercise. Examples of exercise (Student #13 and Student #10). Identifying information is replaced with capital letters and italics. The Learning Management System remained closed (e.g., students could not read postings) until the student posted their own assignment (cont.)

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– My worldview is largely that of a pragmatist. Having reviewed the worldview portion of the textbook, the pragmatic view agreed with me the most … – The text states that pragmatists believe that we need to cease inquiry in reality and the laws of nature (Creswell, 2014). This is where I break with the book’s definition of pragmatist. I believe constant inquiry is essential. If we did not constantly question our environment and seek new knowledge, we would not have the level of technology and advancement currently available to much of the human population. … I believe I largely fall into a mix of the functionalist and interpretive paradigms, as outlined by Burrell and Morgan. In many cases said actions were rational and explainable, even by an outside party, but in some of the actions were irrational and could only be explained by the individuals immediately involved (Burrell & Morgan, 1979) figure 4.1 Worldview self-assessment. Example of exercise (Student #13). Selections taken from the exercise. Spelling, grammar, and style left in the original format, other than ellipses inserted to show removal of certain selections

affect the method you choose or are drawn to as you question the world around you. The deeper purpose behind this exercise was to synthesize your learning and practice examining evidence from limited content, formulating a position or thesis and defending it, not just to yourself, but to others, as well as to critically analyze others’ statements. One of my primary challenges regarding teaching positionality in an asynchronous distance learning program is that it difficult to address immediate misunderstandings since students post at all hours of the day and night. When needed, I conduct individual follow up emails or phone calls to ensure a student understands the exercise. The goal of the follow-up communication is to provide an opportunity for a student to make corrections in the discussion post and avoid confusion among the class discussion postings. In the future, I plan to use Suzanne’s exercise (Jones, Torres, & Arminio, 2014) with my students prior to their first weekly reading. I believe the exercise will help focus and direct the students prior to reading the assigned material.

3

Wrapping up the Semester

3.1 Traditional Students Within the first two weeks of my (Suzanne) class, the initial activity and follow-up discussions helped students develop a comfort level with worldview

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– A worldview could be viewed as being reflective of how you look at the world through the window of your life experiences, and after (REMOVED) years of military service, I most closely associate with a post-positivist worldview. Also known as the scientific method, a researcher with this worldview begins with a theory and collects data to either prove or disprove the theory by using experiments (Cresswell, 2014). – Personally, I feel more comfortable with this worldview as this was the first method I remember learning in grade school when working on science projects. In the old school science project, you begin by stating a hypothesis and then run experiments to either prove or disprove your hypothesis. Further bolstering of the worldview occurred through my 10 years of service as an enlisted troop (REMOVED) Operations had to be based on actionable, fact based (as best as military intelligence could offer) data versus responses to questions about how one felt or reviewing case studies. Add to that my 10 years in (REMOVED) where success depended on objective criteria pertaining to cost, schedule, and performance, it is clear that I more closely align with a post-positivist worldview. figure 4.2 Worldview self-assessment. Example of exercise (Student #10). Identifying information is replaced with capital letters and italics. The Learning Management System remained closed (students could not read postings) until the student posted their own assignment

terminology and to accept that as individuals we all are different in our worldviews. The remainder of the course assignments for the initial class and for an advanced qualitative methods class required students to address worldview in numerous ways. In an advanced qualitative course, I require students to read and create a two-page critique of additional articles aligned with the primary research design approaches (e.g., case study, ethnography, narrative inquiry, phenomenology, and grounded theory, etc.) and data collection/analyses techniques (e.g., interviews, content analyses, observation, survey, participant observation, written reflections, etc.). In their article critiques, I expect students to include comments about an author’s worldview. During past class discussions, students noted that unless an author clearly stated a worldview, it was difficult for the class to come to a consensus about the author’s possible worldview. As they discussed the rationale for assigning the author with one worldview over another, students began to grasp the importance of recognizing that there is a continuum of worldview stances. Through the class discussions about an author’s possible worldview, all students demonstrated that seeing worldview as a continuum helped them to recognize elements of the various worldviews. Not surprisingly, an unintended consequence of these discussions was that students began to see the need for authors (and

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them) to state their own worldview when describing methods used in the research. For example, when focusing on ethnography as a design (Sarcevic, Marsic, Waterhouse, Stokwell, & Burd, 2011), students explored the worldview that might align well with ethnography. “Well, I know an ethnographer is NOT a positivist at least and probably not a constructivist.” Also, after reading a primer on research paradigms and philosophy of science (Ponterotto, 2005), one student noted, I am surprised that the field of psychology did not embrace qualitative research methods since their work focuses on what appears to be qualitative data. His recommendation [to increase graduate student education in philosophy] indicates that his worldview is either interpretivism or a critical theory. (Student E) I required students to record any insights or learnings weekly in a personal reflection log. Sample reflections reflect transformative learning. Qualitative research is as much about the discovery of the layers of rich meaning embedded in the data, as it is about unearthing the deepest layers of why you are who you are. (Student F) My understanding … has contributed to a greater appreciation of qualitative research. However, it actually has influenced my approach to quantitative research. It has helped make me aware of the delicacy in reporting results. Reporting results of research, both qualitative and quantitative, requires a certain level of care to not taint the reader’s interpretation. A researcher’s choice of words and style in reporting and discussing results cannot be an extension of the researcher’s worldview. It simply must address and describe the findings. (Student G) In the final assignment for the initial introduction to worldview students write a paper that documents their epistemology and ontology, including how either or both had evolved over time. Students include many life experiences in the paper; their descriptions and revelations indicate that they do see a slight connection between worldview and research. In my advanced qualitative methods course I require students to critically think about worldview as it relates to published literature. After they read an

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article, I ask them to describe how the research project might be different if the author had a worldview different from the one provided (or determined by the reader). This exercise requires deep thinking. The class discussions about the assignment are lively. And finally, when the semester is almost completed, students must develop a document that identifies at least three instances during which their advanced qualitative research methods class experiences changed them as doctoral students or researchers. In this paper, the students present examples of significant experiences during which their comfort level with positionality contributed to transformational learning. 3.2 Reflections Traditional students who have completed the core courses for their doctoral program provided the reflections below regarding the importance of understanding the influence that one’s philosophical stance has on research and learning. In all honesty, the first time I felt that I had a reasonable grasp of what my personal worldview was occurred while I was writing my qualifying paper. Throughout the program, I had done activities where I attempted to define my world view as well as activities where we linked different worldviews to basic frameworks. I was never motivated to fully develop my worldview until I was in the process of developing a research design based on a theoretical framework I had chosen. (Student H) In subsequent doctoral classes, we would discuss organizational and change theory, and ‘lenses.’ Coupling worldview with theory, I began to make connections between the process through which human behavior has been explained and the stance a researcher takes. From early rational systems, to natural systems, and modern open systems, I could fundamentally understand how the worldview influenced what a researcher might theorize, explain, and potentially miss. (Student I) Worldview exercises might seem like a Cosmo quiz, but it has implications for the future of theory and research. Every moment of your life has led to taking a stance on who you are and what you believe about learning and the world, and because no one else has your experiences, your view will be different from everyone else. Because of this uniqueness, it is important to identify your stance in your research and be clear about the

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lens you view the world through. In practice, as you read scholarly works, keep worldview in mind and see if it is mentioned. If not, see if you can discern the author’s worldview without an explicit statement. Note how the researchers’ stance may have changed the researcher’s work and how your own worldview might alter the research. (Student J) Once you are aware of your worldview and pick a specific framework to use, you can then really start to see how significant the relationship truly is. Since you are the only one who can determine your worldview, the responsibility is entirely on the student to figure out what it is. (Student K)

3.3 Distance Learning Students For my (Erin) distance learning students, requiring students to address another student’s worldview as part of their worldview exercises provided an opportunity for continued understanding beyond the text and theory. For some of my students, conversations further developed in continued dialogue. Student #14 provided this initial self-assessment, which illuminates the student’s transformational growth (Figure 4.3). Students #10 and #13 responded as depicted in Figure 4.4. Student #14 initially focused on concepts of best practices in logistics and maintenance shipping as the topic of research, a topic which is quite broad but might be useful for the military organization to which the student belongs. The student planned to primarily focus on interviewing military logisticians and maintenance personnel working in the same field to share these practices. However, as we progressed through the course, the student began to understand how personal biases of worldview limit a researcher’s scope (e.g., thinking about the problem from a purely military one, thinking about the problem as purely qualitative, etc.). Suddenly, the student began to wonder whether data existed in the civilian shipping industry. Acting as a self-directed learner, the student engaged in phone conversations and emails with me, and collaborated with her peers, to discover other ways in which she might address the scope of the problem and how she might use others’ (e.g., civilian industry) research and data to answer her own questions. Her approach to the topic became more pragmatic in view. The student’s final proposal (final requirement) reflected as much: This study, as well as my research into the literature available, will reflect a pragmatic worldview. I will utilize all available research of different

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– Without knowing it, we as people build certain beliefs about how the world works and how we look at it from within our own minds. We have created lenses for ourselves without inherently defining or acknowledging them, and these lenses will forever determine our understanding and focus. Very few people fall strictly into one category, and can often move from world view to world view as we encounter different situations, but we often retain the characteristics of the other categories. As academics, they also can often times determine how we look at and try to figure out and solve problems that we see around us, as well as conduct and establish our research (Lyon). For this reason, it is important to acknowledge your own personal worldview while going through research. – I believe I fall into the constructionist worldview the majority of the time. I believe the world can often better be explained in qualitative terms, as most things we as humans deal with besides science cannot be given numerical descriptors. As Air Force Officers, we work to manage people, which oftentimes means we need to look more at their specific backgrounds and feelings in order to determine the best way to motivate them. While our jobs are measured in numbers, the way that we achieve those numbers are often by the more human aspect, as we work out ways to motivate those around us in order to better fulfill our jobs. This interaction between people is what defines constructivist beliefs (Creswell, 9). I think that often times how we best solve problems is not by going into a situation with a solution in mind (or a theory of how things will work), but by coming together to discuss the scenario and have different people from different backgrounds and expertise subjects to determine the best way going forward (Creswell, 9). figure 4.3 Worldview self-assessment (Student #14). Identifying information is replaced with capital letters and italics. The learning management system remained closed (students could not read postings) until the student posted their own assignment

types from different sources in order to understand the problem more thoroughly. The shipping methods are not simply a “if x, then y” situation, and there is flexibility that must be considered when performing any sort of aircraft maintenance and when determining how to ship items. While the problem itself is qualitative, there are many quantitative aspects to it as well that must be considered. (Student #14) Of my 14 students, eight students wrote a proposal that would employ mixed-methods or purely qualitative methodologies. Five of the eight students included their worldview/philosophical stance in their final papers. I had

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Student #10 – … Just like you, I believe very few of us fall squarely into one category/worldview, that we can see a shift between worldviews as life moves on and it is important for us to acknowledge our own potential bias as we conduct our research. – …I really like how you caveated that a majority of the time, you fall into a particular worldview. And based on your reasoning I believe you correctly identified with the constructionist worldview. – Quick question for you – Do you find yourself also aligning with a pragmatist world view? Based on your first paragraph I totally thought you were going in that direction. Student #13 – … Your caveat about falling into a particular worldview a majority of the time is a good one. I find this actually applies to me quite well, and I did not specify that in my initial worldview post. (Student #2) had a good reply to me regarding post-positivism vs pragmatism. I find the pragmatic worldview (using both qualitative and quantitative is my preferred worldview (I would consider it to overall the most useful to me), but the post-positivitist worldview is one that leadership are frequently interested in, so I put that hat on for briefings. figure 4.4 Worldview self-assessment exercise. Replies from Student #10 and Student #13 to Student #14. (Student #10). Identifying information is replaced with capital letters and italics. I required the students to post response to an initial post, then a second response to a critique of someone’s response to an initial post

hoped more students would demonstrate greater understanding by incorporating a philosophical stance within a mixed-methods approach. However, two students who chose a purely quantitative methodology included their worldview, as well: As discussed by Creswell, quantitative design is based in a post-positivist worldview which is rooted in deterministic philosophy and the scientific method (2014, p. 7). [sic] As explained by Scotland, post-positivists try to understand causal relationships and often try to show correlation as is done in this study (2012, p. 10). [sic] This study will use descriptive statistics including frequency and distribution to compare the number of (topic) at two (location). This data will be illustrated in a histogram. (Student #7)

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The philosophical paradigm pursued in this thesis is a functionalist one as the author attempts to “provide practical solutions to practical problems” (Burrell & Morgan, 1979, p. 26). (Student #3) As a final point of reflection, I asked students whether their personal worldview changed the manner in which they address research today, whether the worldview exercise was useful in understanding the various worldviews, and how their research questions evolved based on their new knowledge of worldview. One student responded, understanding the worldview may have provided insight into some critical thinking skills about my own beliefs. Basically [sic] it was some introspection into the way we think about things and making sure we didn’t include our own bias. … I think re-examining the types [of paradigms and word views] was beneficial and a good reminder to seek understanding of one’s position versus debating specific points. I don’t see my research methods as having changed but maybe the techniques of using particular tools and/or resources to better consolidate my research. (Student #13) This student claims not to have changed his research methods, yet he does acknowledge an evolution in how those are used. I conclude from the student’s statement that a de facto evolution in worldview did occur but conjecture that the student has yet to realize it, indicating a potential direction to extend this research.

4

Learning Theories That Guide the Instructional Strategies

Adult learning (Knowles, 1988) and transformative learning theories (Kolb & Kolb, 2005) provided the framework for the instructional designs I (Suzanne) described. Adult learners’ life experiences impact their intrinsic motivation to learn as well as how they learn. More specifically, adults learn based on their self-concept, a need to know, experiences, readiness to learn, orientation to learn and motivation (Knowles, 1988). Reflection was included based on the position that reflection also influences adult learners because without reflection the learner may never consider other interpretations (Mezirow, 2014). Transformative learning brings about change or differences in the learner and the differences are recognized by themselves and others. Along with

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transformative learning, concepts from experiential learning were included in the exercises described in this chapter. Six propositions may be used to summarize experiential learning: (a) Learning is a process not outcome; (b) all learning is relearning; (c) learning requires the resolution of conflicts (i.e., conflict, differences, and disagreements drive the learning process); (d) learning is a holistic process of adaptation to the world; (e) learning results from synergetic transactions between the person and the environment; and (f) learning is the process of creating knowledge (i.e., not transmitting knowledge) (Kolb, 1984). Capitalizing on adult learning theory and creating an environment for transformative and experiential learning contributed to the development of the methods described. I (Erin) approach teaching with the knowledge and belief that our senses are easily fooled and I believe reality should not be fixed solely on our senses but instead that our senses should lead us to continued inquiry and critical evaluation of the world affecting my own research and teaching. When developing any course, I attempt to incorporate my belief that we interpret the reality created by our social environment based upon our experiences and our interaction with the physical environment and the people located within that environment. In addition to traditional adult learning theory, I incorporate two supplementary frameworks when developing my curriculum: the concept of learner-centered teaching and approaches to college course design to create significant learning experiences. The first, learner-centered teaching, ties teaching and curriculum to the process and objectives of learning rather than focusing simply on content delivery. The purpose is to reframe teaching from being subject/teacher-centered to being learner-centered. The knowledge becomes less of an approach in transferring knowledge and becomes more about the process of creating knowledge seekers (Weimar, 2002). The second, creating significant learning experiences, incorporates the concepts of learner-centered teaching and addresses creating strategies which assist in dealing with students who might resist innovative teaching (Fink, 2013). When teaching, I attempt to redistribute traditional balances of power to give my students a voice in their learning. I become the guide at their side rather than the sage on the stage. As military members, my students are accustomed to traditional teacher-centered approaches. They therefore become frustrated when I choose not to give them an answer but instead choose to guide them to finding the answer. I present concepts and allow students to provide their own examples related to the concepts rather than those offered in the text or from my experiences. I find that their own personal and professional experiences provide a more meaningful and significant learning experience to understand the concepts being introduced. My students are military students in an accredited technical military graduate school that primarily offers in-resident masters and doctorate degrees.

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However, the distance learning program offers an opportunity to a small group of students who might otherwise lack the opportunity to continue their education due to their current mission requirements. To graduate, the full-time, in-resident students must complete a master’s thesis. The part-time, distance-learning students must complete a graduate research project. Both research requirements encourage students to choose a topic related to their military profession (e.g., logistics, maintenance, ordnance, etc.). Due to the nature of their profession, many of my students have “grown” up in the objectivist tradition, whether this is their true worldview or whether they have been socialized into this worldview. It takes more work to facilitate the type of students I teach. This is so because the typical active military student in my distance learning class is about 28 years old, perhaps recently completing some type of deployment, raising a young family, with little intention of completing their education beyond a master’s degree. The students are all working towards some variation of a Master of Science in Logistics Management. My students serve all over the world. The group to whom I recently taught research methods consisted of Airmen who worked throughout the globe. These students, in addition to taking one class a quarter, are full time participants in their missions as Airmen. Students might be deployed, in the process of switching jobs or duty assignments, or attending military-mandated training outside of their duty station, all while keeping up with their studies. In working with these students, I take to heart the advice that ) “you must be willing to tolerate the messiness of learning” (Weimar, 2002, p. 81). There are no strict rules or protocols to follow when the students are part of the learning process. This lesson that it’s okay to be “messy” is the lesson I hope to impart upon my students. I believe this messiness encourages them to be creative, innovative, and flexible in the learning process. In addition, the positionality of the instructor permeates the instructional strategies. In some ways, I felt I could readily relate to my military students. For example, I am a veteran just as my students. Like them, I returned to school to earn my master’s degree in my mid-30s. And, like many of them, I had young children when I re-entered the world of academia. Finally, like them, I had real-world experience that shapes my interests and knowledge, as well as my ability to apply theory. For example, as a prior army intelligence officer, my job entailed collecting information on the enemy, interpreting the enemy’s movements, and providing recommendations to my senior leaders regarding actions to disrupt enemy forces. The learning traditions and methods to conduct my job were very objective thus reinforcing the way I should view the world. Even if the enemy tended to react in known ways and we tended to respond in typical fashion, I always observed anomalies and wondered why and how. This innate curiosity in an objective working environment drove me

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to design instruction that allowed others involved in the military environment to understand their own positionality. As a former K-12 teacher, I (Suzanne) came to higher education as a constructionist/social constructionist who believes that multiple realities are constructed by different groups of people: there is no one truth. Moreover, I believe that people construct new knowledge by experience and collaboratively with peers. Serving frequently as an evaluator, my interpretations and research analyses are also influenced by pragmatism. In my leadership roles, including my classroom, I am a humanist in that I strive to respect the dignity of each life and treat family, students and colleagues with ethics, compassion, and responsibility. My worldview requires me to put myself in the shoes of the learner and to implement instructional strategies that allow my students to grapple with who they are at their own pace. True understanding of how we see the world, regardless of how we have been trained to see the world, begins with activities that allow the students to reflect. Reflection and processing content is a key to the internal transformation process. For a traditional classroom, using the activity represented in Table 4.1 has been effective so far. In the beginning, the majority declared that they were Positivists. Some research discovered that qualitative research students had considerable difficulty in shifting out of a positivist worldview and embracing the link between philosophy and research (e.g., Carawan, Knight, Wittman, Pokorny, & Velde, 2011). One of my students shared this insight: “I had no idea that they (my worldview and research) could be connected in any way … after all ‘the facts are the facts.’” Another student said, “This exercise is very hard for me to get my head around.” And finally, these two reflections demonstrate that the understanding does emerge: (a) “As my classmates explained their answers to the exercise and their own worldviews, and I realized their stance was different from my own, it opened up a window to understanding.” (b) “The worldview exercise at the beginning of the research methods course was the beginning of a profound transformation for my cohort. The exercise continues to remain at the forefront of my mind as I delve into my dissertation.”

5

Conclusion

We believe our detailed descriptions of instructional strategies and activities along with the sharing of our philosophies of teaching provide insights for faculty and students. For faculty, our experiences demonstrate how two faculty members start the class discussions about positionality and research. For graduate students, we believe the instructional strategies and student reflections will provide hopeful wisdom and a means to be empowered.

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References Carawan, L. W., Knight, S., Wittman, P., Pokorny, M., & Velde, B. P. (2011). On becoming a qualitative researcher: A view through the lens of transformative learning. Journal of Teaching in Social Work, 31(4), 387–399. Creswell, J. W., & Creswell, J. D. (2018). Research design: Qualitative, quantitative, and mixed methods approaches (5th ed.). Los Angeles, CA: Sage. Crotty, M. (2005). The foundations of social research: Meaning and perspective in the research process. London: Sage. Dennard, L. (1989). The three bears and Goldilocks meet Burrell and Morgan. Administration & Society, 21(3), 384–386. Fink, L. D. (2013). Creating significant learning experiences: An integrated approach to designing college courses. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Guba, E. G. (1990). The alternative paradigm dialog. In E. G. Guba (Ed.), The paradigm dialog (pp. 17–30). Newbury Park, CA: Sage. Jones, S., Torres, V., & Arminio, J. (2014). Negotiating the complexities of qualitative research in higher education: Fundamental elements and issues (2nd ed.). New York, NY: Routledge. Knowles, M. (1988). The adult learner: A neglected species. Houston, TX: Gulf. Kolb, D. (1984). Experiential learning: Experience as the source of learning and development. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall. Kolb, A. Y., & Kolb, D. A. (2005). Learning styles and learning spaces: Enhancing experiential learning in higher education. Academy of Management Learning & Education, 4(2), 193–212. Kuhn, T. S. (1996). The structure of scientific revolutions (3rd ed.). Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Lyon, A. [Organizational Communication Channel]. (2017, September 20). Research paradigms by Burrell and Morgan [Video file]. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eOP7uS-TGZ4 Mezirow, J. E. (2014). Jack Mezirow’s conceptualization of adult transformative learning: A review. Journal of Adult and Continuing Education, 2, 117–136. Ponterotto, J. G. (2005). Qualitative research in counseling psychology: A primer on research paradigms and philosophy of science. Journal of Counseling Psychology, 52(2), 126–136. Sarcevic, A., Marisk, I., Waterhouse, L. J., Stokwell, D. C., & Burd, R. S. (2011). Leadership structures in emergency care settings: A study of two trauma centers. International Journal of Medical Informatics, 80(4), 227–238. Weimar, M. (2002). Learner-centered teaching: Five key changes to practice. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass.

CHAPTER 5

An Inaugural Interviewing Course: Promoting Continuous Reflexivity, Balancing Theory and Skills, Building a Community of Learners Anna Gonzalez-Pliss and Alisha M. B. Braun

1

Introduction

This chapter came out of a joint reflection that we—Alisha, the designer and the instructor of the inaugural graduate-level Interviewing Theory and Practice course, and Anna, a doctoral student who participated in this course— recorded and transcribed. In the creative spirit of reflective interviewing, most of this chapter consists of raw, authentic interview data. Our dialogue unpacks such topics as course format (online, hybrid, or face-to-face), building a learning community, developing interviewing skills through the practice of reflexivity, interview simulations, and journaling. We conclude the chapter with a reflection about future improvements. The course Interviewing Theory and Practice was a one-credit hour 6-week summer hybrid course structured as two weekly initial face-to-face meetings, followed by three weekly online modules, and concluding with one faceto-face session. The course was open to doctoral students from any program within the College of Education and had no prerequisite requirements. Initially, 11 students registered for the course and after the first week of class, the final enrollment was 9 students. The primary goal of the qualitative research methods seminar was to introduce students to interviewing theory and practice. Throughout the course, we examined how qualitative researchers approach interviewing and use theoretical alignments to plan and conduct interviews. Continuous reflective practice was an integral component of the course as students developed and refined their interviewing understanding and skillset. Course assignments consisted of (a) face-to-face and online discussion participation, (b) weekly researcher journal entries reflecting on practicing different interviewing forms including phenomenological, dialogic, ethnographic, feminist, and oral history interviews, and (c) a cumulative interview practice reflection paper. The required primary course text was Reflective Interviewing: A Guide to Theory and Practice (Roulston, 2010).

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2020 | doi: 10.1163/9789004419551_006

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Anna: I became interested in the art of teaching when I was a child. I observed my father, a professor of auto-engineering, prepare for lectures, consult, interact with students, and grade projects, and I was proud of how much thought and dedication he invested in his work. I wanted to grow up to be a professor, just like him. Throughout my educational journey, I remained curious about how my instructors choose learning materials, devise teaching strategies, assess performance, and imagine their roles in the classroom. I consider myself fortunate that I was able to not only participate in an inaugural course, but to ask its designer and my professor Alisha behind-the-scene questions, and to reflect on our experiences of this course together. The topic of this course—interviewing theory and practice—inspired us to write the chapter in the form of a dialogue, and therefore, to extend a step further what we learned together as a student and as a professor. Alisha: I designed and taught the course as a second-year assistant professor. My positionality as a junior faculty member influenced the way that I approached the course from both a design and an instructional standpoint. As a graduate student, I felt that my qualitative coursework was too abstract. I enjoyed learning about different methodologies, genres, and theoretical perspectives, but when I began to collect my dissertation data, I felt underprepared. In the field, I had to learn quickly, and I wondered if my interviewing style and skills were adequate to answer my research questions with the depth that I desired; I worried that I was only skimming the surface. Now, as a professor, I want my students to not only know about qualitative research but to also think like qualitative researchers and to have the necessary skills to carry out research. Given the student-centered nature of my prior student experience influencing my current instructional goals and pedagogy, I invited Anna to collaborate on this chapter. Our joint reflection and dialogue create the opportunity for multiple perspectives and experiences to be shared from both sides of the student-professor relationship.

2 2.1

Course Inception

Idea and Purpose of the Course: Teeter-Tottering Theory vs. Skill Development, Logistics, and Creativity Anna: I learned about your course from one of my instructors just two weeks before the registration opened. At the time, I was in my second qualitative methods class and just decided to pursue further training as a qualitative methodologist. The course Interviewing Theory and Practice was a welcome

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surprise because I knew I needed concrete skills, so both the syllabus and the timing for this course were perfect. What inspired you to create this course? Alisha: The initial intent of the course was to meet a student need for an abbreviated one-credit class on the skill of interviewing. But thinking about the balance of practitioner vs theory (in my position as a qualitative methodologist), that’ is applicable because I view myself more as a practitioner— someone who conducts interviews. How do I go about that? What are some ways that I go about that? What are some ways that I think about going about that and how do I connect that to different theoretical approaches and predispositions as I go through this process understanding who I am as a researcher, balancing the theory and skills? It was kind of this teeter-totter, I guess that I was working within all stages of the course, trying to design it and moving forward to give students tools that then they could apply in their own research and not make it too theory-laden. Yet at the same time for those of you who are interested more in the theory, to give you at least the foundation and the opportunity of starting places for further reading and that kind of thing. And that is why I really liked that book because it seemed to do a nice job of balancing theory vs. skill development and I loved all the different practice opportunities. Practice was something that I tried to really, really emphasize in our short time together because I think to be able to develop your skills as an interviewer, you need to do. You need to practice. And that is something I learned kind of the hard way. Once I was in the field, I realized: “Man, I wish I had more time to practice before this point in time.” But you know, that’s how it goes. So that’s kind of the philosophical intentions behind the course. For the more logistical, pragmatic reason for why the course came to be, beyond just having this goal of meeting an identified student’s need having an interview-type class because a lot of students use interviews as a method of data collection for their different research projects at various stages of graduate school … [my goal was to] to have a course focused on that seems to have nice utility for students, since you know, so many people are trying to use that method. You get some exposure in Qualitative Research in Education I and other classes on qualitative research methods, but this is more of a condensed version. But beyond that, with the qualitative certificate, the way that the credits counted out, a lot of students were one credit short, and so this course also served that need and I know in the student evaluations for the course and also I believe we talked about this first day of class or pretty early on, too, I found that not all, but at least for some students, this was their primary motivation for taking this class. They needed one more credit for this qualitative certificate which has utility from a credentialing standpoint which I can definitely relate to. As a grad student, you want all of your credentials on your vita before you get out into the job market. So yea, this was an immediate need.

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Discussions with qualitative methodology colleagues included questions such as, “How can we meet a student need to have one credit? Oh, how about a nice quick course on a specific method?” And then from there it evolved into “A lot of students are interviewing. How about an interviewing class? Alisha, you’ve done interviews.” And at this point, I had expressed interest in teaching a qualitative methods class, so it seemed just like a good opportunity. Does that make sense? It was a really roundabout way. It’s interesting because there were so many different factors, and some of these are philosophical type things, and others are like, “Well, we have a certificate, and we need one credit.” So it was kind of creative. And that’s what is so neat about working collaboratively with an organized group of qualitative methods faculty in the college: that there is space and opportunity to think more creatively about the course offerings.

3

Course Design

3.1 The Hybrid Format Anna: As an undergraduate student, I took an online clinical interviewing course, and it was frustrating because there was no way to receive real-time feedback from my instructor and peers. I was wary of running into a similar problem during the online component of the present course. I am curious: Where did the idea for the hybrid format come from? Alisha: So that too has a two-pronged answer from more of a utility perspective vs. pedagogical one. From the utility standpoint, especially since this was the first time this course was offered, there was concern as to whether there would be enough students enrolled in the course to generate enough revenue for the College of Education to offer the class and pay me as the instructor of the course. That is always a risk with teaching at any point, especially over the summer. Since this is a brand-new offering, there is not a track record of having an established number of students take it, so this is very touch and go, whether this course is gonna go or not. So because it’s the summer and because a lot of students travel over the summer, I came up with the idea to offer it in hybrid format—to give that flexibility to accommodate students who are traveling to try to increase enrollment numbers. My concern was that if it was only offered face-to-face, not enough students would be in the Tampa area to be able to have the class taken and be offered, so that was a factor. Anna: Do you think it worked out? Alisha: I do! I think so. Did you like the hybrid format? Anna: Initially, I was not sure whether the independent study portion of the course will be appropriate for what I hoped to accomplish. Not having to come

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to campus each week in the summer was wonderful, I think it worked really well. Did the other students agree, do you think? Alisha: I think so, yea. In the end of semester student course evaluations they seemed to be pretty positive about it. And I did resist the administrative pressures to offer it fully online because thinking about accessibility and student enrollment numbers (and all those metrics that administrators value and care about) to make it maximally accessible it would be fully online. Anna: So, if you had no administrative pressures and if this course was offered in spring or fall, would you still do it as a hybrid or would you choose to do it entirely face to face? Alisha: Yea, that’s a hard one because my tendency and my preference when it comes to teaching is face-to-face because (a) I feel research shows that students learn better that way (and I value research, so that’s important to me) and (b) I also enjoy that face-to-face dialogue connection with my students. I feel more connected when we are meeting, and I see you as opposed to just reading what you are writing online and writing to you. So overall, I would say that my strong preference is to teach face-to-face as opposed to online. Online is more something that I have done because, like you are saying, administratively there is this push to make revenue off of online teaching. That being said, though, this particular class was a really neat experience for me because I think that the hybrid format went really well. And I could see it going well in a more extended semester format as well. There is probably some modifications that I want to do at more face to face meetings, so we would have time to do other things. Anna: What would you do? What kind of modifications? Alisha: So, given the success of the hybrid format, I think I would still teach it hybrid because I liked how there was the opportunity in the discussion boards for you to share independently but collaboratively learn from each other. You can do that face-to-face as well, but I just really liked how well that worked online, so I would not want to entirely omit that. But I would still begin the course format similarly. In the summer, we met the first two sessions faceto-face and the final session was face-to-face, so I would extend that in the fall or spring. Maybe the first three sessions would be face-to-face, and then at the end two or maybe three more. But I would want to have a couple of check-in face-to-face sessions in the middle of the fall or spring semester just because I worry if I totally replicated my summer model of meeting face-to-face in the beginning and at the very end over a 16-week session, then there would be a disconnect and we might have a situation that I commended you guys for not doing by continuing your depth of reflection and engagement in discussion. But if you are doing that for 11 weeks in a row, then I would be concerned from a teaching standpoint that those student discussion comments are going to get

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shorter and everyone is going to get kinda tired of it. But I am kind of surprised by my response. Like I said, I am a strong proponent of face-to-face teaching especially at the graduate level. It is valuable at the undergraduate level as well. But as for graduate seminars, there is just a special magic happening faceto-face I think. 3.2 Building a Community of Learners Anna: The more I think about it, the more I appreciate the hybrid format—not just for its practicality but because it helped me learn. I agree there is a special magic that happens face to face, but meeting and sharing in person sometimes is a fleeting experience. There is that fluid exchange of words: some thoughts stay, others disappear from memory immediately. But when discussions are written, it is easy to come back and to evaluate (or re-evaluate) what the others are saying. You maybe challenge them or come up with more ideas and request some feedback. I cannot speak for the others, but for me, online discussions were an opportunity to think deeper. I also want to add: it is good you did not make us do face-to-face and online discussions in the same week because it would have been redundant. I have had classes where we were required to do both, and it felt like busy work, neither authentic, nor helpful. In your course, we talked or wrote to each other as much or as little as we wanted to, and we did it consistently, weekly. So I think it helped us become better connected to one another as learners. Alisha: Yea, I appreciate that, and that is a good observation, too. The dual utility of the online discussion format gives us an opportunity for discussion and reflection when we are not all able to come together physically. But having that written record and using that as a prompt or a tool to foster additional reflection is something that you do not get in a face-to-face class. Everyone has their learning styles (if you are a visually inclined vs. an auditory inclined learner); having a hybrid format gives you multiple modes of communication and opportunities to participate in that reflexive process in different ways. I think as a graduate student as you participate in more and more graduate seminars you get accustomed to more and more practice with that, but for some students this is not the most natural or meaningful way to have a really reflective conversation. And it can be nicer to be able to read, to think, to come back and re-read and re-think and then to formulate a contribution or multiple contributions to the discussion. So that is really neat. I had not really thought about that written record as a piece of that reflective process. Anna: It is interesting how online discussions did not substitute but extended our face-to-face class meetings. They had their own unique value. Would you please share your thoughts on this?

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Alisha: I really, really felt that given the reflective component of the class that I really wanted to try to foster and lay the groundwork for the online discussions. I believed there would be an incredible value to us meeting faceto-face. Especially if it occurred a couple of times in the beginning, just to create that sense of community and support. And I think that played out really beautifully when we transitioned into the online portion of the course where you were all posting your own reflections and commenting on each other’s as well. I was just incredibly impressed with the feedback that you were able to give each other and with the extent that you shared so openly online. I think that fostering that sense of community at the beginning of class facilitated that. That is something I do not know for sure because the course was not offered completely online, but I do think, by reflecting on the class and how it played out, it was positive. I also wanted to make sure that we met that one last time at the end of the semester to gather and reflect to kinda bring it all together. I know that the final class meeting went long, and it could have been even longer. I wish we had more time together. But that is just a limitation of it being a one-credit class: you do not have as much time. Anna: I remember that last meeting! Nobody wanted to go home after it was over. You know, I expected it would not be easy to re-connect face-to-face after several weeks of online exchanges, but the opposite was true. I felt the sense of community stronger toward the end, and I recognize that you went out of your way to foster it. 3.3 Developing Interviewing Skills through Practice 3.3.1 Practice Interview Activities Anna: I noticed in our initial in-person session you allowed us to choose a partner for the first activity, but for every activity thereafter you insisted we pair up with someone new. I had to really go out of my comfort zone to do this. But it was a good way to meet my fellow students and to practice rapport building skills with strangers. The fact that I remember this detail about our first meeting from months ago says a lot. Can you comment on your tactic? Alisha: Well, I try to capitalize on the diversity that is in the room. Diversity in terms of difference—different people, different perspectives, different mannerisms and ways of interacting when it comes to trying to give students a varied interviewing practice experience in a very finite amount of time. If you just kept talking to the same person, it would have limited diversity. I know that at the beginning not everyone knew the other people in the class. So it was natural to just begin talking to someone with whom you are more comfortable, someone you already know. Forcing you to speak with at least one more other person—maybe you did not know them already—would be a good

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opportunity to branch out to create a more novel interviewing practice situation where in the field likely. It totally depends on your study and your questions, and whether you already have rapport built with whom are engaging with. But at times you have to develop that pretty quickly. So I tried to give a very brief simulation of that. Anna: I think it was great. Speaking of familiarity and interviewing somebody you already know: How did you feel about us using our family members and friends for our practice interviews? Alisha: It is interesting how that played out. I feel like I keep coming back to the pragmatics of things, the logistics of things, the utility of things recognizing that this was a brief, fast-paced class. I was really trying to pack in as much experience and practice for you as possible and make it as manageable as possible. So part of doing that was me being okay with you being able to interview whomever you have connections with already. But it was interesting, too. It was neat because it differed across all of the student experiences. Some people did interview others they were not already close with, so they made an extra attempt to seek out people with whom they did not have as much history with, whereas others did not. Either way, I think it is interesting. It gives you a different dimension of practice because there are challenges going either way, challenges with interviewing someone whom you had a lot of conversation and engagement with. Interviewing is a different way of communicating, and so the histories you have with people can sometimes create challenges for you in a more formal interview conversation when you are trying to get answers to specific questions. The interviewees may not be as willing to share. Or if you do not know each other as well, then there is an expectation that is built in when the other person is going to be asking some questions that might seem off the wall, or not the norm in your day to day conversation. That is an interesting thought. Maybe moving forward that is something I could be more intentional about, at least encouraging students if it is possible to vary the types of relationships that you already have with the people whom you are engaging with for the interview practice assignments just to give you as diverse an experience as possible. How did you find that from the student perspective? Making the choice of who to interview, when, for which types of the interviews? Anna: A shorter summer schedule was a major decision factor for me. At the time, I did not have any active research projects, and my children were out of school on summer break. So I had to find people to interview from my pool of family, friends, and acquaintances—anyone who was available. During the first or second week of the semester I went through the list of upcoming interview assignments by topic and thought of possible research questions. Then I thought of people who could help me answer them. Since the challenge of

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interviewing strangers was an unlikely opportunity, I tasked myself with finding a variety of settings, trying different methods of recording my interviews, and certainly planning difficult, uncomfortable questions. I did not want to make it easy on myself. I really wanted to learn. Initially I thought interviewing friends and family would be problematic because I imagined it would go out of hand and turn into pretend play rather than become a project meant to approximate “real-life” research. Then I considered what counts as “real,” and evaluated my research question ideas. I had several potential favorites. For example, I wanted to interview my mom and dad about the day Stalin died. They belong to a generation of Soviets born during World War II, raised in the beginning of the Cold War, and I wanted to capture and preserve their bits of history through an interview, while I still could. To me, this was as “real” research as any. In addition, because they still live in Russia and I live in the US, we communicate primarily via Skype. So I was curious whether physical distance would be a factor in collecting rich data. I looked forward to the interview with my parents, and later enjoyed journaling about it. 3.3.2 Reflection Activities Anna: Weekly journaling was such an important component of the course, and not because it was a graded activity. I was able to keep track of my progress and to build my confidence. As I journaled, I recalled what I did well in my practice interview and considered what I need to improve. You gave us the freedom to choose our format; we could write by hand, type, record our reflections in an audio or video format, or come up with something else. I loved having options, even though I chose the same option every week—blog posts—because I like to use hyperlinks in my entries, search, and keep track of dates and times. Blog gives me a birds-eye view of my growth. Do you think our weekly reflections met your intended goals? What were your goals? Alisha: Overall, I was incredibly happy with the amount and depth of reflection that was happening. It did vary, though, you know? Anna: From student to student, or from sessions to session? Alisha: I think both. So, within student, the variation is just part of the process. And that is okay. So, just to talk through some scenarios (because weekly activities were designed to have different theoretical leanings), I fully expected that some activities and the types of questions would resonate and be a better fit for some students compared to others. That is just part of the practice and the process of reflecting on who you are, what you are interested in, what your interviewing style is, and all of that. So when there were weeks when it did not seem to resonate or click, then it depends: when it did not seem to be a good fit, the reflections sometimes were really detailed. Students would really elaborate on why it just did not feel right, why they were not comfortable doing this

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style of interview, “I never want to do this type of interview again,” that kind of thing. But then other students, if the interviewing activity did not seem to fit, then the reflection was a bit briefer. It was essentially: “I did not like this. I did not like it for this reason, this reason, this reason,” done. Whereas if there was a week with an interviewing form they enjoyed and learned a lot, and wanted to use it in their research, then there was a bit more elaboration and extrapolation. It also depends because some people are more reflexive than others, too. If the interviewing activity does not fit, it just does not fit. Done, close that door, I do not need to write five pages about it. So I am just going to give you a paragraph, and that is it. And that is okay, too. I tried to be as open and flexible with reflections as possible. Because I wanted it to be the students’ space. I did not want to give word limits, format requirements, and that kind of stuff. There were different formats. Most of it was written. But there was imagery, poetry, that kind of stuff. It was really cool to see that. For one or two students, regardless of the weekly activity, the level of reflection was not as deep as I was hoping for. I gave that feedback and they were pretty responsive to it. That being said, I did not want to be overly prescriptive with what I was requesting because I wanted it to be what you needed; I wanted it to be for you to learn and go through the process. There is also always some kind of baseline: I would like more than rather than fewer sentences, “Think about this” or “Think about that.” My prediction is that maturity as a graduate student played a role in the depth of reflection. I feel that as you go through your graduate school experience, you become more reflective—you practice that skill as well. In the case of one or two students I wished they had gone a little bit deeper. They were more junior and probably not as seasoned. It might have been their first experience with reflections. I therefore tried to encourage them going a little bit deeper, and I did see a little bit of change there. But by and large, everyone did a great job. Anna: Was Qualitative Research in Education I a prerequisite for this course? Alisha: I don’t believe so. Because we wanted a maximum number of students to take the class. EdD students, for example, we did not end up having that many enrol this time. As that program continues to grow, that will change in the coming years. I do not believe that Qualitative Research in Education I is a requirement for that program; so for students in the program taking the interviewing course it was not a prerequisite. We wanted to give them the opportunity to take the class if they thought interviewing was a skill that would be helpful for their research and skill development. Anna: I am glad I took Qualitative Research in Education I and II before I signed up for your class. I was already familiar with reflexivity. But I wonder if the students you mentioned did not offer a lot of detail because they did not

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have a lot of practice thinking reflexively, or because they just were not comfortable sharing. This can be an interesting topic to explore. Alisha: This is an interesting question. Or, it is summer, maybe there is not the amount of time you are gonna devote to a one-credit class compared to other responsibilities? Anna: That’s a good point. Actually, I was not completely comfortable at first. I remember worrying that I sound too colloquial in my journals. But once you made it explicit that you are not going to grade us on our academic writing, and that these reflections were meant only for my eyes and yours, I felt better. I still edited a lot to make sure there is a flow from one thought to another. Nevertheless, I always tried to be honest. If I thought I failed at something, I wrote about it. Alisha: That is good. It sounds like my intention played out nicely because I feel there are different spaces for writing and communicating. It is great that you said instructions were explicit, but maybe they could be even more explicit next time. Part of my underlying goal was to get you guys practice journaling as qualitative researchers, but not only as interviewers. This is so because if you are going to be doing qualitative research, the practice of journaling and having that be a space for you, where you feel safe to write and express your thoughts, your feelings, your inklings as you go through your research process, it is really important for having a safe space. To make it ultimately safe, I could say I want you guys doing journaling, but I am never going to look at it. But then the accountability piece is not there. It is encouraging to hear this was not a space where you need to be worrying about grammar and spelling, format, and that kind of stuff. It is just a space where you can dump your thoughts and experiences and reflection, and return to it if and when needed. That is aligned with my intention. Anna: I am not sure “ultimate safety” is good for this kind of journaling, anyway (even if the issue of accountability did not need to be addressed) because writing with a certain audience in mind stimulates constructive self-criticism. It is a self-check, so to speak. As I was writing my reflections, I knew you will be reading them, and I was prepared to receive your feedback. “Risk-free” learning environment can take on many meanings according to individual experiences. 3.3.3 “Difficult Interviews” Activity Anna: I am thinking of another in-class activity that helped me learn “riskfree.” In our second session, where you offered every person in our class to blindly choose a card with a role (a description of some hypothetical difficultto-interview persona), we split into pairs. One partner had to be “in-character,” while the other partner tried to interview her. We had a blast! Many of us appreciated the awareness of how interviews can go wrong. For me, it was a

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hypothetical and fun challenge, but a challenge nevertheless. What are your thoughts about this exercise? Alisha: There were multiple goals there. The overall goal was to create a simulated experience of “challenging” personalities to interview: someone who just blabs on and on, and you are trying to get through your questions, and they are not letting you speak; or someone who is really quiet, and it is hard for you to pull information from; or someone going off on tangents, not really answering your questions: How do you redirect? How do you focus? So they were all extreme examples that were fun to see play out. I participated in that too, so I had fun myself. It was fun to see that everyone really took on these assigned personas and had a really playful experience working through that. I hope students would be appreciating and recognizing that these are different challenges that they may encounter once they are practicing in the field. The activity was just another opportunity for practice and to see what sort of things you may encounter when you do it “for real” in research projects or dissertations. Anna: Did you participate in a similar activity when you were a graduate student? Alisha: Oh no, no-no-no. Anna: How did you come up with it? Alisha: I came up with it when I was going through the overall weekly structure of the independent interview practice opportunities. Before we started that phase of the class, I wanted to do this in class together as a group to give you guys that abbreviated experience and a bit of exposure, or awareness, really encouraging you to think of “maybe I should be mindful of these sorts of challenges when I try to do my feminist interview” and that kind of thing. But that speaks to a bigger goal of designing the class around practice and skill development and reflection because in my graduate work I did not have those sorts of experiences, and they would have been valuable. And as fun and corny as that activity turned out to be, hopefully, it added to your development as qualitative researchers at a deeper level. I think there was some utility to that. Anna: I think it worked! We all realized how much of a cartoon these scenarios were, but they were not that far removed from reality because we all experienced not connecting with people at one point or another. So where did these scenarios come from? You had quite a few, so you probably spent a bit of time writing them. Alisha: Yea, I just looked up challenges, common challenges with interviews, that kind of thing. And also, by reflecting on challenges that I have experienced in the field, too. And then creating a vignette, some cartoon versions of those. It was a combination of reading literature on interviewing (how to interview and challenges and pitfalls) and reflecting on my experience and conversations with other researchers about interviewing (what they find challenging in

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the field)—trying to get those stereotypical characters that you may encounter in the field when conducting interviews. Another secondary goal for that activity was to build community and comfort with one another. And again, that speaks to people that made up the class. I loved how you guys really did take that on and had fun with it because it could have gone a totally different way where you could think “Well, this is elementary. Why are we getting these little assigned roles? I do not need to role play, I am going to be a researcher. Let’s be serious about this.” I appreciated your playfulness with that particular activity; and it just fostered the sense of community that was developed within a short period of time and with limited face-to-face time with one another. Anna: Group size had something to do with it, and that we were in a smaller room. If it had been a big auditorium, and there were dozens of us, I do not think this would have worked as well. How many students did we have? Twelve? Alisha: I think we started out with eleven, and then it went down to nine. There were a couple of students who dropped. So that is a pretty small group. Anna: It was ideal, actually. Alisha: Yea, I appreciated it, too. I think it was nice. It was nice for everyone.

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Anna: Going forward, what will you do differently in the future? Alisha: Overall, I was really happy with how it went. Reflecting on our conversation today, I want to be more explicit about the dual role of reflection: not just for the purpose of interviewing, but for research. More specifically, as you are becoming a qualitative researcher, it is just a good practice to consistently reflect. In the future I would like to share that perspective, and my goals and intentions a little more openly. It might ignite more value for that particular piece (i.e., the dual role of reflection). One constructive comment I got from the student course evaluations was a critique on my participation in your online discussion posts. I really tried to give you guys agency and ownership over that space. The comment was that this particular student would have been interested in hearing more about my experience: I guess wanting to learn from the “expert,” me as the instructor, teacher of that class. And that is valid and fair. Anna: It could have been my comment. In my earlier academic journey, I earned over a hundred credit hours in asynchronous online classrooms, and I always felt that most effective discussion boards were conversations between interested instructors and peers. Active instructors peppered our discussions with stimulating questions to elicit critical thinking. They also asked individual

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students to elaborate when their answers lacked depth, but now I am not sure if this was a good comment for our class: we had opportunities to meet in person, and everyone knew you were invested and expected us to pull our weight even on our independent study weeks. Also, on the doctoral level, I imagine students do not need to be pushed to perform, so perhaps you were right to give us space. Please share with me your thoughts. Alisha: Yea, and a part of it was just awareness after the fact. So thinking through the kind of engagement that I had with the online material. I was obviously looking at your weekly reflections and commenting individually on those. Those comments were confidential; they were not shared with the class at large. And then with the weekly discussion posts I was engaged as a reader. I definitely read all of your comments throughout the week, and then at the end of the week I reflected on that and wrote a summative comment. There is still utility to having those encapsulating end-of-the-week type feedback comments. It depends on what I was sharing at that particular point. But having those “pepperings,” as you said, I like that, I like that analogy a lot. Next time, I also would want to insert more online comments throughout the week. Again, I was trying to teeter between being overly intrusive, respecting your space, and giving free and open space to engage in a dialogue with each other during the bulk of the week. I would come in at the end of the week with my summative comments, which worked fine. It is not like I was entirely absent from the online space—that to me would be incredibly problematic! The suggestion to “pepper in” more comments throughout is valid.

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Concluding Thoughts

Anna: You are a very responsive teacher, Alisha. I value that, and I agree with you—the class went well. I particularly appreciated being at ease, and how I was able to play and experiment with different approaches to interviewing. Our textbook (Roulston, 2010) was an excellent choice because it helped anchor the course thematically and theoretically; and all assignments and activities—discussions, reflections, practice interviews—worked in concert to bring theory to life. I began the semester with a goal to learn how to interview people “right,” and I was prepared to open my mouth like a baby bird to receive your knowledge and wisdom. I concluded the semester a more relaxed and confident emerging scholar because I realized there are numerous ways to do an interview, just as there are numerous ways to theorize a study. I love to explore what works in my interviews and try to capitalize on my mistakes and discoveries as much as I can. Clearly, in this course, I have experienced growth in my epistemological awareness.

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Alisha: Thanks. I really appreciate the little bird analogy with this desire to have the knowledge kind of dumped in. I was trying to do it differently with this particular class. I strove to give knowledge and resources, and that is why I like this particular textbook because it gave you the opportunity, if you are interested, to read more with the recommended readings. It was great because students brought in additional readings themselves, so that kind of all built on one another. But for me, I was not so much concerned about the knowledge dumping. And maybe this also relates to the very first question about being a methodologist. I do not view myself as the number one expert. We all become experts in the methods that we use in our research. That is my opinion. What I find to be the most important and helpful for my interviewing practice may or may not be different from someone else. Well, maybe it should be different for each and every different student and researcher because we are all our own independent researchers with our own interests and questions and so the element of practice and reflection is individually unique. That is what I was really hoping to make different in this course: making it less of just knowledge dumping and more about learning through experience and on your own. On your own in a supportive way, though. Having the opportunity for independent reflection, which I think is just fundamental to research and to qualitative research in particular. You need to have those ongoing moments of reflection and journaling. Integrating that ongoing reflection and journaling was intentional. I am glad it was positive for you, with the support of others who are on a similar but different journey. Like you said, the group of students who took the class, we were very fortunate that we had students from different programs, students at different points in their graduate school journeys, and even different degrees (so not everyone was a PhD student, there were some EdD students as well). So that added a different dimension. Diversity in student background and experiences brings a different element to that reflective piece for each of you, and the online hybrid format helped with that. I also appreciate how your experience of the class led you to be more comfortable and appreciate the value in having questions about those who are close to you. Having your own research, your own program of research fostered in the class because of the freedom and flexibility (e.g., I wasn’t saying “You need to interview this person and then this person”). That was neat how that happened organically for you given the structure of the class.

Reference Roulston, K. (2010). Reflective interviewing: A guide to theory and practice. London: Sage.

PART 2 Experiencing Empowerment

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Introduction to Part 2 Janet C. Richards and Wolff-Michael Roth

In the field of education, empowerment theory is often associated with the classic work by Paulo Freire (1972/1986), in Pedagogy of the Oppressed. In this seminal text, Freire expresses the need to empower individuals who are disenfranchised by taking control over their own learning and developing a deeper understanding of one’s own position within a community through active participation and engagement. O’Byrne (2019)

… An important premise of empowerment theory is the emphasis on an individual’s strengths and competencies … versus weaknesses … and deficits. Perkins And Zimmerman (1995, pp. 569–570)

∵ In Part 2 of this book, we present five chapters that center on the empowerment of individuals engaged in qualitative research methods. Two of the chapters authored by doctoral students focus on their empowering learning experiences in a qualitative research class. Another chapter authored by a doctoral student offers a first-hand account of what it means to be empowered through one’s own reflexive efforts about arts-based research. In a fourth chapter an African American doctoral student describes his feelings of agency and empowerment when he experienced andragogical teaching tenets in a qualitative research class. In the fifth chapter, Yew-Jin Lee describes how he was empowered to learn to design and do qualitative research through apprenticeship in the context of a research team doing a multi-method study of fish hatching.

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Years ago, Carl Rogers wrote that facilitating genuine, meaningful learning involved engaging students in personally relevant, experiential interactions. He © koninklijke brill nv, leideN, 2020 | DOI: 10.1163/9789004419551_007

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talked about self-directed interconnections as stimulating and facilitating student empowerment and self-reliant learning (Rogers, 1969). Currently a large body of global research focuses on the connection between students’ self-regulated learning, empowerment, and academic achievement (Zimmerman, 2000; Zimmerman & Shunk, 2001). For example, scholars note active engagement with others encourages students to accept responsibility for learning (e.g., Alvermann & Phelps, 2005). In addition, socially interactive learners are engaged learners (e.g., Vacca, Vacca, & Mraz, 2011). Moreover, Routman (2005) contends “students learn more when they are able to talk to one another and be actively involved” (p. 207). In short, social interaction is vital to student empowerment and the learning process. Other research draws attention to the person who has control in a learning situation, the teacher or the student, and in what ways a disproportionally inequity of teacher control can negatively impact students’ learning (e.g., O’Byrne, 2019). Despite a growing interest in the connection between empowerment and learning, a review of the extant literature shows that in general, few ideas have emerged to position students of qualitative research as empowered learners. In fact, scholars of qualitative research have largely neglected the relevance of self-regulatory cognition and empowerment to qualitative students’ professional development. Instead, most qualitative textbooks introduce students to qualitative research and neglect to include the students as learners of the material. Perhaps this oversight results from the majority of instructors of qualitative research being “self-taught.” Another reason might reside in the large body of concepts students must learn to be able to successfully navigate the world of qualitative inquiry. Instructors of qualitative research feel pressured to cover a lot of material in a short amount of time and new ideas emerge continually that must be added to the curriculum. The result is that students often complain that what they learn in their qualitative methods class is not applicable to the real world (see Gonzalez-Pliss & Braun, Chapter 5). Two chapters in this section demonstrate the positive impact of students’ feelings of self-determination and acquisition of empowerment in the qualitative classroom of one of the editors (Richards). In Christy Bebeau’s chapter, readers learn about the empowering activity of Simulations. Simulations engage learners in activities based upon authentic life experiences. In her chapter Christy explains the theoretical tenets that support group simulations and reveals how she felt as she engaged in her first simulation experience. This chapter also includes an authentic example of a simulation scenario that students use to structure a simulated inquiry. The scenario, an accompanying text of student discourse, and a more formal student-authored paper illuminates authentic student collaboration.

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In Chapter 8 (Kia Sarnoff), readers come to understand what transmediating text does for learners and what transmediating text entails. Specifically, transmediating complex text, such as tenets from the post structuralists (e.g., Jackson & Mazzei, 2012), promotes a deeper understanding of philosophical ideas and thus, empowers students. More to the point transmediating qualitative text information into alternate forms of communication, such as poetry, visual art, drama, and the like, usually helps students gain deeper understanding of the material and to better recall and retain the information presented. This chapter shares various ways students use their talents and aptitudes to read difficult prose and convert information to other semiotic systems, such as time lines, poetic representations, and visual art.

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Empowerment through Reflection

Besides learning opportunities and instructors’ pedagogy, reflecting on one’s practices and situations is generally embraced as a developmental process that empowers practitioners to achieve and sustain effective practice. The following three chapter authors share their ideas about the power of personal reflection as it relates to their success and achievements as: (a) an emerging arts-based researcher; (b) a student feeling caught “in the margins,” and (c) an established researcher recounting the ways in which he learned qualitative research methods through apprenticeship. Steve Haberlin (Chapter 7) discusses his liberation as an arts-based researcher when through reflection he discovered he needed to call upon his poetic strengths as the focal point of his arts-based inquiries rather than jump from one arts form to another. He urges emerging arts-based researchers to examine their backgrounds, affinities, natural strengths, previous occupations, and hobbies to better determine which arts-based research mode suits them best. This framework aligns with prominent arts-based scholars who believe the expertise for arts-based research can be developed even within those that may not possess an abundance of artistic ability (Barone & Eisner, 1997; Leavy, 2015). In a poignant and candid chapter, William Thomas (Chapter 10) shares his experiences as an African American male doctoral student who initially felt in “the margins: (see Jackson & Mazzei, 2012) in his doctoral classes. He was anxious and timid about sharing his views and observations that often differed from his mainstream peers’ ideas and perceptions. However, he felt “in the center” (Jackson & Mazzei, 2012) in his qualitative classes in which the pedagogy and class climate were based upon premises of andragogy and student empowerment.

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Yew-Jin Lee had done his doctoral studies with one of the editors (Roth). Besides a minimum of compulsory courses, student and supervisor selected a number of courses by special arrangement generally entitled Research Apprenticeship, with varying topics during its different iterations. Yew-Jin describes how he came to participate in a research project where, working with other researchers, he came to engage in active learning appropriating a variety of research methods, including ethnographic fieldwork, discourse analysis, and archival research. A special aspect of his dissertation studies was the orientation toward publication of articles in peer-reviewed scholarly journals. Although there are aspect that were self-directed, the author’s development occurred within specific communities of practice, each with its own constraints on and teachings about what constitutes appropriate research practice. The chapter may be read as a companion to Chapter 11, which describes the design and practice of graduate research courses and graduate programs so that the students have the opportunity to learn through apprenticeship.

References Alvermann, D., & Phelps, S. (2005). Content reading and literacy: Succeeding in today’s diverse classrooms (4th ed.). Boston, MA: Allyn Bacon. Barone, T., & Eisner, E. (1997). Arts-based research. Los Angeles, CA: Sage. Freire, P. (1986). Pedagogy of the oppressed. New York, NY: Continuum. O’Byrne, W. O. (2019, April). What is “empowerment” in education? Retrieved from https://wiobyrne.com/tldr Leavy, P. (2015). Method meets art: Arts based research practice (2nd ed). New York, NY: Guilford Press. Perkins, D. D., & Zimmerman, M. A. (1995). Empowerment theory, research, and application. American Journal of Community Psychology, 23(5), 569–579. Rogers, C. (1969). Freedom to learn. Columbus, OH: Merrill. Routman, R. (2005). Writing essentials: Raising expectations and results while simplifying teaching. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Jackson, A., & Mazzei, L. (2012). Thinking with theory in qualitative research: Viewing data across multiple perspectives. New York, NY: Routledge. Zimmerman, B. (2000). Empowerment theory: Psychological, organizational, and community levels of analysis. In J. Rappaport & E. Seidman (Eds.), Handbook of community psychology (pp. 43–63). Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers. Zimmerman, B., & Schunk, D. (2001). Self-regulated learning and academic achievement: Theoretical perspectives. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

CHAPTER 6

From Opportunities to Realities: On Being Empowered through Active Learning in Educational Research Yew-Jin Lee

And over the years I became aware of a consistent pattern. New graduate students would come to work in my laboratory after 17 years of extraordinary success in classes, but when they were given research projects to work on, they were clueless about how to proceed. Or worse—often it seemed that they didn’t even really understand what physics was. But then an amazing thing happened: After just a few years of working in my research lab, interacting with me and the other students, they were transformed. I’d suddenly realize they were now expert physicists, genuine colleagues. If this had happened only once or twice it would have just seemed an oddity, but I realized it was a consistent pattern. Wieman (2007, p. 10)

∵ 1

Introduction

Opportunity to learn is a widespread proxy measure of the worth of a curriculum, educational program or lesson. Through estimates of time, coverage, or quality of instruction, it allows the comparison of and thus judgment whether learners can reasonably achieve intended learning outcomes. It is a curricular concept that enables planners to imagine what can be potentially learnt under the given conditions—what are the affordances for learning in a particular situation even if these cannot be completely realized by everyone all of the time. As teachers, we are, however, resigned to the fact that even though learning outcomes, course objectives or synopses are often clearly specified in advance and transparent to our learners, their actual realization is never guaranteed! Neither does allocating adequate time for coverage or ensuring quality instruction likewise imply causal relationships with learning. During laboratory work © koninklijke brill nv, leideN, 2020 | DOI: 10.1163/9789004419551_008

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in school science, it too is almost a truism that while learners might typically be able to carry out their teachers’ procedural instructions, making meaningful connections between what they have just done with the salient concepts in the discipline presents a host of stubborn challenges (Abrahams & Millar, 2008). It is thus disappointing that no matter how well-planned or well-taught, coursework-heavy instruction often cannot fully anticipate what a learner really needs nor equip learners with the necessary skills or knowledge to act when an actual need arises. Such instruction contributes little in their empowerment and in becoming self-directed learners. From a learner’s perspective, the so-called opportunities to learn in the classroom can sometimes ring quite hollow. For some kinds of behaviors (conducting research included, as I will argue), listening to classroom instruction alone is manifestly insufficient. We do not learn to ride a bicycle or learn to swim just by reading books or attending lectures. We can get inspired through the former activities, but these will never enable us to cycle or swim well because the mode of successful instruction demands learners to be involved (i.e., learns) in a bodily way. On a related point, analytic philosophers have also remind us: there are many “task” verbs such as seek, run, teach, sell or swim; and these are only concretely realized in the accomplishment sense (Biesta & Stengel, 2016). It is hence logically incorrect to claim that one is “selling” when nobody has purchased anything nor report that one is “teaching” when students are not learning anything. Merely giving a sales pitch without concluding a sale or doing coverage of the textbook without any checking for understanding limits selling and teaching to their task sense. These are simplifications of the challenges of learning, but the truth is surely not too far off from what I describe. Opportunities to learn in much of formal schooling remain as reifications bearing little resemblance to what learners actually take away after exposure to instruction. I believe that these arguments here resonate with the chapter-opening quote by a Nobel laureate in physics lamenting about the puzzling and ubiquitous disjuncture between doing well in school (often favoring the learning of theory) and in authentic research environments (with a high practical component) (Young, 2009). This leads up to the point of this chapter: The successful accomplishment of learning (how to do research) arguably demands opportunities for practice and engagement in authentic activity. Accomplished teaching in both senses of the term is therefore a necessary condition for learning (Fenstermacher & Richardson, 2005) just as the role of the student must switch from a passive to an intellectually as well as practically engaged one. It takes two hands to clap, as the saying goes. The interesting neologism “studenting” was once coined to underscore the range of ordinary though consequential actions responsible

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learners must do to help themselves learn (Fenstermacher, 1986). Teachers should be teaching as best as they can while students should be occupying themselves in studenting. In keeping with the theme of this edited book about empowered/empowering learners in qualitative research methods, my focus here is on the process of learning how to do research by graduate students. As I explain below, it personally experienced learning to be successful in undertaking educational research in the field required that I was provided with opportunities to merge theory and practice together in a dialectical manner. Because my teachers and mentors were competent professionals in their field, my own efforts at studenting helped to narrow the gap between what existed as opportunities for learning in graduate school and the accomplishment of learning. If these are known beneficial experiences, why do they occur so infrequently? For many graduate students, the capstone research project marks a phase in their journey that is both highly exciting as well as tension-filled. This make-or-break period is often envisaged as a synthesizing exercise, an invaluable experience that usefully integrates what has hitherto been spoken of largely in abstract terms. Such assumptions tacitly regard graduate research in a similar vein as instant cake-mix: bundled, ready-formed ingredients merely awaiting assembly without too much fuss. Faithfully follow all the instructions (e.g., by taking requisite courses or seminars) and voila, the final product is assured! Yet, there are vastly more inflexion points or conundrums that previous classroom-based instruction cannot adequately prepare anyone for. Universities are understandably guilt-ridden if students are unable to make the grade and it is only recently that such cases of failure when conducting research have been published as explicit guideposts for others to know what to seek as well as what to shun (Karlan & Appel, 2016). It should come as no surprise to hear of the A-B-T (all but the thesis) phenomenon, which underscores the unfortunate separation of theory and practice in graduate school. One can thus undertake a large array of courses and even score quite decently on the former, but yet stumble at the capstone project if we recall the opening quote. Of course, various obstacles and hazards are always out there (e.g., procrastination, writer’s block, breakdowns in supervision, plain bad luck), but I maintain that research is best learnt by actually engaging in it and having rich opportunities for practice and development. In addition to learning from class-based work, a chance to quickly put theory to the test in the blooming, buzzing confusion of the real world will bring huge benefits. It is for these reasons that accounts for the popularity of practice-based teacher training almost to the exclusion of formal time spent in teacher colleges though it will soon be obvious why this is an inherently flawed policy. As I write this chapter in early January 2019, I have had to start a mandatory core module on research inquiry at my university. It is a 52-hour module

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covering the A to Z of quantitative and qualitative education research methods, my heart sinks as I am fully cognizant of the bewilderment that these graduate students are now encountering week after week. Whereas one certainly has to start somewhere, I do not envy their situation in this initial introduction to educational research methods as the very first course in graduate school. More so when instruction is done with minimal chances during the course to apply learning about research into their classrooms, which I thought was a pity. My personal experiences of undertaking doctoral research was thankfully more auspicious: I enjoyed numerous opportunities to shuttle between the formal contexts of learning afforded by coursework and the authentic learning experiences at research sites where there were no time-outs to consult methods textbooks. My story mirrors what my former supervisor Wolff-Michael Roth has articulated in his chapter. He practiced what he himself had found beneficial just as he encouraged his students to learn through these generative routes to robust knowledge in/of educational research. In the rest of the chapter, I briefly describe the background of my doctoral study, which used activity theory as I analyzed how adults learnt at their workplace. This was a rather unique, science-rich government institution known as a fish hatchery whose express purpose was to restock rivers and streams in British Columbia with salmon and trout. I then share what I believe was the means by which this practical learning about doing research in the field was facilitated. This is interesting because this was the same theoretical framework that we used to account for the vast expertise of the fish culturists that we were studying! Some of the universally popular qualitative research methods (and associated questions of representation) in my thesis are then explained using this dialectic of understanding and explaining concept before I conclude this chapter.

2

Background

My doctoral research was performed under the auspices of a larger interdisciplinary project, which examined the interactions between local and scientific knowledge exchanges in Canadian coastal communities. Prior to the commencement of my graduate studies, Michael Roth, Stuart Lee (Michael’s former doctoral student), and Leanna Boyer (Michael’s former research assistant) had already conducted extensive fieldwork at Shallow River Hatchery (a pseudonym) beginning in 2000. Initially, I accompanied Michael and Leanna as they went about their interviews with various people associated with salmon enhancement. Their introductions to the Salmonid Enhancement Program

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(SEP) staff were especially useful as I was a newcomer to this field; indeed, this was the first time I had set eyes on, or known about Pacific salmon. (For that matter, it was also my first time stepping foot in North America.) A few months later in the spring of 2003, the conduct of the research was solely in my hands as Michael and Leanna took on other research projects. Despite having access to previously transcribed interviews, photographs, and scientific reports—which amounted to nearly 600 pages of text—these were geared towards answering specific questions pertaining to the prior project on knowledge flows. By way of example, I found a large part of the recorded talk to be revolving around asking who knew what and how did that information journey (or not) from the hatchery to headquarters and vice versa. There was little data available for my research focus, namely, identity, past and present learning experiences in the workplace, organizational routines, past scientific experiments, the history of making salmon in SEP or Shallow River facility itself. As such, I urgently needed to supplement the data and more importantly, experience first-hand everyday work practices in Shallow River even as I was still undertaking a number of courses on research methods at the university.

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Learning with Theory, Theory from Learning

If the reader thinks that I am going to uphold practical activity as the sole means of learning how to do research over classroom instruction in the subject, it will be a thoroughly mistaken assumption. Instead, I make a similar claim as my main informant (Jack) at the hatchery that both forms of knowing and participation in the world are needed. In a nutshell, established wisdom or theory guides and suggests, experience and action in the world then refines or improves what theory has initially proposed. The initial understanding of theory is now deepened or elaborated, which is now open to further testing and experimentation, often encouraging a virtuous cycle of change. This is essentially one of the conceptual tools employed in our research—the dialectic of understanding and explaining—to describe how the fish culturists got better and better at what they were doing even though most of them had just college-level qualifications (Lee & Roth, 2005). Indeed, it was their embodied expertise in fish rearing and their sustained interest in conducting scientific experiments that made us researchers very curious regarding their remarkable development as experts in the field. The hermeneutic philosopher Paul Ricœur supplied us with the necessary vocabulary to derive this dialectic by emphasizing the interplay of tacit/practical (understanding) and scientific/theoretical (explaining) knowledge. So for

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workers like Jack, he had an immense embodied sense of how to rear fish in the hatchery. This was again, neither accident nor an act of nature; instead, it was accrued through years of seemingly repetitious work activities. However, when coupled with a keen sense of observation and wanting to improve as a fish culturist, this lead to a refined, more efficient way of doing things at work. When encouraged to assist in scientific experiments on fish physiology by government biologists, Jack leaped at the opportunity even though it was a genuine struggle for him at the time to understand both the science and jargon behind the various experiments. Over time, he grew confident enough to plan and conduct such activities on his own, in consultation with the statisticians and scientists, of course. In so doing, he slowly gained a nuanced, explicit and abstract knowledge of fish biology that could not have been obtained if he carried on just feeding fish. We can thus speak of a leapfrog metaphor here where the theoretical and practical ways of knowing interacted leading to change and transformation of the fish culturists. It was unlikely that Jack could have picked up this deep knowledge of fish culture from books alone as he took a very dim view of school-based knowledge (Lee & Roth, 2006), but at no time did he ever decry the value of theoretical knowledge whatever their origins. Many others throughout the ages have similarly thought about the value of engaging in different forms of (opposing) knowledge. It does not take much to rattle off people from Aristotle to Marx, Dewey, Heidegger, Habermas, and contemporary interpreters such as Bent Flyvbjerg. The British sociologist Michael Young himself builds his own dualistic-like models based on Durkheim, Vygotsky, and above all, Basil Bernstein. I admire Aristotle’s idea of phronesis (action oriented knowledge sensitive to context and considerations of use), which is biased towards practical understanding even though it has to grow through the knowledge of universals (from episteme that abstract scientific knowing exemplifies) (Aristotle, 2009, 1141b). This to me simply highlights the significance and potential of thinking and acting dialectically. As Michael Young readily acknowledges: The difficult educational roads from the informal to the formal and back always have to be travelled if learners are to learn and knowledge is to progress. The problem I have with dualisms such as Bernstein’s is that while they are unquestionably suggestive, they can focus too much on the distinctiveness of knowledge categories and not enough on their embeddedness in each other. If they were not to some extent embedded, we would never be able to escape from the everyday and think conceptually. Likewise, we might acquire ‘theoretical’ concepts but never be able

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to use them. On the other hand, the combination of embeddedness and separateness poses extremely difficult questions for both educational research and policy. (Young, 2008, p. 193)

4

Learning about/through Research Methods and Representations

In this section I describe how the mix of both theoretical and practical knowledge had empowered me through achieving a better understanding of conducting research (through participant observation, writing field notes, interviewing, doing archival research) than if I had relied exclusively on learning either though coursework or immersion at the field. It is also erroneous to think that universities or field sites do no offer avenues to experience different/opposing types of knowing because they certainly do. It is, however, an acknowledged preference for these sites to value certain ways of knowing and acting at the expense of the other. 4.1 Participant Observation In the course of my research in Shallow River, I adopted participant observation and forms of apprenticeship as research methods. One of the hallmarks of anthropology, the former entailed long-term involvement in observing and trying to make sense of social practices and structures from participants’ perspectives. This was insufficient for gaining an insider’s understanding of work practices and hence I sought various forms of participation in everyday work life. Known otherwise as apprenticeship, I assisted the hatchery staff in work activities such as the extracting eggs from female fish, checking water temperatures, feeding fish in the ponds, seeding freshwater lakes with mineral salts, and releasing the juvenile fish into the streams. At other times, I followed the fish culturists to nearby elementary schools as they conducted “egg takes” as part of the classroom incubation program. These experiences afforded a clearer, embodied sense of the technical and craft skills in fish culture. Mere observation or verbal enquiry would never have been able to achieve this. Although everything was new to me, it was something I truly relished. It was a merging of my longstanding interest in all things biological and the natural world (I was trained as a zoologist) and getting out in the field while doing my dissertation work. I came to appreciate participation and observation as preferred research methods for the field existed in a dialectical relationship. This was akin to the dialectic of explaining and understanding concept described earlier; I was engaged in this very process without a conscious understanding that I was doing so.

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In the dialectic between the poles of observation and participation, participation changes the anthropologist and leads him to new observation, whereupon new observation changes how he participates. But this dialectical spiral is governed in its motion by the starting point, which is observation. (Rabinow, 1977, p. 80) Apart from learning at the elbow from my lab seniors (Michael & Leanna) and my lived experience of participating in everyday hatchery work, I learnt how to describe and theorize the former by devouring ethnographies from journal articles and books (a lot of workplace ones!). I learned a great deal about the intricacies of conducting fieldwork and representation from recommendations from instructors and the invisible college. Julian Orr’s (1996) study of the professional lives of photocopy technicians was high on my list of favorites. This book enabled me to understand how the lunchroom (Figure 6.1) in Shallow River Hatchery functioned very much like the cafés where these expert technicians gathered to exchange war stories and thus came to learn as a collective. I too liked an earlier one on the hardships faced by sugarcane workers in Puerto Rico by Sidney Mintz (1960) for it revealed something of the pain as well as dignity of manual labor of these fish culturists. A direct counterpart of Jack, Douglas Harper’s (1987) photo essay cum biography of Willie the bricoleur mechanic in upstate New York was a true gem also supplying many ideas about how to think about the skillfulness of Jack. It must be said that while

figure 6.1 The lunchroom at Shallow River Hatchery where vital knowledge and information flowed and was exchanged among hatchery staff

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I found similarities, these were never perfect matches; Willie worked alone while Jack was part of a closely-knit team, the technicians visited different offices with faulty machines whereas Jack reported at the same location for nearly 20 years. Jack was also a paid employee who was highly regarded around the province for his skill with fish culture whereas Don Taso, the sugarcane worker, toiled under dreadful conditions of near slavery. Nonetheless, knowing about these diverse practitioners from the literature enabled me to compose a more nuanced and fresh portrayal of the special kinds of professional knowledge exemplified by these fish culturists. My interactions with Leanna—in/out of the research lab—was also consequential for my project, as she was heavily involved in marine and seagrass conservation. I came to appreciate in a vivid sense how the SEP was (originally) a highly technocratic solution to falling fish numbers compared to the more ecologically-friendly ways espoused by the local conservation groups where Leanna was a volunteer. Indeed, hanging out with the conservation officers of contemporary SEP who engaged the public, teachers, and schoolchildren enabled me to observe a more nuanced version of the program and how it had slowly morphed over the decades. There were also some public engagement sessions where I witnessed hatchery staff and government officials explain fisheries policies and decisions in town hall meetings. I recall feeling a bit out of place there as I was probably the only foreigner and a graduate student to boot, but it afforded an insight into the heated discussions about managing a living resource with monetary, ecological, and spiritual value. Although I did not appreciate it so much then, such varied engagements with different people and activities outside classroom contexts helped me understand my research topic better apart from improving my general skills in conducting qualitative research. For example, I could compare what I had read or heard in the classroom with what I was actually doing in the field (note-taking, interview people, active listening); each incident afforded a mini-experiment into what was viable or not. 4.2 Writing Field Notes Nearly all these events in or outside the hatchery were written up in field notes, audiotaped or, more commonly, videotaped (see Figures 6.2 and 6.3). The transcriptions of these events where dialog was present as well as my own field notes formed the basis of my analysis of the work of fish culturists. Over time, I became better and better at writing my field notes; the ethnographic eye really took some practice to acquire although I had many examples from the field notes that Michael, Stuart, and Leanna had previously written. Wanting to be doing the right thing, I bought the first edition of the famed book on writing field notes by Emerson, Rachel, and Shaw (1995), which gave me solid advice

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figure 6.2 Part of the field notes from my notebook regarding the “egg take” in which I participated during the winter of 2003

although I did not manage to read everything as it was more than what I was prepared to learn concerning field notes. In addition, I interacted with other members of SEP (e.g. veterinarians, population statisticians, laboratory staff, technicians, administrators) about various aspects of the work and workplace, collected and photographed artifacts (forms, minutes, notes on scratch pads), and copied fish culture manuals, experiments, and newspaper clippings relating to the hatchery (see Figure 6.4). Though laborious, transcribing the data myself within three to four days of data collection was an avenue to an intimate familiarity with what the participants had articulated. In part, this high standard came from Michael when I learnt during our long conversations in the car up to Shallow River Hatchery how he normally transcribed his own classroom videos overnight so that he (as school teacher looking at his own teaching) was prepared to know where and whom to focus on for data collection the following day. He did not force his graduate students to adopt such a punishing work regime, but I immediately saw the wisdom of such actions and tried to follow this as best as I could. 4.3 Interviewing I learnt how to do interviews by doing interviews (cf. Roth, Chapter 11) as what the dialectic of understanding and explaining had prefigured. In the first six months of my candidature, I was unsure about the nature of my study focus

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18 November 2003 Shallow River Hatchery I drove up with JY to Shallow River. Jack, two days before, had phoned me to tell me that they were having a coho egg take today. I arrived at 0830 as snow prevented me from traveling faster. We walked in by the main door, met R by chance who welcomed us and said we came a bit early to catch the action. I said hi to P working at the computer (secretary’s) whom I had emailed a couple of days earlier about the education programs from SRH. We then popped in to see Jack, he asked how was everybody at the lab. He then got us some gear for the egg take which we assumed we were going to observe only. At the brailer, we saw R, G and K jump into the brailer to perform sorting with their nets and kill the fish with two kids’ baseball bats. Jack was on top of the metal grating, notching the fish tails and cutting the gill arteries with a small curved knife. It was rather bloody at this stage of the process. He demonstrated to JY and I, and then informed us that our job was to hang the fish onto the Al hooks (using a short cord) at the cemented area. P helped the gang as some people eg L was on off, and others weren’t around eg D as she was doing a salmon dissection today and tomorrow in the schools. There were so many fish that they had to be doubly hung onto the hooks. We then counted the fish and prepared the Nasco Whirl-Paks. [these were custom made according to G, and with coho these milt bags were smaller in size. They are quite ingenious; tear off the tops, open them up, in goes the milt, fold once then whirl to seal, keeping some air inside for respiration] after some time, the fish culturists who were free came one by one to milk the males. K & R were back in the water sorting out the male fish for us. The males (and ‘green’ does) were dumped into a metal container for putting back into the river. Any milt that was mixed with feces in moderate amounts had to be discarded. After this was done, the eggs were taken from the does. P, who had done this 17 years ago, had to be refreshed by G what to do. Nearing the end portion of the egg take G commented to everyone that she was the only fish culturist around for A (asst maintenance) [came in later after Jack asked for his help] & R (asst manager) were bringing the fishes for G & P (SRH secretary), while JY & I were preparing the buckets/plastic bags for the eggs. G and P had a good laugh and joked that we were conned by Jack, P said, “and these two guys said they were just coming to see, like tourists!” as I told her that I wasn’t going to get involved, just looking only. We were wrong of course, and took part later on in the mixing of milt and washing of eggs in the incubation room. G thanked us more than once, and Jack gave us each a Shallow River Hatchery cap for all “the hard work” we did during lunch time. I mentioned to G that unless we participated, we wouldn’t have understood as well if we just looked. The job today was not so much difficult but more tiring. Jack said he was getting too old for all these things—indeed it was hard jumping into the water, and using the nets(R said it was hard on the lower back) to grab the fish. figure 6.3 Part of the same cleaned-up field notes describing the “egg take” account

although I knew collecting as much data as possible about the work practices in Shallow River was imperative. By coincidence, I was also attending a graduate course on interpretive inquiry taught by Michael. Because he drew on environmental and watershed-related concerns as exemplars during the course,

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figure 6.4 A photograph of the brailer that was described in the set of field notes concerning the “egg take” (photograph © Yew-Jin Lee)

I decided to complement Michael’s growing corpus of data by interviewing a top scientist in the domain besides serving my own interests in examining environmental scientists who crossed boundaries from one activity system to another. I prayed that the research interview would proceed smoothly, which it thankfully did, and then planned to analyze the transcript by means of a grounded-theory approach—the method Michael was teaching in the course. Nevertheless, interviews seen as failures or those going badly can be equally informative and offer what is called “uncomfortable reflexivities”—a critical interrogation (and discovery) of researchers’ selves and practices (Nairn, Munro, & Smith, 2005). Because of my uneasiness that one or even a few interviews were sufficient for generating any worthwhile and publishable conclusions, I opted instead to analyze how this scientist had articulated his concerns and the concomitant issues of identity, which arose more than what he had told me during the interview session. What normally would have been regarded as superfluous or impediments in the real business of “getting information” from the interviewee took on significance as the new focus of inquiry now. I felt this to be one of the best means to achieve my aims was by using discursive psychology (DP). Here,

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taken-for-granted internal constructs such as motivation, attribution, emotions, and identity are treated as outcomes of context-dependent talk. Again, this after-the-fact accounting for my choice of methods might not have been the complete story, for in 2000 I had written to Michael inquiring about the possibility of a joint research project with him and with a colleague of mine. As a newly appointed teacher-educator in my home country of Singapore, I had wanted to conduct action research on what schoolteachers here believed about teaching the topic of biological evolution. I prepared what I believed was a fairly complete research proposal involving a rigorous interview schedule and sent it off to Michael. When Michael replied that he did not think it was possible to discover what was in peoples’ minds by asking them, this caused no small conceptual disequilibrium in me. Reading some suggested books on DP that I mulled over for weeks, I found Michael’s notions so strange and counter-intuitive. I thus I abandoned the idea for interview research in this area. Yet, on revisiting the literature, and more importantly writing about it for not one but eventually two chapters for my thesis, it causes one to regard DP afresh, and with some respect. In the main, performing interview research was learnt through its actual performance and one became better with each enactment. This did not preclude me from delving into the literature and reading all I could concerning the ideal way to conduct research interviews. As usual, many resources offered excellent, time-tested advice, but I think it was the sheer abundance of such advice that nearly did me in. Feeling fearful of committing a blunder paralyzed me at times; it was impossible to remember it all. But in the initial months at the hatchery, Michael and Leanna were my two mentors, as they took the lead in speaking to the fish culturists. I was just the video guy at w point in time, although I was intently observing how they performed the interviews. Being a foreigner, I had to understand some of the cultural practices and ways of interacting that were alien to me as a middle-aged Asian man unused to the more open/forthright conversational norms here in North America. (Engaging in small talk at supermarket checkout counters were my baptism of fire as silence is the norm in my country, which incidentally was used as an exemplary context for making field notes by Emerson et al., 1995.) However, I became their equal very soon when Michael and Leanna had to busy themselves with helping out with other activities at the hatchery and I took over the bulk of interviewing. Because every research participant whome we approached was very gracious, especially my main participant Jack who was especially loquacious, we managed to obtain a huge body of data this way. Nobody declined signing off their

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confidentiality form except for one retired government scientist. This particular person turned out to be one of the best sources of information regarding SEP field operations. During this unrecorded discussion with him, he spoke without stopping for two hours as we sat wide-eyed around him. When we later asked him why he had declined to give consent, he said he did not have anything much to contribute, which we thought was truly ironic! 4.4 Doing Archival Research Gathering relevant data was not solely restricted to a physical presence in the hatchery, in meeting rooms or classrooms. Data collection for a cultural-historical account of salmon enhancement was a different, but equally valuable experience involving archival research in government offices and museums. Up to the winter of 2003, I was satisfied with the reading and building up of a large collection of public-domain texts on the Salmonid Enhancement Program. I gradually realized that these painted a lopsided picture for all documents, especially those generated from interested stakeholders, were motivated to present a certain version of reality. Furthermore, our interviews with a variety of people associated with SEP (e.g. fish culturists, biologists, technicians) were revealing different and oftentimes conflicting perspectives of SEP depending upon their work histories and positions within the organizational hierarchy. It was at this time that I felt compelled to incorporate less accessible material (e.g. government memos, letters, minutes) to gain a better understanding of enhancement-in-the-making prior to the closure of any black-boxes. These are concepts from science studies and refer to the removal or obscuring of controversies and disputes in the process of fact construction. Once something is a black-box, it is taken as a given or settled fact and can be used as a resource for future action (e.g. the acceptance of germ theory). Gaining access to provincial and federal records stored in Victoria and Vancouver-Burnaby by invoking the Access to Information and Privacy Act proved to be the easy part. The two-year wait before I could view relevant material kept at the National Archives in Ottawa effectively precluded this option although it was felt that it would have been most informative. Another setback occurred when senior officials from the Pacific region of Fisheries and Oceans Canada—the parent organization for SEP—whom I approached in June 2004 did not seem interested in my historical research. This was despite assurances of confidentiality and the possible benefits to the organization arising from our work. Significantly, whether it was related to this particular exploratory meeting or not, I felt some informants to be reluctant to participate in the project and avoided me thereafter, which again reinforced my desire to rely extensively on textual materials at that point to tell my story of SEP.

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I had no prior experience of conducting archival research although I tried to prepare by reading up how to handle documents in social research (e.g., Prior, 2003) as well as the learning the philosophy of history and historiography in general. Whether something had rubbed off from this intense process I am not sure, but my favorite current genre of reading materials are either histories or biographies. Back then, I attended conferences foregrounding the use of social science methods to understand scientific practices such as the Social Studies of Science and American Society for Environmental History conferences. Listening to the key players give presentations here as well as reading some of the classic texts (e.g., Cronon, 1992; Latour, 1987) enabled me to get a handle on what kinds of information sources had potential to be changed into data and how to write persuasively in this unfamiliar genre. My forays into these communities of practice also positively intersected with the many ethnographies of work I was reading. I repeatedly dipped into Taylor’s (1999) critical historical analysis of salmon “manufacturing” in the Pacific Northwest; it was thus no wonder he became the external examiner during my PhD viva. At first, it was a trial-and-error process where I tried to copy any salient episode/account/news from the documents I found. Over a period of about three to four months of travelling to the provincial archives every day I slowly grew to understand and appreciate the SEP from an organizational perspective. After all, these documents represented the official (Federal & provincial) perspectives of how to run the multi-faceted, complex, and high-stakes scientific cum social program where everybody seemed to want to have a say when the program was actively running from the 1970s to the 1990s. There was a particularly memorable incident just before Christmas 2004 when I requested access to the stored lecture notes of a deceased fisheries professor from one of the universities in Vancouver. When I opened the large cardboard box storing his lecture notes and overhead transparencies, it was done with a beating heart as I realized I was probably the first person to view these rare materials since his passing eight years prior. As others might concur, much of archival research consisted of plowing through mundane minutes of meetings, budgets, some newspaper cutouts, technical reports and assorted scraps of information. Nonetheless, they were still useful nuggets of information, and once in a while, something of importance might appear as when I chanced across how much (misplaced) faith was held in the power of science by the then environment minister in a personal letter to a noted conservationist in 1970: [w]hile we must do all we can to maintain the natural environment we also must develop techniques that will enable us to produce enough fish

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to offset these losses [from human population increase and industrial encroachment]. This rate of gain must equal the rate of loss in order to “stand still.” If we are to increase our resources beyond present levels we must not stop at spawning channels but continue through hatchery propagation and perhaps to the eventual goal of complete domestication of the Pacific Salmon. (From Library & Archives Canada (Burnaby), Accession number V-1998-00324-8, Box 3, File number 32-5-2-2, Scientific Investigations-Salmon-Management, maintenance & development of the resource [1970/01-1972/10], Letter to R. Haig Brown, 16 February 1970)

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Final Thoughts

There is nothing wrong in learning how to conduct qualitative research through taught courses. The earnest student will always learn something if they are serious about studenting. My current graduate students mentioned above might struggle and find it frustrating, but what they hear now might act as a basic introduction to educational research depending on their state of readiness or perhaps become a catalyst for deeper exploration when they have the chance to conduct actual investigations in their classrooms. I think this is the overarching spirit and hope of this edited book, which is to recommend that one really learns how to do or write about qualitative research well by engaging in these very acts. Whereas the initial steps are almost always bound to be tentative or sometimes even result in failure, repeated enactments will certainly assist one to refine one’s knowledge and actions thereby leading—if only in infinitesimal ways—towards skillful action and more comprehensive forms of knowing. This dialectic of understanding and explaining that we described offers a likely account of this synergistic growth of expertise. In the author’s experience, this especially held true with respect to learning about participant observation, writing field notes, interviewing, and doing archival research. The periods where I encountered these techniques in coursework overlapped with my entry to the Shallow River Hatchery as well as my shadowing of people working in SEP. Having a supportive supervisor and lab partners generous of their time were instrumental too in my trajectory of understanding how to do research. While moving through this trajectory, I felt more and more empowered using a variety of research methods as I became acquainted with them in their use. Whereas there are no fixed assurances as life is more complex

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than what can be described here, what I have shared offers more than a decent chance to transform opportunities to learn to actual realities when conducting educational research.

References Abrahams, I., & Millar, R. (2008). Does practical work really work? A study of the effectiveness of practical work as a teaching and learning method in school science. International Journal of Science Education, 30(14), 1945–1969. Aristotle (2009). The Nicomachean ethics (D. Ross, Trans.). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Biesta, G. J. J., & Stengel, B. S. (2016). Thinking philosophically about teaching. In D. Gittomer & C. Bell (Eds.), AERA handbook of research on teaching (pp. 7–67). Washington, DC: AERA. Cronon, W. (1992). A place for stories: Nature, history, and narrative. The Journal of American History, 78(4), 1347–1376. Emerson, M., Robert, F., Rachel, I., & Shaw, L. L. (1995). Writing ethnographic fieldnotes. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Fenstermacher, G. (1986). Philosophy of research on teaching: Three aspects. In M. C. Whittrock (Ed.), Handbook of research on teaching (pp. 37–49). New York, NY: Macmillan. Fenstermacher, G. D., & Richardson, V. (2005). On making determinations of quality in teaching. Teachers College Record, 107(1), 186–213. Harper, D. (1987). Working knowledge: Skill and community in a small shop. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Karlan, D., & Appel, J. (2015). Failing in the field: What we can learn when field research goes wrong. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Latour, B. (1987). Science in action: How to follow scientists and engineers through society. Milton Keynes: Open University Press. Lee, Y.-J., & Roth, W.-M. (2005). The (unlikely) trajectory of learning in a salmon hatchery. Journal of Workplace Learning, 17(4), 243–254. Mintz, S. W. (1960). Worker in the cane. A Puerto Rican life history (Yale Caribbean Series: II). New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Nairn, K., Munro, J., & Smith, A. B. (2005). A counter narrative of a “failed” interview. Qualitative Research, 5(2), 221–244. Orr, J. E. (1996). Talking about machines: An ethnography of a modern job. Ithaca: NY: ILR Press. Prior, L. (2003). Using documents in social research. New Delhi: Sage.

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Rabinow, P. (1977). Reflections on fieldwork in Morocco. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Taylor, J. E. III (1999). Making salmon: An environmental history of the northwest fisheries crisis. Seattle, WA: Washington University Press. Wieman, C. (2007). Why not try a scientific approach to science education? Change: The Magazine of Higher Learning, 39(5), 9–15. Young, M. (2008). From constructivism to realism in the sociology of the curriculum. Review of Research in Education, 32(1), 1–28. Young, M. (2009). What are schools for? In H. Daniels, H. Lauder, & J. Porter (Eds.), Knowledge, values and educational policy: A critical perspective (pp. 10–18). London: Routledge.

CHAPTER 7

A Framework for Niching Scholarship and Expanding Competency in Arts-based Research Steve Haberlin

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Introduction

One never knows how non-traditional ideas will be taken. This naturally produces some anxiety, which was the case as I presented research at The Qualitative Report annual conference involving the use of poetic inquiry. I shared several poems, which I had created based on interview transcripts from talks with a nine-year-old gifted child, who had a proclivity for connecting with animals and nature. I wanted to convey the essence of her unique experiences (she spoke of hearing the winds and the horses she rode, speaking to her) in a way the readers—in this case, audience members—could feel them. So I turned to poetry. Following the presentation, to my surprise, Johnny Saldana, a qualitative researcher, director, and playwright, approached me and complimented my work. For me, the words served as a sign that I was headed in the right direction, as far as embracing arts-based research, particularly poetic inquiry, as a methodology. But the path had not always been so clear. As a doctoral student in my first qualitative research class, I recall my fascination when I first learned about arts-based research (ABR). I had never considered the arts in relationship to research. I suppose the idea of using artistic modes to conduct research tugged at the emerging artist within me. While completing coursework, I dabbled in various genres—publishing an autoethnography, a visual-based inquiry, in which I had gifted elementary students sketch their peak experiences in the classroom, as well as poetic. I also learned about other ways to use the arts. For instance, I discovered how to employ dance and music, as methods to collect and analyze data. ABR held so many possibilities—but that was exactly my problem. In my case, it might be compared to a child entering a large toy store, excited but also overwhelmed by the number of choices available. What aisle do I even begin to wander? However, as I reflected on my ABR work, a clearer path emerged. In the past year, for instance, I have focused on poetry in research, applying this genre to my research agenda of teacher education/elementary education. This emerging path inspired a conceptual framework, which I believe might assist © koninklijke brill nv, leideN, 2020 | DOI: 10.1163/9789004419551_009

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figure 7.1 Conceptual framework for emerging arts-based researchers

other novice ABR scholars in their journey (Figure 7.1). In this chapter, I use my own journey as poetic inquirer and provide concrete example for readers to explain the framework. For instance, arts-based researchers might examine their backgrounds, affinities, natural strengths, previous occupations, and hobbies to better determine what ABR mode suits them. Furthermore, this framework aligns with prominent ABR scholars, who believe that the skills for arts-based research can be developed, even within those that may not possess an abundance of artistic ability (Barone & Eisner, 1997; Leavy, 2015). Drawing on the image of the warrior-poet, I later address the challenge of balancing the researcher with the artist and peacefully reconciling the two roles.

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A Framework for Emerging ABR Scholars

To help illustrate one possible pathway to developing as an ABR scholar, I provide the framework below (Figure 7.1). The framework’s process originates with an exploration of the ABR genres. However, when deciding what genre(s) to focus upon, researchers are encouraged to consider their affinities, talents, and aptitudes in relationship to the arts. With a genre in hand, the ABR scholar then practices that art-based method, sharpening his or her craft (Faulkner, 2007), and in the process, builds skill and credibility. This process ideally results in productive, competent, focused scholarship. I now provide a detailed description of each element of the framework.

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Many Possibilities of ABR

ABR involves employing a set of methodological tools across various disciplines during all phases of research. Adapting from the tenets of the creative arts, ABR draws on literary writing, music, dance, performance, visual art, film, and other mediums (Leavy, 2015). ABR emerged within qualitative research, and by the 1990s, constituted a new methodological genre, adopted in a variety of fields, including medicine, business, science, and engineering (Sinner et al., 2006). During the last decade, ABR has gained both credibility and visibility (Prendergast, Gouzouasis, Leggo, & Irwin, 2009). Among its benefits, ABR practices provide greater immediacy and accessibility and provides voice to those marginalized (Leavy, 2015). ABR features a multitude of possibilities when it comes to deciding how to collect and analyze data and complete research. For instance, one might ask participants to create self-portraits and poetry, as Richards (2013) did in her work with pre-service teachers or research using dance and movement as similar to Cancienne and Snowber’s (2003) inquiry. The purpose of this chapter is not to provide a menu of ABR genres, rather to emphasize the point that there are many choices, which I believe creates a dilemma for novice arts-based researchers. Where does one begin? What art form or forms might be most appropriate? Of course, scholars may contend that the choice of ABR genre should be based on the research at hand. For instance, the research questions might guide the choice along with the nature of the topic, the participants, the context-these are all factors that must be considered. Regardless, new arts-based researchers must make choices regarding genres. When choosing, I suggest that researchers also consider their inherent strengths, affinities, and inclinations as they apply to the arts.

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Strengths-based Approach to ABR

Strengths-based ideology emerged during the civil rights movement in the United States during the late 1960s. References to strengths-based approaches in social work and psychology later surfaced in professional literature during the 1990s. The strengths-based approach has been strongly influenced by the positive psychology movement (Seligman & Csikszentmihalyi, 2000). The concept of strengths-based directly opposes the idea of focusing on an individual’s deficits, rather the emphasis is on a person’s potential, interests, abilities, knowledge and capacity (Fenton & McFarland-Piazza, 2014). A strength has been defined as “the ability to provide consistent, near-perfect performance in

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a given activity” (Clifton & Harter, 2003, pp. 3–4). Strengths spur from dominant talent; once refined with knowledge and skills, talents turn into strengths. According to Clifton and Harter (2003), the more a strength is exercised, the stronger it becomes (p. 4). Clifton and Nelson (1992) presented four indicators or signals to the presence of a strength: (a) individuals are intuitively drawn to activities that utilize strengths, (b) they “derive great satisfaction and energy” from the strength-related activity, experiencing a timelessness or state of flow (p. 43), (c) they learn rapidly, and (d) they experience “glimpses of excellence” (Clifton & Anderson, 2002, p. 52). The strengths approach can serve as a basis for deciding what ABR methods to engage, and thus, strengthen. For instance, if one possesses an affinity for sketching, painting, and other visual mediums, then perhaps researching with visual data makes sense. On the other hand, if one cringes at the thought of acting on stage (as I do), then performative arts as research does not. In my case, I examined what came natural in the artistic world, what modes and mediums resonated? What felt right? What did I enjoy, gain energy from, and lose track of time when doing? What artistic endeavors did I partake during my spare time? I also delved back into childhood, when I created more freely. What did I create in my bedroom, when no one was watching? I also examined my education. For instance, during undergraduate studies, I majored in English and studied literature and poetry. I also considered my career track. Before working as a teacher, I wrote articles as a newspaper reporter. Writing always came naturally. Of course, the question remains whether anyone can become an arts-based researcher or is the methodology reserved for the artistically endowed? At least some ABR scholars believe that, for the most part, the skills and abilities needed can be gained through concentrated effort, practice, and guidance. “Not every arts-based researcher needs to be Toni Morrison or a Tony Kushner. We do not believe that good arts based researchers are necessarily endowed genetically with a capacity for doing arts based research” (Barone & Eisner, 1997, p. 57). Leavy agreed, writing, “Some would argue that you do have to be an artist in order to do ABR well, but I disagree. I believe you can begin from where you are, and learn an artistic craft as you go” (P. Leavy, personal communication, November 14, 2018). Nevertheless, discovering or re-discovering one’s artistic strengths does not complete the process of developing into an ABR scholar. Those strengths must be honed. This is where practice comes in, and credibility is established.

5

Practicing Artistry

Gravitating toward poetic inquiry, I decided to publish poetry. I believed that crafting poems and attempting to publish on the “free market” might refine

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my ability to create poetic representations within my research. The practice of writing poems outside of research seemed at least partly transferable to scholarship. Creating poems requires reading other poets and paying attention to cadence, rhythm, word choice, and imagery. These are the same mechanics needed to master converting interview transcriptions into poetry. Of course, there are differences. In the literary world, poems can originate from any source. For me, they often emerge during meditation or other quiet, reflective moments. However, for the arts-based researcher, research poetry must come from the data, typically interview transcriptions. In poetry inquiry, the poems are inseparable from the “web of relations in the research process” (Gorlich, 2016, p. 525), originating from participants, who are interviewed but are also influenced by the types of questions asked by the researcher. While as a researcher, I must work within the data to craft poems, but once I begin that process, I believe that same principles of non-research poetry come into play. The situation is reminiscent of a baseball player hitting balls at the batting range: the principles of swinging are the same, whether a player is hitting in a game or batting practice. Of course, there are differences—for instance, the pressure of the game, the screaming fans, the pitcher from the opposite team. But there seems to be a certain amount of transferability (otherwise, why would professionals take practice?). A swing is a swing. Similarly, writing poetry and poetic inquiry are not the same thing, but there appears to be some transferability, some overlap in practicing both. For instance, examine the two poems below, one I published in an academic journal using poetic inquiry to explore the experiences of a gifted elementary student’s connection to nature (Haberlin 2017b, p. 213), the other published in an online poetry magazine (Haberlin, 2018, n.p.), simply as poetic expression with no research involved. The Butterfly Whisperer Butterfly in hand Noisy crowd She is peaceful Holds it toward the sky Bursts into the air Sputters, catches wind, lifts off Clap and cheers It’s on the wall! At least it’s safe A Monk’s Love I face you Gripping my malas White-knuckled

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As you approach Carrying your woven basket Worn sandals Meeting Angkor stones I brush against you My orange robes welcoming you Smelling the water jasmine in your hair I stare into your half-moon eyes Seeing a thousand life times Searching for our past love And when we might meet again In both poems, I strove to create flow and rhythm. I continuously re-worked the poems, eliminating words and phrases and re-organizing remaining words and phrases. I read the poems aloud and listened to how they sounded. In both cases, I wanted to evoke emotion in the reader through word choice and imagery. Again, while the outlet and audience differed for the poems, I practiced the same skills. In my opinion, writing poems in my personal time serves as batting practice for writing poetic data representations. I am strengthening my craft by practicing the basic principles of poetry. This sort of practicing also addresses issues of concern with craft and building credibility, which Faulkner (2007) emphasized, writing, “researchers interested in poetic representation must be aware of poetic traditions and techniques and study the craft as they study research writing” (p. 221). Faulkner noted attention to craft ensures we do not misuse an art, such as poetry, when representing it through research. Faulkner’s writing also implies the idea of credibility—what makes one credible to engage in a particular art form as a researcher? In fact, Faulkner recommends poetic inquirers compose an arts poetica, a preamble of the artist’s poetic influences, what poetry means to them, and their process, and so on. This art of poetry “provides a point of entry from which we can discuss potential criteria for evaluating research” (p. 229). In similar fashion, I wonder how researchers employing other arts forms (e.g. visual-based, performance-based) might position their credibility and backgrounds through articulating their artistic influences and process. This idea of honing one’s craft connects directly to the strengths-based philosophy. If we are to believe Clifton and Harter (2003), then the more we practice a strength (in this case, a particular art form in which we are suited), the stronger it becomes. For emerging ABR scholars, honing’s one craft, whatever that art form might be, becomes a vehicle for developing skill and credibility, which can then serve as a spring board for productive scholarship in their chosen field.

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With a strengths-based art form in hand, and commitment to that craft, one can then begin to contribute within a research agenda. For me, this has manifested as poetic inquiry within a strand of my research, the social-emotional needs of gifted children (Haberlin, 2017b). I am also crafting poetry as a form of data collection and analysis in my dissertation work, which involves studying how Zen Buddhism constructs intersect with instructional supervision of pre-service teachers. Though I lean towards that direction, I am not equivocally stating that researchers must pay homage to a single art form. I have published visual-based research (Haberlin, 2017a) and shown interest in other art forms. However, to carve out a niche, I believe arts-based researchers must eventually commit to a path –and this requires specialization. Such a commitment is similar to academics having to commit to narrow lines of research. Whereas they might find other lines interesting, they know to enjoy success they must produce scholarship within narrowly defined dimensions. The key, seems to be, to focus on art forms that one naturally gravitates toward and exhibits a natural strength then to engage in that form to produce new, unique, surprising perspectives within one’s field. One might find, as I have, that his or her field has mainly been traditionally researched, whether through qualitative or quantitative methods, and much rooms exists for arts-based publications. Nevertheless, as emerging ABR practitioners progress, they might find a growing tension in their work and the arts that so captivated them in the first place.

7

Balancing Art and Research: The Warrior-Poet

Qualitative researchers who turn to the arts invariably face a dilemma: are they researchers? Are they artists? How does one reconcile the two personas? I recall during my doctoral coursework, when I presented an arts-based inquiry project, and a classmate challenged my act of interpreting artistic data representations, believing it negatively impacted the aesthetics and artistic process. I countered that, as researchers, we are obliged to interpret the data. We are not operating as merely artists. While I still believe that to be the case, I continue to struggle with balancing the arts and the role and expectations that come with being a researcher. To ease this conflict, I conjure up the age-old image of the warrior-poet. In ancient times, for instance, the Japanese warrior, or samurai, became inseparable with the writing of poetry (Sato, 1995). On one hand, the samurai mastered the martial arts and engaged in the brutality of warfare, on

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the other, they studied literature and poetry. Rather than view them as conflicting roles, the samurai learned to embrace the warrior identity and poet as complimentary. To provide the samurai with a philosophical framework, Confucian scholar Nakae Toju compared literary and martial arts skill as two wheels of a cart or two wings of a bird; one could not be literary without studying martial arts, and vice-versa—that the two could not be separated (Sato, 1995). The warrior-poet image can help guide aspiring and experienced ABR practitioners, positioning both the arts and research skills as parts of a whole, rather than competing forces. The art form drives new ways to research, and the research informs the arts by channeling it through analysis and discourse. An ABR scholar then embodies an artist-researcher, dynamically balancing the aesthetic values of the arts with the tenets and principles of qualitative research. For example, I might create participant-based poetry (Haberlin, 2017a)—entering the world of the artist—but also member-check with work with participants, thus carrying out the role of the researcher. Thus, after asking the participants whether the poems rang true to their experience, I might go back and revise and refine my work. Hence, the researcher strengthens the creation of the artist, rather than diminish the product. Likewise, delving into the arts can generate deeper insights, more meaning within research. I thought it might be useful to juxtapose some of the qualities of the qualitative researcher with that of the artist, to determine possible similarities. I drew upon Saldana’s research (2018), where he asked qualitative researchers to define “what does it mean to be a qualitative researcher?” (p. 2037). I compared this information with Orczyk and Walberg’s (1983) work, based on Roe’s (1946) study of eminent artists. Of course, not all the traits matched up—for instance, Saldana writes about the need for qualitative researchers to practice a representational responsibility in their work, which clashes with the artist’s need for complete freedom of expression. However, I found a close resemblance within four traits, including a strong work ethic, the ability to re-imagine and reinvent one’s work, and an immersion of activity in one’s craft (Table 7.1). Whereas this matter needs more investigation (the topic of another writing), this brief comparison should give arts-based researchers hope and the sense that, perhaps, the researcher and artist are not that different. Putting it together—selecting an art form based on strengths and inclinations, being concerned with craft, and channeling those efforts into productive scholarship while balancing the artist and researcher roles—would look like the framework presented in Figure 7.2. As the emerging ABR scholar progresses, he or she strives for equilibrium between the dual personas of artist and research.

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figure 7.2 Framework for emerging arts-based researchers (balancing the roles of researcher/artist) table 7.1 Comparison of qualities between qualitative researcher and artist

Qualitative researcher qualities

Artist traits

unyielding resiliency visionary reinvention humble vulnerability emotional immersion

self-disciplined, hard-working constant striving/experimentation sensitive/non-aggressive highly engaged/lost in their work

8

Conclusion

ABR presents many possibilities for the novice researcher. In the same vein, ABR can present a perplexing number of choices and paths. In this chapter, I introduce a framework that perhaps can perhaps illuminate the path; the constructs of strengths-based arts genres, refining one’s craft, and balancing art and researcher, serve as marigolds along a densely populated trail. Exploring the various genres, the emerging arts-based researcher embraces those methods that accentuate and draw upon her strengths. She then practices this craft-both within and without the confines of the research process- becoming more familiar with the art. As the researcher begins to produce competent

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scholarship, she learns to make peace with the dual role of artist and researcher, realizing each are parts of a greater whole. With that, I conclude this chapter with a poem I wrote to encapsulate this process. The Researcher-Artist Wielding data and brush With balance And poise Comfort in structure And unboundedness In scholarship And the messiness Of art I go forward To creatively inform

References Barone, T., & Eisner, E. (1997). Arts-based educational research. Complementary Methods for Research in Education, 2, 75–116. Cancienne, M. B., & Snowber, C. N. (2003). Writing rhythm: Movement as method. Qualitative Inquiry, 9(2), 237–253. Clifton, D. O., & Anderson, C. E. (2002). StrengthsQuest. Washington, DC: Gallup. Clifton, D. O., & Harter, J. K. (2003). Investing in strengths. In A. K. S. Cameron, B. J. E. Dutton, & C. R. E. Quinn (Eds.), Positive organizational scholarship: Foundations of a new discipline (pp. 111–121). San Francisco, CA: Berrett-Koehler Publishers, Inc. Clifton, D. O., & Nelson, P. (1992). Soar with your strengths. New York, NY: Dell. Faulkner, S. L. (2007). Concern with craft: Using ars poetica as criteria for reading research poetry. Qualitative Inquiry, 13(2), 218–234. Fenton, A., & McFarland-Piazza, L. (2014). Supporting early childhood preservice teachers in their work with children and families with complex needs: A strengths approach. Journal of Early Childhood Teacher Education, 35(1), 22–38. Görlich, A. (2016). Poetic inquiry: Understanding youth on the margins of education, International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 29(4), 520–535. doi:10.1080/ 09518398.2015.1063734 Haberlin, S. (2016). Teaching in circles: Learning to harmonize as a co-teacher of gifted education. The Qualitative Report, 21(11), 2076–2087.

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Haberlin, S. (2017a). Using arts-based research to explore peak experiences in five gifted children. International Journal of Education & the Arts, 18(24). Haberlin, S. (2017b). The butterfly whisperer: Representing a gifted student’s connection with nature through poetic inquiry. Journal of Poetry Therapy, 30(4), 209–217. Haberlin, S. (2018). A monk’s love; Like water. Anak Sastra. Retrieved from http://anaksastra.com/current-issue.html Leavy, P. (2015). Method meets art: Arts-based research practice. New York, NY: Guilford Publications. Orczyk, C. L., & Walberg, H. J. (1983). Psychological, familial, and cultural traits of eminent artists. Visual Arts Research, 9(2), 82–87. Prendergast, M., Gouzouasis, P., Leggo, C., & Irwin, R. L. (2009). A haiku suite: The importance of music making in the lives of secondary school students. Music Education Research, 11(3), 303–317. Richards, J. C. (2013). Exploring education students’ reflexivity through the arts and sharing my “bricolage” dilemmas. The Qualitative Report, 18(44), 1–23. Retrieved from https://nsuworks.nova.edu/tqr/vol18/iss44/3 Roe, A. (1946). Artists and their work. Journal of Personality, 15(1), 1–40. Saldaña, J. (2018). Researcher, analyze thyself. International Journal of Qualitative Methods, 17(1). https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1177/1609406918801717 Sato, H. (1995). Legends of the Samurai. Woodstock, NY: Overlook Press. Seligman, M. E. P., & Csikszentmihalyi, M. (2000). Positive psychology: An introduction. American Psychological Association, 55(1), 5–14. Sinner, A., Leggo, C., Irwin, R. L., Gouzouasis, P., & Grauer, K. (2006). Arts-based educational research dissertations: Reviewing the practices of new scholars. Canadian Journal of Education, 29(4), 1223–1270.

CHAPTER 8

Transmediation of Qualitative Text Information: Encouraging Students to Employ Special Aptitudes and Talents Kia Sarnoff

1

Introduction

Abandoning my position as a middle school mathematics teacher to pursue my PhD made for a tough transition. Suddenly I found myself in this whole new world of academia and I was not sure if I belonged. I was suffering from what Clance and Imes (1978) coined the imposter phenomenon, now often called the imposter syndrome. Here I was at this top research university surrounded by many incredibly intelligent individuals who all seemed to know so much more about researching and academic writing than I did. I could not help but to feel like a fraud and wonder if I should just admit defeat and go back to the classroom. I kept thinking, “What have I gotten myself into? I’m not cut out for this.” Hence, I entered my Qualitative Research Methods in Education Part Two or “Qual II” course with a bit of trepidation. Up to this point, I had only done informal self-studies or action-based research aimed at improving my own teaching practices and my students’ learning outcomes. I had not performed what I would now consider to be a true research study before, and I had certainly never presented, or published my work. Yet, at the same time, I was excited to learn more about different research approaches as I knew conducting and disseminating research would be an integral part of my doctoral studies and future career as a university-based teacher educator. I was able to breathe a huge sigh of relief when my Qual II instructor described the process we would use to read and analyze our course text— transmediation. Transmediation is essentially the same as it sounds, the translation of written text into other semiotic media, or representations. My Qual II instructor explained how the act of transmediating qualitative text into alternate forms of communication, such as poetry, visual art, drama, and the like, usually helps students gain deeper understanding of the material and to better recall and retain the information presented. This concept made perfect sense to me as I had employed similar methods in my former classroom instruction. Obviously, my mathematics students were not transmediating text, but I did © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2020 | doi: 10.1163/9789004419551_010

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frequently have them represent the same problem in multiple ways such as in equations, tables, or graphs. Once they were familiar with all of the various representations, I encouraged them to select the one that they liked best to symbolize future problems. Finally, I had a glimmer of hope. Perhaps I was exactly where I was supposed to be! My Qual II instructor also adopted a teaching philosophy that embraced the power of student choice. She gave me the freedom to select my own means of representing information. In doing so, she helped me rediscover my love for learning. Engaging in transmediation of course readings and corresponding assignments quickly morphed from dreaded chores into exciting opportunities for innovation. Ultimately, I was able to extend the skills I developed from being a self-directed learner to help me succeed in my other doctoral courses and even improve my own teaching practices. Doctoral students are frequently asked to read and process large amounts of text in a short amount of time. As a full-time student, I am typically expected to read anywhere between 200 and 2,000 pages per week. During my first semester in my PhD program, I struggled to keep up with the reading requirements for my courses. I found all of the readings to be daunting, likely due to my recent transition from a comfortable place of classroom teaching into the intimidating realm of scholarly research. Many of the texts contained unusual terms and were written in an academic style that was difficult for me to comprehend, especially when I did not have much prior knowledge on the topic. Often, I had to go look up words or phrases and reread the same sentences over and over to make any sense of the text. When I started Qual II in my second semester, I was particularly nervous about the reading load. I was going to be taking Philosophies of Inquiry simultaneously, a course known for being highly reading intensive. Further, most students take Philosophies of Inquiry prior to Qual II because it helps to set the stage for the incorporation of theoretical frameworks into educational research. I feared my limited philosophical background would prevent me from grasping the post-structuralists’ theoretical orientations and from being able to include their ideas in my future research. Little did I know. In Qual II, I learned to condense complex texts and translate them into a format that was easy for me to understand. I was able to apply these skills to help me to succeed in the Philosophies of Inquiry course (and the other courses I took in the same semester) and they continue to serve me as I progress in my doctoral studies. What is even more impressive is that I actually looked forward to the readings in Qual II and corresponding assignments. Instead of viewing the tasks as hoops to jump through, I saw them as opportunities to explore my creativity and become more well-versed in theory. Whereas before I had been solely focused on the end result, I started to enjoy the process. I was sold on transmediation!

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So, where did this concept of transmediation come from? Well, first let us break down the word. The prefix “trans” comes from the Latin root word meaning across. The practice of “mediation” originated in Ancient Greece where communities brought disputes before a mediator, often a trained leader or wise man, who helped them resolve conflicts peacefully. The success of the mediation heavily depended on the efficacy of the strategies the mediator used in helping those on both sides of a dispute come to an agreement. In the 17th century, French philosopher Descartes offered perhaps the most famous example of mediation. Descartes asserted that mind and body are two irreconcilable substances. He introduced the pineal gland as a mediator that was able to help these two elements, that otherwise might have nothing to do with one another, connect. Hence, mediation can be thought of as a way to bridge ontological gaps or relate aspects of our existence. Following this line of thinking, placing “trans” in front of “mediation” is somewhat redundant. Mediation, by its very nature, requires forging a connection across entities. In the late 20th century, Bruno Latour applied the concept of mediation to explain how we connect our lived-in world with abstract logical thought. He illustrated this process of mediation with a chain of inscriptions separated by ontological gaps. Inscriptions are all of the various abstractions we use represent things from the world around us, including language. The chain showed the progression of the inscriptions as they became gradually more abstract and simpler yet still recognizable in the absence of the things that they referred to. Taking all of this into account, we can define mediation as the process of representing something in a way and more refined way while maintaining the connection to the original entity. For our purposes, transmediation involves the representation specifically of written language. Transmediation is partially undergirded by dual coding theory. Dual coding theory attempts to give equal weight to verbal and non-verbal processing: Human cognition is unique in that it has become specialized for dealing simultaneously with language and with nonverbal objects and events. Moreover, the language system is peculiar in that it deals directly with linguistic input and output (in the form of speech or writing) while at the same time serving a symbolic function with respect to nonverbal objects, events, and behaviors. Any representational theory must accommodate this dual functionality. (Paivio, 1990, p. 53) The theory assumes that there are two cognitive subsystems, one specialized for the representation and processing of nonverbal objects/events (i.e.,

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imagery), and the other specialized for dealing with language. Transmediation of text is also supported by ideas that consider the generative power of learning (Siegal, 1995). Accordingly, students need more than one way to learn and transmediation offers students “opportunities to engage in generative and reflective thinking because learners must invent a connection between two sign systems” (p. 455). Initially I was not thrilled about the textbook selection for Qual II. However, when I learned about the ways in which we could respond to the reading my attitude quickly changed. The required textbook for Qual II was Thinking with Theory in Qualitative Research: Viewing Data Across Multiple Perspectives (Jackson & Mazzei, 2012). I had dabbled with this text previously and found it extremely challenging to read. But I began to feel more confident in my understanding of Thinking with Theory in Qual II. I attribute my newfound confidence to the fact that I had the freedom to take charge of my own learning. The instructor presented us with the task of transmediating the text (or representing it in a different format) of our choosing. I was ecstatic to be assigned something to do with the reading other than the traditional summary and reflection. And the best part was that “something” could be whatever I wanted it to be! After explaining the benefits of transmediation, my instructor modeled the transmediated process. We could turn to any semiotic communication form with which we felt comfortable. We could try out different communication (transmediated) forms, or stick with the same transmediated form that made us feel most comfortable. For example, my instructor has an aptitude for rhyming and music. Thus, she transmediated some complex text for us by transforming it into poetry. Choosing to give us an overview of Thinking with Theory, she created this rhyme as she stood in front of us: This Jackson and Mazzei text is not so easy, But don’t let it make you feel Anxious or queasy Read each chapter more than once And you will not feel like A silly dunce Each chapter will enrich your understanding of Theoretical tenets far and above What you know about Qual And the research you love! Then she said others might choose to transmediate complex text into letters to the author, or visual art, or time lines perhaps for the math student, or

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conversions between two of the chapter authors in Thinking with Theory. Possibilities were endless and she promised to help us. Inspired by my late grandfather, “Poppy,” I immediately decided on poetry as my transmediated medium. Poppy worked as an instructor of psychology at New York University for many years. When he retired, he turned to poetry as a way to keep himself mentally stimulated. Even in his 80’s (and into his early 90’s), as he suffered from progressive memory loss, he continued to write poems and found it to be quite therapeutic. For me, the process of transmediating the text into poetry was a way for me to feel reconnected to my grandfather and to honor his memory. As I sat at my computer and begin to brainstorm, I would imagine Poppy sitting at his writing desk and scrawling out his latest creation in his distinctive and hardly legible cursive penmanship. I almost felt as if Poppy was sitting right there with me, or as if I was channeling him somehow, and the words would just start to flow. Although we had the option to select a different medium each week, I stuck with poetry for most of the semester. Not only did I begin to look forward to the weekly readings and corresponding assignments in Qual II, but I also started to get excited about coming to class to see what my classmates had produced. Towards the end of each class, the instructor gave us the opportunity to share our transmediations of text. Some students chose to express their understanding of the reading through artistic depictions such as collages, in digital formats such as PowerPoint presentations, with musical interpretations such as a video of images set to background melodies, or through literary means such as a play script. I was consistently impressed by the quality of my classmates’ work, how unique each transmediation was, and how viewing the distinctive creations helped me to solidify my understanding. It is truly amazing what can happen when teachers embrace their students’ special talents and aptitudes. In part because of my positive experience in Qual II, as a teacher educator I strive to build upon my students’ existing strengths and to find ways to incorporate their interests into my instruction. Below I share one of the transmediations I developed for Qual II and describe the steps I took to transform the assigned reading into a poem that was able to convey the same meaning as the original texts. (See Appendices 1 and 2 for two transmediations developed by other students in my Qual II class and an explanation of their production process.) I hope my poetry will inspire current and future teachers and students of qualitative research to think outside of the box and consider alternate methods for text exploration.

Transmediation of Qualitative Text Information

03 /08/2018 Reading Response Judith Butler1 My name is Judith Butler; Please don’t refer to me using the pronouns she or her; And, don’t call me he or him either. Why? Well, that’s for you to decipher. Dr. Butler, Judith, even expletives are fine. But, with gender pronouns I draw the line! I was born in Cleveland in 1956, And my life has been quite the trip. I’m of Hungarian and Russian ancestry. My father worked in dentistry. My mother was a social services advocate, Who taught me to be compassionate. Most of my maternal relatives were lost … To the atrocities of the Holocaust. At the ripe young age of fourteen, I entered the philosophy scene. My rabbi got me into philosophical thinking; And gave me an inkling. I was so fascinated by Jewish ethics, I knew I was destined to become an academic. I travelled to Vermont … For a two-year jaunt. I realized Bennington College just wasn’t the place for me; So, I transferred to Yale to continue my study of philosophy. It was from this prestigious university … That I would ultimately earn my Ph.D. My dissertation work left me inspired … To write my first book—Subjects of Desire.

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In this work I discuss the concept of desire as it occurs … In Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit and interpretations by other French philosophers. In my most influential work, Gender Trouble, I burst the feminist bubble. Creating a category of women isn’t feminism, For this requires conformity to the binary gender system. We can’t accept gender as a fact; It’s merely a way we’ve been conditioned to act. Gender doesn’t exist naturally, It only exists historically. We may be able to choose the gender we want to be, But society would never let us go gender free. Forget everything you think you know about sexuality, You’ve been tricked your whole life into thinking being heterosexual is the only normality. I am fully convinced … That gender is fluid, not fixed. Gender Trouble quickly made its way around the world, And soon a sequel unfurled. In Bodies That Matter: On the Discursive Limits of “Sex,” I elaborated on my critique of the feminist. My ideas about gender and identity have made me an international celebrity. But, I’m also active politically. As chair for the International Gay and Lesbian Human Rights commission, I help to spread my true equality vision. I let everyone know it’s time for violence to cease. I’m even an executive member of the Faculty for Israeli-Palestinian Peace. I’ve taught at top universities throughout the United States. My contributions to queer theory give the LGBTQ community reason to celebrate. So, comment all you want on my short “boyish” haircut; I know gender is nothing more than a social construct!

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For me, one of the best things about engaging in the process of transmediation was that it pushed me to seek out resources beyond the required reading and to develop a deeper understanding of the central tenets. To formulate this poem on Judith Butler, I first read the assigned chapters in our Jackson and Mazzei (2012) text. This helped me to get an overall understanding of Butler’s main ideas and afforded me the opportunity to dive deeper into those concepts I was not yet able to fully grasp. I looked for information about Butler’s life to help me appreciate how she derived her theories about gender performativity. I found several outside resources (encyclopedia entries, articles, websites, etc.) and examined the material contained in each. Once I had read and reviewed the resources, I opened all of them at the same time on my computer. I began to pick out key words I wanted to include and scanned the open documents to search for other words or phrases that I could connect with those key words through rhyme. To organize the poem, I tried to follow the major events in order as they actually happened in Butler’s life beginning with her childhood and continuing to present day. I have a knack for rhyming, so for the most part developing the poem was easy. But a few times I got stuck. For example, I could not think of a good way to insert feminism into the poem and felt it was important to include. So, I consulted a rhyming dictionary that gives “almost” rhymes in addition to perfect rhymes. The word “system” was on this list and I quickly came up with “binary gender system” as a way to connect to feminism. When I decided that I had fully captured the essence of who Judith Butler is and her principle teachings, I stopped writing. I went read back through what I had written aloud to ensure it flowed together and made minor edits for clarity. Essentially, the creation of this transmediation involved condensing a large amount of text into an aesthetically pleasing snapshot.

References Berkeley Research. (n.d.). Judith Butler. Retrieved March 4, 2018, from https://vcresearch.berkeley.edu/faculty/judith-butler Clance, P. R., & Imes, S. A. (1978). The imposter phenomenon in high achieving women: Dynamics and therapeutic intervention. Psychotherapy: Theory, Research & Practice, 15(3), 241–247. Duignan, B. (2018, February 17). Judith Butler. Retrieved March 4, 2018, from https://www.britannica.com/biography/Judith-Butler European Graduate Studies. (n.d.). Judith Butler. Retrieved March 4, 2018, from http://egs.edu/faculty/judith-butler Famous Philosophers. (n.d.). Judith Butler. Retrieved March 4, 2018, from http://www.famousphilosophers.org/judith-butler/

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Jackson, A. Y., & Mazzei, L. A. (2011). Thinking with theory in qualitative research: Viewing data across multiple perspectives. New York, NY: Routledge. Minichiello, M. (2015). Judith Butler. Salem Press Biographical Encyclopedia. Nayereh, T., & Judith, B. (2017). An interview on feminist ethics and theory with Judith Butler. Journal of Middle East Women’s Studies, 13(3), 461–468. Paivio, A. (1990). Mental representations: A dual coding approach. New York, NY: Oxford University Press. Siegel, M. (1995). More than words: The generative power of transmediation for learning. Canadian Journal of Education, 20(4), 455–475.

Appendix 1: Drawing Transmediation I cannot remember what exact passage led me to think about hats, or about drawing hats for that matter. I think I was just practicing thinking with theory

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through drawing while reading Foucault. Each hat signifies a different identity that I assume each day as I mother my children, study, connect with my family and culture, and people around me. There is, however, a paragraph on p. 53 (of Jackson and Mazzei’s, 2012, Thinking with Theory) that seems to fit my sketch well: “Herself, then, is never stable but is constantly shifting in response to particular situations and conditions, and notions of subjectivity capture this active process of taking up certain subject positions in an ongoing process of ‘becoming’—rather than merely ‘being’—in the world. (Gonzalez, personal communication, April 1, 2019)

Appendix 2: Poem Transmediation A Letter to Gayatri Spivak Written under Erasure Dear Mrs. Spivak: Tell me of Calcutta. Speak of needing money needs, Of your trip to America, And your thoughtful collegiate literary deeds. Teach me of the subaltern. Where should we place the blame? For through law and custom elite The still-grieving widow burns flames. Where is the interpretative violence The silent oppressed require yearn for? How can they gather band obtain together Necessary power to even out the score? Free will means akrasia. Conflicted we may be, But still must will we’ll answer for our acts With ethical responsibility. You’re outside and you’re inside. Margins, like a wave, Ripple outward then turn upon themselves To build or wipe away.

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So, into in my qualitative studies I’ll hope to pull apply your ideas philosophy. Words have meaning importance And for a subject will define his identity. I began the process by looking at the requirements for the reading responses. The description of the assignment in the syllabus stated our responses should include the name, a brief biography, and present the key ideas and theories of the assigned poststructuralist. That description provided me with an outline I could use to structure my response. I first researched Spivak by reading the assigned chapters in the textbook, other scholarly writings, and a watching series of videos. Through my research, I began to hone-in on what I felt were the critical points in her life. She was Indian and needed money to come to the United States to study. Because she received funding, she elected to study literature. Regarding her philosophies, I selected a few terms that seemed to exemplify her main beliefs and contributions: subaltern, akrasia, interpretative violence, marinization, and identity. I was intrigued by the idea that the subaltern had no voice; if they gained a voice, they were no longer subaltern. I was saddened by her discussion of Indian altern widows who had so little voice they were burned along with their husbands’ bodies. Finally, I focused on the ideas of the margin moving—that one can move between the margins if one has a voice. These are the themes I wove into the poem. As for writing under erasure, I used the concept—typically attributed to Derrida—to allude to his influence on Spivak. Overall, I was happy with the outcome, and found it interesting to watch how crossing out words but letting them stand showed how my own voice developed through poetic feet and meter. (C. Bebeau, personal communication, April 6, 2019)

Note 1 Poem inspired by Duignan (2018), Jackson and Mazzei (2011), European Graduate Studies. (n.d.), Famous Philosophers (n.d.), Berkeley Research (n.d.), Minichiello (2015), and Nayereh and Judith (2017).

CHAPTER 9

Simulations as a Teaching Method Christy Bebeau

1

Introduction and Background

As I entered my first qualitative methods classroom, which was in the College of Education, I felt apprehension. I had received my undergraduate degree in industrial engineering when positivism was if full swing—lectures followed by homework problems and with success measured by exams and graded on a Gaussian curve. Furthermore, I was seeking a PhD in geology with a focus in geoscience education, but I would not identify with the “education” part of my studies for another year. As the first class session progressed, I faced unfamiliar vocabulary: epistemologies, pedagogy, and philosophies of inquiry. Then, the professor read from her 12-page syllabus, “Statistics will tell you how many people jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge in a 12 month time span, but only qualitative methods might help you understand why they jumped (if you’re a good qualitative researcher).” I was hooked! As an engineer who used statistics to analyze industrial processes, I struggled with education researchers’ assertion that a 0.47 correlation coefficient indicated a strong relationship, but here was an answer! Humans are complex, and I suspected there was a qualitative way to explain why models that produce such a low correlation are valid. I hungered to know more. I approach this chapter on simulations by recalling my educational experiences as a novice qualitative researcher and narrating my journey toward a community of qualitative researchers. I am still learning, so I do not consider myself as an expert. You may just be beginning learning about qualitative methods, and perhaps my story will resonate with you. You may be further along the spectrum between novice and expert, and I want to bring you back to your early days through my perspectives and take you along on my journey; you will judge to what extent our paths are similar (Peshkin, 1993). If you are an instructor of qualitative methods, perhaps my story will give you a glimpse of your students’ views. I hope to illuminate how one educational tool, simulations, in synergy with other class assignments and an appropriate learning environment, moved me toward understanding the practice of qualitative research quickly and effectively.

© koninklijke brill nv, leideN, 2020 | DOI: 10.1163/9789004419551_011

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Educators have used simulations for decades, yet they have not agreed on a definition (Hertel & Millis, 2002). Jones (1980) identified characteristics of a simulation as a case study where the participants are on the inside, the activity is participant-centered, and the teacher’s role is that of an outside controller who helps the simulation run smoothly but has no power, responsibility, or decision-making authority. Simulations call to mind collaborative group work in engineering education, referred to as ill-defined problems, which have the following characteristics: (a) they lack a definitive answer; (b) the answer is heavily dependent upon the problem’s conception; and (c) problem solving requires both retrieving relevant concepts and mapping them to the task at hand (Ashley et al., as cited in Aleven et al., 2006). I prefer this definition: “Education simulations are sequential decision-making classroom events in which students fulfill assigned roles to manage discipline-specific tasks within an environment that models reality according to guidelines provided by the instructor” (Hertel & Millis, 2002, p. 15). A simulation has three phases: the briefing, the scenario, and the debriefing (Huggins, n.d.). My experiences with learning qualitative method through simulations began early in the semester in Qualitative Research Methods in Education 1. For the first few two weeks, we learned about case studies, the components of a good qualitative research, and excellent academic writing. My professor tasked all the students with an assignment: find an exemplary case study and critique it. Before I write about my experiences with simulations, I want to give a glimpse into how I and other students prepared, under the guidance of our professor, to tackle the first simulation that took place at the end of the second class meeting. We had one week to understand what makes a good qualitative study, learn everything we could about case studies, and be prepared to discuss our newly gained insights with our classmates. Let me be clear about the “guidance”; it was in the form of assignments. From the class syllabus (Figure 9.1), “1. Read about case studies in the following week. Use your text and also see Stake in Denzin and Lincoln or refer to some other reliable source. 2. Read a manuscript this coming week that employs a case study perspective and be prepared to discuss your responses to the manuscript. Do a two-page write up of your reading to turn in.” The specified format for our critique included 13 bullet points and urged us, “refer to ‘Authors’ Guidelines”’ in The Qualitative Report for additional critique responses such as length of title, IRB approval, abstract, etc.” With “learn about case studies” as the Holy Grail, I set out. I read from our textbook and then used the university’s library services to find scholarly articles. In addition to the class textbook, I used seven additional sources.

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Simulations as a Teaching Method Assignment: 1. 2.

– – – – –

Read about case studies in the following week. Use your text and also see Stake in Denzin and Lincoln or refer to some other reliable source. Read a manuscript this coming week that employs a case study perspective and be prepared to discuss your responses to the manuscript. Do a 2 p. write up of your reading to turn in to Dr. R. Use this format in subheadings for all responses to articles: Title Author(s) Research question(s) Writing style (active voice? Passive voice?) Theoretical perspectives

– – – – –

Study participants Methodologies Findings (discoveries in qual) Conclusions Implications

– Do the theoretical perspectives and methodologies fit the research questions? – Are the study participants sufficient and appropriate? Are there adequate, thoughtful discussions and implications sections? – Are the references current, seminal? Adequate? Appropriate? You can also refer to The Authors’ Guidelines in The Qualitative Report (online journal) for ideas for additional critique responses, such as length of title, IRB approval, Abstract, etc. Follow this format for all 2 pp papers (except your autoethnography). Turn in your paper to me (Dr. R.) next week (Week 2 of class). Be prepared to discuss your paper in small groups. figure 9.1 Excerpt from the qualitative methods course syllabus providing guidelines for critiquing a qualitative methods study (from Richards, 2017)

Thoroughly armed with definitions such as, “A case study is a systematic way of looking at what is often termed a bounded system, meaning one entity that has distinct limits or a finite size” (Tobin, 2010, p. 2), I decided to find a case study in my field of geology to critique. I settled on “Effective use of personal assistants for students with disabilities: Lessons learned from the 2014 accessible geoscience field trip” because the abstract read, “The experiences and interactions between the assistant and the student were compiled into a thick description, which was subsequently described through self-reflexive case study” (Hendricks, Atchison, & Feig, 2017, p. 72). I read the article closely, comparing each paragraph to the list of headings provided in the course syllabus.

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I found the a priori questions, theoretical frameworks, study participants and context, qualitative genre, limitations of the study, and conclusions. I wrote my critique as well as I could with one week of experience. As the semester continued, I prepared the same way for each of the other qualitative genres. I now know this the preparation process was a deliberate design on the part of the professor to turn the other students and me into self-regulated learners, an important facet of successful collaborative engagement (Järvelä et al., 2016). I include all these assignments to show that our professor made us jump right in as active, engaged learners, which is necessary for those who engage in simulations with other learners.

2

Simulation: The Briefing

The first stage of the simulation is the briefing where the instructor engages the participants, outlines the problem, describes the roles they play, and asks for questions (Huggins, n.d.). Participants generally ask three types of questions: they seek more information or clarification about the facts presented in the scenario, they discover and ask questions about the scenario unrelated to the facts, and they ask advice on how they should perform their roles in the scenario (Hertel & Millis, 2002). Toward the middle of our second class meeting, we received a first set of simulation scenarios. It was time for our briefing. As my professor read the first scenario to us, she paused several times and gazed around the room watching her students faces and body language as she stressed our roles as researchers, restated who our target audience was, asked us to consider what theoretical frameworks might be appropriate, and reminded us we should start with a priori questions, “One way to start a priori questions is to use the phrase, ‘In what ways …’—and be sure they are open answer questions.” Her briefing did not tell us what decisions to make. Instead, it focused on the practical checklist we needed to complete (see Jones, 1980). She repeated this process through each of the remaining night’s scenarios. Finally, she reminded us that the only type of study we knew was the case study and to use constant comparative methods for data analysis because that is the only data analysis procedure we had learned so far. Figure 9.2 shows one of our first scenarios.

3

Simulation: The Scenario Discussion

The second phase of a simulation is the scenario where participants collaborate in small groups, engage and focus on the scenario, apply the discipline’s skills and language, practice making decisions to reach consensus, express

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Survey Shows School’s Trouble Spots A newspaper report states that a survey of teachers in a large school district shows the majority are fairly happy. However, teachers in schools with low student achievement scores report they are not happy. These teachers state: a) students don’t behave; b) buildings are a mess; teachers don’ feel save on the job, there are malfunctioning air conditioners, there are tensions among administrators and teachers, and c) parents don’t work with teachers to support what goes on in the schools. The survey response from teachers in the schools with low student achievement score was low. In this simulation, the school district hired you to conduct a qualitative study that supplies more information about these low-performing schools. In simulation activities, follow these steps: 1. You always begin with a priori questions. A priori questions are always open ended. You can’t answer them with a “yes” or a “no.” They often begin with, “In what ways.” Your group might consider an a priori question such as, “In what ways do five teachers in a school with low student achievement scores describe their students’ behaviors? 2. Consider what other a priori questions your group might devise for this inquiry. 3. Always write in active voice. 4. Next, supply theoretical perspectives that support the inquiry. Remember, theoretical tenets, or perspectives, are theories that help to undergird an inquiry, such as motivation theory or socioconstructivism. It is up to your group to decide what theories are most applicable to your simulated inquiry. 5. Supply the number of study participants and the study context (where the study takes place). 6. Choose a qualitative methodology that will help answer the a priori questions and state why you chose this genre. 7. Structure the methodology section. State what data you will collect and why; state what data analysis method your group will employ and why. 8. Identify the limitations of your study. 9. Supply a title that reflects the focus on the study. Stop at this point because when you engage in simulation work, you do not actually conduct the study. In the final step, your group will present your study plan to the class. Each group member will take a turn explaining part of the simulation inquiry designed by your group. Remember: this is a learning experience. I will help the group if necessary, and the students in the class will also help. Over time, by participating in simulation scenarios, you will become experts at devising inquiries. figure 9.2 An example of an early simulation assignment. In addition to the scenario, the instructor provided a list of steps students would follow to complete the assignment (from Richards, 2017)

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their attitudes and values, and develop competencies (Jones, 1980). One discussion of the scenario in Figure 9.2 can be found in Appendix 1. Our class divided into small groups, each taking one of the scenarios from the set our professor provided. We took our laptops, paper, and pencils, and left the classroom to find a small round table where we could work. We had 15 minutes to design a study. In the scenario step, the participants have roles and the power to make decisions without input or interference from the instructor. We worked quickly, using our notes and the syllabus. We put together our research questions and the rationale quickly. We could tell from the scenario who our participants would likely be and decided to select them with a random sample. Trying to find theoretical frameworks, however, stymied us. I recall a long pause in our conversation and thinking, “What are these, again? How am I to know what to use?” Luckily, one of my teammates just had completed a course on philosophies of inquiry, and he suggested one. I typed furiously on my laptop entering “Kolb’s Experiential Learning Theory” into the search engine, clicked on the first entry, and read aloud from the paper. We discussed if it might be an appropriate way to undergird our study and agreed to include it. And so, it began: social constructionist learning. We were practicing what we were learning, we were discussing, suggesting, questioning, and sometimes shrugging our collective shoulders, but we were doing it autonomously as team and without the direct influence of our instructor. If we as individuals did well, the team did well. More importantly, if we made a mistake, the team not the person made the mistake. There was anonymity even in our small number of four students, which was comforting because when the professor called us back into the room, we hadn’t completed our title, and I could tell from the looks on my fellow students’ faces none of us was completely confident in what we had completed. I walked back into the classroom with a bit of trepidation. How would we be judged? What would the feedback be like? I was going to have to speak, and I was sure I would reveal to all those education graduate students how little I know about this stuff. I even worried my inexperience might reflect poorly on geoscience education (yes, I felt I was taking the credibility of an entire discipline on my shoulders). I took my seat and looked over the notes I made during the action part of the simulation. Next would come the debriefing where learning really happens.

4

Simulation: The Debriefing

Both educators and students indicate the final stage, debriefing, is important, and sometimes the most important part (Huggins, n.d.). During debriefing,

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the instructor steps back in to provide feedback and facilitate. The objective is for students to consider their self-regulated, internal feedback (Nicol & Macfarlane-Dick, 2006) of their learning experiences, to critically reflect publicly through open and honest discourse, and to express constructive views. An example of the results of a scenario discussion can be found at the end of Appendix 1. Each of the small groups took a turn standing and presenting what they had done. When our group began, we glanced at each other with a bit of apprehension and began by listing our a priori questions. The professor soon stopped us. I recall she made an open circle with the thumb and middle finger of her right hand and gestured, as a music director might, accenting each word, “Begin your a priori questions with ‘In what ways do your participants describe …’”; and we tried, “In what ways do middle school teachers describe their experiences with …” but that was as far as we got before the professor asked, “How many? How many middle school teachers?” We looked at our notes: we had selected five participants, so we continued, “In what ways do five middle school teachers describe their experiences.” There were 20 students in that class, making up five small groups. That first evening, each group received feedback from our professor and heard the feedback she gave others. In this way, we learned about the structure of a qualitative methods study, the correct way to form a priori questions, and possible sampling techniques. We also learned four additional theoretical perspectives that might be used to undergird the case study.

5

Feedback

Good feedback practice: (a) helps clarify what good performance is; (b) facilitates the development of self-assessment in learning; (c) delivers high quality information to students about their learning; (d) encourages teacher and peer dialogue around teaching; encourages positive motivational beliefs and self-esteem; (e) provides opportunities to close the gap between current and desired performance; and (f) provides information to teacher that can be used to help shape teaching (Nicol & Macfarlane-Dick, 2006). A supervisor once told me, “Feedback is a gift,” and in the case of simulation debriefing it certainly was. Not only did we benefit from our own reflections, but we also learned from feedback to groups in which we were not directly involved. We learned to hone our language, research related studies, justify our choices, and become critical evaluators of qualitative methods. Moreover, we were in an environment where we could take risks without fear and could learn from our mistakes.

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High School Students Perceptions about Global Warming Many scientists worry over global warming. Yet, some people think there is no global warming. A well-funded science center has asked you to discover what high school students believe about global warming and why they hold these beliefs. figure 9.3 An example of a simulation for students who are familiar with the group activity and require less support

As the semester progressed, we increased our understanding of research methods. We moved beyond the case study to phenomenology, ethnography, life history, narrative inquiry, arts-based research, and grounded theory. Progressing along a hermeneutic spiral (Motahari, 2008), we learned the whole from the parts and the parts through the whole. We researched, read and reflected, and we practiced through simulations with less guidance (Figure 9.3). We gave constructive feedback to each other, fostered discussions, and applied the abilities developed in one part of the spiral in another. For example, as I look back at my first critique with more learned eyes, I spot so many of my early misconceptions, but as I review my progress by reading the subsequent critiques, I see my increasing understanding unfold, and I believe the reason I progressed was in a large part because of my participation in simulations. As we tackled additional scenarios as the weeks went by, our qualitative methods skills increased and we applied a higher order thinking through debate and critical discussion. We reached a plateau where we knew both what we were doing and why we made our choices. In short, simulations allowed us to developed skills we could apply to our next qualitative methods research task, whether the task was to critique a published article, participate in a simulation, or design and conduct authentic research.

6

More Advanced Coursework

My experience with simulations did not end with the first qualitative methods course. In the second course, I saw the same dimensions as in traditional simulations (briefing, scenario, debriefing) but with a twist. The class included students who had taken the first course taught by two different instructors— one who did not use simulations and one who did not—so we had to guide these students into our community of simulation practitioners. The knowledge differences between the two groups of students were divisive, as those who had neither critiqued exemplary qualitative studies nor experienced simulations

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seemed to struggle with the class requirements. However, the course environment encouraged collaboration and risk-taking, and during the first few weeks of the semester, we performed simulations. The professor made sure to form groups with students of varying levels of experience, and by working together, we shared our knowledge and learned from each other. Those of us with simulation experience demonstrated how to structure qualitative studies, and those without contributed their knowledge about additional theoretical perspectives. All the students made meaning of qualitative research methods, its nuances and complexities. We grew in our confidence. We were not just learning qualitative research methods, but through simulations, doing qualitative research and so gaining experience we would apply to future qualitative inquiries. As the semester progressed, we learned about the post-structuralist philosophers and how to use their tenets to analyze qualitative data. The professor tasked us with reading from our textbook, reflecting and synthesizing the material, and producing a written analysis. The post-structural philosophy was new information for students from both of the preceding methods courses , and learning together strengthened our bond. We were all struggling to figure out how to read our data looking for what is missing, as Jacques Derrida prompts; trying to identify the marginalized, as suggested by Gayatri Spivak; and wondering—sometimes out loud in frustration—what the heck Giles Deleuze means by silencing desire anyway! As we immersed ourselves into the post-structuralist tenets, the simulations morphed along the same lines almost as if deconstructed by Derrida himself. The three phases of the simulations blended, and we (students) moved into the center, responsible for our own meaning-making. As groups of students made presentations about each philosopher, they prepared and facilitated activities for the class. They provided sample passages and asked us to form groups to explore how poststructuralism might apply to the data. They prompted discussion and debate and we debriefed each other. I marvel that it was so seamless a process to go from consumers of simulations to producers of miniature versions of them. Subconsciously, instinctively, we knew we needed the key decisions and conclusions be in our own hands. Druckman and Ebner (2011) found students who designed simulations learn more than those who simply participate in them. In our case, this proved true. Additionally, our instructor embedded a higher-stakes assignment into the advanced methods course. Each student would design and conduct an authentic qualitative research project. The lesson was an authentic application of what we had learned, and whereas not technically a simulation, it shared many of the qualities: the assignment was authentic, student-centered, had little influence from the professor, and included a debriefing. We selected

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a topic and researched the extant literature to develop the rationale for our study. We then designed our methods by crafting a priori questions, selecting a qualitative genre, finding an appropriate theoretical perspective to undergird the study, identifying participants and the method by which we would recruit them, placing the study in context, and developing and implementing data collection techniques. If we had not covered something we needed to use in class, we researched on our own; some of us learned how to write interview protocols and conduct interviews, while others learned how to conduct focus groups. Each of us was conducting an independent study, but we helped each other by sharing what we were learning, what we found worked well, and what we would improve. We each met with our participants and gathered data. And we transcribed and analyzed our work to find emergent themes— all supported by appropriate theoretical frameworks. We then turned to post-structuralist philosophies and viewed our data through a different lens, connecting our discoveries with those tenets. Finally, we presented our study to the class (Figure 9.4), where every student learned from our efforts and contributed feedback through which we might improve the study. Conversations I had with other students convinced me that the authentic inquiry assignment benefitted them since many would continue the project beyond the class and use it as the basis for their dissertation. There was an intrinsic motivation to learn because the skills were relevant; we understood the need to apply them to be successful qualitative researchers. Furthermore,

figure 9.4 One slide from my authentic presentation, showing the themes that emerged from my data analysis

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collaborative work and public debriefings, with their conversation, discourse and good feedback, moved us toward a community of practice (Wenger, 2011). We came to appreciate each other’s strengths and I have called on my fellow students as a sounding board for my ideas, for help and advice, and to help me with a workshop I presented at a conference. The advanced course was not my terminal class about qualitative methods. I also completed arts-based research and a qualitative methods class offered through chemistry education. In arts-based research, I completed another authentic inquiry where I used poetry written by mothers to explore their emotions and perceptions about educational choices they made for their children. Whereas the format of data collection and the structure of the data itself differ from the norm (poetry rather than prose), I applied the same procedures as I learned through the simulations. In qualitative methods offered through chemistry education, we critiqued qualitative studies exploring topics in chemistry, physics, biology, and engineering. Again, the processes I learned through simulations aligned with that course’s anatomy of a qualitative research study (Figure 9.5). I offer this as a form of triangulation. Not only in traditional qualitative studies, but also in arts-based and science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM) disciplines, the knowledge base I acquired through simulations, supported by a socioconstructivist classroom environment, was transferrable to these diverse research topics (see two examples of simulation scenarios and three doctoral students’ group discussion of .

Anatomy of a Qualitative Research Study Hole in Literature or Problem to be Solved Statement of Purpose or Research Question(s) Inquiry Framework or Methodological Framework Theoretical Framework Context or Setting Participants Data Collection Data Analysis Communication of Results

Researchers Funding Justifijication of Choices Origin Story Credibility Transferability Dependability Confijirmability

figure 9.5 Anatomy of a qualitative research study used in a chemistry education qualitative methods course (from Raker, 2019)

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the scenarios and their final print copies of their work suitable for sharing with peers or as graded assignments).

References Aleven, V., Ashleg, K., Lych, C., & Pinkwart, N. (2006). Proceedings of the workshop on intelligent tutoring systems for ill-defined domains. Presented at the 8th International Conference on Intelligent Tutoring Systems, Jhongli, Taiwan. Retrieved from http://people.cs.pitt.edu/~collinl/Papers/Ill-DefinedProceedings.pdf#page=7 Druckman, D., & Ebner, N. (2011). Enhancing concept learning: The simulation design experience. Retrieved from https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id= 1916791 Henricks, J. E., Atchison, C. L., & Feig, A. D. (2017). Effective use of personal assistants for students with disabilities: Lessons learned from the 2014 accessible geoscience field trip. Journal of Geoscience Education, 65(1), 72–80. Hertel, J. P., & Millis, B. J. (2002). Using simulations to promote learning in higher education: An introduction. Sterling, VA: Stylus. Huggins, C. (n.d.). Three phases of simulation. Retrieved from http://www.simulationaustralasia.com Järvelä, S., Järvenoja, H., Malmberg, J., Isohätälä, J., & Sobocinski, M. (2016). How do types of interaction and phases of self-regulated learning set a stage for collaborative engagement? Learning and Instruction, 43, 39–51. Jones, K. (1980). Simulations: A handbook for teachers. New York, NY: Nichols. Motahari, M. (2008). The hermeneutical circle or the hermeneutical spiral? The International Journal of Humanities, 15(2), 99–112. Nicol, D. J., & Macfarlane, D. (2006). Formative assessment and self-regulated learning: A model and seven principles of good feedback practice. Studies in Higher Education, 31(2), 199–218. Peshkin, A. (1993). The goodness of qualitative research. Educational Researcher, 22(2), 23–29. Raker, J. (2019). Anatomy of a qualitative research study [Class handout]. Retrieved from University of South Florida CHM 6938 Qualitative Research Methods Canvas, https://usflearn.instructure.com/ Richards, J. (2019). Survey shows school’s trouble spots [Class handout]. Tampa, FL: University of South Florida, EDF 7478. Tobin, R. (2010). Quick start to case study research. In A. J. Mills, G. Durepos, & E. Wiebe (Eds.), Encyclopedia of case study research (pp. 771–773). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Wenger, E. (2011). Communities of practice: A brief introduction. Retrieved from http://hdl.handle.net/1794/11736

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Appendix 1 Participants The participants in the following scenario discussion were Henry Burns, Tiffany Southwell, and Craig Jacobowitz. Henry Burns has been in public education for the last 15 years. He has been an assistant principal at an inner city school for four years in Hillsborough County, Florida. He holds degrees in biomedical science (BSc) and educational leadership (Med). Tiffany Southwell is a high school English teacher. She earned a BS in English and an Med with a concentration in curriculum and instruction. Her research interests include adolescent use of smartphones, social media, and the impact of smartphones on social well-being. Craig Jacobowitz earned a BFA in computer art and a MEd in curriculum and instruction. In addition to his studies, Craig is an art teacher and a professional artist exhibiting work. As a colorist, Craig’s work was published in the comic book The Angel Wars from UWS Comics. Developing a Research Proposal Surrounding School Survey Scenario (Figure 9.2) Craig: Okay. Our simulation is, “A newspaper reporter states that a survey of teachers in a large school district shows the majority are fairly happy, but teachers in schools with low student achievement scores report they are not happy. These teachers state A, students don’t behave. B, buildings are a mess, teachers don’t feel safe on the job. C, there are malfunctioning air conditioners. There are tensions among the administrators and teachers, and parents don’t work with teachers to support what—what goes on in schools. However, survey responses from teachers in these schools were low.” Tiffany: Okay. Starting with a priori questions. Craig: Mm-hmm (affirmative). Tiffany: Okay. We have … In what ways do five teachers … So, how many teachers do we want to do? Five or six? I wrote six, you wrote five. Five? In what ways do five teachers in the school with low student achievement scores describe their student behaviors? Craig: Which— Tiffany: I think we should keep. Henry: That’s fine. Craig: Okay. Henry: It’s fine. How might these behaviors impact their instruction? Craig: Louder. Henry: Oh, sorry.

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I think that could be leading. How might these behaviors— How might … Yeah. Yeah, okay. That is leading. Yeah. Uh, in what ways do these teachers perceive their level of support from administration, district, and parents? Yep. That cuts out those? Okay, yeah. And, in what ways might the administration offer support to these teachers? Or, in what ways do the teachers … I think I have one about the … Um, in what ways do teachers perceive administrative support within their school? Oh, I like that. That sounds good. What ways in administrative perceive … In what ways do teachers– So, that covers all three? There’s a safety one I think I put on there. Because, I’m thinking … Talks specifically about safety and the problem. How do six but we changed it to five. How do five teachers at a low performing school describe. Oh, looking at the wrong one. Perceive their physical work environment at their current school. You want to leave “perceive” in there or no? Oh, parental involvement and perceptions of personal safety. How do six—five teachers at a low performing school describe parental involvement and perception of personal safe— Perception. Parental. Oh, okay. So, get rid of … So, nothing … So, these three? In what ways do five teachers in the school with low student achievement scores describe their student’s behaviors? In what ways do these teachers perceive their level of support from administration, district, and parents? And then, we can get rid of– Get rid of that one. This one. Um, and we have that here. In what way … How do five teachers at a low performing school describe parental involvement and perceptions of personal safety? So, those three. That’s it. Yeah. Okay.

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So, looking at this. I really like how you came up with Maslow’s of theoretical framework (Figure 9.6) based on data collected if teachers do not feel safe, they will not be able to work to their full potential. This time look at the … It’s almost similar to other pyramids we have. Yeah, because if there’s such a problem with safety, and being unhappy, they’re not going to be able to get to their full potential. I don’t like the other theory, Bronfenbrenner. I don’t think it has enough to do with school. Should we go with Maslow or no? What do you think? Yeah, no. I don’t think Bronfenbrenner, ecology really works. Um, what do you think about the other theoretical frameworks that I was thinking about teacher’s self efficacy on teacher satisfaction? I think teacher satisfaction would be the better one. Okay. Yeah. I think so, too. Okay. So, Maslow we have. And then— That’s the stronger one anyway. Teacher satisfaction. The Maslow’s actually pretty … The one you put up there. The theoretical. And then, which one? Teacher satisfaction.

figure 9.6 Maslow’s hierarchy of needs

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Henry: Satisfaction. Tiffany: Okay. And that’s … Is that the theory of teacher … Okay. Do you know the person? Craig: Unfortunately, not but it’s take … I took it directly from literature. And, this is from the article I read, “Teacher satisfaction is a pivotal link in the chain of education reform. Teacher satisfaction influences job performance, attrition, and ultimately student performance.” Tiffany: Perfect. Is that on the document? Craig: Yeah. Tiffany: Where is it? On the Google Doc? Craig: Here, I’m— Henry: I saw it on the Google Doc. Craig: Copying and pasting it. Tiffany: Okay. Okay. Context. Craig: The context would be a conference room at the high school. Henry: I think that would probably be it. Yeah. Tiffany: Large high school in the southeastern United States? Henry: Yeah. Craig: Yes. So, are we thinking this is a phenomenological case study or exploratory? Tiffany: I think exploratory. Tiffany: Exploratory. Yeah. Craig: Exploratory? Henry: Exploratory case study. Tiffany: Is that inside in the context part? Craig: No. That’s under methodology. Henry: Methodology. Craig: Sorry. I’m looking ahead. Tiffany: Okay. Henry: No, but context is a good, a conference room. That’s good. Large high school in southeastern United States. Tiffany: So, methodology semi-structured interviews lasted no more than fifty minutes. You guys think that’s good? Henry: That’s probably … I don’t know. Fifty minutes seems kind of long. Tiffany: Want to go— Craig: Most inter—most interviews can go, you know, forty-five minutes is … I’ve heard is a good threshold for interviews but it’s always good to give yourself a cushion, just in case you have that one. Because, not every interview is going to be the same. Each respondent has a different perspective and it could lead the interview in different directions than what you have before. So—

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Leave it at fifty? The fifty minutes is a good cushion. That’s fine. Uh, takes place in a reserved conference room at a school site. So, we … The researcher records the interviews, paste for transcriptions, and then analyze using— looking for themes and const— Constant comparative analysis. Yeah. Okay. So, on to the limitations. Oof, yikes … Okay. Hermeneutic considerations. Other researchers may interpret the data differently based on their different worldviews and perspectives. Teachers may not reveal their true perceptions. Just because of the location. Researcher’s biased based on background experiences and epistemological beliefs. That was trouble with that word. Um, where’s that word? Do we need to say background experiences and epistemological beliefs? Or, is that part of— Researcher bias? Just state researcher bias? Researcher bias. Yeah. That’s for a lot though. I mean that’s for a lot of the research out here. Yeah. Okay. Implications? Might provide information leading to school improvement. Might increase understanding of how teachers in low performing schools perceive their career and environment. Might encourage strategies for school improvement. Those are all pretty good. Okay. Okay. Do we have all parts? We have … We need a title. Title. And, remember the title for APA guideline has to be no more than twelve words. Okay. So … So, we’re looking at trouble. We’re looking at … Do we want to say perceptions of teachers? Inner city schools? Or, perceptions of teachers … Teachers perceptions of school climate? Yeah. That’s actually pretty good. Short and sweet.

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Tiffany: And—, low— Henry: Performing. Tiffany: Teachers perceptions of school climate in a low performing high school. Craig: Yeah, I think that’s—I think that’s perfect. Henry: That’s good. Tiffany: Okay. So, we have teacher’s perceptions of school climate in a low performing high school. First thing we should have after that are a priori questions, right? Craig: Yes. Tiffany: Okay. So, I won’t cut these up here. Then, comes context? I don’t remember. Henry: Uh, throw context in there then frameworks, then, uh— Craig: But, we didn’t put participants. Tiffany: Oh, participants. Craig: Participants are five teachers. Henry: Five teachers. Yeah. Tiffany: Okay. Text. All right. Five teachers, two male and three female teaching in a low performance school in the southeastern United States. Theoretical Frameworks after that? Henry: Yep. Craig: Yes. Tiffany: All right. Teacher’s self efficacy, teacher satisfaction, teacher burnout. Craig: We took out Self Efficacy. Tiffany: Okay. Craig: So, the theoretical frameworks we have are Maslow and then teacher satisfaction. Henry: Yep. Craig: So, take teacher burnout, also. Out. Henry: Take that out yeah, take that out. That works. Scroll down. Craig: I wish could put this graphic in. This is a really good pyramid graphic you found, Tiffany. Tiffany: We just submit it— Henry: Well, we can still credit. Henry: Use credit for that. Tiffany: Hmm? Henry: Who came up with that? Does it say? Tiffany: That’s the Maslow. Craig: That’s the Maslow.

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Tiffany: Craig: Tiffany: Henry: Tiffany: Henry: Tiffany: Craig: Tiffany: Henry: Tiffany:

That word, I get it? Oh, yeah. I can find it. That’s a whole bunch of copyright right there (laughs). I can find it. Um, I think I have it on the next one. I don’t if it’s, uh, you know, the licensing agreements and stuff? I’ll find that right now. If it’s creative commons, you know, we should be okay. Simplepsychology.org Do Google under ‘limits’ or— I can cite this. It’s even not a person. I’ll write it down and cite it manually. Henry: All right. On methodology and limitations. Tiffany: Anything else we need? Henry: I think that’s … Two, methodology. Craig: Louder. Henry: Oh, sorry. Just, usually mumbling to myself (laughs). Craig: Can’t mumble. You’re in a group. Henry: I know, I know. Um, no, I think that’s good. Craig: All right. Henry: That’s good. Craig: All right. Simulation is complete. Tiffany: All finished. Research Proposal Presented during Debriefing: Teachers’ Perceptions of School Climate in a Low Performing High School A Priori Questions: – In what ways do five teachers in a school with low student achievement scores describe their students’ behaviors? – In what ways do these teachers perceive their level of support from administration, district, and parents? – How do five teachers at a low performing school describe parental involvement and perceptions of personal safety? Context: Conference room at a large high school in the southeastern United States. Participants: Five teachers, two male and three female, teaching in a low performing school in the southeastern United States.

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Theoretical Frameworks: – Teacher Satisfaction: from the literature—Teacher satisfaction is a pivotal link in the chain of education reform. Teacher satisfaction influences job performance, attrition, and, ultimately, student performance. – Maslow—based on data collected, if teachers do not feel safe they will not be able to work to their full potential. Method: – Exploratory case study. – Semi structured interviews lasting no more than 50 minutes will take place in a reserved conference room at the school site. The researcher will record the interviews and pay for transcription. Analyze using constant comparative methods, thematic analysis. Limitations: – Hermeneutic considerations—other researchers may interpret the data in different ways due to backgrounds, experiences, and epistemological beliefs. – Teachers may not reveal their true perceptions. – Researcher bias. Implications: – Might provide information leading to school improvement – Might increase understanding of how teachers in low performing schools perceive their career and environment. – Might encourage strategies for school improvement.

CHAPTER 10

How Andragogy Principles of Teaching Empowered Me: The Perspective of a High-Achieving Nontraditional Black Male Student William D. Thomas

1

Introduction

Four principles apply to adult learning: 1. 2. 3. 4.

Adults need to be involved in the planning and evaluation of their instruction. Experience (including mistakes) provides the basis for the learning activities. Adults are most interested in learning subjects that have immediate relevance and impact to their job or personal life. Adult learning is problem-centered rather than content-oriented. (Kearsley, 2010, p. 4)

There is a growing body of research about the accomplishments of high-achieving nontraditional Black males (HNBMs). However, this literature is minimal in comparison to the deficit-oriented narrative that often enshrouds the experiences of Black males in higher education (Goings, 2015). The purpose of this chapter is to add to this discourse of understanding the epistemological and ontological experience of an HNBM at one institute of higher education. I do so through the lens of the experience as a Black male adult learner and student in qualitative research courses. My professor designed and offered the courses following tenets of andragogy.

2

Andragogy and the Adult Learner

Andragogy is premised on certain assumptions about adult learners. These assumptions include: (a) adult learners prefer to be self-directed in their learning experience, prefer to find meaning based on their ontological interest; (b) want to incorporate their lived experiences and attained knowledge © koninklijke brill nv, leideN, 2020 | DOI: 10.1163/9789004419551_012

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to enhance their learning experience; (c) desire to integrate new knowledge based on their need to know and understand from their perspectives, not necessarily the perspectives of instructional leaders; (d) want the opportunities to apply new knowledge to in a meaningful problem-solving way; (e) need to apply learning to solve problems; and (f) consider their learning is an extension of a life-long interest in acquiring knowledge (Knowles, 1980). Andragogy is individualistic; no two expressions of, or paths to acquire knowledge will necessarily be identical. Multiple factors determine the importance of newly acquired information and its application. These factors include educational background, age, gender, ethnicity, mores, socioeconomic opportunities, and other intersectionalities. And herein lies a challenge the HNBM encounters; how does a HNBM express his individual understanding of knowledge and be self-regulated learner in a context m that is often permeated with white students? In this chapter, I reflect on such questions taking my experiences in a qualitative research course as my lens. The course focused on theoretical frameworks and theories inspired and postulated by poststructural philosophers. Poststructuralists reject the physical for the metaphysical; the finite for the infinite; the known for the unknown; the dominant for the marginalized. It was against this backdrop that my education mural would radically change. In this course, I was responsible for creating my own knowledge, based on my lived experiences. I wanted to define what was important. I wanted to find solutions through knowledge attainment for issues with which I, and those like me, deemed important and relevant. These views align to the andragogy framework important to adult learners. Much of the theoretical foundations of the coursework to which I was exposed emanated from a Western civilization point of view. This was logical in that most students in these courses are traditionally from this background. In other words, what value is there for professors to accept my marginal narrative when the dominant narrative allowed them to attain rarified success and power in their area of expertise? My cultural relevance needed to align with their relevance if I was to receive a passing grade that demonstrated some level of mastery of known truths. The course turned this paradigm on its head. The professor (Janet Richards) was not interested in our abilities as students to rephrase what they had read. The professor, a white female, understood there were rich veins of research that had gone unexplored. Using poststructural paradigms would allow us, the adult student researcher, to extend existing knowledge by presenting counter-narratives to erstwhile positive beliefs. The introduction to critical theories and theorists empowered my journey as a marginalized student researcher. My professor’s experiences working and conducting research in many emerging nations with marginalized

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communities taught her that experiences were not finite. She did not need to fully understand the breadth and depth of an individual’s or group’s experience for full appreciation. Therefore, what I presented in my coursework was not deemed to be right or wrong. Rather, it was placed in context of a growth model. I was able to demonstrate from lesson to lesson that I was increasing my knowledge in a way that was meaningful to me. This was radically different that the norm-referenced instructional model with which many professors are familiar and comfortable.

3

Andragogy and Africentric Frameworks

As an emerging researcher I found myself in need of frameworks relative to my worldview and the research issues I deemed worthy of exploring. Critical race theory offered an enlightened and fully explored framework as a lens to add depth to my research topics. Critical race theory is also useful to additional marginalized researchers, expanding to be inclusive of individuals with disabilities (Discrit) and Latina/os (LatCrit). Yet I found critical race theory too limiting to fully expatiate concepts I knew differing audiences might not understand or reject. Critical feminist theory allowed me to explore the concept of intersectionalities, and how gender and race are influenced by power and their influence on power structures. Still, these critical theories lacked the substance I desired to launch and encapsulate in the research I intended conducting on institutional racism in higher education. At this point I begin to explore the experiences of successful Black male students in higher education. Specifically, I was interested in the frameworks defining our existence. My inquiry led me to the philosophical underpinnings of Africentrism. Africentric frameworks are built on the “distinct cultural orientation” of African Americans (e.g. Asante, 1987; Baldwin, 1981). In other words, as an African American doctoral student I understand and operated through the lens of a Black male first, doctoral student secondly. The assignments I completed would reflect the values and principles of my African American worldview (Alfred, 2000). I am also keenly aware that none of my professors were Black males. The Black female professors I encounter are primarily through elective courses that round out my course requirements. I also learned that my viewpoints would be tested: “Afrocentricity is viewed as being distinct from and oppositional to Eurocentricity with a distinct set of cosmological, ontological, epistemological, and axiological attributes” (Schiele, 1994, p. 154). I noticed this in some of my professors’ responses to my written assignments. I would notice certain assumptions I presented from my lived experiences were challenged as incomplete or lacking theoretical support. The

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latter would definitely be true. Outside of the course on critical race theory, in which I elected to enroll, I cannot recall any other readings authored by Black male scholars or to any Black philosophers, male or female, teaching. Was it fair or practical to expect my predominant White female instructional leaders to incorporate Black male perspectives in their course design? If the answer to that is no, at what point, then, is a critical mass reached to make this routine. Afterall, I was assigned readings from Indian, Hispanic, Native American, French, British and LGBTQ authors and philosophers. The empowerment received from my qualitative research course alleviated these microaggressions. The professor continually refocused us to our lived experiences being the foundation of our research. As student researchers we were told the research we chose to pursue would be important to us. We had legitimate questions regarding issues of social justice, educational practices, and societal trends that should be noted in research literature. This research may not align with the extant research; our voice may be missing and needed to be expressed.

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Transmediation

In the course, we were introduced to transmediation. Transmediation was offered as an alternative means of expressing understanding beyond traditional prose. Students were to move beyond the standard of reading an assignment, researching the philosopher’s other contributions, analyzing and critiquing and presenting our summary of understanding. This would allow the instructor to discover our understanding of the philosophers and their contribution to poststructural tenets through our transmediated works. As a marginalized student, this approach was liberating. It allowed me to explore more Afrocentric theoretical frameworks, to break from Euro-centric narratives, create counter-narratives and most important to me, to validate my existence in the program as meaning. This was not the only course where the students were pushed to experiment with transmediated text, but in the qualitative research course I felt safe. I did feel safe because the message was consistent, reassuring: Your dissertation will ultimately be about what is important for you as the researcher. Some of the new frameworks I began to explore included African American Male Theory (Bush & Bush, 2013). The theorists emphasized the importance of understanding the narratives that captured the spiritual, social, psychological and positive education trajectory of Black males within the dominant culture.

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It was about moving away from the traditional research-based deficit understanding of unsuccessful Black males in secondary and higher education. Another framework with which I became acquainted was the Scholar Identity Model (Whiting, 2006). This model is supported by nine underpinnings, but the prominence of this model was having male students of color “view themselves as academicians, as studious, as competent and capable, and as intelligent or talented in school settings” (Whiting, 2009, p. 227). With this freedom to explore beyond the assigned text, my confidence as a scholarly researcher quickly expanded. This manifested itself in strikingly different ways. Michel Foucault’s writings on institutional racism and power structures would find themselves in the reference section of future pages, but not before my understanding of his beliefs about sexuality and the power of the panopticon were summarized in a transmediated poem using Nat King Cole’s song L-O-V-E as the lyrical backdrop. Judith Butler rejected the dominant cultural belief that individuals are born male or female. She asserted one’s gender identification was based on gender performativity, as series of repeated, socially acceptable behaviors used to create gender labels. My understanding of these concepts found its way into a PowerPoint presentation. In the presentation we see a series of slides in which two sperm discuss beauty, gender performativity and how a third sperm joins in the discussion and ultimately marries the egg. A third notable example was my understanding of Karen Barad’s theory of intra-action. Intra-action is the fluid, dynamic interplay between universal forces and the new knowledge created through these evolutions. This led m to construct an eight-row table showing then-candidate Donald Trump’s interactions with his environment and the resulting intra-actions that evolved.

5

Emancipation

A professor fully in concert with the concepts and practices of andragogy is liberating for adult learners in higher education (Knowles, 1978) and for me, an HNBM student, it was emancipating. When andragogical tenets become normalized in instructional practices, cultural, ethnic, socioeconomic, gender and other instructional influences are minimized to the advantage of the adult learner. The challenge is instructional familiarity and awareness of andragogy tenets. The most knowledgeable instructional staff may be self-convinced that andragogy is incorporated throughout their lesson plans; and this may be accurate. But who is checking if it is being implemented in their instructional delivery?

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In higher education it is rare to have a department head or peer evaluate and provide feedback on an instructor’s classroom andragogical practices. Students evaluate professors using a brief Likert-type evaluative instrument. There generally is space provided for a brief written response to a generalized question. What is missing from these tools is an evaluation of a professor’s adherence to adult learning practice in a way that may be meaning to the adult learner. Are adult learners aware their instructional learning experience will be different than the pedagogical practices under which they were instructed at the primary and secondary level? Do professors always understand the differences? The chart below offers a brief contrast of the approaches.

6

Implications

As a high-achieving nontraditional Black male student, I discovered value and a sense of comfort in the teaching approaches used in the qualitative research course. The course, which focused on the tenets of andragogy, diminished the microaggressions I experienced in other courses. As an experienced secondary and higher education classroom educator, I am sensitive to nuanced differences between pedagogical and andragogical approaches to student learners. I am also aware that most student learners have not been exposed these teaching principals. Nontraditional students who are being instructed with pedagogical teaching methodologies may be at a disadvantage when one factors in other microaggressions they may be experiencing in and out of the classroom. I have wondered how a redesigned evaluative tool could assist the few HNBM students collaborate with their instructors to better express their Afrocentric or other non-traditional Western viewpoints. Andragogy principles refocus the professor’s classroom perspective to a mutually collaborative, shared classroom experience (Table 10.1). The classroom learning experience and lessons would allow the learner to explore areas of interest and social justice in a more acceptable learner-focused atmosphere. Forward thinking administrators could redesign end of course evaluation tools with questions centered around the tenets of accessing andragogy practices used by the professor. One could predict there may be fall out from this refocus paradigm of assessment. We know change is rarely universally accepted, even if the goal is to provide enhanced student outcomes. I do know that I would look forward to more professors using similar andragogical practices I experienced in my qualitative research courses.

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table 10.1  Andragogy: Adult learning theory

Dimension

Pedagogy

Andragogy

Self-concept Experience

Dependency Of little worth

Readiness

Biological development— social pressures Postponed application Subject centered

Increasing self-directedness Learners are a rich resource for learning Developmental tasks of social roles Immediacy of application Problem centered

Time perspective Orientation to learning Learning climate

Planning Formulation of objectives Design Activities Evaluation

Authority oriented Formal Competitive By teacher By teacher Logic of the subject matter Content units Transmittal techniques By teacher

Mutuality Respectful Collaborative Informal Mutual self-diagnosis Mutual negotiation Sequenced in terms of readiness Problem units Experiential techniques (inquiry) Mutual re-diagnosis of needs Mutual measurement of program

Note: Adapted from the course Design of Professional Development Programs, Dr. Nan Adams, Instructor. Retrieved February 23, 2019 from https://www2.southeastern.edu/Academics/ Faculty/nadams/etec665/Knowles.html

References Alfred, M. V. (2000). The politics of knowledge and theory construction in adult education: A critical analysis from an Africentric feminist perspective. Adult Education Research Conference. Retrieved from http://newprairiepress.org/aerc/2000/ papers/2 Asante, M. K. (1987). The Africentric idea. Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press Baldwin, J. (1981). Notes on an Africentric theory of black personality. Western Journal of Black Studies, 5, 172–179.

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Bush, L. B., & Bush, E. C. (2013). Introducing African American Male Theory (AAMT). Journal of African American Males in Education, 4(1), 6–17. Goings, R. B. (2015). Supporting high-achieving nontraditional Black male undergraduates: Implications for theory, policy, and practice. Urban Education Research and Policy Annual, 4, 9–16. Kearsley, G. (2010). Andragogy (M. Knowles). Retrieved from https://web.stanford.edu/ dept/SUSE/projects/ireport/articles/general/Educational%20Theories%20 Summary.pdf Knowles, M. S. (1978). Andragogy: Adult learning theory in perspective. Community College Review, 5(3), 9–20. Knowles, M. S. (1980). The modern practice of adult education: Andragogy versus pedagogy. New York, NY: Association Press. Schiele, J. H. (1994). Africentricity: Implications for higher education. Journal of Black Studies, 25(2), 150–169. Whiting, G. (2009). Gifted Black males: Understanding and decreasing barriers to achievement and identity. Roeper Review, 31(4), 224–233.

PART 3 Empowerment beyond Schooling

∵

Introduction to Part 3 Wolff-Michael Roth and Janet C. Richards

In our introductory chapter (Chapter 1), we articulate the notion of empowerment in terms of the concept of power to act. We understand power not to be an individual characteristic; one cannot have or lack power. Power is not applied purely and simply, as an obligation or a prohibition, on those who “do not have it”; it invests them, is transmitted by them and through them; it exerts pressure upon them, just as they themselves, in their struggle against it, resist the grip it has on them. (Foucault, 1975, p. 35) Power is not a thing but a relation. In this relation, power is paired with knowledge. Power-knowledge relations are those between people, those who, simplistically understood, have it and those who do not. Empowerment therefore cannot be conferred on the part of instructors to their students. It implies forms of agency—as seen in Chapter 10 (Thomas)—that precede the relations with the instructor of a methods course. It requires willingness on the part of teacher and students not only to act but also to take into account and submit to the conditions of the instructor–student or mentor–mentee relation. The power-knowledge relations have a special significance in the teachings of the Russian social psychologist Lev S. Vygotsky, widely known for his contributions to theorizing social interaction and social processes in the educational field. In a little known, posthumously published fragmentary text entitled “Concrete Human Psychology” (Vygotsky, 1989), he drew on a Marxian understanding of the essence of human nature in the relations of society. Most specifically, he programmatically stated: “Any higher psychological function was external; this means that it was social; before becoming a function, it was the social relation between two people” (p. 56). The upshot of this statement is that what we observe as behavior of a person has its origin as a relation with one or more other people. In locating the form of the higher psychological functions, Vygotsky does not emphasize the preposition in (social relation) but the preposition as. This means that every relation of a teacher to a student has the potential to be transformative, and that the nature of the relation becomes the psychological attribute of the person. This may be the essence of apprenticeship, where empowerment means not only that the apprentice learns but also provides opportunities for the transformation of the teacher. © koninklijke brill nv, leideN, 2020 | DOI: 10.1163/9789004419551_013

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In this third part of our book, the chapters focus on transformations beyond specific courses in qualitative methods and graduate school more generally. All three chapters focus on situations that become transformative, and include as an essential facet the idea that graduate training conceived of as a period of apprenticeship viewed in a symmetrical and relational way (rather than along the traditional master > apprentice differential. Apprenticeship includes a “conversion of one’s gaze” (Bourdieu, 1992, p. 251), very well documented and theorized in Chapter 12 (Jornet). The result is personal growth, which, as stated in Chapter 13 (Breuer), goes beyond a course in research method and “embeds itself in the person and the soul of the protagonist [student].” In Chapter 11, Wolff-Michael Roth begins by describing the gap he experienced between textbooks on research methods and courses, on the one hand, and the real learning he experienced when actually doing research. He describes how getting good grades in a method course does not mean knowing-how-to-act-appropriately. Readers will find the same theme in the subsequent chapter, where the author (Jornet) describes being approached by others asking him about what to do with the data at their hands. In Roth’s case, the experiences shaped the practical ways in which he has been “teaching” research methods, which essentially making for opportunities that allow “teacher” and “learner” to engage in research together. Learning research methods by doing it others who already have considerable experience—i.e. on their elbows, so to speak—leads to considerable rates of developing practical research methods competence. Roth provides examples of the different ways in which others have learned doing research by working with him and at his elbows. The contexts he describes include graduate-level research methods courses, doing field research with graduate students and junior colleagues, and analyzing data in my research lab together with graduate students and colleagues initially unfamiliar with particular data analysis methods. A key aspect of learning to do research is that the participants work toward a useful outcome, generally a publishable paper. This not only gives an orientation to the joint work of all participants, but also empowers the “teacher” to learn. Indeed, numerous students in his standard courses on research method came to publish their work in peer-reviewed journals or as book chapters. The second chapter in this section (Chapter 12) tells a powerful story of the conversation of gaze, which shaped the way in which the author (Alfredo Jornet) analyzes data; and the chapter shows how this experience has been transformational in the sense that the same kind of conversion of the gaze also occurs in the relations he has with his students now that he is in a professorial career. The author—who had been a doctoral student with one of the editors (Roth)

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and spent two years as postdoctoral fellow in his research group—begins stating that in his original field of study, psychology, the common narratives portray (social) science as specialized fields that require mastering the relevant methods designed for generating objective knowledge about otherwise hidden social or psychological phenomena. He points out that the classical research procedures are intended to observe patterns radically different from how ordinary human beings see and create in joint work with others the patterns in and of their everyday lives. For Jornet, it was a 6-year journey as apprentice in qualitative research methods—participating in courses, research projects, and joint data sessions—that transformed his classical assumptions and premises about scientific observation. As a result of experiencing his mentor ask for the visible ways in which people organize their social relations, consistent with the field of ethnomethodology and other approaches to a concrete human social science, he no longer seeks to extract hidden patterns of social order in the data of interest. He notes that his expertise in qualitative research essentially consists in submitting to the data, which thereby are allowed to organize his professional gaze—rather than imposing method and structure on the data. Jornet describes his journey as an apprenticeship in which his professional vision developed. It is precisely here that he sees learning to be transformational and relevant for the development of the person beyond the final exam or project of a methods course. The final chapter (Chapter 13) focuses on how former graduate students experienced Grounded Theory method, which was offered as a course in qualitative research method in a context where most of the research draws on quantitative method (psychology, counseling). Most of the students explicitly sought out the professor teaching the course (Franz Breuer) or found their way into the course in some other way. In this chapter, the author throws light on some experiences that grounded method protagonists have made in their lives with this way of doing research—while they appropriated it, in its application, or even further. The chapter does not neglect the experience of students who dropped the course because of a sense that course in quantitative methods would lead to greater empowerment in their post-university lives. Breuer shows how (reflexive) grounded theory can be understood as a generalized style of thinking and doing research, which fits (or does not fit) the person or institution. But once appropriated and practiced, it leaves traces in the person that reach into his/her subsequent professional activity. These traces remain when the former students enter their lives after formal schooling, where they feel empowered through the particulars that grounded theory offers them to tackle problems in their day-to-day jobs. The author refers to the “after-effects” of having taken a course in grounded theory method. Generalized empowerment

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is precisely what we therefore observe when a course in qualitative research methods constitutes not just an obligatory point of passage but indeed transforms the life of students, who experience expanded powers to act.

References Bourdieu, P. (1992). The practice of reflexive sociology (The Paris workshop). In P. Bourdieu & L. J. D. Wacquant (Eds.), An invitation to reflexive sociology (pp. 216–260). Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Foucault, M. (1975). Surveiller et punir: Naissance de la prison [Discipline and punish: The rise of the prison]. Paris: Gallimard. Vygotsky, L. S. (1989). Concrete human psychology. Soviet Psychology, 27(2), 53–77.

CHAPTER 11

Empowerment through Apprenticeship in the Teaching of Research Methods Wolff-Michael Roth

1

Introduction

Textbooks on research methods abound; and these have changed little over the past 40 years since I have taken my first course in social science research methods. At the time, I personally experienced that even though one may obtain “A” grades in the courses, the methods do not make sense until there is some project in which one needs to employ them—e.g. conduct a particular kind of data analysis, do an interview, or design a study. That is, such traditionally taught courses on method, in my experience, were not empowering; instead, they implemented a sort of dependency relation, where the student anxiously waits for the grades they receive. But empowerment did occur when I actually worked through problems of research methods, accompanied by the feeling that I now knew what to do, and what a precept of method was intended to instruct its user to do. Such experiences have shaped the practical ways in which I teach research methods in graduate courses, to the junior members on my research team, and to colleagues who have come to spend their sabbaticals with me for the purpose of learning some form of data analysis. Learning by doing something on your own is not the most efficient way because it may take a long time until you discover in your doings what the methods books (and methods sections in published articles) describe. Instead, learning research methods by doing it with others who already have considerable experience—i.e. on their elbow, so to speak—leads to much greater rates of developing practical research methods competence. In this chapter, I provide examples of the different ways in which others have learned during research apprenticeships by working with me and at my elbows. Indeed, apprenticeship had for a long time been my central metaphor for guiding my work with graduate students; it is in and through apprenticeship that they empowered themselves to become successful scholars in their own rights. Their trajectory began while they were working in my laboratory on publishing research articles that set them up for a lifelong career path as (mostly university-based) researchers. The contexts of my examples include graduate-level research methods © koninklijke brill nv, leideN, 2020 | DOI: 10.1163/9789004419551_014

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courses, doing field research with graduate students and junior colleagues, and analyzing data in my research lab together with graduate students and colleagues initially unfamiliar with particular data analysis methods. I present some theoretical concepts from the social psychology of learning that allow understanding and explaining the learning that occurs through apprenticeship in research methods.

2

Biographical Origins of Teaching Research Method as Practice

To the present day, the teaching of research methods predominantly occurs in a manner that structurally differs little from reading a textbook on the matters. Students memorize what should or should not be done, take an exam or do a course-specific project, and receive some grade. When they eventually do face an occasion where they need to do research method—e.g., their MA project or PhD thesis—then many students experience trouble making any connections between what they have to do and the abstract terms that they have learned about the doing of research. My own experiences during graduate school were of that very same kind, and it was out of these experiences that my different approach to teaching (quantitative and qualitative) research methods arose. But I am getting ahead of myself. During the time when I was doing my PhD in a college of science and technology (my first graduate degree was in physics), I also intended obtaining a certificate as a statistician and research methodologist. This required taking six advanced research methods courses. It turned out that even though I received A grades in all of the classes taken, I did not feel overly confident about my competencies to do much at all with what I had learned. At the same time, though, I did a small research project with my doctoral supervisor. In that study, I took the responsibility for data analysis. In the analysis of the quantitative data, several challenging problems occurred, the solution for which was not part of the courses I had taken. However, as I solved the problems, my sense of coming to really understand statistics began to emerge together with the sense that what got me to do well in the courses was inauthentic: all talk and no walk. This sense was deepened while taking my last statistics class, which was on the topic of factor analysis. As I was also collecting data for my dissertation during that term and teaching a science course, I was afraid not being able to keep up with the course I was taking. So even before the course had begun, I read through, though with little understanding, five textbooks on the topic. During the second lecture, I disagreed with the professor on an issue, but acquiesced so as not to cause trouble. I returned for the third meeting with the five textbooks and showed him what I had found. He said to me, “You know

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factor analysis better than I do, even though I have taught it for 20 years. You don’t have to come to class. Why don’t you do a project teaching me something new?” I replied by saying that I was interested in confirmatory factor analysis; and he acknowledged knowing nothing about it. I decided doing as my project a critique of some published research, which required conducting a confirmatory factor analysis. It was again in the course of doing this practical work that I learned not only confirmatory factor analysis (as well as how to use the required software) but also I developed a growing sense of really understanding the topic of simple factor analysis. It was during that time that I really became aware of the difference between talking about a discipline or method (i.e. theory) and actually doing what the methods describe (i.e. practice). A sense emerged in me that true understanding always comes after practical competence, “Truth,” a great philosopher and psychologist said, always “exists ante rem just as much and as little as the other things do” (James, 1907, p. 221). Decades later, I learned that some scholars already had articulated the structure of practice in a way that allows understanding the deep divide between talking about and doing, which is the same divide that exists between plans (intentions) and situated actions (Garfinkel & Sacks, 1986). Thus, any practical action, such as analyzing qualitative research data in a rigorous manner, can be formalized in two key parts. On the one hand, there is the everyday or scientific talk that points to the work of getting something done; it is talk about the actual work required and done. On the other hand there is the work of actually doing it. In the case of analyzing qualitative research data in a rigorous manner, we may depict this structure as in Figure 11.1.

figure 11.1 The structure of practical action

The figure shows, in the use of the present participle of “formulating [naming]” that talking research methods is itself a form of practice (work). But it is different from the work of actually doing what the talk describes and names. That resulting gap exists even for experienced practitioners when they are face-to-face with novel situations, such as exemplified in story of the XEROX engineers asked to operate an “intelligent photocopier” but having problems turning instructions (plans, methods) into actions (Suchman, 1987). Talk about methods is precisely this kind of work that is evaluated in course examinations and projects. However, the actual work of doing what the formulation

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names has often not be done, which has the consequence that the connection between talk about method and the work of doing method also cannot be established on the part of the student. The talk is not grounded, and students learn to talk the talk (of methods) rather than to walk. That connection is what lets all talk to make sense. The theory–practice gap is common in many (practical) disciplines. But its existence is not well explained in constructivist approaches, where both theoretical and practical knowledge have their equivalence in mental structures (constructions, concepts, schemas). It was only during the period of working on this chapter and while reading the works of a range of pragmatist scholars that I came to understand the nature of the gap and how it is to be bridged. The pragmatic approach requires us to think of human behavior in terms of events that intersect with other events that are either concurrent or follow one another. Thinking about some occasion involves different forms of events and experiences—most importantly, sensual and non-sensual perception—than actually living and working through the occasion (e.g., Whitehead, 1929). To understand the difference, we need to “distinguish that type of mental functioning which by its nature yields immediate acquaintance with fact, from that type of functioning which is only trustworthy by reason of its satisfaction of certain criteria provided by the first type of functioning” (p. 7). The link between the two types of events and functioning is made by means of a continuity of experience, where previous phases overlap with succeeding ones leading us from the word to the deed (James, 1907). While I was learning quantitative and later qualitative methods principally on my own, I also had a sense of inefficiency. This was so because I was working on my own through issues that others surely knew well; but I did not know anyone who would have been knowledgeable in the less advanced topics let alone the more advanced topics such as confirmatory factor analysis. A couple of years later, I was beginning to think about learning differently while watching and analyzing videotapes of my high school physics students, which led me to the first paper in the field of science education arguing for the social construction of (practical and theoretical) knowledge. This emphasis on social relations as the locus of learning increased while I was doing research on coteaching, a form of teaching where two or more individuals take full responsibility for what is happening in a class and, in so doing, learn from each other and change (e.g., Roth & Tobin, 2002). The teachers (including myself) were learning “from” each other even when they were not making their teaching reflexively aware; and they did so by resonating with one another in the way they moved about the classroom, talked (i.e., prosody), related to students, and so on. It was also during that time that I became familiar with

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the talk the French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu gave during a workshop on sociological research methods. He thematizes the need to translate abstract problems and methodological descriptions, including the ones he had published, into practical operations. And he concludes stating the problem and how to solve it. Thus, textbooks and lectures do not help learning to do research no doubt because there is no manner of mastering the fundamental principles of a practice—the practice of scientific research is no exception here—than by practicing it alongside a kind of guide or coach who provides assurance and reassurance, who sets an example and who corrects you by putting forth, in situation, precepts applied directly to the particular case at hand. (Bourdieu, 1992, p. 221) It was apparent to me from reading this text that the best way of learning research methods is by working at the elbow of a more experienced individual seeing and feeling how a knowledgeable practitioner acts in very concrete ways facing very concrete issues. I began to think about graduate student supervision in terms of apprenticeship, where my students learn doing research by doing research with me. Decades after reading and implementing Bourdieu’s recommendations, I came across a social-psychological explanation of learning higher psychological functions while working with others. It is not that we learn because we are in a relation with another during apprenticeship or collaboration but instead, we learn because “any higher psychological function … was the social relation between two people” (Vygotsky, 1989, p. 56). This is called the sociogenesis of human culturally transmitted behavior. We will have learned when we do on our own what previously had been accomplished by the irreducibly joint activity of the pair or group. I came to understand and subsequently showed in my own analyses of learning that the relation— understood as event (work) rather than thing—existed in the form of collective behavior that subsequently is exhibited on the part of individuals.

3

Case Studies of Learning through Apprenticeship

The metaphor and practice of apprenticeship has characterized my teaching of research methods since the beginning of my academic career. In the following, I provide descriptions of four types of settings in which graduate students—but also postdoctoral fellows and recently graduated colleagues— learned research methods by doing research at my elbows.

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3.1 Single and Double Apprenticeship Since the beginning, graduate students have accompanied me into the field to collect data or I have accompanied them, for a while at least, when they were collecting data related to their theses. They thus had the opportunity to experience the decisions and choices made by a much more experienced practitioner in the field and always concerning the real, practical contingencies of the occasion. For example, they first sat quietly while watching me conduct an interview, and then, during the latter parts of the same or the next interview, began asking some questions during a second interview before eventually conducting interviews on their own. In the situation, and often as particular constellations were arising, we made decisions about whom to videotape and where to take up positions (e.g., in a classroom). We sometimes used hand signals to communicate across space aligning each other to particular events and thereby ascertaining that we optimized each data collection sessions. Almost all of my graduate students were working for and received funding from research projects. Their theses thus also related in some way to the project that funded them, though they had considerable flexibility in defining what exactly they wanted to research. We were thus always oriented toward realizing a common object/motive, right into the writing phase of the project, leading to research articles that would constitute both chapters in their theses and jointly published in peer-reviewed journals. When writing up a study for publication that would also be part of their theses, students wrote a first draft after we had some discussion concerning tentative findings and the journal that we would be aiming for. Rather than giving students generic comments, I would rework the first few pages using the tracking feature of the software so that they could see what had been changed. This enables students to see, and ask questions about, a particular way of writing, for example, the opening lines of an article (Figure 11.2). The figure shows (in red) how I added to (deleted from) the opening of an article that one of my MA students subsequently published in one of the top ten cited journals of the education field. I then asked them to rework the next few pages based on what they have learned from my changes. Once they had done what they could, I would in turn rework the next few pages and then again ask students to review, rewrite, and rework the next part of the paper. Here again, we had a common object/motive: the ultimate publication of the piece. In the course of working toward publication, students could literally see how the early versions were revised and how the final version emerged. Again, they were writing with someone, seeing and hearing about the concrete decisions made in the very concrete situations of every this text at this time. When the graduate student knew the field—such as when a teacher participated in research on teaching and learning in science classrooms—the

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figure 11.2 First draft and edit of the opening of an article by an MA student subsequently published in a leading journal

apprenticeship clearly focused on research method. They learned how to conduct research in situations that they already where thoroughly familiar with. But this is not always the case in research, such as when my research team conducted a five-year study of knowing and learning in a fish hatchery. Initially, neither my students nor I did have any fish culture knowledge, experience, or were familiar with the typical practices characterizing fish hatchery work. At that time, I had read a book about and conducted research in the manner of apprenticeship as an ethnographic field method (Coy, 1989). In the fish hatchery project, as well as in a number of other subsequent projects, my research group was conducting ethnographic fieldwork by becoming helpers to our research participants / informants. We assisted in the work in the different aspects of their daily work. In the case of the hatchery research, over the course of a year, we became familiar with everything that a fish culturist does, beginning with the taking of milt and eggs from the salmon that were returning from the ocean to spawn to the release of juvenile salmon once the fertilized eggs had hatched and grown into a species-specific size and weight. For example, we participated in the regular measurements of weights and sizes of a representative number of juvenile salmon (Figure 11.3). We first helped the fish culturist catching a sample of juvenile salmon from the pawn, placing them into a bucket, which was taken to the wet laboratory where it was hooked up to an oxygen supply (Figure 11.3a). We then contributed to the typical data collection. This might involve the fish culturist doing the measuring (Figure 11.3b) and the researcher (graduate student or I) entering the data that the former was calling out (Figure 11.3c). But the roles might also be in the reverse.

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figure 11.3 (a) A fish culturist (left) and a graduate student are bringing a bucket with a sample of fish into the wet laboratory and are hooking up the oxygen supply. (b) The fish culturist in the process of collecting measuring the length of a fish, which subsequently is weighed on a scale (on the left in c). (c) The graduate student is entering the called-out data into a spreadsheet

The fish hatchery was located about 250 km from our university. We thus tended to spend several days on the site, staying either in a hotel or directly in the fish hatchery where there was an unused but furnished house. In the evenings, over dinner and in specially arranged sessions, we would go over the events of the day and talk about specific aspects of research methods always tied to the concrete situations in which we were experiencing them. The research on fish culture presents a special situation in the sense that from a graduate student perspective, there is a double apprenticeship involved. On the one hand, they come to know the object of their study by means of an apprenticeship with the research participants/informants at the latters’ worksite. It is in and through their experience that they come to know what it means to know and do the work in the field of interest (here fish culture). Any trouble or problem that they (and I) do experience is an occasion for making visible the work practitioners accomplish in their fluent practice that is not normally visible. But there is an additional apprenticeship, which is that in research method. In addition to learning apprenticeship as research method, they also become familiar with other aspects of research methods, such as observation, interviewing, videotaping, collecting photographic evidence, accessing and recording site-relevant historical records, and so on. 3.2 Crossover Apprenticeship In some special cases, a crossover apprenticeship might be happening. This occurs when the graduate student, postdoctoral fellow, or recently graduated colleague had considerable experience in the field that is the object of study but is unfamiliar with (advanced) research methods, whereas I, an experienced practitioner of research method, was new to the culture investigated. For example, one of my graduate students previously had obtained an MSc degree in biology now doing a PhD on biology education. Whereas he was familiar with the culture of field biologists and with empirical fieldwork,

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I was new to field. At the same time, the graduate student was still learning the research methods we needed for doing our work. In that particular case, each of us was spending time observing in the field, working as helpers, which, in my case, was a form of apprenticeship as research method. When my graduate student was in the field, he would email data back almost daily, which I began to analyze so that I could make suggestions for what to collect and how to go about it. In the emails, I would also explain why I recommended some procedure, providing him with the opportunity to experience practical decision making even though we were geographically separated. In another instance, the graduate student was an experienced seafarer and instructor in a college for mariners, who had obtained a MSc degree in his field. When we conducted data analysis sessions, he was already familiar with the field and its discourse, but learned to think about the data in an apprenticeship with me. Based on our analysis sessions, we made decisions about what he would do next while in the field—which in his case included as sites both a college and an onboard part. My third example of crossover pertains to a situation where I was working with a recently graduated colleague with little training and experience in research methods. But he previously had been a commercial pilot for 20 years. When I suggested to him that his current research—which was based on non-validated questionnaires for which no reliability measures existed—would be hard to impossible to publish, he asked me to go into the field and teach him research method onsite. As I am not a pilot, everything in the field was new, and I understood little to nothing that our pilot participants / informants were saying (even though they were speaking English). For my colleague, the situation was the reverse. However, spending time in the field together, with many conversations occurring both while collecting data as well as on walks after dinner and on other opportunities during the day, he became more familiar with the particular methods we were using in each study, while I was becoming more familiar with aviation. Interestingly, Brazilian colleagues who have spent time in my research laboratory called this a postdoctoral fellowship—which is not inappropriate as a descriptor. 3.3 Data Sessions and Interaction Analysis In my work, important occasion for teaching and learning data analysis are data sessions (Heath, Hindmarsh, & Luff, 2010) and interaction analysis ( Jordan & Henderson, 1995) that have become common in a number of social sciences. I had learned the latter while participating in sessions with Brigitte Jordan years before she described and explained in her published article how interaction analysis actually works. But again, from her descriptions alone, it

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would have been hard to learn what to do and how to actually do interaction analysis. Both terms refer to forms of data analysis where researchers (data owners) meet with interested colleagues to analyze some stretch of generally videotaped data (Figure 11.4)—though the goal generally is not to jointly publish an article or book chapter. Where the means are available, any additional materials such as transcriptions are projected for all participants in the data analysis session (see the four monitors in Figure 11.4). The purpose is to produce initial, joint analyses of the research participants interacting within the video or the purpose of generating hypotheses that the owners subsequently test in the remainder of their data. “Interaction” thus refers to events at two levels: in the video and in the group of analysts. The perhaps most important rule of method is that during the analysis, participants in the session must not speculate about the contents of the minds of those shown and about anything else that cannot be directly seen in the video. Any description and theory has to be done on the basis of what can be shown. Thus, participants in the analysis sessions often get up to point to something on a monitor or use a pointer in the case of less accessible projection screens. The sessions thereby come to focus on everything that research participants shown in the video make available to each other and upon which others act. Something like “power over” cannot be seen as if it were some object. Instead, there is an event in which participants jointly act in ways so that analysts are tempted to say that one person in the video has power over another—conclusions that are encouraged when the analysts know that the person is a teacher and the others are

figure 11.4 A data session with colleagues and a postdoctoral fellow. Visible on the left border is a camera recording the session to be used during subsequent analyses and to produce an audit trail

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students. Participating students tend to learn that not anything goes and that qualitative researchers also can hold each other accountable for their descriptions and explanations. They learn qualitative data analysis as a rigorous and accountable practice. The data sessions tend to include beginning graduate students (sometimes also short-time visitors from other countries), experienced graduate students, postdoctoral fellows, and colleagues. Although everyone is invited to contribute to the analysis—which generally occurs when all members of the group are experienced in the method and in social sciences—those with the least experience (e.g. beginning graduate students) at first tend to be quieter and listen to what the more experienced participants have to say. Graduate student data owners are encouraged to make recordings of the sessions, which they can then use as a form of memory to access what has been said, the hypotheses that have been articulated, and anything else that expands their control over their subsequent analytic work that they conduct on their own.

3.4

Teaching Rigorous Data Analysis

In the preceding subsection, I point out that data sessions and interaction analysis constitute contexts within which graduate students participate in and learn to analyze data in a rigorous and accountable manner. When I teach data analysis in graduate students methods courses, I also emphasize rigor—not to be confused with rigidity—that is opposite to the laissez-faire and anything-goes attitudes (“it’s all just a construction”) that many of my colleagues bring to the endeavor (Roth, 2015b). The approach takes the form of a game. In this game, the students transcribe small sections of some online video on a topic of their interest and choice. (In this way, the also learn to transcribe and provide materials to discussions about different forms of transcribing depending on the purposes of the analysis.) During each class meeting, the transcription is revealed as a mystery transcript to me and the other members of class. The transcription is to remain as neutral as possible with respect to other information that might reveal anything about the occasion that produced it. Our purpose is to reconstruct the actual event that has been occurring and produced the words, who the different contributors to the conversation were, where the conversation might have taken place, and so forth. Students are exhorted not to speculate about meanings and contents of minds but to support each claim by making reference to something that clearly can be seen by any participant in the session. At the end of the roughly 30-minute analysis, the student who brought the transcription reveals the source (e.g.,

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by showing the video) to ascertain the distance, if there be one, between the original and the reconstruction. In the game, I emphasize that students should feel like criminologists so that arriving at the wrong conclusions would have considerable ethical and practical implications. Thus, not anything goes when it comes to data analysis. During the first sessions and especially at the beginning, students might not contribute to the analysis. But over time, more and more students contribute at earlier and earlier points after the transcription is revealed. The structure is from looking at a transcription with (the elbow of) an experienced practitioner (me) to participating in the analysis with the practitioner (me) to doing it on their own when they do their final project for the course. In the following, I exemplify this approach with a first mystery transcript of the first lesson on analyzing data in a course I once did for MEd students. 3.4.1 Mystery Transcript 01 M: Kiana, what did you do today? 02 (0.01) 03 K: Er…cooking. [She avoided the camera and looked at the other side [I think she was searching the certain English words in her mind]] 04 (0.03) 05 M: Cooking! What elsa did you do? 06 (0.08) 07 K: [She turned back to the camera] … 3.4.2 A Real-Time Analysis of the Mystery Transcript Professor1: ((Gazing at the computer monitor, Figure 11.5)) So one, Kiana what did you do today, Er … cooking. So the first thing, we would, we have a turn sequence. And there is a response. We have a question | response pair because there is something that we can hear as a response. There is a hint, of course, a name. It is not a typical English name, I am not familiar with, if I wanted to find out I might look up on the Internet what nationality or what kind of language background we can find that. The response is kind of, it’s interesting. What did you do today, and then we get cooking. So that might give us a first hint of, about what kind of relation … there might be. So, Er … Cooking, what else did you do? So okay, what’s going on? We have here, cooking, there is a response, there is then a repetition of the response, almost like an acknowledgment, and

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figure 11.5  Gazing at the transcript (Section 3.4.1) on the monitor (also projected onto the screen for students to see) while doing an analysis in real time

Clive: Professor: Clive:

Professor:

then what else did you do. Okay, now, we can stop there now our analysis for a second and ask, “What is going on here?” Why … so there is a question, what did you do today? The second person articulates something, the first person sort of confirms, so we have, repeats the term, and then what else did you do? So why would that come? You know, one could have expected that the first person then might explore that issue whatever it is that … So, what else did you do? It is as if, I am saying AS IF simply a listing of things was being asked for. The production of a list. So, what ELSE did you do? Now we get the person K, Kiana, she turned back to the camera It sounds like a mother questioning a child what did you do at school today. That’s my guess. You can frame it as a hypothesis, and then look for the evidence. What kind of evidence? The evidence is the fact that cooking is one out of the things she should have been able to do in the day. And the mother, M probably the mother, probably means that she was disappointed that well, “That’s all you did?” She should have done more than that. This is what you did! This is the kind of interrogation that we give our kids. So, there is an interrogation …

As soon as the reading of the transcription begins, it is apparent that the analyst reveals particular dispositions and ways of seeing. Thus, for example, even though the transcription has a question mark at the end of the first turn (“what did you do today?”), the analyst articulates seeing it as the first part of a turn pair the second part of which is a response. The turn in itself is not a question. The second part of the pair is a response because we can hear it as such. It is also apparent that the analyst does not definitely say what is there or what something “means,” but instead marks a description in a tentative manner

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(“might give us a first hint”) or explicitly as a hypothesis (“You can frame this as hypothesis”). We can also see how the analyst unfolds the implications of any word or phrase said, such as when he focuses on the phrase “what else did you do,” where the “what else” implies that there were a number of activities that have occurred during the day and that the purpose of the present activity might have been to list (or review) all of them. This example also shows that one of the students is already into the game, actively generating hypotheses, encouraged by the analyst to point to observable evidence. Although I tend to begin doing much of the initial part of the first analysis, students eventually participate. We do not only analyze the mystery transcript to figure out what is happening. Rather, in addition to contributing to the analysis, technical questions students have are also discussed, as seen in the following example. Clive: Professor: Xinyan: Professor: Clive:

Professor:

Sonam: Professor: Clive: Professor:

Do you want the seconds beside it ((i.e., transcribed utterance))? (No—) I think it depends on what kind of transcription Some people put it in just to give the reader sort of the idea how quickly it unfolds, Also when you take a segment and you are moving it or something, you may want to see the seconds. Like when you take a clip from the video Yea, you can use it. You know, in methods there are no right rules. Making a point and communicating effectively, that is what is important. So this is why when a person interrupts another person, that is when you have to transcribe the seconds, right? Like, Actually, then there is no seconds, what there is Underline but there is an overlap ((gesture of overlap in transcription)). Again, there are no fixed rules

The students in the methods course later bring video or transcription that they intend using in their final projects. In this case, we do data sessions and interaction analysis rather than just reading an article about it. I then encourage the owner of the data to videotape the session in which we generate tentative hypotheses and ask them to. We also subject them to analysis in small groups, who keep a record in a Google document that is projected for everyone to see and discuss the findings of different groups given the same data. The data owner may decide to walk from group to group to see and hear how others

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read their data. In the end, all the notes pertaining to the analysis of a data set are made available to its owner, who is encouraged to attribute anything they make use of to the respective source.

4

Conclusion

I begin this chapter stating that most books on method have the problem of attempting to teach research method by conveying to students abstract descriptions. But such descriptions do not exhibit how research is actually carried out in the face of the concrete particulars that characterize each project. I refer to a text on reflexive sociology, which suggests that one can learn research methods “only on condition of actually doing it alongside with the researcher who is in charge of it” (Bourdieu, 1992, p. 222). The interesting aspect of this precept is that it works in the reverse as well, that is, that one can really supervise a research only by doing it with the researcher, that is, the graduate student conducting the actual study. This is also one of the reasons why I accompanied graduate students into the field. In the course of the chapter, I present a number of different types of situations that have provided graduate students with opportunities to learn conducting research by actually doing it alongside an experienced practitioner. In all instances, especially because they begin to participate in research from the beginning of their program when they become members of the research team, my graduate students eventually have had sufficient competence to be in the field on their own and to write up a study that required very little further corrections. Today I understand the effectiveness of their becoming experienced practitioners in terms of the relations we have had, which, as suggested above, were the higher, method-related psychological functions that they displayed in their own behavior. Importantly perhaps, I do not see the graduate students “internalizing” research methods, as the weak social versions of social constructivism and sociocultural theories have it, but everything they and I did always was in the open to be grasped by the respective other. It would be impossible to learn anything while participating in a craft at the elbow of another unless the work of doing is available in the public sphere of their relation. By talking about what we do, we raise practice to consciousness and thereby theorize it. There is therefore no theory–practice gap in the apprenticeship and relational mode, because students, at whichever level of competence they find themselves, learn methods by doing and feeling and subsequently talking about research methods. That is, they find in their own actions the relevance of the abstracting theoretical talk; they already have a feel for method before they

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develop the discourse; and this discourse makes sense (i.e. is grounded) in their preceding concretely felt experience. For this reason, I tend to ask students to do what has to be done and then we worry about after the fact how to call it (e.g., discourse or conversation analysis, which students have a hard time to distinguish based on textbook descriptions alone). For my graduate students, I have always wanted more than them receiving a certificate conferring a degree (MA, PhD). Thus, in the case of the PhD students, I was telling them that what we were doing was reaching beyond the diploma, and even beyond getting a job in academia. I was talking to them in terms of a trajectory that leads to successful tenure and promotion decisions. Even though I never used the term empowerment during my career, I did act accordingly, that is, working with graduate students that allowed them to become successful in their own careers, involving doing successful research and being successful in academia characterized by a collective publish-orperish attitude. In the course of their apprenticeship and as our relation, they expanded their power to act and be successful researchers and academics. The practical approach to teaching and learning research methods also has had an impact on my own writing of textbooks; and I have become an editor of a book series entitled Practice of Research Method. My own writing is grounded in actual studies I conducted, focusing on what I did and why, and often providing secondary commentaries (e.g., Roth, 2005). Thus, in one instance, I present, among others, five think-aloud data sessions of the kind exemplified above,2 showing a small number of turns that are currently at focus together with what the analyst is saying as he goes along (Roth, 2015b). On the bottom of the page, there is a running commentary as to what the analyst does at the time. That is, the book exhibits the actual decisions made (practice)—an analysis of these can be found in Roth, 2015a—and then sets these decisions into a methodological context (theory, talk about practice). Readers therefore experience three levels of text: the original transcription, a real-time reading thereof, and methodological precepts about the practice of analyzing data.

Notes 1 The italicized words are read from the transcription; the highlighted words were said concurrently with the video offprint to their right. This author is the professor. 2 An important resource where students can watch the recordings of 12 data analysis sessions, where experienced researchers all analyze the same two-minute videotape shot in an elementary school classroom where students are to learn about the physics of matter (https://www.learninghowtolookandlisten.com/).

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References Bourdieu, P. (1992). The practice of reflexive sociology (The Paris workshop). In P. Bourdieu & L. J. D. Wacquant (Eds.), An invitation to reflexive sociology (pp. 216–260). Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Coy, M. W. (Ed.). (1989). Apprenticeship: From theory to method and back again. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Garfinkel, H., & Sacks, H. (1986). On formal structures of practical action. In H. Garfinkel (Ed.), Ethnomethodological studies of work (pp. 160–193). London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Heath, C., Hindmarsh, J., & Luff, P. (2010). Video in qualitative research. London: Sage. James, W. (1907). Pragmatism: A new name for some old ways of thinking. New York, NY: Longmans, Green. Jordan, B., & Henderson, A. (1995). Interaction analysis: foundations and practice. Journal of the Learning Sciences, 4(1), 39–103. Roth, W.-M. (2005). Doing qualitative research: Praxis of methods. Rotterdam, The Netherlands: Sense Publishers. Roth, W.-M. (2015a). Analyzing the qualitative data analyst: A naturalistic investigation of data interpretation. Forum Qualitative Social Research/Sozialforschung, 16(3). Retrieved from http://www.qualitative-research.net/index.php/fqs/article/ view/2415 Roth, W.-M. (2015b). Rigorous data analysis: Beyond anything goes. Rotterdam, The Netherlands: Sense Publishers. Roth, W.-M., & Tobin, K. (2002). At the elbow of another: Learning to teach by coteaching. New York, NY: Peter Lang. Suchman, L. A. (1987). Plans and situated actions: The problem of human-machine communication. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Vygotsky, L. S. (1989). Concrete human psychology. Soviet Psychology, 27(2), 53–77. Whitehead, A. N. (1927). Symbolism: Its meaning and effect. New York, NY: Macmillan.

CHAPTER 12

Living the Praxis of Method, or How I Learned Letting Worldly Practices Organize My Professional Gaze as Scholar Alfredo Jornet

1

Introduction: A Narrative Inquiry into Gaze Development and Empowerment in Qualitative Research

Every professional practice can be understood as a particular way of organizing our ways of looking at and seeing the world. For example, where lay people may just see dirt, a professional geologist may see evidence of prior changing climatic conditions in a given area. Similarly, it takes the gaze of an experienced surgeon to see the cystic artery among an otherwise complex of human tissue during surgery (Koschmann, LeBaron, Goodwin, & Feltovich, 2011), or the gaze of professional aviation pilots to see a particular aviation-relevant situation in and through given cockpit’s displays and readings (Roth & Jornet, 2015). This is what has been coined as professional vision: discursive practices [that] are used by members of a profession to shape events in the domains subject to their professional scrutiny. The shaping process creates the objects of knowledge that become the insignia of a profession’s craft: the theories, artifacts, and bodies of expertise that distinguish it from other professions. (Goodwin, 1994, p. 606) In this chapter, I draw from the notion of professional vision to provide a narrative inquiry (Clandinin & Connelly, 2000) about how, through apprenticeship, I have come to develop a particular way of looking as a qualitative researcher in the domains of education and the learning sciences. I use the narrative inquiry loosely to mean the process by means of which, recollecting events to tell a story, also and at the same time becomes a process of finding out new insights about human experience, here the experience of becoming competent in a particular way of doing qualitative research. Different methodological approaches involve different ways of organizing one’s way of looking and producing (scientific) observations. When Goodwin formulates the idea of professional vision in the terms presented above, he © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2020 | doi: 10.1163/9789004419551_015

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is himself drawing from a particular (phenomenological, pragmatist) way of organizing and perceiving professions as observational objects. This is a tradition in philosophy and sociological inquiry that takes as a premise that “language is veritably man himself in action, and thus observable” (Dewey & Bentley, 1949/1999, p. 112). It is as part of this historical form of qualitative inquiry, as it lives in current qualitative research in education, that my personal trajectory as apprentice in qualitative research is to be told. But since I begun my trajectory having been educated in a radically different way of crafting scientific observations, this is also a story of conceptual change, of struggle and transformation. Other chapters in this book describe methods for introducing students to qualitative research practice “at the elbow” of more knowledgeable others (Roth, Chapter 11), supporting them in developing their own voice as researchers (Richards, Chapter 2), thereby positioning students as empowered and self-directed. In this chapter, and through my personal account, I address this issue of empowerment by treating different ways of looking and producing scientific observations as constituting different regimes of power and control, and illustrate how apprenticeship into a particular form qualitative methods—one that takes social practice as primary—was also, and at the same time, a way of becoming empowered as researcher.

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Empowerment

2.1 A Working Definition At the outset, it is helpful to provide some preliminary definitions, as these have been necessary for me in the process of making sense of my own story about how I came to develop my own professional vision through apprenticeship in qualitative methods. In particular, to tell a story about how I became “empowered,” I first needed to understand empowerment as a general process, so that my story could be told as one particular instance or form of expression of such general process. What does it mean, in general and in the context of learning qualitative methods, that one becomes empowered? To address this question, I draw on teachings from critical psychology, where the issue of empowerment is discussed in terms of agency, defined as “the human capacity to gain, in cooperation with others, control over each individual’s own life conditions” (Holzkamp, 2013, p. 20). Particular to this definition, which emphasizes “cooperation with others,” is the view of agency as involving an irreducible relation between person and society. This is a view different from that exposed in psychology and learning research in which societal “factors”

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are included as independent variables that impact individuals’ experiences or behaviors, thereby treating society as “merely an environment that has effects upon people” (p. 19). Instead, this is a view that sees the relation between person and environment as the key phenomenon of interest—consistent with the dialectical materialist premise that humans, in contrast to other species, must produce, through labor, the means and conditions for sustaining their own lives.1 Becoming empowered, from this perspective, involves not just changing one’s own inner mind or psyche (e.g., getting to learn more, or to learn how to learn more on your own). It involves gaining control over the objective (practical, affective, and intellectual) conditions that allow expanding (or restricting) one’s opportunities to act, since “the psyche is not merely and individual or inner affair, but the subjective aspect of the way and the degree to which I am in control of the objective conditions of my life” (Holzkamp, 2013, p. 21). 2.2 Empowerment beyond Restrictive Agency Commonly, narratives about empowering students in educational literature tend to be consistent with a discourse that posits learning as some sort of universal process that is somehow independent from a particular content or purpose. This is the case, for example, when empowerment tends to be portrayed in terms of students “owning their educational experience” (Hains & Smith, 2012, p. 368). From the dialectical perspective defined above, however, this view on empowerment is problematic on two grounds. First, the process of gaining ownership over one’s learning tends to be treated a-historically, disengaged from the content and purpose that characterizes the cultural-historical practices of knowing and of becoming knowledgeable within the given knowledge domain. However, to discuss how one may become empowered through apprenticeship, requires a consideration of the given cultural-historical practice or profession as part of which one is introduced as apprentice, thereby calling for an epistemology that considers the relation between persons and society as the minimal phenomenon of interest. Second, by presenting empowerment as a sort of meta-cognitive skill that operates independently from (or only externally connected with) the cultural-historical practices/professions being learned, empowerment is presented as somehow accepting, without critic or struggle, the conditions of and for action inherent in specific practices. From the critical psychology view advanced above, this then is a form of restrictive agency, for it operates by “accepting existing limits in complicity or arrangement … with prevailing power relations in order to achieve a certain sphere of influence” (Holzkamp, 2013, p. 23). Learners are empowered on the condition that they learn how

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to learn the given content/praxis autonomously, without regard as to which specific content/praxis this is. In the context of apprenticeship of qualitative research, these would mean getting into a position to freely act with regard to your own learning within the premise that the content that is being learned, as a cultural-historical practice with its own affordances and conditions for action, is accepted as given, or else, as appropriated in whatever free way the learner has appropriated it. From this restrictive vision of agency, then, becoming empowered means being allowed leeway to choose conditions for your own learning. But apprenticeship involves, precisely, to be introduced, “at the elbow” of a mentor, and into the historical practice of being/acting/looking as an experimented practitioner. This means introducing learners into ways of looking, acting, and being that are uniquely shaped by reference to and in correspondence with the cultural-historical practices. It also means accepting that becoming an individual subject is only possible in and through becoming the subject of given societal practices. Apprenticeship is but a process of subjectification. Classical educational and psychological research operate within a restricted view of learning2 in which the issue of power and control concerns the way in which the learner relates to her own learning. Apprenticeship, on the other hand, directs our concern on control and power to the historical practice as part of which the learner is introduced. It is in and through understanding to which practices one is introduced and what the emancipating potential of those practices are that one can talk about empowerment through apprenticeship. For one could very well become apprentice of very limiting and disempowering forms of practice, in which case we would not be so willing to talk about empowered learners.

3

Becoming Empowered in Qualitative Methods

Once we have a definition of what we mean by empowerment, we are in a position to better understand what becoming empowered in qualitative methods through apprenticeship may mean in general. If we operate within the premise that agency is not individual and mental, but an objective phenomenon that concerns a relation between the individual person and the societal (collective) labor activities providing the conditions for action and experience, then the process of empowerment must be described by reference to concrete practices, here practices of qualitative research. It is useful here to come back to the idea of learning qualitative research as a form of developing professional vision, for it assists us in addressing the issue

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of empowerment as it concerns the specific practice of producing scientific observations—the object that uniquely defines scientific methods—and not just the otherwise widely reported issue of how to get students to self-regulate (e.g., Lapan, Kardash, & Turner, 2002). Accordingly, becoming empowered as a practitioner of qualitative research methods means gaining control over the conditions by means of which one participates in and gains control over the means by means of which scientific observations are produced. Since qualitative methods are not homogeneous but can be grouped in terms of different research paradigms, the question may be raised as to how different paradigms of producing scientific observations can be understood as differently allowing learners (as much as experienced practitioners) to gain control over the conditions upon which observations are produced and competence developed. Rather than addressing these questions in the abstract, however, I explore them as I proceed narrating my story. For, as I advance in the introduction, this is a story of paradigm change, of how I learned to develop a professional vision despite having started from a very different way of looking at things. Specifically, mine is the story of becoming empowered in and through being immersed, at the elbow of a more experienced practitioner, away from a formalistic approach to methods, and into a dialectical, pragmatist, and phenomenological way of looking at and for scientific facts.

4

My Story of Growth and Empowerment, in Two Accounts

In the following, I present a narrative that speaks about my own personal growth into qualitative research methods. Because this is a story of personal transformation and empowerment told from the perspective of the learner, I have chosen to present it in terms of a shifting subjectivity and expanding agency. A first account describes a period during which, after having been trained in a (formal) way of looking at and for data, I struggled to find relevance and to shift into a different paradigm. The second chapter speaks about the lived-through process by means of which I got to emancipate from the formal paradigm and into a different regime of producing observations. Although the narrative concerns my own personal development, in telling it, I also insert vignettes about other students who, although having their own personal stories and trajectories, can be seen and listened to as the subjective sides of an objective reality that cannot be reduced to either individuals or societal contexts. Thus, the first account starts with vignettes depicting very recent events, and where I appear as the more knowledgeable other who already is

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competent in a particular way of doing qualitative research. Yet, in bringing these vignettes up front as a way in into my own personal story of growth, my hope is to help readers see my personal struggle and process of growth not as my own, but as one possible expression of what it means, in general, being a learner of qualitative research methods.

Account 1: Being Subjected to Formal Methods Vignette 1 I am at my office writing the introductory sections of this chapter when a recently admitted PhD student (student A) knocks at my door and asks whether I have 15 minutes to talk. I do. I invite her in and ask her what she wonders about. She begins talking about being aware that I am familiar with the work of a particular scholar who had developed a theoretical concept that she might use in her dissertation. I ask what her dissertation is about—I do not supervise her—and she mentions that it has to do with how teacher education students use digital resources as part of their praxis. But she quickly moves back to her concern, which revolves around her having difficulties to understand a concept. She finds that different authors seem to have different ways of formulating or understanding the concept and she wants to make sure that the understanding she has of the concept is correct, or perhaps the correct one. This is important for her since, as she explains, she needs to understand the concept to be able to formulate her research question. She is distressed about this, she adds, because she is unsure about what she is going to make her investigation, data collection, etc. I ask why she needs to understand this concept before formulating her research question, and why she is so nervous about getting the concept right at this stage. I explain to her that, although I am to some extent familiar with the authors and concepts that she is talking about, I would rather talk about why she feels that way about getting the concepts right. I tell her that rather than being nervous about what a given concept means, she might benefit from more carefully considering the problem of practice—of teacher students practice and their use of technology—she wants to address. I explain how the purpose of our research must somehow address the purposes of the investigated practices and that therefore it makes little sense to take as point of departure a concept or theoretical definition. Instead, she should take the problems of practice as the starting point, and then find how any given concepts can help address those problems. I tell her that she does not need to feel that she is at

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the service of the concepts, but that concepts should be put at the service of the practices she wants to study. She engages emotionally in the conversation, expresses relief and tells me, “these have been the most fruitful 15 minutes of her PhD so far.” Vignette 2 Recently, I have accepted becoming co-supervisor of a student (student B), who has gone through personal difficulties that have prevented her from advancing her work during the last months. Her scholarship period is getting close to an end, period after which she will have to come back to her country of origin, where there will be restricted opportunities to continue advancing her thesis. After this period, she will come back to her native country in Africa, where she will have restricted opportunities to continue advancing her thesis. The first task that we work on is revising an article she has been writing, about what she has termed professional identity in the context of teacher education in her country. Through the paper, the student aims to document how mentor-mentee relations as part of the students’ praxis, contribute to establishing the students’ “professional identity.” She shows me the interviews she collected as data, which document interviews between mentors and teacher student after their first day of praxis, and here analyses thereof. In her presentation, she had identified a number of findings in the form of categories that then are substantiated with excerpts from interviews, quotations from the informants, and other ethnographic materials (Figure 12.1). I immediately observe a mismatch between her claims concerning the findings, which she Establishing roles and responsibilities Mentor: What else did you do to make your lesson successful? I was enjoying. I stopped writing. I wished you could say this, and it could happen. Mentee 2: You have to plan. You have to design the instructional materials that match with the content. You have to aim at the intellectual competences Mentor: Very true! What were the competences of today? Mentee 2: They had to identify the letter sound, to know its action, give other letters with the same sound, to know the written form (capital & small) and its application e.g. beginning of a name of a person, a sentence Mentor: I saw that it was done. What else did you do excellently? figure 12.1 Extract from a PhD student’s draft, published here with permission of the student

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highlights in the section’s sub-headings, and the actual empirical data that she presents and supposedly analyses. In the extract, the title refers to an action, “establishing roles and responsibilities” (Figure 12.1). However, upon looking at the excerpt that follows, I cannot see how the excerpt is exhibiting “establishing roles and responsibilities.” In the text that follows, where I would have expected to read the analyses that would make visible how the excerpt instantiates the category, I find brief observations that, while making brief reference to some of the lines in the excerpt, do not seem to be about “establishing roles and responsibilities.” I then understand how the categories the student is arriving at are intended to describe relevant dimensions of the teacher profession, but that how these categories exist as interactional3 objects of concern for the participants, is not specified. A gap exists between the abstract categories being presented as findings, and the empirical observations, which are presented only briefly, as if the abstract categories were what one could “see” directly in the excerpt, and therefore the analysis was unnecessary. I explain to the student, that she needs to pay more attention to the concerns and orientation of her participants. I ask her, “do you think that if, during the moment of the interview, if you had asked to the participants, ‘what are you doing now?’, they would have answered, ‘yes, we are establishing roles and responsibilities’?” She says no, and I invite her to return to the analyses together. 4.1 Competences of Professional Seeing, Now and Then The two vignettes above present two situations that I have experienced recently while being the “more knowledgeable other.” They document, among other things, the fact that I find myself now in a position where I can see things that those who are at an earlier stage in their career—as I was just a few years ago—cannot. But that is not to say that they do not have competences to see things. In fact, it would be a mistake to assume that these students simply do not see or have trouble seeing, for they do see things. They do exhibit a competence of seeing (in the second vignette) or of searching for things to be able to see (in the first vignette) that is not to be disregarded. Their competence of seeing is different than mine not so much because they do not have as much experience as I. Rather, the difference lies in the fact that their gaze is grounded in a way of understanding the production of scientific observations that is fundamentally different to the way I look at and for things when doing research. Common to both vignettes above—and they are only two examples of what I experience on a regular basis when it comes to students having troubles with getting their analytical work done—is a way of understanding qualitative

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analysis as the abstraction of general, formal categories. Analysis, from this view, is a form of abstraction. And, formally—as known by all students and experienced researchers—there are two possible paths to abstraction: induction (the seeking of categories by abstracting formal commonalities among multiple empirical instances) and deduction (the making sense of empirical data and phenomena by taking some abstract category or concept as the point of departure). It is possible from this perspective, then, to see how student A in vignette 1 is working on deductive premises, and student B in vignette 2 is working on the premises of induction. When I begun my PhD studies, took the formal paradigm as the point of departure. Having been educated in a quantitative, psychometric paradigm, psychological categories were observable to me in terms of frequency and regularity. That is the idea of pattern within which I operated, even before I could articulate it in adequate declarative form (as in a definition) dominated how I approached qualitative research. It was when I attempted to shift into a qualitative paradigm that I realized how deeply entrenched this old paradigm was in my language, in my orientation, in my way of being. I was a living reality of the way a research paradigm exists as an objective, but organic fact of scholar life. I remember reading L. S. Vygotsky, G. H. Mead, J. Dewey and G. Bateson, and doing my best to intellectually understand what they were writing. I read, for example, that pattern need not be understood in the formalistic way described above, but rather as the way in which living, organic creatures, as well as inorganic elements, are connected with each other in real, objective life (Bateson, 1979). I did read about the pattern that connects, as Bateson refers to it, which was not the outcome of abstraction but was the outcome of real genesis and development of forms. Analysis, then, is not abstraction, but the seeking after the real, organic connections that hold things, events, and lives, together in genetic and historical connection (Ilyenkov, 1977). I could understand that. Apparently, I could not implement such understanding in my actual way of conduct. For every time I tried to perform analyses of the video recordings, interviews, and other qualitative materials I had collected, my mentor would point out: you are still looking for abstractions, not for real, social phenomena. Intellectually, I felt I understood what that meant. But I failed again and again to implement the declarative premises as an actual program for action. Just as students A and B above, I felt deeply frustrated, specially at the beginning, when my ways of orienting for and towards information in my empirical materials, was so much intertwined with a formal, individualistic way of approaching social and psychological phenomena. I recall my mentor telling me something like: “if you want to go inside the head of individuals, and try to

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do an analysis from an individualist perspective, that is fine. Just be explicit about it, and do it. But if you really want to do the type of analysis you are saying you are doing—qualitative analyses of social interaction—then you need to get at the real social relation. What is it going on from the perspective of the participants?” (my recall). At that time, I, like students A and B, was subjected to a particular way of looking that required me to comply with a rigid way of extracting information in a way that did require to explicitly and purposefully ignore the concrete, messy and apparently uninteresting, self-evident reality of the people involved in the practices I wanted to study. Becoming “free” or gaining agency in that type of doing research meant to comply with the premise of abstraction, along with that of the existence of psychological categories that were general and abstract, yet individual and mental. To gain control over the conditions for producing scientific observations meant to control formal methods of analysis. But those methods were in conflict with the historical practice into which my mentor was introducing me. There, becoming empowered meant something different, and I needed to change my ways of looking.

Account 2: Becoming the Subject of Qualitative Methods Vignette 3 In the vignette here described, it is my first year during my postdoc. At this point, I have gone through four intense years of crafting an article-based PhD thesis in which I have come to master qualitative methods of analysis to some degree of autonomy. A most relevant part of my formation has been to have been introduced to co-authoring written empirical studies, and having been included as core participant in research data sessions as the ones described in Roth (Chapter 11). All of the later have shaped my ways of looking at and for data in very important ways. But of course, during my first year of postdoc—and hopefully at any point in my career trajectory—I still feel I have lots to learn. Particularly, I still and frequently struggle to get at the social core of the phenomena I research, and to find the relevance in the practices, rather than in the theories or conceptual predispositions that I bring to the research. A turning point, however, took place during a period in which I begun to be more and more aware of the changes I had been experiencing with regard to my competence of seeing relevance and quality when observing and reflecting upon social interactions (i.e., during video data sessions). In the situation described here, I am participating as a student and assistant during one of the

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seminars on rigorous data analysis, in which students are given the opportunity to share pieces of empirical data for joint analysis (Roth, Chapter 11). In particular, I am joining a group of PhD students who are discussing haiku—a short form of Japanese poetry—as a form and asset for mindfulness in education. The leading student has presented as data an interview that she has found online and which involves a journalist or media person as interviewer, and an artist with a long trajectory of writing haiku. We are analyzing the interview, discussing the ways in which both haiku and mindfulness are treated and taken up in the discussion as concepts and concerns, as well as examining the rigor of our claims about the text. I realize then that, while we are discussing these issues on haiku and mindfulness, we are in fact enacting some of the same competences and social interaction structures that the participants in the interview are enacting. I further become aware of how we are not only enacting some common characteristics or attributes, which one could abstract from both the interview and our discussion; though this might also be possible.4 I mean, we are not just talking the same language, and using similar wordings, or even gestures, as the participants in the interview are doing. Rather, we are enacting similar competences in that, in taking up and engaging with haiku as a practice—we have been in fact going through haiku’s formal structure of verses, have used it, referred to it in our conversation—we somehow are partaking in haiku as a real historical object. The same object that motivates the interview we analyze, as a concrete and social way of orienting, was motivating and orienting our conversation. It was just doing so in a different context and leading to different experiences and insights, but really the living praxis of doing and thinking about haiku. 4.2 Living the Praxis of Qualitative Method I recall this particular vignette here for I experienced it as part of a larger moment in my career in which seeing the relevance and structure of social phenomena begun to feel like something transparent; no longer a struggle, but rather an embodied and immediate way of being, or of living the praxis of method. I indeed began to feel free when confronting data and, actually, I not only felt free but also felt deeply motivated to go into analyzing any and every material of social relevance in my hands. This became visible in our data analysis sessions (see Roth, Chapter 11), in which my mentor and I would meet with other participants, both internal and external to our research lab, and would perform initial analyses together. It became a routine that both my mentor and I would take no longer than a few minutes to begin establishing the relevance and content of the social

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phenomena we were observing. This was the case to such an extent that, after the sessions some of the individuals present contacted me even though they had a higher rank and longer experience than I. They asked me for advice about how to see all the things we saw in the participants’ data. Our finding of the relevance and content occurred independently of the type of setting that we were presented with, as long as the data would exhibit concerted practices. We would just observe, attend, with care, to the ongoing interactions. That is all we needed to do. Relevance was there in the setting for us to see, for I—as my mentor had before me—had learned to let the worldly, social practices we attended to guide my gaze and show me what the relevance of the setting was. This relevance, then, was not the product of an inductive abstraction, for it was firmly anchored in experiencing, as close as possible, the very concrete, social situations that the data presented us with. It was not the outcome of deduction either, for no abstract concept would have anticipated the given events that we were to observe. Relevance was there for us to see and document, for relevance was in and of the social phenomena we were studying. This competence to let our gaze be guided and correspond with the social phenomena that we aimed to understand was, I gather, the competence that allowed us to come up with many insights and possible lines of inquiry. There are always too many interesting arising so my next lesson to learn—and which I am still learning today—is to follow one object among the many possible objects that can be of interest in and for education. But going into that would be a next chapter to this story—a chapter on purpose and choice in qualitative research—which goes beyond what I had set to discuss here.

5

Concluding Remarks

In this chapter, I present a narrative account of how, through apprenticeship in the praxis of qualitative research, I grew into a qualified scholar who now feels autonomous and knowledgeable in the field. Today, I guide students and colleagues, teach courses on qualitative research methods, and initiate students into qualitative research using the same apprenticeship approach that my mentors used with me. Becoming a competent qualitative methods researcher through apprenticeship was, in my case, a case of shifting and developing a professional vision, a form of looking at and for scientific observations about social learning phenomena. The metaphor of professional vision is important because it highlights both the embodied, affective, and cultural character of the process. As described above, being told about theory and methods would not have been

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enough. Developing a lived and living sense of the significance and implications of doing qualitative research involved getting vitally involved in a process of correspondence with the sort of phenomena that become visible when one takes the non-reductionist perspective described throughout this chapter. I use the term correspondence to describe the relation between observer and world (between scientist and the object of her research) in a way in which the world, here the social world, does not stand outside as a thing to explore without being changed by exploring it. Professional vision then is understood as an organic, intellectual, affective, and practical process of being with rather than outside or against the social world. As it has been said in anthropological research, citing Goethe, “to see the sun … the eyes must already respond to its light. But conversely, the sun can only shine in a world with eyes capable of so responding. Eyes and sun thus co-respond” (Ingold, 2015, p. 98). Just in the same way, becoming a competent researcher in qualitative research through apprenticeship is a process of coming to correspond with one’s own objects of research in a way in which observing is also a form of being transformed. Several of the chapters in this volume document different teaching and learning practices that lead to empowerment in and through learning qualitative methods. In this chapter, and as part of my efforts to make sense of my own narrative, I further specify a particular approach to understanding empowerment that takes the non-individualist, dialectical materialist premise that agency or power to act is determined by achieving control of the means of production of given cultural-historical practices. From this perspective, and as I have illustrated throughout my narrative, becoming empowered through apprenticeship cannot be disentangled from the cultural practices in which one is introduced and positioned as apprentice. In my narrative, I describe how different methodological paradigms offer different opportunities for gaining control over the means and conditions that allow producing scientific observations. Formal approaches require of learners (and professionals alike) to comply with specialized methods of observations that are designed to abstract formal analytical categories from empirical phenomena in ways that do let the methodology of observation unchanged. Whereas becoming competent in such research can be productive and necessary for multiple research purposes, as a praxis of seeing and of producing observations, it also constitutes a form of restrictive agency (Holzkamp, 2013). Many students, like the ones mentioned here, can find such experience restricting. Gaining control over the means for producing observations in the qualitative paradigm in which I have been trained—one that aligns with the pragmatist, dialectical materialist, and phenomenological literature cited through

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this chapter—requires joining and coming to terms with the social objects one aims to study in ways that cannot be pre-established or fixed by given methods.5 Empowerment here means being capable of joining cultural practices and ways of seeing the world, with the consequent possibility of emancipation (and capacity to empower others) that this relation with social objects entails.

Notes 1 Soviet psychologist Lev S. Vygotsky famously drew on this premise to formulate a general genetic law of cultural development, according to which “every function in the cultural development of the child appears on the stage twice, in two planes, first, the social, then the psychological, first between people as an intermental category, then within the child as a intramental category” (Vygotsky, 1997, p. 106). See also Roth (this volume). 2 Gert Biesta has described this way of approaching learning in terms of a learnification of education, where broader issues such as the purpose and place of education in society tend to be reduced or ignored all together, in favor of a view of learning as an individualistic concept that is open or empty with regard to content and direction (Biesta, 2010). 3 Throughout this chapter, I use the notion interaction, or social interaction, in order to make the reading accessible to a wider readership. However, by interaction I do mean a very specific phenomenon that is best described as transaction (Jornet, Roth, & Krange, 2016; Roth & Jornet, 2013). 4 As a researcher, I realize of the usefulness and importance of formal methods, even though I hold it that quality, as in qualitative research, is not about abstract form but as forms of organic, developmental, ecological relations (Jornet & Damsa, in press). 5 This is most explicitly stated in ethno-methodology, or the study of methods ordinary “people” use in making society visible (Garfinkel, 1967).

References Bateson, G. (1979). Mind and nature. A necessary unity. New York, NY: E. P. Dutton. Biesta, G. (2010). Good education in an age of measurement. Ethics, politics, democracy. Abington: Routledge. Clandinin, D. J., & Connelly, F. M. (2000). Narrative inquiry: Experience and story in qualitative research. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Dewey, J., & Bentley, A. F. (1999). Knowing and the known. In R. Handy & E. E. Hardwood (Eds.), Useful procedures of inquiry (pp. 97–209). Great Barrington: Behavioral Research Council. (First published in 1949)

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Garfinkel, H. (1967). Studies in ethnomethodology. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall. Goodwin, C. (1994). Professional vision. American Anthropologist, 96(3), 606–633. Hains, B. J., & Smith, B. (2012). Student-centered course design: Empowering students to become self-directed learners. Journal of Experiential Education, 35(2), 357–374. Holzkamp, K. (2013). Basic concepts of critical psychology. In E. Schraube & U. Osterkamp (Eds.), Psychology from the standpoint of the subject. Selected writings of Klaus Holzkamp (pp. 19–27). Houndsmills: Palgrave Macmillan. Ilyenkov, E. V. (1977). Dialectical logic. Essays on its history and theory. Moscow: Progress Publishers. Ingold, T. (2015). The life of lines. Abingdon: Routledge. Jornet, A., & Damsa, C. (in press). Unit of analysis from an ecological perspective. Beyond the individual/social dichotomy. Learning, Culture, and Social Interaction. Jornet, A., Roth, W.-M., & Krange, I. (2016). A transactional approach to transfer episodes. Journal of the Learning Sciences, 25(2), 285–330. Koschmann, T., LeBaron, C., Goodwin, C., & Feltovich, P. (2011). “Can you see the cystic artery yet?” A simple matter of trust. Journal of Pragmatics, 43(2), 521–541. Lapan, R. T., Kardash, C. A., & Turner, S. (2002). Empowering students to become self-regulated learners. Professional School Counseling, 5, 257–265. Roth, W.-M., & Jornet, A. (2013). Situated cognition. WIREs Cognitive Science, 4(5), 463–478. Roth, W.-M., & Jornet, A. (2015). Situational awareness as an instructable and instructed matter in multi-media supported debriefing: A case study from aviation. Computer Supported Cooperative Work, 24(5), 461–508. Vygotsky, L. S. (1997). The collected works of L. S. Vygotsky, Vol. 3: Problems of the theory and history of psychology. New York, NY: Plenum.

CHAPTER 13

Adoption and Long-term Personal Effects of Reflexive Grounded Theory Franz Breuer

1

Introduction

Encouraged by reading Anselm Strauss’s (1987) book Qualitative Analysis for Social Scientists, I discovered the grounded theory approach for myself and my research projects at the end of the 1980s when I was a professor at the Institute of Psychology at the University of Muenster (Germany). A group of committed students and I jointly endeavored to adopt this methodology and to apply it to psychological questions. Inspired by, among other works, Georges Devereux’s book From Anxiety to Method in the Behavioral Sciences (1967; see also Breuer, 2005), we did not consider the role of the researcher qua individual to be a source of error that—according to prevailing psychological methodology— must be controlled and eliminated. Rather, we regarded it as an important epistemic window in the sense that the researcher’s personal characteristics (points of view, perspectives, etc.) and (corporal) resonances (associations, feelings, etc.) can be used productively as a knowledge heuristic—provided they are self-reflectively worked through and that this reflection is made a systematic element of the research methodology. Over time, we came to refer to our variant of this research approach as reflexive grounded theory methodology (RGTM).1 Reflexive grounded theory methodology can be understood as a research style and a general approach to, and a way of thinking about, studying social phenomena that may—or may not—“fit” the researcher as a person, the research project, and the institutional and disciplinary situation; and that, once adopted and practiced, leaves its mark on, or in, the protagonists—a mark that may persist into their future professional careers. That is, a clear goal in our work consisted in providing the conditions so that graduate students would be empowered to be successful not only in the academic context but also in their subsequent everyday lives and professional careers. Those individuals deciding to engage with, adopt, and practice the reflexive grounded theory approach acquires their own story: How do I get to it, and how do I get in? How do I adopt it? How do I work with it? How strongly do © koninklijke brill nv, leideN, 2020 | DOI: 10.1163/9789004419551_016

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I identify with the approach? And how do I get out again? How do I reach an end—characterized by continuity or by discontinuity or break-off? And how does the story continue—for example, in everyday or professional praxis— beyond using reflexive grounded theory methodology in a final thesis or doctoral dissertation? It is the story of the development of a fit between the person (the researcher), the (research and practice) project/problem, the field/lifeworld, and the methodology, which takes place in an institutional, disciplinary, and professional environment. And it is the story of a shaping that may go beyond research methodology and embed itself more deeply in the person and the soul of the protagonists. In what follows, I examine, on the one hand, some experiences in this regard that I had with students of psychology at the University of Muenster when conducting seminars on (reflexive) grounded theory methodology and supervising final theses and doctoral dissertations, and, on the other hand, empowerment stories recounted by the protagonists themselves, who described them as being of importance for their future life stories.

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Disciplinary Adoption of (Reflexive) Grounded Theory, and the Particularities of Psychology

Finding and adopting the grounded theory research concept may be likely or unlikely, depending on the parameters of the discipline or degree program in question; accessing it at university may be easy or hardly possible. For students of sociology for example, suitable opportunities to acquire knowledge of grounded theory in seminars, research workshops, and the like may be available at their place of study within the framework of a pluralistic range of methods seminars. Sociology students may also receive good guidance and mentoring in their own first grounded theory project. By contrast, students of psychology do not have comparable opportunities to access this research approach—at least not at German-language universities, where the prevailing understanding of science has natural science ambitions, and the corresponding conception of methodology (theory/hypothesis testing, experimenting, measuring, counting, calculating …) leaves little institutional room for alternative approaches. Deviations from the norm are frowned upon in this disciplinary setting. Besides psychology, there are a number of other disciplines in which qualitative methodology in general, and grounded theory in particular, are not the norm. In these disciplines, protagonists who embark on a grounded theory adventure in their research projects are regarded as pioneers—with all the advantages and disadvantages that this brings. On the one hand, others are curious and look forward to innovative perspectives and results; on the other hand, mistrust and reservations regarding the unfamiliar methodology come

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into play. For example—in the best case—students who use the grounded theory methodology in their theses or dissertations encounter benevolently interested supervisors and reviewers who, when difficulties arise, take refuge in their “methodological innocence” (“I don’t understand the first thing about it!”). Nonetheless, the increasing diversification of grounded theory across different disciplines, and the growing interest in the approach within the disciplinary cultures, has created quite a few free spaces for independent pioneering projects. Students who engage with and adopt grounded theory during their psychology studies, swim against the current of the disciplinary mainstream when they implement this choice of research approach. Moreover, the question is whether and how they (could possibly) come up with the idea of pursuing such a research approach in the first place, because in their methods curriculum they usually hear little or at most disparaging remarks about it. If, despite disciplinary ignorance and opposition, students wish to adopt the methodology, they must do so by crossing disciplinary boundaries—in other words, they must “procure it externally.” However, opportunities for systematically adopting the grounded theory approach in the context of academic curricula are rare; a lot of transfer work in the area of grounded theory takes place within the framework of research workshops and conferences offered by various providers (see Breuer & Schreier, 2007, 2010). And when students with grounded-theory ambitions decide to base their final thesis or dissertation projects on grounded theory, they usually find themselves working under diaspora conditions, without an accompanying group of research peers. Their routes to empowerment certainly are arduous. They need methodological support or supervision, as well as a reviewer who is kindly and tolerantly disposed toward (reflexive) grounded theory methodology. The search for such supportive individuals and contexts can be complicated and time-consuming. Hence, a grounded theory project of their own becomes a strenuous and precarious undertaking that calls for a lot of courage, effort, self-will, and perseverance. Moreover, it is often difficult to gain an overview of representatives of the grounded theory approach and of local (reflexive) grounded theory methodology “nests.” In the following, I present some of the different experiences arising for students in their first encounter with grounded theory, including those that led students to drop the course when they felt that taking another one would better empower them. 2.1 Search An “external” PhD student who requested my support for her doctoral project wrote:

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The first supervisor of my dissertation […] is very open to qualitative research and has so far strongly supported my ideas and suggestions regarding the methodology. However, during the search for a second supervisor, whom we would like to enlist before we start the data collection, critical voices have been raised from various directions, most of which have advised against an exclusively qualitative approach. Especially the psychology faculty […], to which I belong with my thesis, has shown little openness toward the qualitative research approach. Thus, I have unfortunately either been advised against qualitative research altogether, or I have been “warned” in view of the subsequent defense, or I have been advised to use a research design with a quantitative focus and a smaller qualitative part—“on the side,” as it were. Reactions such as these to my qualitative research project have both annoyed me a little and unsettled me. My specific situation as a teacher of reflexive grounded theory methodology in a university disciplinary environment can be compared—with gentle irony— to the situation of the little Gallic resistance village surrounded by Roman occupying forces in the Asterix and Obelix comic books that are so popular in Germany and other European countries: a “little island” in Gaul surrounded by people of other beliefs who observe the strange happenings sometimes kindly and supportively, sometimes ignorantly or even suspiciously and with hostility. Students who have found their way to me as a teacher of reflexive grounded theory methodology, have (ideal-typically differentiated) either been (a) pre-informed and purposively searching or (b) uninformed and guided by coincidental or contextual circumstances—stumbling in, as it were. Students who took the first access route were often dissatisfied with the common psychology study program; when they started studying psychology, they expected it to be different—for example, closer to people, to everyday activity, or to “natural” social life-worlds. Now they wanted to (also) get to know other psychological ideas and approaches beyond the testing-measuringcalculating habitus of the discipline. They were often disappointed and frustrated by their experiences of psychology; some were even toying with the idea of dropping out or switching to another program. In some cases, the encounter with the (reflexive) grounded theory approach created so much motivation and identification that the students continued their studies after all, or with enthusiasm. 2.2 Rescue One senior psychology undergraduate recounted:

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In view of the very quantitative orientation of psychology […], the possibility of engaging with grounded theory was, for me, kind of like a life raft. I had often considered dropping out of the psychology program. It was a mixture of skepticism toward “quantification” and the ostensibly hard facts, on the one hand, and a philosophical concern that I would thereby see the world depicted more in a distorted than in a representative way. 2.3 Home One former student, who was a member of our research group for a number of years, first as a senior psychology undergraduate and then as PhD student, recalled: I struggled with my identity as a psychologist while I was at university. Qualitative research […] and the research group […] became the point of identification for me during my studies […]. There, I experienced a basic feeling of home, academically and personally; there, I had the impression that this was the way psychological research could be: It may be arduous and time-consuming […], but something comes of it. Qualitative research results can really be novel, surprising, entertaining, useful. And the same goes for the research process. Students who took the second access route, sometimes ended up in one of my reflexive grounded theory research seminars because the substantive topic (that was to be the research object in the seminar) mentioned in the title interested them; some students chose the seminar for the—quite banal—reason that the seminar date best fitted into their schedule of other commitments. In both these cases, the other approach to research was not sought or anticipated; hence, these students experienced surprise and dismay, which they dealt with in different ways: by rapidly switching to another seminar that offered firm ground in already familiar territory, or by cautiously, tentatively engaging with the unfamiliar approach—with a more or less “happy” progression and outcome. 2.4 Cancelled I received the following communication from one seminar participant: Just a brief note to let you know that I have switched from your seminar to [XY seminar]. The reason is that, for me personally and for my professional career, I will benefit more from quantitative empirical methods than from grounded theory method, which is why I want to avail of

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the opportunity to increase my knowledge of these methods in the [XY] seminar. 2.5 Surprised Another seminar participant recounted: Actually, I chose the seminar because of the topic […]. I wasn’t aware that it was a seminar that worked with qualitative GTM. […] The principle was so fundamentally different from the quantitative research doctrines that I had gotten to know up to then that it took me a while to abandon the notion of standardization and objectivity and experimental methodology’s image of humanity. 2.6 Unfamiliar A former student whose final thesis was based on grounded theory methodology recalled: In the course of my life I had always been able to easily meet all scholastic and academic performance requirements addressed to me […]. My usual “recipe for success” suddenly failed in the case of GTM. When I tried to apply that methodology, I couldn’t really draw on what I had learnt/practiced up till then. This led to great insecurity and even to fear of failure. It was not at all to my liking that I was supposed to free myself from the familiar, the safe […]. I realized that a certain amount of creativity and at times the almost playful handling of data material was called for (in order to “give emergence a chance,” as I formulated it for myself at some stage), which was not really my style. To be able to successfully complete my final thesis using GTM, I had to move out of my comfort zone. For long periods, this wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience. That it finally “worked” after all, and that I was eventually able to proudly present “my own” categories, made this academic achievement special (because, by my standards, it was the result of unusually hard work). It was an important experience for me that I was able to master something that was not, in principle, really my thing at first or that was not really my style—provided I had the courage to really engage with it and to leave familiar paths/patterns of thought. 2.7 Arrived One seminar participant recounted: When I first read the basic concept of GTM, I felt that I had arrived. It was the way I had always imagined research in the study of psychology to be.

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I also felt […] disappointed that such an approach had been withheld from me for a full two years. The basic concept of GTM really appealed to me. And I was also very happy for myself and about my choice of seminar. However, in the group discussions I also became aware of the disadvantages of GTM. How long would it take before I knew for myself what I had actually been looking for? How was it possible to work in a group with one and the same topic yet such different concepts? It all sounded a bit unstructured. And I had my doubts whether this to some extent unstructured approach was the right thing for someone like me who needed structure and clear goals. In retrospect, I can no longer imagine […] any other approach to such a sensitive topic [own empirical project on mourning the loss of a partner]. In the case of both of the above-mentioned access routes, under these disciplinary circumstances, students devote considerable time to studying the basics of reflexive grounded theory methodology and methods to be able to suspend their previous socialization in the “quantitative” way of thinking and to open their eyes to another social scientific way of approaching the world.

3

Beyond the (Psychology) Degree Program

(Reflexive) Grounded theory is an alternative scientific methodology characterized inter alia by a discovery-oriented, creative way of thinking, theoretical openness, a unique approach to collecting data and making field contacts, the analysis of data using forms of hermeneutic interpretation, and self-reflection on the part of the researcher. The engagement with this alternative methodology has a formative effect and a potential that, in my experience, extends beyond the confines of a seminar, a final thesis, or the time spent at university and has consequences for the protagonist’s subsequent professional practice. That is, engaging with the method empowers students beyond the course and, where relevant, beyond the completion of their thesis for which they had used grounded theory. The grounded theory approach is based on principles that also play a role in our everyday internalization practices. The grounding of concepts and schemas in experience of recurrent patterns (of events and action) is something that is of fundamental importance in the ontogenetic development of concepts and the understanding of processes in, and our active engagement with, our mundane life-world. It is characteristic of praxis in the mundane life-world that the development and application of such schemas of action and understanding take place mainly under situational pressure and without reflective

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self-awareness. In the reflexive grounded theory approach, these principles are further developed and applied in a skilled, analytically detailed, conscious, and self-reflective manner. It is probable that the adoption of the methodology has repercussions for everyday, or life-world, views, ways of thinking, and practices. This relates, for example, to action in professional praxis, but it sometimes extends also into the private sphere. The identificatory adoption of the (reflexive) grounded theory approach to research has consequences for protagonists’ personal habitus in different areas of activity. With this notion we are not alone. 3.1 Characteristics of Grounded Theorists Anselm Strauss and Juliet Corbin addressed the personal consequences of learning and practicing grounded theory methodology under the heading “Characteristics of Grounded Theorists” (Strauss & Corbin, 2016, pp. 129–131). Against the background of their experience in training researchers in grounded theory, they note inter alia the following characteristics: The researchers we’ve trained tend to really enjoy working with data, not simply with ideas in the abstract. They relish the interplay of themselves working with the data. […] They are unafraid to draw on their own experiences when analyzing materials, having rejected more traditional ideas of “objectivity” and the dangers of using personal experience. Our ex-students regard their ideas not only as initially wholly provisional but even after publication, as qualifiable, and in part open to negotiation. (p. 129) As further stable habitus characteristics of grounded theory researchers, the authors cite flexibility, openness, the ability to sustain ambiguity, enjoyment of the play of ideas, complete absorption in the work process, skepticism toward established theories, self-reflectiveness, and “the hope that their work also has direct or potential relevance for non-academic audiences” (Strauss & Corbin, 2016, p. 130; see also Corbin & Strauss, 2015, p. 5). When giving thought to the preparation of the new revised edition of our introductory textbook, Reflexive Grounded Theory (Breuer, Muckel, & Dieris, 2019), I asked a number of former students who had participated in my psychology research group or who had been involved in the development of the conception of reflexive grounded theory methodology to write something about their experiences of the long-term effects that the adoption of this research approach had had on their professional and private lives. Their writings reflect the level of empowerment that the grounded theory method has brought to their lives.

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2.2 Request: Grounded Theory Methodology – Acquisition and Beyond The following is the letter I wrote to my former students: Dear former grounded theory protagonists, Insofar as I can still reach them, I am writing to former psychology students at the University of Muenster who, under my supervision, wrote their final thesis or dissertation based on the grounded theory methodology (GTM) or a corresponding self-reflective research approach. In my view, GTM is not merely a research instrument; rather, it can shape or influence a way of thinking and a perspective that can be related in a generalized way to other spheres of activity and areas of life—for example one’s professional activity and one’s everyday life. My request to you is as follows: When you look back on the methodological or research experience of GTM, can you detect traces of this “bug” in your subsequent or current thinking and action praxis? Are there lines of continuity or linkages in any manner? It would be great if you could give this question some thought and write something for me—be it short or long—in the next while. I will be grateful for every report and every comment. There are absolutely no “specifications” regarding form and length. Just do it exactly as you see fit! The idea behind my request is as follows: (Together with Petra Muckel of the University of Oldenburg, a very early fellow GTM protagonist) I would like to write once again a kind of textbook and a progress report (“… 25 years of work with GTM”—or words to that effect) in which this aspect could play a role. And finally, an autobiographical reminiscence: This autumn, my “active time” at the University of Muenster comes to an end—and, with that, the “qualitative methods or GTM” file at Muenster psychology (and, as far as psychology is concerned: also beyond Muenster) will be closed (for the time being?). In other/neighboring social science disciplines, however, the tradition is still current and alive and kicking. […] In this respect, for me, it is also a bit of “taking stock” of my working life. I would be delighted if you would share your thoughts on this question. […] Franz Breuer—Muenster, in February 2014 Twenty-three former students wrote self-reflective memos addressing this question in different modes of presentation and in more or less detail. The length of the (reflexive) grounded theory history on which the respondents could look back ranged from 25 years to one year. The authors work in different

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psychological practice fields, for example as psychotherapists, experts, counselors, in prisons, in continuing professional development, or at schools and universities.

4

Taking Stock Retrospectively: What Experiences Are Associated with (Reflexive) Grounded Theory and What After-Effects Do They Have?

In the texts that the respondents produced, mention is made, first, of the routes to, and the circumstances of the acquisition of, (reflexive) grounded theory at university, and the empowering effects associated with the intensive engagement with this approach. Second, respondents outlined the aftereffects experienced in their professional praxis as psychologists, and in some cases the after-effects on the educational or continuing professional development pathways to professional praxis. When adopting the (reflexive) grounded theory approach, the experience of being special, of being deviant, irritating, and marginalized in the university psychology disciplinary environment made a significant personal impression on the respondents. Some saw the adoption of (reflexive) grounded theory as an alternative to the (perceived) wasteland of the standard degree program; in some cases, it enabled the protagonists to avoid dropping out of psychology out of disappointment at the fact that the design of the curriculum was incompatible with their interests. Other respondents experienced the engagement with (reflexive) grounded theory methodology as a useful expansion of the range of research access points to include an approach that had its place next to the usual methodology—that is, as an opportunity to think outside the box. The experience of deviating from the disciplinary norms and the associated challenges of self-positioning provided the materials for the impressions, discoveries, and reflections that the protagonists discussed in their retrospective accounts. With regard to the personal characteristics associated with (reflexive) grounded theory methodology, protagonists described a number of generalized attitudes toward the world, the thematic field, their own actions and own persons, and special focuses of attention or sensitivities. 4.1 Attitude 1 One respondent whose final thesis in psychology was based on reflexive grounded theory methodology recalled: Working with GTM meant developing an attitude in the context of science that allowed for an atmosphere of curiosity, interest, and openness.

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At the same time, this openness required a thirst for adventure because, at first, there was nothing to hold on to, one could only look for what could be found, what was there. Using aspects and dimensions to bring order to what could be found meant that the ordering principles were also flexible and had to adapt to a large extent to what emerged from the material, rather than hastily reducing the complexity of the material, which would inevitably have led to the loss of some reality or “truth” as a result of the reduction. Instead, it was possible to cultivate an openness in which the things that could be discovered with this method, namely findings that were contained in the material itself and were hidden at first, could show themselves. This emanates from and, in my view, corresponds to, a more general attitude that expresses a certain way of confronting the complex world and human existence. 4.2 Attitude 2 A former doctoral student whose dissertation was based on reflexive theory methodology recounted: A more modest impact aspiration and an attitude of not knowing and of wanting to openly explore and reflect are not exactly in line with the current zeitgeist. In my view, a superordinate, albeit probably unintended, societal value of GMT methodology lies in these potentially subversive social impacts. In a social environment in which logics of growth, optimization, and increase, and the associated inconsiderate and irresponsible exploitation of human, social, and ecological resources, are established as the superordinate key objective, it is essential that we have places in which ideas and possibilities of otherness are at least conceivable. For me, a qualitative psychological way of looking at things has a personal and practical significance because it generates quality of life when one discovers that what is (ostensibly) mundane is often quite unusual and what is unusual is often quite mundane. There are more things to be amazed about than you think. In their memos, the respondents mentioned generalized attitudes in or toward the relationship between the self and the (social) world that had developed between the time when (reflexive) grounded theory methodology was adopted and the time in professional praxis. They frequently indicated that the following attitudes had become second nature to them: – The attitude of going into the (problem) field; the intensive engagement with a problem/work field, with a topic, and with the actors in the field. – Tolerance of uncertainty, the ability to tolerate situations of uncertainty in a relaxed way.

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– The attitude of patient trust in emergence, of wait-and-see, of building on knowledge in the course of the process; letting the focus on the issue meander; the avoidance of hasty answers, interpretations, or recipe-like problem solutions; sometimes an almost contemplative attitude. – The attitude of trust and transparency in contacts: the transparent design of praxis arrangements and scenarios for the research (and other interaction) partners; the avoidance of hidden or concealed strategy elements; the striving for transparency as part of the effort to win the trust of the partners. – Efforts to understand the other/the stranger—with the awareness of the limitation of one’s own possibilities for understanding. – An attitude of openness toward other/unfamiliar worlds, perspectives, truth claims—despite the knowledge that there is no such thing as tabula rasa openness; the perception of openness as a pathway or an ideal, not as a (reachable) goal. – The attitude of questioning and flexibilization of one’s own patterns, of what appears to be self-evident, of traditional (ordering) principles and schemas; the relativization of correct–false dichotomies; the willingness to abandon familiar patterns of thought; the reflexive oscillation between own and foreign. – The heuristic of comparison; the search for contrasts that open one’s eyes to the existing as contingent and made. – Self-awareness and self-reflexivity as tools; the sensitive and respectful attitude toward the relevance of one’s own person in the context of knowledge and/or praxis; the focusing on one’s own person in interactions in the work field as a “disruptive factor”; the observation of one’s own activities in jointly produced enactments of interactions, of one’s becoming part of the system. – Putting trust in intuition, in what is felt, in the associative and the subjective—instead of only in the rational, the measured, and the objective. – The joy of discovery; interest in new things; a taste for intellectual adventure; a sense of wonder. – Focusing on and valuing the individual case, the particular—rather than putting emphasis on frequencies, averages, and means. – The all-is-data principle; the collection of all kinds of things; the broad interest in associated phenomena and also in trivial things that can be used as information. 4.3 Looking, Hearing, Feeling One respondent, who was a member of our research group for many years, and who now works as a pastor, wrote:

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I am out of the ordinary as a person, with my activities, and also with the freedom that I have […]. The qualitative background was helpful, especially during the phase when I was entering the field […]: I avoided […] actionism; instead, I looked, listened, and felt a lot. This attitude often saved me from putting my foot in it. I didn’t immediately take personally, as an insult, reservations in the initial phase toward me as a person or—even more so—toward my profession, but rather saw them as interesting field phenomena that were worth examining. To this day, I tend not to view and evaluate events, developments, and topics “floating on the surface” in the field from just one perspective; rather, I try to take different—equal and sometimes hardly compatible—perspectives. When doing so, I am willing to accept contradictory “truths.” My recollection from my time at university is that this is called “binocularity”: Deep perception can come about where two retinal images are not quite the same: The brain uses the difference between the “truths” to calculate the depth. Respondents described the attentiveness and sensitivity stimulated and fostered by the experience of (reflexive) grounded theory methodology in the following areas (points of contact and overlaps with the above-mentioned attitudes are apparent): – The experience of the fit between the person and the methodology was of paramount importance: the realization that this research approach was strongly linked to personal patterns of thought and action and to skill characteristics, and that it may therefore have been a stroke of good luck or a difficult challenge with regard to favored or accustomed patterns and preferences: Do I need clear long-term procedural planning? Can I tolerate uncertainty? Do I have a weakness for creativity? In some descriptions of the process of adoption, mention was made of “finding something that was long sought after”; in others, the difficult struggle to give up accustomed ways of thinking and roads to success was emphasized. – Experiences of the self-referentiality of the research: of working with and consciously deploying one’s own person, attentively registering one’s own associative and emotional resonances in the research context, and using the opportunities for knowledge that they offered—and of working on one’s own person and exploiting as confidently as possible the full “stimulus value” (Devereux 1967, p. 27) that characterizes the researcher as a person. – Experiences with the complexity of verbal contact; the interpersonal sensitivity and the recognition of transactional phenomena in the relationship with the other.

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– Experiences of working on and with one’s own preconceptions and preconcepts: how one’s own way of looking at things guides and shapes the perception and evaluation of situations, persons, and actions; that one’s own viewpoint is one of several possible perspectives; that all attempts to sort and organize are relative; and how one can recognize and flexibilize one’s own way of seeing things (by means of self-reflective practices, such as writing, discussing, and the alternation of approaching and withdrawing). – The experiences of the proximity to everyday life that is associated with projects based on (reflexive) grounded theory methodology led protagonists to focus their attention on the interface of the world of theory and the empirical and practical world. The programmatic oscillation between, and the alignment of, life-world phenomena and theoretical conceptualizations became a cultivated figure of thought. – The experience of the attentive and sensitive way of dealing with research partners: they are regarded as reflexive subjects, addressed as experts in their life situations; the importance of meeting on equal terms was acknowledged; the research partners’ reflexive possibilities and abilities are fostered and used during contact by encouraging them to talk naturally, that is, in accordance with their own presentation habitus; they are encouraged to tell about their own life-world from their own perspective and with their own logic; sensitive attention is paid to the transactional phenomena during the contact. – Experiences with the nuancing of concepts and language: that what matters is how something is designated by one’s research partner; that it can be of importance for one’s knowledge formation to pay attention to the vocabulary or jargon of the research partners; and that it is important to carefully weigh up one’s own concept terms with regard to how well they fit the object—such aspects and levels were given prominent importance and attention in the memos. As has become apparent in the present chapter, (reflexive) grounded theory methodology is not “handed in at reception,” as it were, when leaving the time and site of one’s own research project. Rather, it has long-term empowering effects that go beyond the instrumental level and shape many areas of the person and the personality of reflexive grounded theory protagonists.

Acknowledgements The present chapter is a translation of a slightly modified version of chapter 8 of Breuer, F., Muckel, P., & Dieris, B. (2019). Reflexive Grounded Theory.

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Eine Einführung für die Forschungspraxis [Reflexive Grounded Theory. An Introduction to Research Praxis] (4th ed). Wiesbaden, Germany: Springer. It is used with the kind permission of the publisher. The text was translated from the German by Miriam Geoghegan. I thank Wolff-Michael Roth and Miriam Geoghegan for their helpful suggestions when revising the chapter.

Note 1 A brief account of the development of reflexive grounded theory methodology can be found, for example, in Breuer (2000). A first description of this research approach and some exemplary project results were published in Breuer (1996). The condensed “textbook version” of the approach (Breuer, 2009) is now in its fourth— greatly extended and co-authored—edition (Breuer, Muckel, & Dieris, 2019).

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(Eds.), Handbuch Qualitative Forschung in der Psychologie [Handbook of qualitative research in psychology] (pp. 408–420). Wiesbaden, Germany: VS Verlag für Sozialwissenschaften. Corbin, J., & Strauss, A. L. (2015). Basics of qualitative research: Techniques and procedures for developing grounded theory (4th ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Devereux, G. (1967). From anxiety to method in the behavioral sciences. The Hague, The Netherlands: Mouton & Co. Strauss, A. L. (1987). Qualitative analysis for social scientists. New York, NY: Cambridge University Press. Strauss, A. L., & Corbin, J. (2016). Methodological assumptions. In C. Equit & C. Hohage (Eds.), Handbuch Grounded Theory. Von der Methodologie zur Forschungspraxis [Handbook of grounded theory. From methodology to research praxis] (pp. 128–140). Weinheim, Germany: Beltz/Juventa.

Index academic writing 2, 8, 13, 14, 17–37, 88, 128, 140 accountability 88 acquisition of (reflexive) grounded theory 214 active learning 15, 58, 98–115 active voice 1, 14, 17, 21–23, 143 adult learner, learning 15, 73, 74, 159–161, 163–165 Africentric 161–162 agency, expanded 194 agency, restrictive 192–193, 202 andragogy 2, 8, 97, 159–165 apprenticeship 8, 95, 97, 98, 105, 169–171, 173–188, 190–193, 201, 202 archival research 98, 105, 112–114 arts-based research 7, 18, 25, 26, 28, 30, 32, 37, 95, 117–126, 146, 149 attitude(s) 3, 27, 39–41, 44–49, 51, 131, 144, 183, 188, 214–217 beginner’s mind 41, 45 bias 26, 61–63, 70, 72, 73, 155, 158 case study 50, 67, 140–142, 145, 146, 154, 158 collaborative engagement 63, 76, 142, 149 community of practice 4, 7, 149 compassion 29, 42, 45, 49, 76, 133 competence, competent 101, 118, 125, 163, 170, 173, 175, 187, 190, 194–197, 200–202 concept map 20 contemplation 14, 15, 20, 42, 43, 48, 49, 52, 216 creativity 15, 79, 129, 210, 217 critical evaluation 74 critical feminist theorym 161 critical psychology 191, 192 critical race theory 161, 162 critical theory 59, 60, 68

distance learning 58, 59, 61–66, 70–73, 75 diversity in the classroom 84, 92 drafting 20, 21 dual coding theory 130 editing 14, 18, 21–23 empathy, empathic 44, 45, 49 empowerment 2–8, 13, 16, 58–76, 95–98, 100, 162, 169, 171, 173–188, 190–195, 202, 203, 206, 207, 212 engagement 42–44, 82, 85, 91, 95, 96, 100, 107, 142, 211, 214, 215 epistemology 16, 27, 40, 58, 61, 68, 192 ethics, ethical 1, 45, 46, 49, 78, 133, 137, 184 ethnography, ethnographic 9, 46, 68, 76, 98, 107, 146, 179, 196 ethnomethodology 171, 203 experiential learning 15, 43, 54, 74, 144 field method 179 field research 14, 170, 174 fieldnote 105, 107–111, 114, flexibility 15, 39, 43, 44, 54, 71, 81, 92, 178, 212 formal methods 195–197 free writing 20 grounded theory 8, 9, 22, 25, 26, 110, 146, 171, 205–219 habitus, personal 212 hermeneutic(s) 26, 36, 45, 63, 103, 146, 155, 158, 211 interaction analysis 181–183, 186 interpretivism 59, 60, 68 interviewing 7, 15, 70, 78–92, 105, 108–112, 114, 180 intuition 26, 216 journaling 25, 78, 86, 88, 92

data session 171, 181–183, 186, 188, 199 debriefing, briefing 140, 142, 144–147, 149, 157–158 dialectics, dialectic 102, 103, 105, 106, 108, 114 discovery writer 19–21

learner-centered teaching 74 learning community 16, 78–92 life-world 206, 208, 211, 212, 218 logistics management 61, 65, 75

222 marginalized student 160, 162 meditation 40–42, 44, 47–51, 53–55, 121 messiness of learning 75 mindful inquiry 45 mindfulness children for 42 definition 41 effects of 42 in higher education 42–43 in qualitative research 43–45 narrative inquiry 22, 67, 146, 190–191 narrative responses 63 online interviewing course 78–92 ontology 58, 61, 68 openness 14, 15, 44, 47–48, 54, 208, 211, 212, 214–216 paradigm shift 62 participant observation, observer 67, 105–107, 114 participant profile 62, 63 passive voice 23, 24, 141 personal characteristics 205, 214 phenomenology, phenomenological 25, 45, 63, 78, 134, 146, 154, 194, 202 philosophical stance 7, 15, 58–76 poetry 26–31, 87, 97, 117, 119–124, 128, 131, 132, 149, 200 positionality 7, 15, 16, 58–76, 79 positivism 139 post modernism 27, 60 post positivism 72 post structuralism 17, 27, 147 practice 1, 2, 4–9, 14–16, 26, 78, 84–86, 89, 91, 103, 105, 109, 113, 119, 120–122, 125, 129, 130, 139, 142, 145, 164, 174–180, 183, 187, 188, 190–203, 206, 210–212, 214, 218 practice interview activity 78, 84–86, 89, 91 pragmatism, pragmatist 58, 63, 66, 72, 76, 176, 191, 194, 202 problem, ill-defined 140 procrastinator 19 professional vision 8, 171, 190, 191, 193, 194, 201, 202

index purposeful sampling 145 qualitative genre 2, 22, 25, 142, 148 qualitative researcher 7, 18, 22, 39, 44, 58, 78, 79, 88–90, 117, 123–125, 139, 148, 183, 190 qualitative research methods 1, 2, 4–6, 9, 13–15, 39–56, 58, 62, 68, 69, 78, 80, 95, 97, 101, 102, 128, 140, 147, 171, 172, 194, 195, 201, rapport building 44, 84 recursive stages (writing process) 19–21 reflections 2, 9, 14, 26–31, 36, 40, 46, 47, 49–54, 58–59, 61, 68–70, 73, 76–79, 82–84, 86–92, 97–98, 131, 145, 205 reflexivity 7, 15, 16, 27, 28, 44, 45, 54, 78–92 relationships and interviewing research proposal 111, 151–158 research questions, a priori 2, 18, 25, 28, 142, 143, 145, 148, 151, 156, 157 rigor, rigorous 5, 111, 175, 183–187, 200 risk-free learning 88 scenario 2, 71, 86, 89, 96, 140, 142–146, 149, 150, 151, 216 self-reflection 211 self-reflexivity 216 self-regulate self-regulated learners 18, 96, 142, 145, 160, 194 internal feedback 145 semiotic media 128 sequential composer 19 simulation 2, 7, 78, 85, 96, 139–158 situated action 175 sketch journals 20 social constructionism, social constructivism 187 speaking into a tape recorder 20 student international 1 military student reflections 58, 74, 75 student-centered pedagogy 97 student–professor relationship 16, 79 studenting 100, 101, 114 subjectivity 137, 194 supervision, supervisor 4, 27, 98, 101, 102, 114, 123, 145, 174, 177, 207, 208, 213

index systematic editing plan 21–22 theoretical framework 1, 25–28, 69, 102, 129, 142, 144, 148, 149, 153, 156, 158, 160, 162 theory 1, 2, 7–9, 22, 25, 26, 30, 33, 59, 60, 63, 67–71, 74, 75, 78–92 thinking aloud 5, 20 transcription 4, 5, 47, 107, 121, 155, 158, 182–186, 188 transformation 2, 15, 41, 60, 69, 70, 76, 104, 170, 171, 191, 194 transformative learning 15, 68, 73, 74

223 transmediation, transmediated 8, 128–138, 162–163 transpersonal psychology 45 undergraduate teaching 40, 45–54 Venn diagram 20 writing as inquiry 17 writing for publication and presentation 17, 22–24 written reflections 67, 83