Informal Learning, Practitioner Inquiry and Occupational Education: An Epistemological Perspective 9780367894849, 9781003019473

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Informal Learning, Practitioner Inquiry and Occupational Education

Informal Learning, Practitioner Inquiry and Occupational Education explores how practitioners in a variety of occupations perform their jobs and argues that working and learning are intricately connected. Drawing on theories around working and learning in informal, formal and lifelong settings, the book gives insights into how workers negotiate their occupational practices. The book investigates four related concepts – informal learning, practitioner inquiry, occupational education and epistemological perspectives. The combinations of theories and empirical case studies are used to provide a conceptual framework of inquiry where knowledge, abilities, experiences and skill sets play a significant aspect. It presents 11 case studies of professions ranging from conventional occupations of acting, detective work, international road transportation to emerging professions of boardroom consultancy, nutritional therapy and opinion leadership. This book will be of great interest for academics, scholars and postgraduate students who are engaged in the study of informal education, vocational education and occupation-related programmes. It will also offer significant insights for related education practitioners wanting to have greater understanding of their own journeys and practices. Sai Loo is an academic at UCL Institute of Education, University College London, UK. Brian Sutton is Professor of Learning Performance at Middlesex University, UK.

Routledge Research in Vocational Education

The Routledge Research in Vocational Education series presents the latest research on Vocational and Further Education and provides a forum for established and emerging scholars to discuss the latest practices and challenges in the field. Books in this series include: Professional Development of Teacher Educators in Further Education Pathways, Knowledge, Identities, and Vocationalism Sai Loo Teachers and Teaching in Vocational and Professional Education Sai Loo Identity and Resistance in Further Education Edited by Pete Bennett and Rob Smith Informal Learning, Practitioner Inquiry and Occupational Education An Epistemological Perspective Sai Loo and Brian Sutton For more information about this series, please visit: www.routledge.com/ Routledge-Research-in-Vocational-Education/book-series/RRVE

Informal Learning, Practitioner Inquiry and Occupational Education

An Epistemological Perspective

Sai Loo and Brian Sutton

First published 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2021 Sai Loo and Brian Sutton The right of Sai Loo and Brian Sutton to be identified as authors of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record has been requested for this book ISBN: 978-0-367-89484-9 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-01947-3 (ebk) Typeset in Bembo by Cenveo® Publisher Services

As ever to my father, who set me on this path with his generous commitment to education. To Caroline and Anna for their continuing patience and encouragement. And not forgetting the venerable, Tosca.

SL

To all the students from around the world who have inspired me, challenged my thinking and helped me see differently. And mostly to Anjie for years of support and belief.

BS

Contents

List of figures List of contributors Acknowledgements

ix x xv

1 Introduction

1

2 Informal learning and occupational education literature review

7

3 Perspectives from academe

26

4 Case studies of 11 participants

36

Journaling as a tool of informal learning  36 ANDREW ATTER

Recontextualising knowledge  47 SUE BINKS

Imitate, assimilate and innovate: My informal and experiential approach to learning to become an improviser … and management educator  56 NOEL DENNIS

A professional journey in the field of road transport and knowledge needs for future transport systems  70 MARIT DUE

Learning and working in and through drama  81 BRYONY HANNAH

viii Contents

Learning through struggling to teach others  90 PETER MACDONALD

How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?  97 EMMA REES

Learning through and across professions  105 CHRISTINE SCHOLES

Becoming a professional opinion leader  113 MIGUEL TORIBIO-MATEAS

How do you learn to become a detective?  125 RUSSELL WATE

Learning as a normative exercise  136 PAULA WERRETT

5 Findings, discussion and conceptualisation of informal learning in occupational practices

145

6 Reflections of (informal) learning in occupational practices

170

Bibliography Index

174 186

Figures

4.1 Translating knowledge into practice-based evidence 4.2 Working at the edge of chaos 4.3 Navigating uncertainty. A certainty-agreement diagram adapted from Plsek and Greenhalgh (2001b) 5.1 A conceptual framework of occupational education: Occupational practices, (informal) learning (and teaching) 5.2 A conceptual framework of normative occupational/ work practices

118 122 123 166 167

Contributors

Andrew Atter  A fter graduating from the London School of Economics and Political Science (LSE) with an MSc, Dr Atter worked in corporate and consulting roles before serving on the management board of a listed company in Hong Kong. He has subsequently coached and mentored corporate, Venture Capitalists (VC) and start-up boards around the world. Dr Atter completed his MSc in executive coaching from the Ashridge Business School and his doctorate from the Institute of Work-based Learning, Middlesex University. He was formerly an Entrepreneur-inResidence at Birkbeck, University of London. In 2015, Dr Atter founded Pivomo to provide psychometric tools and e-learning solutions to start-ups, social enterprises and organisational leaders. The Dynamiqe psychometric tool is now in use with over 25 universities and technology accelerators, with thousands of users worldwide. The tool has since been used by major global companies, such as Mercedes-Benz, to foster entrepreneurship in their organisation. Sue Binks Sue Binks is an occupational psychologist, leadership developer, facilitator and Equine Assisted Learning (EAL) practitioner with over 20 years of experience. She has been working for Roffey Park Institute since 2005 and is the head of quality and ethics. Sue is a chartered psychologist and has a professional doctorate from the University of Middlesex. Her passion is developing leaders using the innovative approach of EAL. Noel Dennis Noel is Principal Lecturer (Programmes), Course Leader for the MBA at Teesside University, a professional jazz musician and the founder and former co-editor of Arts and the Market (formally Arts Marketing: An International Journal). He has a passion for learning and teaching and is an advocate of adopting creative methods in the classroom. He uses his musical experience to offer a creative approach to business education – specifically strategic management, entrepreneurship and leadership. He explores the dynamics of jazz improvisation and presents its relevance to organisations. Through music, he demonstrates the key characteristics of creative action to outline methods to develop improvisation and creativity within a business.

Contributors xi

Noel has facilitated many jazz workshops with organisations in the public and private sectors, and his highly creative approach has garnered significant interest from both the academic and business communities, including media features in publications such as the Times Higher Educational Supplement. Marit Due Marit Due has some 30 years of experience in the field of road transport, including 15 years within international cooperation. She holds a Master of Science degree in civil engineering from the Norwegian University of Science and Technology and a professional doctorate in knowledge exchanges and development in international settings from Middlesex University, UK. Marit has been working for the Norwegian road administration for nearly 20 years, previously as an engineer and planner and presently as Director of International Cooperation. In the latter position, she is engaged in the work of several organisations in charge of research, knowledge exchange and innovation at the Nordic, European and global levels. Earlier in her career, she was involved in development cooperation in African and Asian countries working for the Norwegian Agency for Development Cooperation and the UN/International Labour Organization. Bryony Hannah  Bryony trained as an actor at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art. She is perhaps best known for playing Cynthia Millar for six seasons of the BBC drama, Call the Midwife. Other television credits include Porters, Unforgotten 2, Dead Boss, Above Suspicion – Silent Scream and Reversals. Film work includes The Last Duel and Jupiter Ascending and Cemetery Junction. Theatre work includes The Tyler Sisters (Hampstead Theatre), Bartholomew Fair and the Merry Wives of Windsor (both Shakespeare’s Globe), Foxfinder (West End), Blurred Lines (National Theatre), The Children’s Hour (West End – Olivier Award Nomination Best Supporting Actress), Earthquakes in London (National Theatre), Breathing Irregular (Gate), Every Good Boy Deserves Favour (National Theatre), The Winter’s Tale (Headlong), War Horse (National Theatre), Pillowman (National Theatre Tour) and The Crucible (Sheffield Crucible). As a theatre maker Bryony also wrote and co-directed Laika (Unicorn Theatre). Sai Loo Sai is an academic at UCL Institute of Education, University College London, UK. Before joining UCL, he taught in the further and higher education sectors on vocational and accounting and finance, respectively. Sai worked as a chartered accountant in the private sector before becoming an educationist. His research area is occupational education, which relates to the interdisciplinary approaches to identifying, defining and applying knowledge in work, learning and teaching settings. He has written

xii Contributors

about further and higher education sectors, professional education and the knowledge economy with over 120 publications, conference papers and keynotes (84 per cent are single-authored), including six research monographs, all of which are published by Routledge. For more details, please access ioe.academia.edu/SaiLoo. Peter Macdonald P  eter Macdonald has spent most of his adult life in the world of learning and development. After 22 years in the British Army as a Military Training Instructor (MTI), he left to continue his passion by helping others learn how to perform to their best. Now with 40 years of experience in this world of learning, he runs his own organisation, LaPD Solutions (Learning and Performance Development Solutions). Despite his own lamentable experiences in his schooling, he completed his Master’s degree in Emotional Intelligence (EI) based Leadership and Management in 2019. Mac is the creator of the EI-based Moccasin Approach® and Moccasin Manager ®, where he helps organisations see how EI can be the Phoenix Effect their organisational culture needs to develop, engage and unite their people and drive performance. Emma Rees(DipION, BA (Hons), MProf, mBANT, CNHCreg) Emma is a registered nutritional therapist and lecturer in clinical practice at the Institute for Optimum Nutrition. She runs a private practice in her local area and specialises in clinical skills and reflective practice. She is a member of the British Association of Applied Nutrition and Nutritional Therapy (BANT) and the Complementary and Natural Healthcare Council (CNHC). Christine Scholes C  hristine Scholes is currently studying part-time for a professional doctorate in business coaching, whilst continuing her international practice of business coaching through the vehicle of Cap Consulting Ltd., a business she founded in 2006. Her area of specialism is working with executives on the promotional track, which, most recently, has focused mainly on women. Prior to developing her coaching business, Christine was a strategic and operational HR Director in the international industrial sector. This opened more doors to her on different cultures and ways of working. She gained an LLB and LLM from the University of Western Australia, having paid her way through law school by continuing to practice as an Intensive Care and Accident and Emergency nurse. She subsequently spent a number of years practicing as a commercial barrister and solicitor in Western Australia before returning to the United Kingdom, where she was employed as an in-house counsel for a FTSE 100 company. Brian Sutton  Brian Sutton is Professor of Learning Performance at Middlesex University. In this capacity, he acts as director of studies for

Contributors xiii

candidates on the transdisciplinary DProf programme, an innovative programme that attracts senior professionals who wish to conduct practitioner inquiry into pressing issues in their own organisational or community setting. He has also just launched an MSc in Transdisciplinary Practice which brings this innovative pedagogy to mid-career professionals. Brian has over 40 years of management experience, including 20 years as a Naval Officer, and has worked in a variety of disciplines and organisational settings in both mainland Europe and the United States. Brian’s particular focus is on developing senior professionals and in this capacity he has designed and developed work-based learning programmes in support of the leadership teams of global companies in the Fast Moving Consumer Goods (FMCG) arena. He was lead editor for the 2nd edition of Teaching and Learning Online published by Routledge 2014. Miguel Toribio-Mateas M iguel is a neuroscientist, researcher, nutritionist and communicator. He is a multifaceted professional, bridging the gap between research and practice. His expertise spans the fields of nutrition, biotechnology, microbiology and neuroscience, where he has been able to bring these together working in academic and industry roles, 1:1 clinical practice to gut-brain health clinical trials and most recently directing a research and education department for a global microbiome company. In 2020, Miguel designed the first two outcome-based studies for the British Association for Nutrition and Lifestyle Medicine (BANT), aiming to improve the understanding of the relationship between food, gut bacteria and mental well-being. He immersed himself in the interface between collaborative research, scientific knowledge and technology development for four years as part of his transdisciplinary professional doctorate journey at Middlesex University. Additionally, Miguel sits on the scientific advisory boards of various organisations and is a sought-after international speaker with a unique ability to reach a wide audience. Russell Wate Russell Wate is a retired policeman who was the Detective Chief Superintendent for the Cambridgeshire Constabulary. He was responsible for the investigation into the recovery of the bodies of Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman. He has received 14 commendations from judges and senior officers for investigations he has led. Russell worked at a national level in relation to policy and standards issues concerning the safeguarding of children, in particular as the national police lead for the investigation of child deaths. He was also a key member of Professor Munro’s review of child protection. He carries out reviews and has conducted a number of domestic homicide reviews, serious case reviews and many other reviews, abroad as well as in this country. In the 2008 Birthday Honours, he was awarded the Queen’s Police Medal for his work, both as a detective and in safeguarding.

xiv Contributors

Paula Werrett Following a long career in marketing, Paula retrained as a nutritional therapist in her early thirties. Initially, she worked in private practice and then took up employment with a leading nutritional therapy training provider, working first as a tutor/clinical supervisor and then from 2012 as Head of Courses. This she now combines with clinical work, specialising in digestive health in her clinic in St. Albans. In addition, Paula lectures and runs corporate workshops. Paula trained and worked previously as an accredited clinical supervisor. Currently she is a Nutritional Therapy Education Commission accreditation officer and a Profession Specific Board member for the Complementary and Natural Health Care Council. These roles enable her to play a key role in upholding standards within the profession. In 2019, Paula completed her Master’s degree in professional studies from the University of Middlesex, undertaking research into the experience of nutritional therapy students studying online.

Acknowledgements

This research monograph is a result of collaborative working between the two authors, and the venture arose from a conversation at a conference and serendipity took its course. This collaboration has been exciting and engaging, and each author brings with him both distinct and complementary abilities and skill sets. We would also like to thank the editors, Emilie Coin and Will Bateman, at Routledge in supporting our idea for this book. We are grateful for their enthusiasm and flexibility in bringing this book to completion. Special thanks must be given to the book proposal reviewers and especially the 11 contributors for sharing their insights. The participants’ willingness to give up their time to assist in this study was humbling for us as investigators. We will cherish their generosities of kindness and openness, which went beyond their call of duty and professional insights.

Chapter 1

Introduction

Introduction The aim of this research monograph is to offer interested readers deep insights into how workers negotiate their occupational practices, either within one occupation or between occupations. In writing this book, four related concepts are investigated. These are informal learning, practitioner inquiry, occupational education and epistemological perspective. To study this phenomenon, this introduction chapter is structured into six sections. After the introductory paragraph, the next section provides an overview of informal learning. The third and fourth sections offer explanations of practitioner inquiry and occupational education, respectively. The fifth section includes a rationale of the epistemological approach of this book. The final section includes salient details of the chapters.

Informal learning Learning may be viewed as an activity that happens throughout one’s lifetime. Depending on how this activity is defined, some may see this activity in various forms. The Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD, 1996) defines lifelong learning as an activity that everyone can engage in throughout one’s lifespan. It is an individual and social process. The OECD definition also specifies types of learning under the lifelong learning umbrella. These include formal and non-formal or informal. The former types take place in schools, vocational, tertiary and adult education institutions, and the latter at home, work and in communities. Both learning types start from an epistemological stance, i.e. knowledge is necessary. The Commission of the European Communities (2007) offered a more work-oriented approach to learning so that people can adapt and improve their education and training throughout their lives. The Commission also acknowledged the changing landscape of work and its uncertainties regarding employment, which it terms ‘flexicurity’.

2 Introduction

In this monograph, the duality of formal and informal learning types is viewed as a continuum or two ends of a spectrum. By approaching learning in this manner, this book aims to delineate this activity/process as degrees of formal and informal education regarding the occupational practices of the participants in Chapter 4.

Practitioner inquiry The second aspect of the research monograph title refers to practitioner inquiry (PI). There is a uniqueness to the situations that practitioners face; they are not merely applying standard theories to stock situations but must first frame the problem to be solved. As Schön puts it, the practitioner “must construct an understanding of the situation as he finds it. And because he finds the situation problematic, he must reframe it”. And “he does not act as though he had no relevant prior experiences … but he attends to the peculiarities of the situation at hand” (1991, p. 129). In this respect, one could argue that practitioners spend a good deal of time doing things for the first time. Furthermore, problems cannot be abstracted from the situations and contexts in which they are experienced, and any proposed solutions need to fit with the prevailing cultural and social structures. Practitioners inhabit a world where wicked problems are the norm and progress is made through collaborative efforts that ultimately involve one or more groups of stakeholders, letting go of a cherished belief. Brown, Harris, and Russell (2010) captures the challenge nicely when she posits that practitioners make decisions against a background of five distinct knowledge domains, namely, individual, community, specialist, organisational and holistic and that most individuals favour one form of knowledge over the others. It could be said that all practice is a form of in the moment inquiry, a process that Schön refers to as reflection-in-action. Through a process of respectful dialogue, and reflective questioning, practitioners interrogate their context from multiple perspectives, recognising that we are all held prisoners by our experience and the ‘big assumptions’ that shape our meaning-making system (Brookfield, 2012). By treating their practice as a process of inquiry, the practitioner can consciously become more curious, thoughtful, and, one might say, scholarly. As a consequence of this, they can become more aware of the vertical shifts in meaning-making that shape the process of adult development (Kegan, 1982).

Occupational education The third aspect of the research monograph title refers to occupational education (OE) (Loo, 2019). OE is a term to encompass the elements of this book, which are on the informal learning of the 11 contributors as viewed

Introduction 3

as practitioners and experts in their current fields. The last point implies the different journeys of each of the contributors to their current area of practice. The other element refers to the contributors’ inquiry as practitioners and, for some, as mentors, teachers or facilitators. This element offers insights into the contributors’ learning and practising tensions. Included in these elements are the related epistemological dimension of being and becoming expert practitioners in their chosen fields. OE is a way of bringing all these elements together. Perhaps, a working definition of OE at this juncture might be helpful. OE may include learning, teaching and working from the initial acquisition of the relevant know-how to continually develop professionally after qualification, where appropriate. Some professions may have a more traditional route to professional membership, whereas the newer ones, especially in the knowledge economy, may not have a recognised professional pathway. This triumvirate perspective of OE is part of the lifelong learning concept where education and working are integral and ongoing in one’s lifetime. From the academic levels, OE encompasses the three levels of adult education from pre-university, university and professional training. This concept of OE will be discussed in more detail in the next chapter.

Epistemological perspective The final aspect of the title of this research monograph relates to epistemology, where clarification of this term would enhance the readers’ understanding of this book. Epistemology refers to the study of human knowledge concerning the nature and validity, especially the difference between knowledge and belief (Wellington, 2015). Perhaps, going even further back, Burrell and Morgan (1979) enumerated this concept of epistemology by questioning the very essence of this concept regarding the nature, forms, acquisition and manner of communication of the knowledge between people. They also discussed the tangibility and intangibility of knowledge along with its objective (i.e. positivism) and subjective (i.e. anti-positivist) nature. It is not the intention of this chapter to consider the merits and demerits of positivism or anti-positivism as it is outside the scope of the research monograph. However, Burrell and Wellington beg the fundamental question of human interactions: as respondents to the environment we find ourselves in or as initiators of our actions. Burrell and Morgan (1979) as quoted in Cohen, Manion and Morrison (2000, p. 6) offer the following statement: Thus, we can identify perspectives in social science which entail a view of human beings responding in a mechanistic or even deterministic fashion to the situations encountered in their external world. This view tends to be one in which human beings and their experiences are regarding as

4 Introduction

products of the environment; one in which humans are conditioned by external circumstances. This extreme perspective can be contrasted with one which attributes to human beings a much more creative role with a perspective where ‘free will’ occupies the centre of the stage; where man [sic] is regarded as the creator of his environment, the controller as opposed to the controlled, the master rather than the marionette. In these two extreme views of the relationship between human beings and their environment, we are identifying a great philosophical debate between the advocates of determinism on the one hand and voluntarism on the other. Whilst these are social theories which adhere to each of these extremes, the assumptions of many social scientists are pitched somewhere in the range between. The above quotation offers insights and approaches for this research monograph as we, as authors, position themselves within the spectrum of determinism and voluntarism. We believe that as researchers and participants in social science research, there are the inevitable human interactions between our actions as may be attributed to our unique genetic inheritance and the sociocultural and economic environments we find ourselves in. This in-between approach of determinism and voluntarism has resonances with the studies in psychology by Csikszentmihalyi (1988), Gardner (1999) and Sternberg, Kaufman and Pretz (2004). In short, these research studies revolve around the interrelationships between an individual’s genetic inheritance and the environment. To an extent, doing social science research, especially in occupational education, we, as researchers, are attempting to understand and theorise the findings from the interactions of this spectrum of activity. In Chapter 4, the 11 case studies showcase the tension between ‘deterministic fashion’ and ‘free will’. Also, from an epistemological stance, the case studies indicate how the contributors negotiate their lives between the occupations or within one occupational practice. In this monograph, knowledge is viewed eclectically to encompass knowledge, experiences, attitudes, attributes and skill sets. The literature review in Chapter 2 will delineate this broad definition further. The negotiation of a worker between and within her/his occupational practices requires a complex amalgam of know-how and not a narrowly defined form of knowledge.

Structuring of the monograph Chapter 1 offers an overview of this research monograph by first explaining the relevant terms of the book title. It provides the salient details of the book chapters before indicating the pertinent publications and unique marketing points. The aim of Chapter 2 is to provide insights into how workers negotiate their work practices, either within one occupation or between professions.

Introduction 5

The relevant literature sources are reviewed regarding the objectives of the research monograph. These sources may be classified under two strands. The first strand refers to learning where formal and informal types can occur. The other strand relates to work or occupational education, where like in the previous strand, an epistemological approach is taken. Thus, knowledge is used as a starting basis to theorise learning and working. Concerning occupational practices, a literature review regarding two forms is carried out. The first refers to a normative practice where this activity is found in everyday work practices. The other is creative/innovative work practice where creative know-how is applied in the course of work. These dimensions of learning and work are used to conceptualise how practitioners learn and practice within their occupational practices. Chapter 3 offers the readers a conceptualisation of how the practitioners engage with their professional inquiry. Here, a formalised element of learning using a programme of flexible study is investigated to facilitate the 11 case studies to understand, value, reflect and develop own occupational journeys. These journeys may relate to one profession or more than one occupation. Chapter 4 provides readers with reflective insights from 11 practitioners. The ‘case studies’ have diverse epistemological, disciplinary, occupational and narrative descriptions. The eclectic occupations may be divided into conventional and new forms. With the former, these include acting, detective work and management education using jazz improvisation. The new occupations cover boardroom coaching, executive coaching, knowledge strategy and brokering in transportation systems, leadership and management coaching, nutritional therapy, occupational psychology and professional opinion leadership. The gender split is fairly even with six females and five males. Two of the participants offer insights into their ‘single’ occupational practices and the rest from different professions to their current ones. In Chapter 5, the ‘empirical data’ of the 11 case studies are discussed alongside the earlier theory chapters. The main aim of this delineation is to provide a conceptual framework of occupational journeying where formal and informal learning and normative and innovative professional practices are the two dimensions. Chapter 6 provides a summation of the discussions in this book with the usual caveats and points to further areas of research. Lastly, the areas that are covered in this distinctive research monograph are as follows: 1 A comprehensive focus on the journey-making and related know-how of professional/occupational practitioners from conventional and emerging disciplines. 2 Multidisciplinary insights into occupational pedagogy of practices, practitioners and learners.

6 Introduction

3 Eleven ‘empirical’ contributions from practitioners on their working practices. 4 Conceptual framework is offered following a comprehensive literature review of the modes of learning (including informal, formal, lifelong and transformational types), and work practices of normative and creative/ innovative forms. 5 Eclectic range of professions from conventional occupations of acting, detective work, international road transportation to emerging professions of boardroom consultancy, nutritional therapy and opinion leadership.

Chapter 2

Informal learning and occupational education literature review

Introduction This chapter aims to provide a literature review of the relevant ideas relating to learning, especially informal learning and occupational education that is linked to learning and work. These investigations into the types of learning and work would serve as a pertinent platform for critically discussing and conceptualising the learning and work case studies in Chapter 5. The 11 ‘empirical’ case studies delineating their journeys from one discipline/occupation or within the same occupation to another will be featured in Chapter 4.

Informal learning Perhaps, a more encompassing form of learning – lifelong learning – is an appropriate introduction to the various types of learning, and it is also connected to work settings. The Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD, 1996, p. 15) offers a theoretical approach to understanding lifelong learning: Lifelong learning provides an appropriate framework for addressing these issues. The new idea underpinning ‘lifelong learning for all’ goes beyond giving a second or third chance for adults. It proposes that everyone should be able, motivated and actively encouraged to learn throughout life. This view of learning embraces individual and social development of all kinds and in all settings—formally in schools, vocational, tertiary and adult education institutions and non-formally at home, at work and in the community. The approach is system-wide; it focuses on the standards of knowledge and skills needed by all regardless of age. This perspective of learning occurs throughout a person’s lifetime from the very start of one’s life to the end. It is done by an individual and is a social process. This process may be in settings such as learning institutions (e.g. schools and higher education institutions), work settings (e.g. business

8  Literature review

organisations and hospitals) and social settings (e.g. video games, bingo halls and tennis clubs). Learning can occur individually or collaboratively and is a social activity either face-to-face or digitally. These activities may be formal (e.g. academic and vocational courses with accredited outcomes) or informal ones (with no specific curriculum or specifications and are not accredited). Attributes such as passion for learning, motivation, thirst for knowledge and skills are commonly associated with the positive aspects of learning. Other learners may also be put off by some settings such as formal ones like (compulsory) schools. There may also be more pragmatic reasons for learning such as acquisition of professional/occupational/vocational qualifications. The running thread of the OECD definition of lifelong learning is knowledge acquisition, and thus, it approaches learning from an epistemological standpoint. This standpoint will be discussed in greater depth later in the chapter. Lastly, the OECD policy (OECD, 1996, p. 15) refers to the underpinning platforms of the knowledge economy: information technologies, globalisation, trade liberalisation, changing nature of work and use of knowledge and skills. Since this is a generic definition of lifelong learning, it did not have any specifics of how the different forms of education – formal and informal – might happen. The description also did not offer any understanding of how learning might take place in occupational settings, individually or collaboratively. The generic definition did not define or discuss the types of knowledge and skills needed in education. Of course, the knowledge and skills, however they are set, will vary depending on the contexts of learning and work settings. What this OECD definition offers are spaces to investigate. The investigation surrounds concepts of informal learning, learning in work settings and (formal) learning that is related to academe. Furthermore, studies include the epistemological and broader perspectives of knowledge that may consist of experiences, attributes, attitudes and skill sets. A later policy called ‘The European Interest: Succeeding in the age of globalisation’ published by the Commission of the European Communities (2007, p. 8) provided a more work-centric approach of learning: Both globalisation and technological change risk increased inequality, opening up the gap between the skilled and the unskilled. The solutions are to help individuals to adapt, which involve improving the quality, the availability of education, and training for all ages. In this policy document, it acknowledged the social dimensions of the European community, and one way of improving inequality was to develop a person’s expertise by learning irrespective of one’s age. This lifelong learning concept implicitly acknowledged the [tenuous] relationship between learning and work and thus the economy, which to an extent harked back

Literature review  9

to Callaghan’s (the then Prime Minister of the United Kingdom) speech at Ruskin College, Oxford in 1976.1 More significantly, this policy acknowledged the tensions and difficulties in moving from one employment to another in this age of change and uncertainty. The explanation in the plan is as follows: There is a growing interest in “flexicurity.” This can help people to manage employment transitions more successfully in times of accelerating economic change. By upgrading their skills, and protecting people rather than particular jobs, it helps people to move into better paid, more satisfying jobs, or even start their own businesses. (Commission of the European Communities, 2007, p. 8) The concept of ‘flexicurity’ underpins the tensions of being flexible on the one hand and achieving a sense of security in one’s life on the other. In this European Union (EU) policy, one approach to attaining this oxymoron concept is to be a lifelong learner and be able to learn and acquire new expertise to be more employable over one’s lifetime. The underlying themes of these two definitions from the OECD and European Commission are that learning is prerequisite to gainful employment and learning may take different forms and throughout one’s lifetime. It is also a social activity. The divisions of learning such as formal, non-formal and informal ones can be problematic (Colley, Hodkinson and Malcolm, 2003). Also, this division may be argued as offering different contexts where learning occurs, and thus the terms may not be viewed as a typology of learning (Illeris, 2007). For this monograph, formal learning might be viewed as an offer of learning with an accredited course/programme at a teaching institution with specific curriculum/specifications and academic outcomes. Formal learning is, perhaps, a more accepted and recognisable form of education. This type of learning involves a structured and institutionalised approach to learning where there is a defined curriculum/specification, and the contents are delivered via facilitators/teachers with the involvement of learners. This formal learning also involves monitoring of learning in the teaching sessions and eventually in an accredited process such as assessment. The process of learning starts with enrolment, where the course requirements are clarified with an explicated curriculum, delivery modes (e.g. face-to-face, online or mixed modes). Learning also includes offers of supporting structures (e.g. course handbooks, academic writing facilities and well-being support systems), graded assessments and regulated outcomes (which may also be linked to professional standards and external requirements). Examples of these include a first-degree programme at a university, and apprenticeship offer and a professional training programme.

10  Literature review

The formalised approach to learning is instituted in most countries with the significant education divisions broadly classified as primary, secondary and higher education sectors. These sectors of learning may be extended to professional education, which is related to work/occupation practices. This professional form of learning also includes continuous professional development requirements, and they vary from occupation to occupation. Non-formal may be viewed as between the formal and informal learning spectrum where learning contexts have a degree of structures, unlike informal learning. Informal learning might be perceived as learning without the formal structures of curriculum/specifications, accreditation, traditionally taught sessions and accredited outcomes. They can occur in various informal settings. Examples of informal learning include discussions with work colleagues and friends, attendance of conferences and art events, watching of a film and reading of texts digitally or non-digitally. This learning involves explicit and tacit know-how, such as knowledge and experiences. In this monograph, there will be no attempt to distinguish the division between non-formal and informal learning. As the division might be viewed as spurious at the best of times, any theoretical distinction, if practicable, could be considered to be not adding additional insights into the theories of learning. Additionally, there might be a case to advocate that in real life, the distinctions between formal and informal learning could be difficult to delineate where learning and work contexts are investigated. Finally, it would be useful to bear in mind that the real-life case studies of the 11 practitioners involving their journeying from formal occupations to newer ones where such theoretical distinctions of formal and informal notions of learning might be challenged. The above forms of learning offer discursive and conceptual spaces for this monograph specifically, informal and formal learning, occupational/professional practices and the attributes, attitudes and know-how of transitioning from one occupation to another especially new forms of professional practices. There will be a discussion of the 11 case studies in Chapter 5, and resulting from these investigations, there will be a development of a conceptual framework. The rest of this section will discuss the pertinent concepts of learning, especially informal types. As discussed above, there are various nuances of ‘informal learning’, and one of these is non-formal learning (OECD, 1996). Another may be ‘everyday learning’ which can be viewed as: learning which occurs informally and apparently by chance in everyday life as one moves around the spaces of one’s life to getting everything to function, and more or less understanding it. (Illeris, 2007, p. 215) This perspective of informal learning includes the everyday ‘being-in-theworld’ contexts, where a person needs cognitive functionality. Perhaps, it has

Literature review  11

resonances with Jarvis’s (2006) holistic approach of learning where it has different possible outcomes such as continuous activity from the learners despite his/her understanding of that aspect of learning, changed and more experienced as a result, and action resulting from the learning. Everyday learning offers a cognitive understanding without Jarvis’s three possible learning outcomes. This learning is also non-directional. Greenfield and Lave (1982, p. 183) provided a more self-directed perspective of informal learning where specific learning characteristics could occur. They include occurrence in daily lives, the responsibility of the learner in knowledge and skill acquisition and learning from related persons. Furthermore, these characteristics include non-existence of pedagogy or specification/curriculum, accordance of continuity and convention, learning that takes place via observation and imitation and the social interactions such as contributions and participation of non-experts. The above listing of the characteristics of informal learning by Greenfield and Lave is more specific and socially oriented. Perhaps, what is interesting from this perspective of informal learning is that the contexts where learning occurs may vary from one form of economy to another. Here, I am thinking of informal types of learning in a knowledge economy where there needs to be a supportive technological infrastructure where know-how can be accessed via the internet. In an older style economy, digital infrastructure will be less significant, and the approaches to learning (and working) may be different. In the next section on occupational education, there will be a more discursive study of the types of learning and work of the normative and innovative/creative kinds. Additionally, there is another self-directed learning research by Tough (1979), Greenfield and Lave (1982), Collins (1988), Brockett and Hiemstra (1991) and Candy (1991). For example, Greenfield and Lave (1982) suggested that this type of learning happened in everyday life and the learner was in charge of her/his acquisition of know-how where curriculum or teaching and learning approaches might not be explicit, unlike formal learning. They also suggested that this learning occurred more likely in situations such as observations, imitations, and demonstrations in established practices (e.g. crafts-­related occupations) by adults. Collins (1988), whose investigations were carried out in South Africa, argued that education had a political dimension involving societal needs contexts. Brockett and Hiemstra (1991) tried to delineate “between self-direction as an instructional method, and self-­d irection as a dimension of personality” (Tusting and Barton, 2003, p. 23). For Candy, a typology of four types of self-directed learning was offered. These are autodidaxy (which refers to the independent quest for learning outside of formalised institutional approaches), learner-control (learning is calibrated by learners), autonomy (learner’s attribute to learning) and self-management (learner taking charge of her/his learning process). These self-directed learning researchers advocated that learning took place by individuals who were motivated to learn and that this learning occurred

12  Literature review

within social and political constraints. This individualistic approach to learning, however, does not exclude the idea of learning with other people, in communities, and collaboratively. Researchers such as McGivney (1999), Coffield (2000) and Livingstone (2000) studied the informal learning of individuals. For McGivney (1999), this form of education revolves around communities from a widening participant context where benefits such as increased confidence and self-esteem were detected. Coffield (2000) emphasised the importance of knowledge and skills acquisition, especially in a work setting. Turning away from the English research projects, Livingstone (2000) carried out a survey in Canada where 95% of adults were involved in some sort of informal learning. From the types of learning described above, one might view learning as a spectrum or a continuum from one end as formal learning to informal learning at the other end. Others such as the OECD (1996) and the Commission of the European Communities (2007) have suggested notions such as lifelong learning with a work-focused dimension. This chapter will come onto the work contexts in the next section. However, from the purely learning contexts, one may offer a learning spectrum of formal and informal learning with all the various learning permutations in between. As shown above, learning as an activity has social implications as suggested by researchers such as Collins (1988), Candy (1991), McGivney (1999) and Jarvis (2006) and from organisations such as the OECD (1996) and the Commission of the European Communities (2007). Learning affects people’s lives at cognitive levels and beyond, and thus their behaviours and perspectives are altered.2 In particular, Mezirow (2000) and Kegan (2000) have argued the learners’ lives may be transformed. This notion of ‘transformative learning’ is built on and inspired by research on developing parts of the world by people such as Freire. Freire’s (1970) ‘pedagogy of the oppressed’ offers social justice to people of disadvantaged backgrounds in the developing nations. This political statement, though powerful in itself, has traction in specific learning environments. However, the case studies to be featured in Chapter 4 focus on practitioners of conventional and new occupations in the United Kingdom, and thus, Freire’s concept has little traction. Mezirow (2009, pp. 92–93) defined transformative learning as: The process by which we transform problematic frames of reference (mindsets, habits of mind, meaning perspectives) – sets of assumptions and expectation – to make them more inclusive, discriminating, open, reflective and emotionally able to change. Such frames are better because they are more likely to generate beliefs and opinions that will prove more true or justified to guide action. Frames of reference are the structures of culture and language through which we construe meaning by attributing coherence and significance to

Literature review  13

our experience. They selectively shape and delimit our perception, cognition and feelings by predisposing our intentions, beliefs, expectation and purposes. These preconceptions set out our ‘line of action’. Once set or programmed, we automatically move from one specific mental or behavioural activity to another, and we have a strong tendency to reject ideas that fail to fit our preconceptions. A frame of reference encompasses cognitive, conative and affective components, may operate within or outside awareness and is composed of two dimensions: a habit of mind and resulting points of view. Habits of mind are broad, abstract, orienting, habitual ways of thinking, feeling and acting. These codes or canon may be cultural, social, linguistic, educational, economic, political, psychological, religious, aesthetic and others. Habits of mind become articulated in a specific point of view – the constellation of belief, value judgements, attitude and feeling that shapes a particular interpretation. Points of view are more accessible to awareness, to feedback from others. Mezirow’s definition of transformative learning offers this research monograph considerable purchase on how the 11 participants change or modify their outlooks to life generally, and occupational practice specifically. These changes or transformations affect their whole being – mentally, emotionally and leading to actions. In short, Mezirow offered a detailed concept of transformative learning. Illeris (2009) highlights the connections to social constructivism and epigenetics (where adults may be inhibited from certain functions due to childhood traumas). The other links involve schema therapy (a form of psychotherapy that seeks to repair emotional frames of reference) and ‘individuation’ (a type of Jungian psychology which relates to the development of a person’s personality). Mezirow views transformative learning as learning in social environments, which can either facilitate or inhibit the realisation of a person’s capabilities. Mezirow (2009, p. 103) argues that transformative learning “is the process by which adult learn how to think critically for themselves rather than take assumptions supporting a point of view for granted”. Despite the detailed accounts of this concept, what is lacking, perhaps, is (1) a more explicit definition of transformation, as every frame of reference has the potential to change a person, and (2) a graduated process or a series of processes of a person’s transformation required to distinguish the various forms of transformation. To answer these points, we turn to Kegan’s constructive-developmental approach to transformative learning. Kegan (2009) uses case studies as empirical foci to delineate the transformation of an individual’s learning. He suggested five levels of cognition where an individual may develop over her/his lifetime. His approach to what he terms ‘transformational learning’ is different to Mezirow’s ‘transformative learning’ where the former views the cognitive or orders of consciousness in

14  Literature review

stages and as a lifelong learning process. In contrast, the latter attributes specific procedures that are related to particular frames of references. For Kegan (1994) and Illeris (2007), the five stages/steps involve moving from being controlled to controlling oneself. Stage 1 refers to one’s period as a newly born child where one is controlled by perceptions and impulses whilst developing sensations and movement. Step 2 refers to one’s development after the age of two, where transformation relates to broader and more varied perceptions and impulses. These situations may be controlled by the person as well as by external forces. Stage 3 from the age of six, Kegan uses the term ‘traditionalism’ to describe the existence of a socialised mind where a young person can consciously infer, generalise and hypothesise points of view to frame one’s preferences, needs and dispositions. He defined ‘traditionalism’ as “the highest step one usually achieved in the Western European countries before the breakthrough of modernity with the Enlightenment, capitalism and industrialisation in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries” (Kegan, 2009, p. 10). Step 4 refers to the teenage years involving understanding and mastering of more complex systems. At this stage of one’s life, the individual can control generalisations, values and relationships with others, consciousness and self-awareness. Kegan describes this stage as ‘modernism’. The final step of a person concerns the liberalisation of oneself involving ideologies, institutions and identities based on the person’s interpretations of the environment. In his ‘postmodern’ world, the individual has a ‘self-transforming mind’ where one may decide and formulate relationships, contradictions and paradoxes within oneself and with others. To this end, Illeris (2007) considered this learning theory as a comprehensive and detailed account of a person’s learning transformation that draws on the ideas of Piaget and Freud. ‘Kegan’s five-step scheme’ offers staged transformative processes with a highly specific duration of an individual’s lifetime. Whether all the five steps may be achievable by every individual is open to debate, and at least his model provides insights into the cognitive processes that potentially change, modify and thus transform a person. This comprehensive model of learning has traction with the aim of this research monograph, as the model offers insights into the 11 participants’ life journeys within an occupational practice and between occupational practices. Kegan’s most recent work (Kegan and Lahey, 2016. p. 76) focuses specifically on increasing levels of mental complexity in corporate settings. He suggests that there are three significant plateaus in adult mental complexity or meaning making and that the transition between stages may be protracted: •

Level 3 - The socialised mind. Meta-analysis of large studies suggests that just under 60% of all adults do not progress beyond this state. When adults do achieve full transition to the next stage it is seldom before their late 30s or early 40s.

Literature review  15

• •

Level 4 - The self-authoring mind – he suggests that only about 35% of adults reach this phase. Level 5 - The self-transforming mind – probably less than 1% of the population complete this transition and seldom before late 50s or 60s. He further suggests that as few as 7% of the adult population are in transition from level 4 towards level 5.

To sum up, this section started with a literature review of the relevant sources regarding informal learning with the backdrop of lifelong learning and the uncertainty of work. It also focused on the need to view this activity as a spectrum of learning types. At one end is informal learning and at the other, formal learning. These activities occur within social-cultural and economic environments. Such environments affect individuals’ learning. Their affectations may be harmful and positive and may also be transformative/transformational. The concept of ‘flexicurity’ of work espoused by the Commission of the European Communities (2007) offers a connection between learning and work, and the latter aspect is the focus of the next section of this chapter.

Occupational education In the previous section, informal learning was discussed and along with that, the lifelong learning concept. These perspectives are relevant to the study in this monograph. ‘Occupational education’ is used to encompass a wider theorisation of education to include learning, teaching and work. This concept is helpful for this book, as the study refers to these three dimensions. Learning, in addition to informal and lifelong learning, may be defined “as any process that in living organisms leads to permanent capacity change and which is not solely due to biological maturation or ageing” (Illeris, 2007, p. 3). Learning, to him, refers mainly to the outcomes of this learning process, the mental or cognitive processes, and the interaction between the person and the social settings, one is located in. Illeris (2007, p. 3) deliberately defines learning in the broadest sense with the implication that terms like “socialisation, qualification, competence development and therapy” are included in this learning concept. For him, there is porosity in theories of learning and lived experiences and the possible interactions between one’s inheritance and the environment. This diverse approach to thinking about learning is appropriate to this research monograph as the 11 contributors in Chapter 4 offer an eclectic mix of individuals: some with rich arrays of occupational experiences and others with specialisations in one discipline. They also cover different journeys to their current professions. Some of the professions are new such as boardroom consultancy, nutritional therapy, professional opinion leadership and road transportation. Others are more traditional such as acting and police constabulary. For these contributors, learning involves informal and formal

16  Literature review

processes, acquisition of knowledge, experiences and skill sets, utilisation of abilities, talents and attitudes, related interactions with social and work settings that involve leadership skills, collaborative and individual working styles and creativity. Teaching, from an occupational education (OE) perspective, may be defined as: Relating to the need to seek commonalities and entanglements, it would be an opportune moment to discuss the characteristics of occupational and academic teaching. Both forms of teaching involve pedagogic activities, and so I see them as part of a spectrum or continuum. However, I view occupational teaching i.e. teaching of work-related courses where there is a duality of pedagogic and occupational/work-related practices and experiences, and academic teaching i.e. where its immediacy is related to disciplinary/theoretical knowledge and not necessarily to occupational pathways, co-exist. The occupational teaching has immediate relevance to work-related experiences and practices whereas the academic teaching has less obvious work connections such as accreditation pathways to related occupations for the former and not necessarily the latter. The former teaching type also has a closer time dimension to work practices (e.g. gas fitting, dental hygiene and clinical practices) and the latter, a not so direct relationship with occupational practices (e.g. astrophysics and mathematics). The time dimension may be represented by factors such as the years of training to be admitted or accredited to a recognised professional body such as the Chartered Institute of Plumbing and Heating Engineering for gas fitters. One may argue that both forms of teaching may rely on varying degrees of life experiences. The final difference relates to the implications of continuous professional development for deliverers of the two teaching forms where those teaching on occupational courses may keep abreast with the teaching and occupational areas whereas with those on academic areas may only require updating in the relevant areas. In short, the two forms of teaching may be viewed as part of a continuum of teaching practices albeit on different locations depending on the nature of the teaching. (Loo, 2018, pp. 4–5) The above definition of teaching offers this research monograph the connections between teaching, work and continuous professional development (CPD). Of course, CPD is a form of learning, from the viewpoints of both lifelong and professional learning approaches. The broad definition also sets up the possibility of a teaching spectrum, which includes formal teaching with explicit specifications, learning outcomes, assessments and accreditations. It also contains unconventional teaching practices such as fully online teaching. Others include teaching in work environments where formalised

Literature review  17

aspects such as the codification of content and outcomes are perhaps, secondary to other tacit elements such as teaching strategies, action-centred skill sets and aesthetic sensibilities. This work-centred approach to teaching and learning provides the final dimension of OE: occupational practice. Higgs (2012, p. 3) defines occupational practice as: the various practices that comprise occupations be they profession, disciplines, vocation or occupations. For doctors, engineers, historians, priests, physicists, musicians, carpenters and many other occupational groups, practice refers to the activities, models, norms, language, discourse, ways of knowing and thinking, technical capacities, knowledge, identities, philosophies and other sociocultural practices that collectively comprise their particular occupation. The definition of occupational practice is appropriate for this investigation, as Higgs’s definition covers a broad range of practices and working issues, which include know-how (as defined eclectically above) and by implication, occupational journeys. Indeed, some of the contributors do teach like Dennis, a management educator; Rees, a teacher in healthcare therapy, Scholes, a business coach, and Werrett, an academic in nutritional therapy. All the three dimensions of OE, namely, learning, teaching, and work are performed in social settings. Loo’s (2019, pp. 3–4) definition: Thus, OE encompasses teaching, learning and working across the three academic levels of TVET, higher education and professional education. It covers continuous professional development (CPD) and training as it is work-related and thus the two elements of occupational practice/work and pedagogic activities are a natural part of the topic. OE is part of the lifelong learning continuum of learning, working and teaching as one expects those in such practices to be involved in ongoing professional development. OE may affect not only the sectors of education (i.e. inter-sectoral partnerships in education), but may also include public and private (private providers of professional training) industries. OE can consist of activities across countries (international) rather than inward looking within a sector such as the Further Education (FE) sector in England where one can detect the current trends of differentiating between VET and technical offers, and localisation and regionalisation of the sector activities. The raison d’etre of OE is to seek commonalities and to reach out to the research and practitioner communities to collaborate, engage and critically research the tripartite aspects of learning, working and teaching to offer related stakeholders relevant and evidence-based findings that are implementable across the micro (individual-centred), meso (institution-centred) and macro (regional, national and international-­ centred) levels of the discipline.

18  Literature review

The OE definition provides a comprehensive approach to think about learning, teaching and occupational inquiry in the work settings of this research monograph. The connective thread between the OE definition and the earlier literature review of informal learning is an epistemological one. Clarke and Winch (2004) argue for a front-loaded approach where applied theoretical knowledge is acquired first before work. This know-how is a theory that can be used in work-related programmes. The sequencing of knowledge acquisition before an application is prominent in its approach. However, Hager (2004) suggested that there was an unbalanced emphasis on the front-loaded approach and learning could happen whilst at work. For Hager, learning is a dynamic process at work settings, whereas Clarke and Winch viewed learning as an end product. The perspective of this monograph lends more to Hager’s dynamic learning approach, and it is one of the aims of this study to understand the complexities of learning (both informal and formal, and tacit and explicit forms of know-how) and work (normative and creative varieties). Researchers (in order of discussion) such as Rintala, Nokelainen and Pylvas (2019), Eraut (2004) and Illeris (2011) investigated informal learning in work settings. The thread also covers Kegan’s (2009) holistic learning concept and Bernstein’s (1996) and the post-Bernsteinians’ recontextualisation conceptualisations. The final part of this thread is the normative work approaches by Evans, Guile, Harris and Allan (2010) and Loo (2012). The connective thread also draws on the creative/innovative working literature by Nonaka and Takeuchi (1995), Drucker (1999), Reich (2001), Zuboff (2004) and Loo (2017). The final element of this connective thread comes from the creativity sources from psychology (i.e. Csikszentmihalyi, 1988; Gardner, 1999; Sternberg, Kaufman and Pretz, 2004; von Hippel, 2006). This work-based practice and learning offers a transdisciplinary, relational and socially constructed perception of working practices (from normative to innovative) and learning (from formal to informal). The literature review of normative work approaches, along with the other studies in this chapter, relates to the relevant sources only and does not aim to offer exhaustive accounts but circumscribed accounts to reflect the relevance of the theories to the objectives of this research monograph. Rintala et al. (2019) offer a literature review of workplace learning that acknowledges the continuum of formal (Eraut, 2004; Malloch et al., 2011) and informal learning (Marsick and Watkins, 2001; Lohman, 2005). However, Billett (2002) suggests that viewing workplace learning as informal learning has its difficulties, as organisations and social communities have formalised structures. The position taken in this research monograph is that formal and informal learning coexists in occupational practices and that both forms are needed whether sequentially or in parallel. Slotte, Tynjälä and Hytönen (2004) pointed out that the heavy emphasis of informal learning and tacit knowledge might create ineffective practices or habits. Dale and Bell (1999)

Literature review  19

showed that informal learning might not be consistent, and thus, bad habits could be formed. Rintala et al. (2019), furthermore, mapped out the factors of workplace learning. They include contextual and individual factors, learning activities and learning outcomes. For the first factor, it provides job characteristics (such as work demands, autonomy), relational factors (e.g. social support) and organisational factors (e.g. learning culture, resources, leadership and rewards and recognition). In addition, the contextual and individual factors cover psychological characteristics (e.g. motivation and personal history) and demographic variables (such as age, gender and education). For learning activities, they include self-learning (e.g. reflection), learning from others and learning from non-interpersonal sources (e.g. learning from errors and seeking information). The third factor is learning outcomes. They cover generic learning outcomes, job-specific learning outcomes and organisational-level learning outcomes. Rintala et al.’s (2019) workplace learning typology offers a broad spectrum of variables, which cover the individual, organisations, societal-cultural and economic factors. They acknowledge the complexities of workplace learning, and they referenced Billett and Choy (2013) that other fields are needed to extend the understanding of this phenomenon. This acknowledgement offers additional intellectual space to encompass the psychological discipline by researchers such as Kegan (2009) and Mezirow (2009). This typology also offers this monograph discursive space to approach work and learning holistically to provide a conceptual framework of work and learning in Chapter 5. Eraut (2004) follows the epistemological tradition as espoused by Kegan (2000) and Mezirow (2000) from the previous section. Eraut’s approach to the contextual aspects of learning relates to the workplace and thus, occupational practice. He subscribes to the importance of tacit knowledge, and that learning is a process, which involves the transfer of knowledge and skill sets. This transfer has five stages: extraction, understanding, recognition, transformation and integration. The five steps have resonance with Kegan’s stages, and that Eraut’s ‘transformation’ has similarities with Mezirow’s transformational learning. Though one might question the applicability of knowledge transfer, Bransford and Schwartz (1999), Cairney (2000) and Evans et al. (2010) have critiqued the notion already. Eraut’s five stages reflect the relevance of know-how. For example, the ‘extraction’ stage refers to ‘disciplines which feature prominently in general education and form major components of honours degree’, and the ‘understanding’ stage, knowledge of the ‘applied field, which sponsors the programme, e.g. Business, Engineering, Education’ (Eraut, 2004, p. 204). His third stage, ‘recognition’, relates to the knowhow of occupational practice. Eraut’s epistemological approach offers useful insights for this research monograph. Winch (2014) developed Eraut’s epistemological project with his ‘professional knowledge’ typology. Winch defined the typology as systematic knowledge

20  Literature review

(i.e. theory that is applied to occupational practices), techniques (such as procedures in bricklaying) and skill sets (that may be used in specific contexts unlike the systematic approach of techniques). Also, professional knowledge covers transversal abilities (such as planning, coordinating, controlling, communicating and evaluating work contexts), project management abilities and individual characteristics. These characteristics include patience and self-discipline. They, additionally, cover occupational capacity, i.e. the impact on the environment. Winch’s more comprehensive coverage of knowledge, abilities, attitudes and skill sets provides insights into how the 11 contributors apply their know-how to their ongoing or new occupational practices. The above two epistemological approaches cover detailed know-how of practitioners. For a more holistic perspective of work and learning, we turn to Illeris. Illeris (2011) views workplace learning by individuals who work and learn in social contexts. These contexts include interactions between people with their perceptions and experiences and backgrounds, and whose activities are performed in networks and organisations with their own cultures and power dynamics. The advanced model of workplace learning interacts between individual learning processes and work. With the personal learning processes dimension, the two ends of the spectrum include content and incentive. The other aspect of work offers a range of workplace production and workplace community. Workplace practices and work identity connect these social interactions. What is lacking is the insight into how people use their know-how to work and learn in their related occupational practices. What this model offers is an overview of the social interactions between people and their work and identities. However, identities are not specified. For this monograph, Illeris’s model provides a holistic perspective of individuals’ learning and work that are connected to their identities. Turning now to the normative approach, Bernstein (1996, p. 172) offers a starting epistemological basis of vertical and horizontal discourses/ knowledge. Vertical discourse as knowledge that: is not a segmentally organized discourse; as a consequence segments do not become the social units of acquisition even when the specialised knowledges of the discourse are strongly classified. For such specialised knowledges are not segments of localised activities, but specialised, explicitly, assembled, symbolic structures. To Bernstein (1996, p. 170), horizontal discourse is a: Form of knowledge usually typified as everyday, oral or common-sense knowledge has a group of features: local, segmental, context dependent, tacit, multi-layered, often contradictory across contexts but not within contexts.

Literature review  21

The typology of knowledge offers this chapter the beginnings of perceiving knowledge from an educational standpoint. This classification of educational knowledge is helpful in engaging with the other forms of educational knowledge as espoused by Shulman (1987) and his seven types of knowledge base, and Loughran, Mitchell and Mitchell’s (2003) development of Shulman’s knowledge base with emphasis on the tacit nature of teaching knowledge. Verloop, Van Driel and Meijer’s (2001) research on the development of the tacit facets includes their teachers’ practical knowledge and beliefs. Adding to this list is Clandinin’s (1985) personal practical knowledge, which offers intellectual space to the inclusion of a wider definition of teaching know-how, especially occupational experiences and practices. These definitions of teaching know-how merely support Banks, Leach and Moon’s (1999, p. 95) view that teaching knowledge is part of a “complex amalgam of past knowledge, experiences of learning, a personal view of what constitutes ‘good teaching and belief ’”. Loo (2012) offers a bridge between education and work practices as he studied the further education sector where over 70% of the programmes are work-related (Frontier Economics Limited, 2016). The engagement of teaching knowledge is relevant as it forms the basis for understanding teaching and learning where explicit and tacit know-how is pertinent to this understanding. Polanyi (1966), with his initial acknowledgement of tacit knowledge of a scientific variety, opens up the possibility of this type of knowledge in education. Collins (2010) provides a more comprehensive definition of tacit know-how with his inclusion of his three varieties: relational, somatic and collective tacit knowledge. These tacit forms are useful in thinking about educational knowledge. However, Nonaka and Takeuchi’s research on large Japanese companies such as Toyota and Honda offers a richer perspective of tacit and explicit knowledge. They view these forms as inter-related across four modes. Knowledge also includes beliefs and experiences alongside disciplinary ones. The two researchers also facilitate the thinking about knowledge from an occupational perspective too, which is pertinent to this research monograph. Similarly, Bernstein (1996) provides a vocational connection with compulsory education with his detailed classification of vertical discourse and ‘weak grammar’. For a detailed discussion of Bernstein’s discourses, please refer to Chapter 2 in Loo’s (2018) Teachers and Teaching in Vocational and Professional Education. In the weak grammar classification, Bernstein gives way to the existence of the tacit variety of knowledge in crafts work, where this is acquired through apprenticeships where mastery is seen as a tacit development. This form of the work-related programme is directly linked to professional learning and practices. Using this work-related epistemological platform, the rest of this part is devoted to normative work approaches, which relates to how the occupational know-how is utilised in work settings. We then discuss concepts of ‘recontextualisation’ (Bernstein, 1996), ‘knowledgeable practice’ (Evans, 2016),

22  Literature review

‘integrated applied recontextualisation’ (Loo, 2018), ‘practice architecture’ (Kemmis and Green, 2013) and ‘systems 1 and 2’ (Kahneman, 2012). Recontextualisation process as espoused by Bernstein (1996) refers the vertical discourse/knowledge where it may be selected, relocated and refocused. This process may be illustrated by the way disciplinary knowledge of physics and mathematics is changed to suit the required occupation such as engineering for curriculum development (teaching) and application to the work contexts (occupational practices). This modification of the theoretical knowledge to make it occupational relevant is through the process of recontextualisation. Barnett (2006) offers two types of recontextualisation processes. They are reclassificatory (dealing with occupational practices) and pedagogic (concerning teaching). This approach is not empirically focused but has significant purchase, as it offers a work-related dimension to Bernstein’s academic method. Evans et al. (2010) developed the recontextualisation notion further using empirical data to provide four types of this process: content, pedagogic, learner and workplace. These processes also differ from Bernstein’s vertical discourses/ knowledge. Evans et al.’s recontextualisation processes include knowledge, capabilities and skill sets in professional learning and practices. These four types of work-related recontextualisation processes were further developed by Loo (2012, 2018) to include teaching and learning activities of practitioners who were also lecturers/facilitators with occupational experiences. Loo (2018) also added two types of know-how in his recontextualisation applications. These are final processes called integrated applied recontextualisation (IAR) for teaching activities and ongoing recontextualisation (Loo, 2014). The know-how leading up to the IAR process includes knowledge, attitudes, abilities, experiences and skill sets, which are to teaching, learning and work. These diverse types of know-how, as argued by Loo (2018), might be explicit or implicit, unlike Bernstein’s vertical discourses (for recontextualisation purposes). Ongoing recontextualisation (Loo, 2014) is a process that is continuously evolving due to the constant interactions by the user’s application of her/his know-how. Over time, this process creates new perspectives of the expertise and is unconsciously embedded in the user’s life and outlook. The above forms of recontextualisation have purchase for this monograph, as the 11 practitioners can refer to their know-how in carrying out their occupational practices either within one profession or moving from one occupation to another. Also, some of the practitioners would be involved in teaching activities, and thus, the IAR process will offer insights. The other three notions – knowledgeable practice, practice architecture and systems 1 and 2 – also offer insights into how the 11 participants may perform in their respective occupations from an epistemological perspective. Knowledgeable practice (Evans, 2016) acknowledges the sociocultural dimensions of working and learning, which includes collaborative working. This concept implies informal and formal learning from peers occur, and that know-how can consist of explicit and tacit varieties, disciplinary knowledge,

Literature review  23

organisational procedures, experiences, skill sets, abilities and dispositions. Practice architecture (Kemmis and Green, 2013) also subscribes to the sociocultural relevance in work activities. The emphasis is on the practitioners’ ‘doings’, ‘sayings’ and ‘relatings’ rather than a focus on the epistemological stance. Systems 1 and 2 (Kahneman, 2012) offer insights into decision-­ making. The former system is quick and automatic in its reaction with little or no effort in making a decision. The downside to this process is its reliability. System 2 is slower than the other type, more considered and requires conscious effort. It endorses or rationalises ideas and emotions and prevents inappropriate thoughts and impulses, thus leading to better decision-making. However, this approach requires professional training. The three approaches to professional practices provide different perspectives on occupational practices and are suitable for a diverse group of 11 practitioners in conventional and new professions. Referring to creative/innovation work approaches, this model is based on working in the new or knowledge economy, which is heavily reliant on the information, communications and electronic technologies (ICET). The reasons for choosing this framework are as follows: (1) it includes creativity as a basis for working, (2) this distinct model is based on empirical data across three developed economies of England, Japan and Singapore, (3 )it is based on 31 participants – practitioners and academics – in the sectors of advertising and information technology software and (4) this framework to date is the only one that offers epistemological insights into how these creative workers use their know-how (i.e. knowledge, experiences, attributes, talents and skill sets) to perform in their roles. For a detailed delineation of this framework, please refer to Chapters 2–5 of Loo (2017) Creative Working in the Knowledge Economy, Abingdon: Routledge. Three sets of literature sources were utilised. These sources were drawn from the disciplines of economics, business/management, psychology and sociology. The first set of literature refers to the varied perceptions of the knowledge economy. The sources reviewed included Bell (1973), Castells (2002), Quah (2002), Lash and Urry (1994), Nonaka and Takeuchi (1995) and Knorr Cetina (2005). The findings from this set of sources that there are different perspectives of the knowledge economy and technologies are necessary to perform in this new economy. There are connective dimensions between the old industrial-based economy to the new post-industrial form. The connective dimensions are as follows: (1) the increasing digitalisation of knowledge goods (e.g. music and books) alongside tangible products (e.g. laptops and mobile phones), (2) a growing global network of businesses and cultural perspectives and (3) closer relationships between the producer and users or consumers of products or services. Within these differing backdrops of the new economy, the knowledge work approaches are investigated. The four approaches are by Drucker (1993) with his ‘technologists’, Zuboff (2004) and her ‘informated workers’, Nonaka and

24  Literature review

Takeuchi (1995) with their ‘knowledge-creating crew’ and Reich (2001) with his ‘geeks’ and ‘shrinks’ that he calls ‘creative workers’. A ‘technologist’, as exemplified by a surgeon, uses his/her scientific knowledge and judgement to solve complications in surgery alongside repetitive manual work (Drucker, 1999). An ‘informated worker’ is situated in a business environment where work experiences and tacit know-how are essential. She/he applied ‘intellective skill’ to analyse data towards the improvement of work activities (Zuboff, 2004). There are four types of creative workers in the ‘knowledge-creating crew’. These are knowledge operators, knowledge specialists, knowledge engineers and knowledge officers. The first two workers are practitioners on the shop floor who rely on their explicit and tacit knowledge, past experiences of the work organisation, manual skill sets and cognitive abilities. The knowledge engineers are drawn from the middle management of the organisation whose jobs are to liaise with practitioners and officers to bring an abstract concept into reality. The officer comes from the top management of the organisation, and the roles are to offer leadership skills, vision and standards for a project. These four types of knowledge workers are highly educated with cross-disciplinary knowledge and skills. They work collaboratively towards the completion of the project (Nonaka and Takeuchi, 1995). ‘Geeks’ have the passion for creating new possibilities in a business environment, whereas ‘shrinks’ can intuit, identify and fashion what people want to consume or experience using soft skill sets such as empathy. A geek may be an inventor or an engineer, whereas a shrink is a rainmaker or a trend spotter (Reich, 2001). Three themes may be deduced from this set of sources. The first is the individualistic style of working using their cognitive abilities and creative personalities. The second theme relates to the application of their education and training to understand abstracted data from technologies to improve work processes. The third theme refers to the collaborative nature of working involving highly educated and skilled professionals with their different attributes and skills and collective know-how to fashion innovative products or services. The third set of sources to review concerns creativity in knowledge work. They are Gardner (1999) and his ‘multiple intelligences’ (MI), Csikszentmihalyi (1988) and his ‘systems view of creativity’, Sternberg et al. (2004) and their ‘propulsion model of creative leadership’ and von Hippel (2006) and his ‘democratisation of innovation’. MI comprises of seven forms of intelligences ranging from linguistic, logical-­mathematical to bodily-kinesthetic varieties (Gardner, 1999). Some of these include intra- and interpersonal intelligences, which Goleman (1996) calls emotional intelligences. With systems view of creativity, a more sociocultural approach to creativity with his areas of the field (work setting), domain (areas of activity, e.g. advertising sector) and individual (e.g. knowledge worker) is offered. Creative act refers to a ‘variation’ that is different and novel to other ideas (Csikszentmihalyi, 1988), or an act which is associated with problem-solving and taking part in activities that are novel and

Literature review  25

acceptable to acknowledged experts (Gardner, 1999). The model on creative leadership offers insights into three main types, which are acceptance and development of current paradigms, rejection and replacement of existing models and integration of existing ones to create a new kind (Sternberg et al., 2004). The ‘democratisation of innovation’ occurs in a knowledge economy where consumers and producers as stakeholders innovate for themselves collaboratively (von Hippel, 2006). Two themes may be gleaned from these four descriptions of creative working. They are workers and apply their abilities, attributes and skills to innovate and the types and degrees of enculturation for creative processes to occur. These four types of creative working have traction for this monograph as they offer different insights into the process of creative making in business activities. Similarly, the four approaches to knowledge work provide styles of working and workers who rely on ICET in their roles. The reviews of the three sets of literature sources on the knowledge economy, knowledge working and descriptions of creativity in the new economy provide the background to constructing a theoretical framework of creative knowledge work. This construction will be pursued in Chapter 5. To sum up, this section on occupational education covers the work aspects. As in the informal learning section, this section offers a spectrum or continuum of normative and creative/innovative work practices. This perspective of working is helpful for the research monograph, as the range provides an intellectual framework for understanding the changing nature of work practices in traditional and new/knowledge economies. As with any conceptualisations, the reality of occupational practices may be found within the two variations of normative and creative/innovative occupational practices. This approach to thinking about work activities has traction for the discussion of the 11 case studies in Chapter 5.

Summary After the discussions in the above two sections, the literature reviews will offer sufficient theoretical ballast to frame the eventual informal learning, formal/academe learning (as part of the lifelong learning continuum) and work conceptual framework of normative and innovation work spectrum, which will be based on the 11 case studies in Chapter 5.

Notes 1 Callaghan, J. (1976). A Rational Debate Based on the Facts. Ruskin College, Oxford, UK at 18th October. Accessed31 August 2016. www.educationengland. org.uk/documents/speeches/1976ruskin.html 2 A visual representation of the major learning theories and their relationships is located on the website: https://www.academia.edu/1745876/Theories_of_­ Lear ning _ ­a _comprehensive_ image_of _th∼e_ major_theor ies _ and _their_­ possible_connections

Chapter 3

Perspectives from academe

Introduction The last one hundred years of organisational development has been characterised by compartmentalisation, we have sought certainty through decomposition of complicatedness and division of action and responsibility. But we are now moving into a world of connectedness where solid internal and external boundaries dissolve and customers and consumers become partners and co-creators. The nature of work has fundamentally changed over the last 20 years as organisations have adapted to the demands of the knowledge economy where arguably the most important currency is data. When the primary currency is data, the rise of artificial intelligence (AI) holds the promise of a new wave of automation based on algorithms. What does this mean for the mid- to senior-level practitioner? How do these people continue to add value and how do they equip themselves for an uncertain future that may require fundamentally different knowledge, skills and attitudes? The World Economic Forum (WEF, 2016, p. 3) in its report on the future of jobs and skills estimate that 65% of the children entering primary schools today will ultimately find work in jobs that currently don’t exist. To put this into context, in the next 10 to 15 years, more than half of new entrants to the workplace are likely to be employing skills and doing things that currently cannot be imagined. Mid-level employees and managers are currently valued and promoted based upon their ability to find answers to well-defined questions. Senior managers and leaders are valued for their ability to frame complexity in a way that directs attention to those issues that matter. The ability to frame issues is uniquely human and cannot be separated from values, sensitivity to interconnectedness and complexity, an ongoing dialogue and co-creation of understanding with stakeholders at all levels and a willingness to challenge ones’ own beliefs. Algorithms find patterns in big data, whereas visionary leaders find insight in the spaces between intersecting and overlapping zones of understanding. Senior leaders are boundary spanners capable of translating

Perspectives from academe  27

complex and often conflicting ideas; arguably, they specialise in seeing and finding meaning in what other dismiss as irrelevant on peripheral. Perhaps, it is time to look afresh at how practitioners acquire, use, reformulate and recontextualise knowledge.

Postgraduate practitioner education at Middlesex At Middlesex University, our practice-based transdisciplinary programmes locate learning in the messiness of real-world practice. We recognise that all the issues that matter in our organisations and world are complex, systemic, multidimensional, interconnected, emergent and evolving and ultimately human. All knowing is transitory and situated, all interventions provisional and all choices are ultimately value driven. Our programmes do not seek to equip students with generic packaged solutions; instead, we seek to help them develop their own unique way of seeing, thinking, knowing and being in the world. Our approach is designed to help each individual construct a way of knowing that opens the way to actionable insights in their unique context which ultimately leads to a way of being rather than just doing in the world. We focus on equipping students with tools and approaches that allow them to think, see and be different; to challenge their deeply held assumptions; to be curious at all times and to find learning opportunities in everything they do. Our learning design seeks to use a blended approach allied to the workbased learning pedagogy to increase the relevance and impact of the educational experience. Our students are all mature, and therefore, we draw upon theories of adult learning and andragogy (Knowles, Holton and Swanson, 2015). Context and situatedness are everything, so making it real and intertwining work and learning are paramount. Individuals and organisations all face the same learning imperatives: 1 They need to tap into the tacit and experiential dimension of their knowledge. a

We therefore believe that practitioner learning is best facilitated through a deeply social and interactive dialogue around real issues in the moment.

2 They need to increase innovation and creativity. a

Our learning designs value a collaborative approach because great ideas often come from unexpected areas and frequently involve boundary-spanning insights. This is fundamental to our launch of the MSc in transdisciplinary practice.

3 They wish to enhance organisational learning and awareness. a

We stress that learning and working are not discrete events, and every effort should be taken to combine the two.

28  Perspectives from academe

The above three points are critical to the Middlesex practitioner learning experience for mature students, and they are almost impossible to achieve when we front-load theoretical knowledge and divorce study from real engagement with ‘messy’ and ill-defined organisational realities.

The attraction for practitioners A great strength of the programme is that it attracts a diverse range of applicants with different motivations, abilities, attitudes and approaches to learning. We value the different perspectives and mindsets that our students bring, and we foster a supportive environment that helps them find their place within the learning community. Many students feel that something has been missing from their practice, or they are frustrated by the apparent insolubility of the issues they face. They may not be familiar with the term, but they have experienced what Rittel and Webber (1973) termed ‘wicked problems’. Not wicked in the moral sense but wicked in that they resist solutions; indeed, any situation that involves multiple stakeholder with differing perspectives and agendas is likely to throw up wicked problems. Intervention in a wicked domain changes the environment and promotes the emergence of new properties, which can in turn give rise to new issues. Our students inhabit a world where wicked problems are the norm and progress is made through collaborative efforts that ultimately involve one or more groups of stakeholders letting go of a cherished belief. Brown, Harris and Russell (2010) capture the challenge nicely when they posit that practitioners make decisions against a background of five distinct knowledge domains, namely, individual, community, specialist, organisational and holistic and that most individuals favour one form of knowledge over the others. Our students have come to recognise that the standard approaches to problem resolution that privilege reductionist thinking and sequential steps towards a single definitive solution may be deeply embedded within their organisational psyche but that are not working. Therefore, they come to our programme not seeking answers, but rather seeking new perspectives that allow them to find a different framing of their issues. The programme does not position the tutor as the fount of knowledge; indeed, we recognise that in many instances, the student will have deep expertise in their field and the personal agency to effect change. Through respectful dialogue, and reflective questioning, we help them to interrogate their context from multiple perspectives, recognising that we are all held prisoners by our experience and the ‘big assumptions’ that shape our meaning-­ making system (Brookfield, 2012). Our ultimate aim is to help them become more curious and thoughtful, and one might say scholarly practitioners a consequence of this is that they become more aware of the vertical shifts in meaning making that shape the process of adult development (Kegan, 1982). At graduation, students often tell us that this is the first positive engagement

Perspectives from academe  29

they have had with higher education and that the experience has ignited a burning passion to learn more and in doing so has redrawn their perception of what they can achieve in the world. They are the most vocal advocates for our programme within their communities.

Structure of the programmes Broadly speaking, our programmes incorporate two stages of activity. In the first stage, we are seeking to both develop a sense of professional curiosity in the student that starts with noticing, being open to sensing when something unusual or unexpected is playing out within a situation, and then adopt an attitude of inquiry that sets aside preconceptions and is open to new interpretations and perspectives on what is being experienced. Having taken notice of a situation, we then need to develop in the student the skill to frame the issue in a way that can be investigated within a particular context. Stage 1 is therefore about developing the practitioner as a researcher and then defining and developing a research project. Stage 2 of the programme is focused on conducting the research project within a live and dynamic professional setting; this is not just about the application of appropriate research methods but inevitably involves mobilising resources and networks of influence, but also building a consensus for action across groups with competing priorities and different conceptualisations of the issue. We start with a holistic review of who the student is as a professional; this will encompass a critique of their standing in their field and what has shaped their current understanding and manner of practice. Initially, most students understand their developing expertise in terms that are consistent with stage models of development (Dreyfus, Dreyfus and Athanasiou, 1986) within their practice as they move from novice through stages of advanced beginner and competence to proficiency and finally expertise. This definition of professional learning as a horizontal process of the acquisition of skills and knowledge is embedded within many of the competency models and frameworks adopted within the corporate environment. We have also placed an emphasis on vertical shifts in levels of meaning making. In most cases, the vertical development will have been triggered by a critical incident or disorientating dilemma (Mezirow, 1990), and we might reasonably expect their work to critically examine in some detail how their world view and sense of professional purpose has changed as a result of one or two such incidents. Inevitably as their arc of professional development deepens, there will be many associated strands of horizontal and vertical development. Throughout the early stages of the programme, we emphasise the holistic way in which their decision-making and propensity for action lies at the nexus of this intricate web of academic, professional and embodied knowledges, skills attitudes and intuitions. What emerges is a focus on their professional persona as a whole and how that wholeness shapes their

30  Perspectives from academe

perception of their specific professional context and how, in turn, they are perceived by their fellow practitioners. Practitioner research projects: Situated inquiry The second stage of the programme places the student back into their operational environment to examine an issue or unresolved dilemma that has the capacity to make a difference to their own practice and produce outcomes and impacts that are of direct value to their organisation or community. In this way, the work-based project becomes a vehicle for both individual and collective learning and potentially a catalyst for transformation of local working practices. A useful classification for the aims of work-based projects might be as follows: 1 Informative – setting out to clarify or extend current understand of a situation or how that situation is experienced by stakeholders within a specific context 2 Reformative – changing the direction or emphasis of some combination of existing systems, structures and practices 3 Transformative – the establishment of new patterns, new ways of seeing or framing issues and challenges, potentially leading local or practice wide changes in paradigm Whilst all projects will necessarily have an element which is informative in nature, for students seeking masters or doctoral-level recognition, we would generally expect the project aims to be either reformative or transformative.

Unlocking reflective practice From the outset, perhaps the most important pedagogic emphasis of the Middlesex programmes has been on developing the learner as a reflection practitioner. Increasingly, most students come to us with an awareness of reflective techniques having experienced yoga or mindfulness, and they will have developed their own unique, one may say, signature learning practices, but the added disciplines of criticality and reflexive dialogue are not well embedded and most of their experience will have been of reflection as a mechanism for retrospective sensemaking, reflecting on practice. We draw heavily on Schön’s articulation of reflection on and in action (Schön, 1991) and particularly the link he makes between reflection in action and creativity. For Schön, as we reflect in action on unexpected or puzzling phenomena, a triggering device for new thinking can be the process of ‘seeing as’ (Schön, 1991, p. 182) or recognising elements of the familiar in the unfamiliar. Our students often have personal experience of and can cite examples of

Perspectives from academe  31

instances when grappling with the unknown or trying to master a new skill has led them into a reflective conversation with a situation, but they may not have previously valued this as a valid mode of learning or of generating new knowledge and understanding. We encourage students to keep a reflective journal and record either in writing or through blogs and vlogs their personal interactions with events and to question the source of their apparent intuitive leaps. Again, Schön speaks of ‘generative metaphors’ as a mechanism for translating understanding from one domain to another and suggests that these, in part, may provide a route into explaining intuition and creativity. Increasingly, what we are trying to do is move beyond reflective practice and towards what we are starting to term the curious practitioner.

Why are we interested in curiosity? We are specifically concerned with senior practitioners, many of whom may have been away from formal higher education for many years, but who have now chosen to seek to develop their understanding and practice through the medium of practitioner-based research. These senior practitioners come to our programme with a track record of success and often consider themselves to be experts in their field. Indeed, in relation to the Dreyfus model of expertise (Dreyfus et al., 1986), they can be seen to be operational at an instinctive level and are valued by their organisations for the ability to quickly analyse a situation and take decisive action. It is perhaps surprising then that when confronted with the often ambiguous and conflicted nature of professional knowledge and the challenge of justifying their claims to knowing they can experience a crisis of confidence. We face the challenge of creating a learning environment that helps these mature learners to surface and challenge their claims to knowing and find new ways to grapple with ideas and notions that may shape and influence their practice and take it into new realms. Our experience to date is that shaking these acquired certainties needs more than just an enhancement to their reflective practices, it needs them adopt a level of curiosity about their world and how they experience it and as they develop new ways of knowing and performing, this takes them beyond the purely cognitive realm and is involved with both tacit and embodied ways of knowing and being in the world. We see the development of these new ways of engaging with higher education as being key to releasing the creative potential of our students and the development of a truly Curious Practitioner.

Positioning Curiosity is a human condition, and it appears that, as a species, we are uncomfortable with uncertainty, and when confronted with uncertainty and feeling curious, we will seek knowledge in an attempt to resolve the uncertainty. For many researchers in the field, curiosity is therefore seen as a form

32  Perspectives from academe

of intrinsic motivation, and the trigger event of curious behaviour is viewed either in terms of a need to resolve uncertainty or a need to fill an information gap. This latter view is of particular interest to education psychologists who suggest that when students are faced with an impasse in their understanding of the application of a particular concept or theory, they will be motivated to seek the missing information in order to bridge the information gap (Loewenstein, 1994). Loewenstein’s research suggests that the closer one comes to filling these information gaps, the more curious one becomes and the more satisfaction one gains from eventual closure on the task. The converse of this finding is that if you do not perceive an information gap, or are unaware that your knowledge is incomplete, curiosity will be low or become dormant. Experiments appear to support the idea that large knowledge gaps also lead to poor levels of curiosity, as motivation is increased by feelings of success with regard to closing gaps and achieving closure. If this is indeed the case and if it can be applied to adult learners, it may explain why we observe comparatively little natural curiosity exhibited by our senior practitioners who have come to believe that they have the skills and knowledge to perform effectively within their domain and that their major challenge is to apply what they already know in a decisive, effective and ethically sound manner. Of particular note for our situation is that educational approaches that are based on the information gap theory tend to share certain prerequisite conditions; namely that the information gaps need to be made apparent to the learner, that the gaps need to be manageable in nature and related to wellbounded situations. These educational techniques tend to break down when the problem domain is too ambiguous and the knowledge gaps too large. In our situation, where we are dealing with practitioners faced with ill-defined, ambiguous and socially complex organisational initiatives, the information gap with which they are faced is generally so large that curiosity breaks down and they revert to pattern recognition of solutions they have implemented in the past and that they rightly or wrongly believe provided some improvement in their situation. Our experience both as organisational consultants and as educators is that many senior professionals tend to eschew curiosity in favour of the comfort of organisational ritual. The information gap explanation of curiosity has its roots in the work of Berlyne (1954). He introduced the notion of epistemic (the desire to know) and perceptual (the desire to experience) forms of curiosity. For Berlyne, curiosity is a state of neurological arousal that results from an uncertainty in the environment that in turn prompts actions aimed at reconciling the uncertainty. Picking up on the notion of arousal and linking it to learning, Day (1982) proposed a ‘zone of curiosity’; a just enough state of arousal which sits on a spectrum between not enough arousal ‘zone of relaxation’ and too much arousal ‘zone of stress’ both of which extremes would lead to suboptimal learning. This fits well with Vygotsky’s concept of the ‘zone of proximal development’ in which learning is optimised. Not surprisingly, the focus of

Perspectives from academe  33

educational psychologists and educators is largely concerned with cognitive processes and hence privileges epistemic curiosity. But it could be argued that for practitioners working in complex social and organisational contexts, the key motivational drivers go beyond cognitive engagement to encompass the felt experience of practice and performance; if this is the case, it is perhaps time to pay more attention to the role of perceptual curiosity whilst accepting that this has an organisational meaning that goes beyond the thrill seeking behaviour normally associated with adventurous pastimes and extreme sports. In the high-stress environment experienced by many of our professionals, there is a very real sense of being on the edge of the unknown, as they grapple with new experiences and challenges. Recent work by Kashdan et al. has focused on expanding our understanding of perceptual curiosity particularly in respect of its relationship to building interpersonal relationships in response to social stimuli. Curious people appear to experience better social outcomes, and the increased social activity contributes to personal learning and growth through both sharing information and building shared experience (Kashdan and Silva, 2009). The role of curiosity in building both a supportive motivational structure and an extended social network around similar and related interests suggests that our efforts to link researchers together across disciplinary boundaries are building upon levels of intrinsic motivation naturally exhibited by adult learners. Kashdan and Silva (2009) looked at the effect of curiosity in everyday life. They use the terms curiosity and interest as synonyms that collectively refer to the state of heightened arousal that begets exploration. These researchers go on to highlight the critical role that curiosity plays in building knowledge, skills and relationships and therefore its contribution to building and sustaining a sense of personal well-being. Whilst Kashdan and Silva point to the similarities between curiosity and interest for our purposes, it may be useful to focus upon nuances of meaning that colour the layman’s understanding of these terms. Interest is often taken as representative of an ongoing engagement with a topic that results in deepening and ongoing engagement in the here and now. By contrast, curiosity is generally understood as being future focused insofar that the realisation of an uncertainty or information gap may trigger future exploration of that subject to resolve the uncertainty. Clearly the two notions are interrelated because even accepting that a stimulus may arouse feelings of curiosity, these feelings are unlikely to be acted upon unless you already have an underlying interest in the phenomena. This view of curiosity in terms of the fulfilment of information gaps has led some educational researchers, specifically in the area of technology-mediated learning environments, to focus attention on the linkages between the related concepts of curiosity, interest and engagement. Arnone et al. (2011) build upon this notion when examining curiosity as a function of learning within technology pervasive environments and suggest that learning outcomes that lead to

34  Perspectives from academe

the development of mastery require the confluence of curiosity, interest and diligent and purposeful application, which they term as engagement. This leads them to examine the role of technological platforms in stimulating curiosity and interest but also in opening up and sustaining processes for meaningful engagement. “When things are proceeding normally, experts don’t solve problems and don’t make decisions; they do what normally works,” (Dreyfus et al., 1986, pp. 30–31). This observation neatly describes the approach of many of the senior professionals that come on our programmes. They do exhibit some curiosity but only within the confines of the frames they are bound by; this form of epistemic curiosity is indeed generally built around filling perceived information gaps. But our experience shows that the curiosity of this nature is not sufficient to challenge deeply held beliefs and assumptions and rarely leads to the sort of breakthrough thinking that should accompany post graduate-­ level research efforts. Looking deeper at this issue, Opdal (2001) suggests that the missing link is wonder. For Opdal, wonder comes about when we recognise that we have come to the limits of our capacity to understand phenomena within our current frame and that this causes us to examine our fundamental assumptions and open ourselves to the possibility of reframing. This level of reframing requires us to ask fundamentally different sorts of questions and potentially to continue to ask questions almost indefinitely until we find new ways of viewing and explaining our world. In our programme, we seek to develop and sustain levels of curiosity in our students who go well beyond mere information-seeking behaviour. We seek to stimulate a sense of wonder that challenges accepted frames and then builds that curiosity into a force that builds upon intrinsic levels of interest and engagement to acquire new knowledge, drives the formation of new experiences and forms and sustains new levels and natures of relationships that can provide multiple perspectives to emergent and complex challenges. Practitioners inhabit a complex environment of competing priorities and shifting power dynamics, and they achieve their goals by marshalling the various capabilities of a fluid network of committed professionals. In an organisational sense, all solutions are the result of a co-creation process; change results from the collective efforts of the many rather than the diligent application of the thoughtful individual. Against this background, it could be argued that the mantra of reflective practice no longer works as an organising concept for advanced practitioner research. Perhaps, we should focus on harnessing our natural curiosity and becoming attuned to the unexpected and alert to opportunities to fully explore new ways of knowing. Dewey wisely pointed out that a higher stage of curiosity arises out of the influence of social stimuli (Dewey, 1997). We are therefore repositioning our approach to develop a multidimensional toolkit that positions the individual practitioner as a node within a cohort of professional researchers sharing and building upon each other’s experience in order to conceptualise their own

Perspectives from academe  35

practice. Our aim is to deepen their reflective and reflexive practices as they craft a critical self-narrative that equips them to design an inquiry into their practice that is rooted in their own professional identity and role whilst being positioned within their uniquely rich operational context. We contest that the development of the curious practitioner requires more than just polishing cognitive skills; we need to develop a questioning approach and persistence against the odds. In short, it calls for a developmental approach that focuses on the social, ethical, emotional and psychological resources required to be a master in their field. Our aim then is to develop and channel the practitioner’s natural curiosity about themselves as professionals and the challenges and opportunities they face in their context, in order to equip them to make a difference in their organisation, community or field of practice.

Chapter 4

Case studies of 11 participants

Introduction These are contributions from the 11 participants. These case studies are ways of making sense of their journeys to their current occupations. These case studies may be viewed as empirical data from which the discussions in the next chapter are used and related to the sources from the earlier literature review chapters.

Andrew Atter Journaling as a tool of informal learning In this case study, I will describe my journey from an ambitious but restless corporate executive to a fledgling tech start-up founder. Underlying this narrative is a shift from reliance on structured, professionally ordered knowledge towards embracing more emergent, expansive learning. As Engestrom and Sannino (2010) point out, whilst standard theories of learning stress knowledge that is both identifiable and stable, some of the most intriguing forms of learning arise when “we must learn new forms of activity which are not yet there”.

From structured knowledge to expansive learning My journey has taken me thousands of miles, never in a straight line. In 1994, I left the stability of a corporate job in the United Kingdom and began consulting in China, just as its modern-day transformation started. Later on, I leapt into the world of Asian technology start-ups. This was followed in 2004 by a very contrasting move to Poland, where I witnessed a newly reborn country join the European Union. Finally, I returned to the

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United Kingdom in 2012 and began research that would lead to the foundation of my own technology firm. Looking back, it’s perhaps ironic that with all the boundary crossings and new beginnings, the only thing I became truly attached to was my journal. My journal became my constant companion in airport lounges, on trains, in hotel lobbies and in the calm moments at home. As a product of myself, it naturally reflects back to me my own development. For instance, in 1991 (the earliest fragment I have retained), my journal was really little more than professional note taking and preparatory notes. By 2007, it had become a creative tool for sketching, wordplay, brainstorming, model building and sensemaking. By 2014, it was the tool I used to decode complex ideas and form the basis of what was to become my doctoral thesis and start-up idea. Over time, my journal evolved from a fairly conventional 1980s style (then) fashionable filo-fax, into an electronic library of professional notes, drawings, reading notes, interview notes, concepts and ideas, draft blog articles, quotations and book references. ‘Journal’ is actually an umbrella concept for what is in effect, a disparate cloud-based portfolio of documents I generate to document, understand and navigate the unfolding reality around me.

Capturing truth in flight Journaling provided me with the structure I needed as I left the familiar walls of the corporate world and began to work more intuitively and experientially in cultures with which I was far less familiar. It provided the vital tool that linked unprocessed impulses, drives, ideas and instincts and connected them to learned thoughts and behaviours. For example, in 2006, by then, an executive coach, I attended a coaching conference in Romania and became intrigued by a presentation on the role of soul in the development of ourselves. I had some understanding of psycho-dynamic theory, but I had never really explored what ‘soul’ really meant. I began to connect the word to my experiences of music and hypnotic effects of Jazz, blues and the Javan gamelan. For me, this wasn’t an abstract metaphysical question. It was about whether energy was present and what moved people to make big changes in their lives in the here and now. I explored the idea that our experience of music was perhaps evidence of the existence of our soul, and this perhaps explained why we were so primally attached to it. These thoughts never really developed further than this. However, writing it down in this way helped attune my own awareness of the presence of soul, and listen for it both within myself and my clients. My journal had the effect of helping me become a better listener when conversations became more soulful and also perhaps when conversations were soulless.

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The guardian of knowledge In my corporate role, I enjoyed a unique perspective as the person who ran the reward system, including the shares and bonuses for senior management. Any new job, and any management promotion, required my signature. I ran the company job evaluation panel, which graded each job according to a formal evaluation system. Such panel chairing required an authoritative stance. I had to know the details of the job evaluation methods, but also be able to use personal influence to prevail in the often heated discussions that took place around pay and grading. This globally recognised evaluation system was often summarised according to the mantra “Jobs, not people”. The system analysed the size of job (and therefore the pay level) using a series of analytical factors. It attempted to exclude those idiosyncratic and personal factors that made one person do a job differently from another person, such as values, performance, motivation or levels of competency. I attended industry committees to maintain the alignment of the benchmark jobs and also received regular training to ensure we were applying the system with due rigor. This was, in 1994, the heyday of the globalised corporation but also the same year as Netscape was founded. Yahoo was founded the year after, and Google in 1996. Things were just about to change rapidly.

Pivotal moment In December 1993, whilst trekking around Indonesia, a throwaway remark by a Singaporean friend continued to stay lodged in my mind. He had simply remarked “You should come to Asia. With your expertise, you could become a consultant”. For days, I was unable to put this fragment out of my mind, or decide what to do with it. Could I just give up my career just like that? The worse I made it sound, the more I seemed to become attracted to the idea. Whilst sitting at the foot of monument of Borobudur on the island of Java, waiting for the sun to rise, I made the decision to be in Asia in the following year. It was perhaps the first time I became aware of how a seemingly throwaway comment could unlock deeper, spiritual energy. I was also aware of the power of the cultural energy, topography and space around me, and the pivotal nature of that moment in time. Sadly, at that moment, I was not keeping a journal. My attempts to launch my own consultancy led to an offer from a large US consultancy firm to expand their office in Hong Kong. Before I left, I went to see the Senior Partner in the London office. He was experienced of working in Asia. I asked him what I needed to learn in order to be a consultant in the region. He was thoughtful for a while, and then gave a surprising response. “Write everything down”, he said. Every time you meet a client, write it down immediately. Write everything you can recall about the meeting. This

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is especially true in Asia, where the verbal and nonverbal clues are quite different and where a smile and a nod can mean a “no” and silence can mean a “yes”. He showed me a contact form. “Here” he said, “this will save your life”. This proved invaluable advice. The sheer pace of working life in Asia created a paradoxical need to pause, write things down and think about what was happening. I didn’t realise then, but the contact form was to become the genesis of my journal. The bureaucratic necessity to write down client interactions morphed into a work habit and then into a personal need to make sense of what was going on around me and within me.

A different perspective So, in August 1994, I swapped the spacious comfort of the European Head Office, an austere modernist architectural statement set in rolling parkland, for the 37th Floor of Central Plaza, Wanchai, a skyscraper towering above the cafes and bars of bustling Hong Kong. I was having six to eight meetings a day. The only way to keep up and remember anything by the end of the day was to write it down. But the meetings were too interactive and intense for note taking. Deals were being done in the moment. Making eye contact, observing body language and listening acutely were critical to any client meeting. But remembering what was being said was the first challenge, and then thinking through what it really meant was the next. I quickly discovered the coffee shops that occupy every lobby of Hong Kong skyscrapers. Crammed into tiny cafe spaces, I learned to download everything I could remember about the meeting. I later came to call this activity memory tracing. An inbound referral from the New York office took us up to China. I lead a project to manage the formation of a joint venture between a US telecoms group and Radio Factory 37*, a factory partly owned by the Provincial Government and the Peoples Liberation Army. The venture was to make paging devices. In 1995, corporations wanted to believe the world was flat, enabling them to apply one global solution to everything. This included pagers. I recall one US executive telling me, “if they want pagers in Texas, they’ll want them in China too”. When we developed the new budget for the joint venture, our pay analysis showed a fivefold increase in pay costs. Moreover, younger staff got paid more than longer serving employees; the fewer years worked, the more pay the staff member received. This made no sense according to conventional pay ‘curves’ and indicated that employee relations trouble lay ahead. We had no models or reference points to explain this. Anthony, a young Chinese consultant, suggested we speak privately with Mme Zhou, a contact point with the Chinese company and a ranked major

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in the PLA. Over lunch, and outside the formalities of the negotiating rooms, she explained to us what was really happening. We shared with Mme Zhou that this data would be received with alarm by the US company. She told us that the young staff were acquiring digital skills at a much faster rate than their older counterparts, and they were preferred by employers as they didn’t have the cultural baggage. China was producing hundreds of thousands of IT and technology graduates, who were often also able to speak English. Many were returning from studying in the United States, the United Kingdom and Australia. Moreover, the local Chinese workers were organised into work gangs, or danwei, rather than formal job hierarchies. This allowed work to be allocated flexibly, according to need and based on the skills and competency of the person. The workers at Radio Factory 37 had little understanding of hierarchy and found the concept of a job description, quite a hard concept to grasp. This was being relayed to me via translation by Anthony, who was doing his best to convey the nuance of what Mme Zhou was saying. Looking back, I realise that years of this kind of contextual layered listening lay ahead of me. The significance of the weight and gist of words became very evident. I’d learned to ask Anthony what Mme Zhou meant by a particular word. Journaling these words became a form of mental attunement. In 1995, the Peoples Republic of China issued its new Labour Law. The ‘iron rice bowl’ was broken. People in China were (mostly) free to work where they chose and were now expected to negotiate their own salaries. Young, smart, ambitious, the young Chinese were getting degrees in the United Kingdom, Canada and Australia, and returning to make their demands on unsuspecting foreign companies, who were slow to realise that the culture of the ‘iron rice bowl’ no longer prevailed. Nothing invites high pay demands more than seeing well-heeled Americans from Connecticut arriving in large numbers into cities across China. I was witnessing first-hand wholesale disruption of the global economy. The job evaluation charts I was used to back in the United Kingdom, with neatly drawn lines showing the pay levels according to job grade, were being rendered useless by the number of pay anomalies, driven by acute skill shortages generated by the emergence of whole new industries. Nevertheless, I filed my report to the US client showing large increases in pay and benefit costs, to meet these rising labour market demands. That same evening, a fax arrived to my home, firmly requesting that I attend a management meeting in Beijing the following week. When I went to the meeting, I found 18 senior US executives, including 3 senior vice presidents. They were demanding to know how my firm could be recommending pay scales that sharply increased pay from their existing levels. I can recall the sweat dripping down my back and feelings of heightened anxiety as I tried and failed to convince them that the existing pay models that we’d used around the world since the 1950s simply no longer worked. The subtleties explained by Mme Zhou

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and other anecdotal information seemed to melt under the harsh lights of the conference and lost meaning as they were relayed in the third person. I not only became aware of emotions, such as anxiety, but I noticed the impact they had on my performance during the meeting. My journal shifted from being after-the-fact reflections about what I recalled, towards capturing more in-the-moment reflexive observations in the meeting itself. I did this by using crude symbols and squiggles, which later helped me to re-experience the emotion of the event itself. The consultancy project was terminated. I can remember feeling how hard this felt at the time. However, soon afterwards, the classic Nokia 1610 handset was launched in 1996, and the age of the ubiquitous mobile phone had arrived, with young Asians leading the way. Nobody wanted pagers anymore. Radio Factory 35, and its US parent, disappeared without trace shortly afterwards. The readiness to work with informal, emergent information, proved to be existential in Asia in the 1990s. Those that clung on to old models, and theories that worked elsewhere in the world, were soon overwhelmed by new disruptive forces. Whole industries were being created, along with new jobs and work organisations. It was exhilarating. A liberation. But also, overwhelming. By now, I had moved way beyond merely recording my memory trace of a meeting that had just taken place. I was habitually writing down ideas, linking themes and flow diagrams to try to understand what was going on. I separated my meeting notes and kept a separate section for ideas. I then added a section for reading notes, quotations, facts, etc. This was the start of my journaling, a sprawling attempt to make sense of the unfolding realities. Due to the time intensity of each busy day, I developed a system of symbols to cut down on writing time. I used various crude emoticons, arrows, abbreviations and acronyms to capture the flow of interactions. I would sketch models and diagrams that I could use to reference differing viewpoints, such as a SWOT, a two-by-two or force-field chart. However, the nature of my journaling was still analytical and job focused in nature. In 1996, I moved to work for a competitor firm as Regional Director. Ironically, one of my tasks was to help them adapt to an era of more dynamic, market-based pay. The person who hired me was also new to the firm and very much a maverick. He was a big talking New Yorker, now recently based in Asia. He was the author of a book that repositioned the entire reward practice of the firm away from job evaluation and towards pay based on cultural and values fit. As well as providing a much needed coherent theory, his client style also attracted my attention. I recall an exploratory meeting with a major financial services institution in Hong Kong. I had prepared a formal pack of data, with sample questions, key points, etc. However, when we went into the meeting, he ignored my briefing paper and began by asking the Board member across the table “… you like Jazz?” Fortunately, he did. I never knew whether that was a lucky guess,

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and what he would have done if the answer was no. As it turned out, it shifted the energy of the meeting immediately and led to a warm, open discussion. I noted he did this frequently. He would ask off-the-wall questions that would create energy and unexpected turns in a meeting. This was very new to me. I followed his lead and learned to go ‘off-piste’ with the client. I started to reflect this in my contact reports and became ever more curious about what was going on outside the formal content of the meeting. This made the contact reports even more significant, but at times harder to interpret. I yearned to understand Asia more deeply. I travelled extensively, took language classes, read widely, watched movies and widened my circle of friends way beyond the ‘expat’ enclaves. This showed up in my journal. As I travelled to meet clients, I would stay a day, seeing history or cultural sites. I mentioned this in meetings. I would ask them about something I’d seen, perhaps a museum, historical site, a movie or a new restaurant. I noted down their reactions and the personal anecdotes that this often evoked.

Finding out what is really going on In July 1997, I met a friend taking the commuter ferry home to one of the outlying islands and asked him how his day had been. “Not great” he replied, “I lost my job”. “Oh, I’m sorry mate”, I replied, “but, I thought things were going well there?” “Yeh, well the bank just fired everyone in my department. The whole floor went. The Indonesian economy has just collapsed”. The 1997 Financial Crisis was that sudden. A contagion swept across the region, crashing currencies, turning conglomerates to dust and bringing construction cranes to a shuddering halt. No one saw it coming. The dominant theory of the time, Efficient Market Hypothesis, lay in ruins. Animal spirits had returned. The herd had stampeded, and the analysts had failed to note that they had been part of it. More than ever, the need to really understand what was happening beneath the surface was imperative. We rarely got straight answers in formal settings. Increasingly, we had to find informal ways to talk behind the scenes with clients and to ask them to reveal candid stories. Did they have the money to pay for the projects? Did they really have the political support to move ahead with high-risk, high-value changes? Whilst certain markets like Thailand and Indonesia disappeared into crisis, other markets cried out for immediate support. One of the consequences was that it could no longer rely on cash being sent over from the regional or global offices. Given the global credit crunch, a wrong move could mean consultants not being paid, or key staff having to be let go. We were, in short, being forced to think and act like entrepreneurs. We had to identify rapid shifts in the market and organise with speed and agility to meet these new sources of demand.

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By 1998, the internet economy was gathering pace, and Hong Kong was becoming a key hub, with its high level of connectivity and sources of venture capital. This had its downsides and at times pushed us to make easy sales to dot-com companies wanting stock option plans to attract and reward hard-to-hire tech employees. My contact reports began to include ethical concerns and questions about the real value of what we were doing. This concern was beginning to inform my professional judgement and posed questions about my own role in this game of musical chairs. To paraphrase Robert Rubin, the music was still playing, and everyone was still dancing. An inbound request for help from a then little known company based in China caught our attention. Together with a fellow consultant, we both went up to Shenzhen to present to their board. We were faced with a room full of 40 managers, including the company President and Deputy Chair. This company that we hadn’t heard of turned out to be an emerging global giant. This meeting led to a two and half year assignment, and an opportunity to learn about a completely new form of business organisation: A private Chinese high-tech company. My contact reports noted the aspiration of this company, along with its ability to stay highly productive despite it seemingly having no coherent organisational structure. The entire company seemed to be organised around projects, not hierarchy. In fact, hierarchies of sorts did exist, only that they were based around knowledge and affiliations, forged from trusted networks and pragmatic assessments of the person’s ability in delivering complex projects. This consulting engagement also felt very different from previous engagements. Rather than applying well-known methods, we were in a process of joint discovery with the client. It was another throwaway line that caught my attention and led to a future change not direction. When returning from Shenzhen, I remarked that our meetings with the client were less about a project plan, per se, and more about helping them take decisions. My colleague replied insightfully that this was because we were coaching them, not consulting to them. It was 1999, and it was the first time I had heard the term coaching used in that context. I was curious. Soon after, I left the consulting firm and joined the fledgling internet firm on the founder management board. I was its third employee. Starting over was becoming a pattern. The learning challenge was that no one had done this before. No one knew what an internet company should look like, even less one based in Asia. My commute home in those days involved a 30-minute ferry ride, with the upper deck open to the elements. There’s nothing quite like proximity to water to encourage reflectivity. The sea breeze and the shifting perspectives of Hong Kong receding into the distance proved the ideal combination to write about the day’s events. My notebooks became filled with jottings, notes

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and drawings, as I downloaded the day and thought about the day ahead. Journaling became a way of cleaning the slate before I got home to the family, and rather like a good night’s sleep, it became a tool that helped me re-­energise for the next day.

Learning to trust Through an acquisition of a software company in China, an elderly gentleman called Mr Chu reported to me as HR manager for China. It was widely assumed that Mr Chu had direct links with the Communist Party, and his role in supervising the personal files was a cause for some anxiety amongst the generation of young tech professionals. Despite this, he and I got on surprisingly well, even though he we could only converse through a third-party translator. I had learned the arts of giving face and showing respect, especially to those who were older than myself. I consulted Mr Chu on key decisions and was keen to show that I had listened to his advice. Likewise, I noticed he began to give me early warnings about developing problems or sage advice that could keep me out of trouble. Our relationship was cemented after I faced a difficult dilemma. We had to terminate a senior manager in China over potential financial misconduct. The lead time for making this happen according to due legal process was 3 days. Technically, we were bound by confidentiality, and we were all under strict instructions from our lawyers to keep the information contained within the Hong Kong Head Office. Yet, only Mr Chu was qualified to give the correct notification to the local Labour Bureau. If I shared this information with him, and it leaked, it could potentially wreck the acquisition and cause stock market sensitives. I journaled anxiously, full of doubt. I decided to share the information with Mr Chu. I placed my trust and my career in his hands. The information held. The termination was successful and cleanly done. Both Mr Chu and I knew what passed between us. Despite the same contradictions, dilemmas and political games common in all companies, no one ever saw Mr Chu or me out of step. I trusted and empowered him, and he provided a continual flow of good counsel and information the other way. It was one of the best working relationships I’ve ever had. This experience, which fell outside cultural and professional norms, taught me more about building trusted relationships than any number of books and lectures on psychology. It isn’t just having the experience that matters. The key to generate informal learning is critically reflecting on that experience so that the repeatable and shareable lessons become both accessible and usable. Otherwise, experience flows passed each day, with learning opportunities moving out of reach. Later in 2001, I was tasked with finding executive coaches for the CEOs of twenty-plus line businesses in our portfolio. The concept of executive coaching was still very new and had yet to gain ground in Hong Kong.

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I recall speaking to a coach called Mary. She was Canadian and, like me, a long-term expatriate. Yet, there was something very different about this conversation. She listened for a while and then began to ask a series of open questions. She reflected back my own words to me. She invited me to expand on the meaning of words I’d used. This prompted me to think and test my assumptions. But above all, I remember experiencing a feeling of calm and tranquillity during the call. I felt supported, even cared for. She had simply opened up the space for me to think and reflect. This space allowed room for new things. I realised that coaching could be an opportunity to create my own future, rather than be dependent on opportunities created by others. By now, I was getting quite good at fresh beginnings. After completing a professional coach certification, I co-founded my own executive coaching practice with several associates. As the co-owner of my own firm, I was also taking a step further towards being an entrepreneur. I also deepened my own self coaching. My journaling became more reflective and open ended. The voice inside my head became less harsh and self-critical and became more questioning and understanding. It was becoming more present and available to me, helping me notice things and become aware of things happening around me. I was using my own coaching voice inwardly, as if I was another coaching client. It manifested in my journal, which became increasingly a tool of self-coaching. In 2004, I had the freedom to relocate my family and business to Poland, just as the country just joined the European Union and new opportunities opened up across Eastern Europe. All of which provided ample opportunity to learn entirely new things in new cultures, notepad at the ready. My journal filled with new, more mature schematics in which I sought to understand the relationships between the different elements in play. I was beginning to see how ‘hard’ knowledge like investment and strategy was being shaped by ‘soft’ elements of mentoring, relationships and ethics. I developed an increasing interest in how boards worked, shaped my approach to the widening interest in entrepreneurship. After a few years of coaching in Warsaw, Berlin, Prague and Bucharest, London exercised its magnetic pull. I began doing more and more work with boards on their decision-making and ethical conduct. I returned to London in 2012, relocating my executive coaching business. I also became an Entrepreneur-in-Residence at a well-known university college in London. This was another new beginning and another role that hadn’t really been defined clearly before. The role originated in the technology accelerators on in Silicon Valley but was new to university environments in the United Kingdom. In working with the students and recent graduates who formed the enterprise community, it seemed obvious that at that time we didn’t have the right tools and methods to support their learning as entrepreneurs.

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How do you enable people to learn something, when no one has done it before? How do you create something out of nothing? Much of our formal educational systems were predicated on the basis of transferring knowledge in some form. Mentoring, one of the older forms of learning there is, is based on the notion that wisdom can be imparted from a seasoned practitioner to a novice. But as one games founder said to me at the time, “I don’t want a mentor who is another games founder. Things are changing so fast their knowledge is already out of date. What I need is someone to help me become a leader”. In searching for an answer to this learning conundrum, I went by chance to meet a fellow entrepreneur-in-residence, called Duncan. He was the founder and CEO of a successful bioscience company. He described how he had been a professional sportsperson who after having been injured decided to do a PhD. Duncan was, like me, reflecting on how his life had arrived at that point. He set out his views on the entrepreneurial mindset and how we can access the inner entrepreneurial self. He referenced Carol Dweck’s book Mindset (Dweck, 2006). Duncan was demonstrating the power of an examined life. I met him privately, and he was able to explain more about how his own journey shaped his approach to open innovation and adopt a more collaborative and inclusive form of entrepreneurship. It also explains why he gave so much of his time back to students and the start-up community. I began my own research project shortly afterwards, which I specifically researched entrepreneurial mindset. Like Dweck, I came to the conclusion that understanding mindset was the key to understanding growth and change. My doctoral research at the Institute of Work-Based Learning at Middlesex University provided the opportunity and tools to capture and codify my experience of working with entrepreneurs. I was intrigued by the possibilities presented by digital technologies to open up entrepreneurial education, so that learning could be accessible to entrepreneurs anytime, anywhere and not those who just happened to be in elite universities. The result was Pivomo, a digital platform designed to support entrepreneurial learning. The title, shortened from pivotal moments, was grounded in research conducted with entrepreneurs about the big decisions that they were wrestling with. Right at the core of the online platform is a journaling tool, enabling them to record their thoughts and observations as they work on their ventures. Pivomo is a new beginning and also flows from my own experience of observing myself during pivotal moments.

Journaling as a tool for navigating uncertainty The golden thread that runs through my own experience is the access that we have to our own in-built guidance system that can be harnessed and used to good effect if we pay attention to it. I used my journal as a way to convert

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fleeting experiences into tangible, useable knowledge. This made both the pathway and pivotal moments more visible and understandable. It enabled me to record and reflect upon on my experiences so that I could make sense of them and take better decisions as a result.

Sue Binks Recontextualising knowledge Introduction I am an occupational psychologist, learning and development professional, coach and facilitator. This case study will explore the different ways that my professional knowledge has been accumulated and actively developed. Whether this is through thoughtful co-facilitation with a range of colleagues or through an embedded and thorough practice of reflection. Part of professional learning is learning to experiment, find novel ways to use the principles we have extracted from theories and models. We even need to generate new approaches entirely at times. My learning is in service of other professionals’ learning, so there is an element of understanding the responsibility to maintain and enhance my instrumentality that adds a different dimension to professional knowledge generation. • • • • • • • •

Brief overview of my professional career and the formal learning opportunities along the way Different sources of learning: Experience and the role of intuition Reflective practice – a la Schön Co-facilitation – observing and reflecting together Support and challenge/peer supervision – dangers of only bringing what you consider relevant Personal development Reflections

Professional learning: Overview My current role is as head of quality and ethics at Roffey Park Management Institute. I am also a senior consultant and as such a learning and development professional. I work with public, private and not-for-profit organisations, predominantly to develop their leaders and also develop other practitioners, including facilitators. The work that we are best known for is deep, personal learning that creates transformational, mindset shifts. As a facilitator, being

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comfortable and skilled at supporting leaders and others to work with the more emotional, human processes in the workplace, is our bread and butter. I have also completed my professional doctorate in facilitating leadership development with horses: underpinnings of practice. Not only am I a practitioner, I have spent 6 years exploring and discovering what really underpins mine, and others’ practice in a highly experiential and embodied method. So, how did I get here? As is so often the case, my career choices have largely been serendipitous as opposed to planned. I knew I was interested in psychology but did not have an appreciation of the possible career paths it held until my final year of my undergraduate degree. It was only a visiting lecturer from an occupational psychology consultancy that opened my eyes to that discipline. It was at that point I chose to study for an MSc in Occupational Psychology. In hindsight, I would probably have got more out of it had I had more work experience. I had very few, relevant experiential hooks to hang some of the new information on (see constructivist learning theories like Vygotsky and Bruner). To a greater or lesser extent, the theories were out of date before I had even finished the course. However, what was probably more useful were the explicit and implicit principles that stayed with me for longer. For example, the approach to assessment is based on such principles as objectivity, fairness, validity and reliability. For certain aspects of my work, they are still useful principles that I adhere to. However, they are positivistic in nature, when now, much of my work is based on social constructivist principles. As an occupational psychologist, I had concepts such as validity and reliability drummed into me during my master’s degree, pretty much without question. So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to me, however, when reading Ponterotto (Ponterotto, 2013) for my thesis, who asserted that many psychologists who conduct research do not have a thorough appreciation of epistemology. According to him and Morrow (Morrow, 2005), this is because qualitative methods and the associated philosophical underpinnings are often not taught, or not taught thoroughly. It was only through my exploration of epistemology at the beginning of my doctoral studies, did this really land with me. I had been sitting with two conflicting theories of the nature of knowledge and knowing without fully appreciating those conflicts. What I had been taught sat in one paradigm, and what I was experiencing and working with implicitly, sat in another. Now, one might argue that those conflicts are largely theoretical, as it is possible to live and work in a world where practically there is objectivity and ‘truth’ as well as one where our experiences are constructed and remade through language and conversation on a daily basis. However, it was only really when I began to work at Roffey Park Management Institute, did the shift in that implicit epistemology occur. The exposure to different theoretical models, but also to diverse and talented practitioners whose first instinct almost is to question assumptions, created a profound shift in how I thought

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about what I know. To remove the constraints of objectivity and have a different relationship with models, theories and ‘received wisdom’ was liberating. For me, learning became more of a curiosity about underlying principles and the different possibilities for seeing the world. The difference between learning and accepting theories or models and understanding principles is vital in professional knowledge construction. Principles can be applied flexibly in different circumstances and can guide experimentation. This is more than ‘knowing that’, or even ‘knowing how’ and more about ‘knowing why’.

Sources of learning In this section, I will outline what I believe the different sources of my learning as a professional have been. Whilst there have been some instances of more formal inputs from other practitioners, the vast majority have been informal, and indeed co-constructed. This is consistent with the learning philosophy of Roffey Park, i.e. learning is a social activity; adults learn with and from each other, each bringing their rich experiences and perspectives and motivation that ranges from solving a real-life work problem or perform a task or role better, to self-actualisation and personal growth.

Experience My first role that was relevant to my current role was working as a trainer. I had no formal training in how to be a trainer and did the classic, “If I can put across the material in an interesting and interactive manner that will be fine”. There were many incidents that might be considered a baptism of fire that quickly disabused me of the idea that training was just about transferring information from my head into someone else’s. Whether this was doing time management training for legal secretaries, or essential management skills for manufacturing supervisors, it quickly became apparent that I had to pay attention to the organisational context and the emotional state of the learners. (The legal secretaries could manage their time; it was the relationship with their bosses they couldn’t manage.) However, I was still quite young, i.e. in my mid-twenties, and whilst I could see what was happening, I didn’t yet have the skills or experience to handle those issues in any more than a superficial way. More importantly, I hadn’t done my own personal development work, to enable me to separate out what was an issue in the group and what was my issue. Even though I was in personal therapy at the time, I didn’t make the connection between myself and my instrumentality or fitness to practice and what was happening in the classroom. This changed, slowly at first, when we had development with an extremely experienced facilitator who introduced me and my colleagues to the work of

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John Heron. What leapt out at me was the idea of what a facilitator should pay attention to. One of these dimensions, was ‘Feeling’ or the emotional life of the learner or group. A light bulb flicked on; there was a language and a framework for understanding my experience and guiding principles. Trevor Bentley would make the distinction that anything which simply takes a group through a set process with defined methods and outcomes is training, but to make it facilitation, and advanced facilitation at that, you have to be able to work emergently with what comes up in the group. It was with the introduction to Heron, that I could even begin to comprehend the difference between training and facilitation. However, it would take many years of practice, personal development, support and reflective practice to really get under the skin of what it meant.

The role of intuition One can’t talk about experience without connecting to what is commonly referred to as intuition. How do experts make judgements without going through the laborious process of ‘working it out’? Is it just rapid pattern recognition, or is it more than that? How does intuition turn experience into a creative resource in the moment? I am still learning; both new things, and also refining my existing knowledge. The idea of intuition and its role in my practice is fascinating. When did my intuition become reliable, if it ever has? Given what John Heron says about the experiential and the imaginal forms of knowing being non-linguistic or at least very hard to verbalise, it doesn’t surprise me that many facilitators will say “I don’t know why I intervened then, I was relying on my intuition”. However, I am wary of inexperienced facilitators who may use the same explanation. Epstein (2010) gives a brief definition which seems to cover the experience, but doesn’t really illuminate the concept: “Intuition involves a sense of knowing without knowing how one knows” (p. 296). The way it is described, it would seem that intuition is a little more than gutfeel on what has given us pleasure, or avoided pain, in the past. This does not accord with my own experience, which whilst possibly associative, has a much greater degree of insight. The quality of insight is something that seems key to me as a practitioner. Pretz (2014) talks about there being at least three different types of intuition and all of them seem to have a relevance when facilitating learning. The first is holistic intuition which is derived from different sources of data and integrated in a gestalt. This seems to consider the complexity of the situation and gives a way of thinking about what is paid attention to; what is foreground or background, figure or ground. “Holistic intuitions are judgements based on qualitatively non-analytical process, decisions made by integrating multiple diverse cues into a whole that may or may not be explicit in nature” (p. 454). The second is inferential intuition which would seem to be based on previous analytical processes having become automatic. This one is fascinating,

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especially given the samples Pretz et al. are using to test their scale of intuitions are undergraduates, or at best graduate Occupational Therapy students with limited clinical experience. The authors do acknowledge this, but this highlights a really important point for me: How experienced do you need to be to be considered experienced? Once expertise has been established, inferential intuitions may be considered highly reliable. (Pretz et al., 2014, p. 454, emphasis added) I have been facilitating groups and coaching individuals for over 20 years, with a rough estimate of 15,000 hours of experience. At what point did I start relying on my intuition as usefully accurate? Even now I only ever offer my intuitions as tentative. For myself, if I become certain of the accuracy of intuition that’s probably a good indication to tread carefully and notice if something else is at play, such as an unconscious bias, script or judgement. For those with considerably less experience, the question for me is whether their ‘intuitions’ can be as useful, reliable or accurate? I will come back to the role of personal development in my practice as a facilitator towards the end of this case study. Related to this, the final one is affective intuition, essentially having a feeling about a situation, good or bad. Whilst I concur that emotions are a very useful source of data; I would contend that the amount of emotional intelligence required to discern between what is actually about the situation in front of you and your own biases and projections is considerable, and not that common.

Reflective practice: a la Schön So, what is it that turns 20 plus years of experience into 20 plus years of learning, not just the same experience repeated 20 times? As a professional facilitator and consultant, reflective practice is something that I both use myself and encourage other practitioners to use. I am taking reflective practice as a particular element within learning from experience, as it is seen as an essential tool in the continued development of a number of professions including teaching, facilitation and social work. Utilising the skills of reflective practice (Mirick, 2015) was seen as critical in supporting experienced social workers to become social work educators. The authors used Schön’s reflective framework of knowledge-in-action, reflection-in-­ action and reflection-on-action. This knowing in action seemed to be characterised by Schön as intuitive, ‘artful’, something cultivated with experience and used spontaneously. What is the knowledge in action that I and others may be drawing on or attending to? There are a few related fields that I draw upon, but that may not be the

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case for others. I find myself drawing predominantly on my knowledge of facilitation, adult learning, psychology and leadership. Much of this is happening on the experiential and imaginal levels of knowing and perhaps even on the transpersonal. As such, more of a challenge to process cognitively, or at least linguistically. This relates to the above discussion of intuition. My accumulated experiences are available for me to draw on, without needing to be fully consciously aware. This is a fascinating experience; it is akin to putting my hand into a lucky dip and coming up with just the thing for that moment. Reflection in action is perhaps a more conscious version of the knowing in action above. When discussing the reflection-in-action aspect, Mirick says “When instructors operate from within the reflective practice paradigm, they are attentive, flexible and responsive, and need to ‘dance’ with their students to work out the next steps” (p. 187). Even though these experienced social workers were adept at this reflection-in-action clinically, when in an educator role they reported having too many things to do to attend to this rich source of data. There is a real sense where this can happen when working as a professional educator or facilitator: one is attending to self, what is happening within and between participants, the group as a whole, and their context, application and organisational learning outcomes. And yet with practice, it is still possible, if exhausting at times. What this requires is the ability to notice all of that which was just outlined and to create enough mental space to make sense and choose action, often within a very short amount of time. The adeptness with which one can do this is derived from the effort put in to reflect on action. This final element, reflection on action, is perhaps what most people are familiar with and where reflective practice often begins. This idea of reflection on action doesn’t have to occur removed from the experience but is often seen as something that happens after an interval of time, perhaps only a few minutes, but even overnight. Hebert (Hebert, 2015) makes the distinction between Dewey and Schön’s reflective practice models as essentially rational-­technicist vs experiential-intuitivist, i.e. a cognitive vs a felt sense focus. Learning by reflecting is not purely a rational, cognitive, deduction or inductive reasoning approach. It is also noticing the internal physical sensations, the emotions and the thoughts to make sense of an experience within the learner’s historical and social context. This goes back, for me, to the social processes of learning, the reflection after the fact and the sharing of that reflection is still a useful aspect of learning, if not the whole picture.

Co-facilitation: Observing and reflecting together My ability to reflect in the moment as a learning and development practitioner, has come from years of practice of reflecting on action with colleagues when working with groups. I would consider the act of co-facilitation with

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colleagues from a variety of backgrounds and schools of thought, to be the single biggest source of my professional learning. The joy of having been afforded the opportunity to work in an environment where there is an overt focus on the practice and principles of facilitation is perhaps a rare one. Rightly or wrongly, my current employer considers that one of its unique selling points (USPs) is the quality of its facilitation. As a practitioner this means that I get to work with talented facilitators who come from a variety of backgrounds and theoretical schools as well as years of experience. For example, a number of my colleagues have gestalt as a theoretical and practical perspective. The focus on the here and now, the ‘contact’ with what is happening within themselves, the use of their instrumentality, their awareness of the intra and interpersonal dynamics, all contribute to the illumination of the lived experience of facilitating groups. With that kind of background, skill and perspective, the opportunity to reflect on what was happening in each and every group was enormous. The ability to notice, to take in, to process and make sense of that experience with an experienced and engaged other was an extraordinarily rich learning experience. It was exhausting and uncomfortable at times too, but it was like having peer supervision on an almost daily basis. Each opportunity was different as each group of learners were different, each combination of facilitators was different, each programme and organisation were different. The richness and complexity of working and learning together in this way is unparalleled in my experience. It is perhaps worth mentioning that at the heart of good facilitation is the skill to support others to reflect and make sense of their experiences which brings out the learning. Over those 20-plus years of practice I have been honing the skill of reflective questioning. Part of showing up authentically, being present with and for each group of learners, is to practice my own reflection alongside supporting their reflections. This is not just the purview of experienced facilitators; leaders, managers, experts in their field can all support the exploration of and learning from experience. The ability to ask reflective questions, hold a space and explore the answers fully is a developable skill.

Support and challenge/peer supervision: Dangers of only bringing what you consider relevant The practice of peer supervision has supported me personally and challenged my assumptions and mental models in service of my practice as a facilitator. This mechanism has been a feature of my professional life for many years; to take time out to reflect, with colleagues. This was not just limited to my practice as a facilitator, but also to how I was working more broadly with clients, their organisational contexts and systems as well as how I was showing up within my own workplace. This was definitely a practice of reflecting on

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action, rather than the reflection-in-action, that the co-facilitation afforded. It also had up to five peers who would offer their various perspectives and questioning insight to the process. The idea of peer supervision is a corner stone of our learning philosophy. We would work with our students on our qualifications in a similar way. In practice, a group of peers would assess and critique each other’s work, learning to critically reflect and give and receive feedback in the process. The pedagogy, or rather andragogy, would suggest that as experienced professionals, there does not need to be an expert; each learner brings a wealth of experience, skills and perspectives that are a rich resource in their own right. It is also less about knowledge and having answers, and much more about the skills of observing, questioning, listening and offering support to the person, but the courage to challenge some of their thinking or behaviour. Our support and challenge groups (the name given to our peer supervision groups) would be run in a similar way. Each person would get a slot of ‘airtime’, in which they would offer a situation or an issue that they were curious about or grappling with. The rest of the group would listen, ask questions for clarity and offer ‘questioning insight’. This might be a curiosity around what hadn’t been said, or a connection to a previous issue brought, questions to deepen the exploration, or different perspectives to open up a new line of inquiry. The biggest challenge to the efficacy of this kind of learning opportunity was that it was my choice to bring whatever I felt was most pressing for me at the time. That isn’t to say that the topics or issues I chose were somehow wrong, just that what I brought to these sessions were necessarily limited to what I thought to be useful or relevant. I didn’t know what I didn’t know; or more importantly, certainly at the beginning, I didn’t know what I didn’t want to know. My colleagues, over the years got very good at spotting the issues I may have been avoiding, and my increasing personal development meant that I could see the gaps in the perspectives I could take. However, it still highlights that sometimes our knowledge generation and our professional learning can be skewed by our blind spots and perspectives we are not yet willing to take. The opportunity to be part of a peer supervision network with lots of very experienced, skilled facilitators is perhaps both rare and not for the fainthearted. To build up enough trust and respect with each other in order to really be open, took time. As an organisation, that time was legitimised as an essential part of our practice, and that is what differentiated us. Not everyone has that opportunity. So, how can informal peer networks be formed? There are many networking groups that various professional associations offer, however, to form a peer supervision group from there still needs to have enough skill to hold the process of questions and curiosity rather than advice. They also need time to establish trust so that vulnerabilities can be expressed, and challenge offered without either holding back, or being critical.

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Personal development This is what some of my colleagues refer to as ‘The Work’. This is knowing myself well enough, not just to know what my inferences, frames of reference and potential biases are, but a deeper self-awareness to know when something has been triggered in me; to differentiate between my ‘stuff’ and tuning in to the energetic field; to pick up on projections from the group, for example. I know that as a psychologist I tune in to intra and interpersonal processes more readily, but I also know that my own on-going personal development around power and approval can create a filter on my perception of those processes. This is, essentially, so that I don’t unconsciously bring my own unresolved issues into a professional setting which may adversely impact the group or its learning. From a facilitation of learning perspective, gestalt has an emphasis on personal growth and self-discovery. By more deeply understanding the self as it is now, rather than imposing change, a learner can discover moments of choice. With the support and challenge of a facilitator, fellow learners or a coach, they can experiment with different ways of being and doing (Chidiac, 2008). I come from a perspective which would say that, if this is how I think about how others learn, then I’d better be prepared to live it in my own learning. I strongly believe that self-knowledge is foundational to the way that I develop my professional knowledge. Personal development is a never-­ending cycle of discovery and exploration that can be deeply uncomfortable at times. By knowing myself, I can understand how I am making sense of the world and can hold the contradictions and inconsistencies with curiosity. This has been described by Bob Kegan as the self-authoring or even the self-­transforming mind (Kegan, 2009). Part of what makes this relevant is that both my state (mental, emotional, physical) and my stage (what perspectives I can take on the world and myself in that world) has an impact on the groups I’m working with. Whether that is my ability to pay attention or the lens through which I’m looking, my fitness to practice makes a difference to my clients, but also to how able I am to reflect in and on action.

Reflections Self-managed learning as a philosophy is something that I use to inform my professional practice with groups of clients. It is also something that I use to inform my own learning. I develop my own knowledge best when working with other, curious professionals. We explore together, supporting the person, but also providing robust challenge to the thinking. We learn with and from each other in a way that is generous and generative, exploratory, uncomfortable and profoundly compassionate at times. Yes, I have internalised much of the practice that I have learnt over the years and can use my skill as a facilitator to facilitate my own learning. However, it is in the social space, the community of practice with its infinite variety and few if any easy answers where the real learning comes.

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Noel Dennis Imitate, assimilate and innovate: My informal and experiential approach to learning to become an improviser … and management educator I believe that regardless of how many people you’ve listened to or emulated over the years, your sound is you and what you really feel inside. (Clark Terry, 1973) Introduction Imitate, assimilate and innovate. These three words have been following me around since my early teenage years, where I embarked on a journey to learn to improvise. They originated from the late great jazz trumpet player – Clark Terry – and act as a simple framework for learning to become a proficient improviser. It can be explained quite simply below (and applied to my own practice to illustrate how it works in action): 1 Imitate – learning to talk as children requires imitation in the first instance. Learning to improvise requires command of a musical language, which is first developed by imitating what has gone before. 2 Assimilate – here we go beyond simple imitation and begin to analyse what is going on harmonically and rhythmically. I can recall a specific example of me going through this stage, prior to meeting my trumpet teacher – Gerard Presencer, when I spent a great deal of time trying to play some Wynton Marsalis solos from a book of transcriptions. Here, I began to develop my understanding of jazz harmony. 3 Innovate – this is the stage where you absorb the language and develop your own spin on it that leads to your unique voice. Whilst you have a bank of vocabulary (bebop licks and phrases) at your disposal, these are used in such a way that they complement your own musical ideas. (Terry, 1973) In this case study, I dissect my practice as a jazz improviser and provide insights as to how I have, and, continue to, adopt an experiential approach to learning to improvise. I use a combination of vignettes and personal experience to provide insights into my informal and experiential approach to learning. Using Clark Terry’s model – Imitate, Assimilate and Innovate, I hope to demonstrate to the reader that whilst the act of improvisation is spontaneous, there is much investment in learning to develop their jazz vocabulary, ideas,

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style and sound. To illustrate this point, I introduce and appraise key critical incidents, many from the bandstand that have shaped my practice as an improvising musician. In addition, I discuss the alternative methods of developing as an improviser, from the formal (e.g. study at a Conservatoire or University), to the more informal and experiential path I followed (on the bandstand). I discuss how, for many years, following the informal path has led me, at times, to feel isolated and somewhat inadequate compared to some of my peers who chose the formal route. Through deep reflection and discussions with a number of key iconic jazz figures, I now realise that those doubts were unfounded and that indeed an informal learning journey into jazz is by no means a negative and still offers the same opportunities as those who follow the formal route. After all, it worked for the iconic jazz trumpeter – Chet Baker! Whilst the focus of this case study is predominately on my development as an improviser, it links throughout to my practice as a management educator. Indeed, my primary career is in management education, but without my musical practice my thinking and teaching in the management education space would be very different. I am an advocate of creative approaches to teaching leadership and management and acutely aware of some of the limitations of management discourse – e.g. often lacking in context and criticality. Through my work as a jazz musician, I have added an alternative lens to view common leadership and management issues in order to introduce multiple framing. Without my jazz training (albeit informal) would I be towing the line in management education and not challenging orthodoxy? Would I be that one dimensional thinker, regurgitating the old theories and models? I unpick these questions throughout this case study. On my count … Here we go …

Vignette: February 14, 2018: Jazz on a Valentine’s Day at the Masham I was in heaven. Not only was it the most romantic day of the year, but I was playing a lovely jazz gig with my favourite musicians (Zoe, Andy and Mark) in my favourite pub that just happens to be my local – The Masham. It’s always great to see and make music with Zoe, Andy and Mark. We have played together for a long time and it always just feels so natural when we work together, largely because we have all invested into the music, but we also musically know each other inside out, which allows us to experiment and innovate, but in a very safe environment. Before the gig, I was chatting to Andy about various things and we got onto the subject of learning to be an improviser. For some reason, the

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conversation turned to me and I ended up expressing some thoughts re how I learned to improvise and become a jazz musician. I explained to Andy that I sometimes feel slightly inadequate amongst some of my musical peers and I put this largely down to the fact that I didn’t formally study music, or jazz at a Conservatoire or any HEI for that matter … Andy looked at me, in a slightly perplexed manner and simply said … “We have all arrived at the same point and ended up sounding like we do, but via different journeys and processes”. Andy’s words of wisdom continue to resonate with me and have prompted me think deeply about my journey into jazz. The following section will explore, in some detail, how I have developed as an improviser. I will look at the processes I have been through (and continue to do so) in my development as an improviser.

The journey of learning to improvise As a result of my above conversation with Andy on how we have arrived at the same place but via different avenues, I feel it first necessary to reflect on my development as an improviser. Defining improvisation is highly debated and there are a number of perspectives. Indeed, defining jazz is highly debated with no real consensus. I refer you to one of my publications – Jazz a Philosophical Dilemma for Marketing (Macaulay and Dennis, 2006) – to read more about this. First, the word improvisation comes from the Latin word ‘improvisus’, which translates to ‘unforeseen’. For me, I think of improvisation as the ability to compose and perform in the moment, reacting to internal and external cues to inform a musical narrative. Essentially, when I play a gig, I have knowledge of the structure of the piece and the chord changes but have no idea what I will play in my solos, for they are created in the moment. Paul Berliner examines definitions of improvisation in his seminal work that explored the infinite art of improvisation. He presents a couple of general definitions that I include below: To improvise is to compose, or simultaneously compose and perform, on the spur of the moment and without preparation. (Webster’s Dictionary, 1998, Cited in Berliner, 1994, p. 1) Another alternative definition from a leading music dictionary: The art of performing music spontaneously without the aid of manuscript, sketches or memory. (Apel, 1969, Cited in Berliner, 1994, p. 1)

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More recently, following a literature search, I stumbled upon the work of Michele Biasutti, who presents a more complex definition of improvisation. Improvisation is a complex, multidimensional act that involves creative and performance behaviors in real-time in addition to processes such as sensory and perceptual encoding, motor control, performance monitoring, and memory storage and recall. (Biasutti, 2017, p. 1) Whilst the definitions above are all broadly very similar in many respects, I am particularly taken by Biasutti’s thoughts. His definition has greater depth and hints at the cognitive processes jazz musicians (or improvisers of any genre for that matter) go through when improvising. Indeed, the definition has prompted me to reflect more deeply on my journey of learning to improvise – a never-ending journey I must add.

So how did I begin? By listening. By hearing a dark trumpet sound. By being curious about how musicians could come together and make music, with minimal preparation. The more I listened and talked to my dad about the music I was hearing – Miles Davis initially and then Count Basie, Duke Ellington, Art Blakey, etc. the greater my eagerness to learn more. As my curiosity for jazz developed and my technical proficiency on the trumpet advanced, I began to start transcribing passages of some of my favourite solos. I would attempt to imitate the style and the dark sound I was hearing from the likes of Miles Davis, Freddie Hubbard and Wynton Marsalis. Indeed, Wynton Marsalis was one of my key influences from a relatively early stage in my development, thanks once again, to my dad. Completing the reading for this case study, I stumbled on a quote from Jazz trumpet player, Wynton that goes a long way in reassuring me that I have indeed approached learning to be an improviser in largely the correct way. When you start playing, you’ve got to have objectives: what are you playing? Why are you playing it? How do you want to sound, and how do you achieve that sound? When you have those things clear in your mind, it’s much easier to teach yourself, and ultimately, that’s what you have to do. No one will teach you how to play. (Marsalis, 2009, p. 5) But I did combine informal learning with some formal learning as the next section will demonstrate.

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Figuring out the changes: When my informal learning combined with formal learning The following section will examine a critical instance that started a whole new chapter in my life and saw my ambition to be an airline pilot switch to becoming a professional jazz musician. The critical instance in question was a chance encounter at a jazz conference at the Royal Northern College of Music in Manchester, with internationally acclaimed jazz trumpeter – Gerard Presencer. Following a masterclass with him, he became my teacher and good friend. The moment I first heard Gerard play, I was literally ‘blown away’. I recall him playing a Kenny Dorham composition – Blue Bossa – on flugelhorn. It was the flugelhorn that grabbed my attention that day and opened me up to a whole new way of thinking about how to play it. At that time, I was relatively new to playing the flugelhorn and tended to play it very softly and quietly to obtain a mellow sound, often putting very little air through the instrument. Gerard hooked me in with his skill on the flugelhorn that day, playing it like a trumpet, quite loudly and taking it right up the register – yet still producing a mellifluous sound. I had never seen or heard anything like it before. This chance encounter was a transformational event for me and at the age of 16 having been playing the trumpet for 8 years, I wanted to take it more seriously and really learn to improvise. My informal learning journey became slightly more formal when Gerard agreed to teach me. Lesson 1 was on 26 June 1996 and the rest they say, is history.

So, is jazz just all made up? First, I want to dispel some of the myths around the nature of jazz improvisation. Whilst it is spontaneous, there are preconceived ideas that have been passed down the generations of musicians and I shall explore this in more depth as this case study progresses. As a trumpet player, I have incorporated musical ideas into my own approach from very early influences such as Bix Beiderbecke and, of course, dear old Pops himself – Louis Armstrong. Learning jazz is like learning a language and the spontaneous ideas that leave the bell of my horn have only been possible because of the amount of work I have invested in listening and imitating what has gone before. In so doing, I have developed a vocabulary that I draw upon when I improvise. Thinking about the latter point has led me to think about the parallels of learning to improvise and learning a second language. A brief scan of the literature confirmed my thoughts that they are indeed similar, as the following quote demonstrates: Stern presented an influential list of characteristics of successful language learning. They exhibit, among other characteristics, a personally relevant

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learning style, positive learning strategies, an active approach to learning, technical understanding of how to tackle a language, a sustained search for meaning, willingness to practice and to experiment, self-monitoring, and development of the language as a medium of thought. (Oxford and Crookhall, 1989, p. 405) The above quote resonates with me in relation to my practice as an improviser – I take an active approach to learning new vocabulary and material; I am constantly practising and experiment with new ideas and material; I am my own best critic and am constantly reflecting both in action and on action (Schön, 1987) and, finally, music occupies my thought processes. I mentally practise many times each day, experimenting with sounds, rhythm and phrases, and I look to music to inform my thinking in leadership and management space (and wider life issues). Rubin, Thompson, and Sun’s (1982) advice on learning a language chimes with me too. They suggest that to become a proficient language learner, students should organise, be creative and learn to live with uncertainty. Creativity and learning to live with uncertainty are at the heart of learning to improvise. I will return to language acquisition later in this case study – in the context of learning the language of bebop. I, like many others of my generation, was fortunate to have a wealth of resources at my disposal to assist in developing as an improviser – Miles Davis and my other heroes didn’t, for they were the creators of a special musical language. I can remember the first improvisation text I purchased – The Jazz Theory Book by Mark Levine (2011). I recall first opening it and being freaked out (I still am to be honest) by the complexity of jazz harmony, but the book was written in such a way that it was accessible and provided a wealth of examples. I still refer to the book now. Another text that has been a heavily used resource was Hal Crook’s How to Improvise (1990). I have always been struck by the opening quote of his book and as I reflect on my development, it makes more sense than ever. Learning to improvise, like learning anything that demands both technical and creative ability, depends mostly on you – the individual student. Teachers can only show examples of how it’s done, and, as I have endeavoured to do here, share ideas, materials and provide an organized approach to practicing which may bring you closer to achieving the goal, provided you do the necessary work. (Crook, 1990, p. 10) I am reassured in many respects; nearly two-decades on that I have not been disadvantaged to the degree to which I have been thinking by not attending a conservatoire to formally study jazz. Indeed, Crook is entirely correct in what he articulates in the above quote … it’s down to individuals to develop

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their skills as an improviser. Both Crook and Levine’s book would have been completely alien to me if it wasn’t for the knowledge and passion for jazz that I had developed simply by listening (and imitating) and being surrounded by my dad’s musician friends from a very early age. My dad was a professional drummer and so provided a great deal of a bank of continuous stories and experiences from the bandstand, which, to this day, continue to aid my learning. Wynton Marsalis writes about a similar experience to mine: I thought there must be something to this improvised music. I needed to learn more about it. And hanging around jazz musicians was a great education for a nine – or ten year-old because they told great stories and they knew how to listen. That was their way, talking and listening, listening and talking. (Marsalis, 2009, p. 6) For me, it was a combination of hanging around commercial musicians playing the Working Mens’ Clubs (my dad played seven nights a week most weeks, in various bands providing live musical accompaniment for cabaret acts), as well as some fine jazz musicians. I guess I learned a lot about music, life and culture generally in my childhood – particularly from some of the characters I met along the way is the Working Mens’ Clubs and I have no doubt that these early child hood experiences have contributed to my professional practice as both musician and educator. I learned very early on how to engage with people from diverse backgrounds, with a range of differing opinions. This, I feel helped shape my practice as a management educator in the fact I can appreciate and respond accordingly with a diverse range of learners, e.g. from 1st-year undergraduate students through to international students, through to senior leaders. Relatively soon after my initial meeting with Gerard in 1996, I began sitting in with various local jazz groups and ‘having a blow’. At that point, I was still very much finding my voice and both my technical ability on the trumpet and my knowledge of harmony etc. was still very much embryonic. What I did find, though, is the more I did this, the more I started to improve as a player and the more confident I became. Indeed, I was receiving feedback on my playing from experienced musicians; I was learning the rules of being part of a jazz combo and I was learning lots about the music in terms of its historical context. The formal learning I was undertaking with Gerard was now being augmented with more informal learning taking place in on the bandstand. I was imitating less and predominately assimilating in my improvisatory practice, steadily taking more risks in an attempt to innovate in a live performance setting. Interestingly, John Barron writes about experiential learning in the context of jazz education. He cites the words of the great pianist Hal Galper who stated “school is on the bandstand” (Barron, 2007, p. 18). As previously

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stated, I feel that the majority of my learning to improvise has taken place on the bandstand, working initially with extremely competent local and regional musicians (1996–1999) and then 2000 onwards having the honour to share the stage with some of my heroes such as Tim Garland (see vignette above), Jim Mullen, Alan Barnes, Mark Nightingale, Tommy Smith, Dave O’Higgins, Gerard Presencer, Andy Sheppard, Bob Mintzer, etc. I can’t really begin to articulate in words just how much working with the aforementioned names developed my playing and raised my aspirations to reach that next level. Barron supports the notion of learning on the bandstand: Learning on the bandstand suggests that the developing musician is more likely to learn at an efficient pace and with the depth of understanding when interacting with more knowledgeable performers – older musicians and more experienced peers – and by participating in authentic musical experiences. (Barron, 2007, p. 18) I would wholly concur with Barron’s ideas here. In fact, I have always preferred to be surrounded by musicians and indeed academics and business practitioners who have far more experience than I. For me, that’s when authentic learning takes place and when you become truly inspired and take your playing (and other aspects of your practice) to a much higher level. I must stress, though, that I am not denying that I continue to practise alone, may be with the help of a Jamie Abersold (a jazz pianist and educator, responsible a large cannon of materials with backing tracks to facilitate practise in the home) for backing track to try out new ideas in a safe environment. But for me, the real learning takes place when you are on the stage and interacting with others – particularly the names I have had the pleasure of sharing the stage with, as Barron argues below. Although the developing jazz musician must inevitably devote the necessary time alone in the practice room, depth of understanding can be enhanced only through meaningful and repeated interactions with others. The very essence of jazz is interactive and communal. (Barron, 2007, p. 20) I am privileged to have been able to learn experientially and with some amazing musicians. I have always found those in, what I will term, the ‘Premier League’ have always been the most supportive and freely giving of their time. This continues to be a great source of inspiration for me musically. Incidentally, in my academic practice, I was also very fortunate to cross paths early on in my career with some esteemed academics – notably, Professor Michael Macaulay who I’m proud to call my friend (and co-author) and who I owe my academic career to. He taught me many things, including drawing

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on alternative discourse to examine strategic leadership and management issues, he taught me how to write and how to perfect the argument. Other leading academics that have had a particular role in shaping my academic practice include: Professor Stephen Brown and Professor Morris Holbrook. I will now recall the story of the time my academic career stepped up a gear.

Imitate, assimilate, innovate: In my academic research practice

Vignette: The influence of Professor Stephen Brown Here I am, once again, at the 2006 Annual Academy of Marketing Conference, being held in Central London. This time I am presenting an empirical piece in the Arts Marketing track, where to my surprise, the internationally renowned Professor Stephen Brown will also be presenting in this track. I have long been an admirer of Professor Brown’s work and am in awe of his presentation skills and the sheer creativity that he espouses. Stephen always attracts a very large crowd to his presentations and this session was no different – there were over 150 delegates in the audience. I was up first to present my paper – ‘Marketing and jazz – the views of leading jazz musicians’. The paper was based on eight interviews with leading UK jazz musicians and their perceptions of marketing, how they use marketing and whet they felt could be done to enhance this in the jazz space. The central argument of the paper was that jazz musicians need to embrace marketing in order to ‘survive’ and, in so doing, they should not be seen as ‘selling out’. I felt very comfortable presenting this paper, as I was confident with the data and proud that I had interviewed such great jazz musicians. The richness of the data and some of the quotes that I shared with the audience prompted much discussion in the session and later outside of the session. Stephen presented last and did his usual superb performance, examining the power of the novel in marketing. He used this session to launch his firstever novel – The Marketing Code, which would be the first of a trilogy that subsequently had a profound impact on my teaching of marketing. At the end of the session, I approached Stephen and told him how much I had enjoyed his presentation and how I have been a long-time admirer of his work. I was struck by how humble Stephen was and how he quickly shifted the focus away from his work on to mine. He told me that he’d read all of my work to date and found it to be very creative, which was a lovely complement

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to receive. We chatted for nearly half an hour and ended with Stephen offering to introduce me to Professor Morris Holbrook, who was a world-­leading consumer researcher at Columbia University, NYC. This moment was life-changing for me and would see a shift in my research focus, my teaching and me gaining access to a wider network of internationally renowned marketing academics.

Meeting Stephen in person was a pinnacle moment in my academic career. I had long been an admirer of his work – largely because of the way it challenged (and continues to) challenge orthodoxy, because of its creativity and the sheer eloquence of Stephen’s writing. Examples of Stephen’s work which really stand out and have had a profound influence on my practice include (in no particular order): Marketing: The Retro Revolution (Brown, 2001) – a fascinating book that continues Stephen’s postmodern approach, where he argues that future of marketing lies in the past! The book is a wonderful read and it completely altered my pedagogical approach (circa 2004/2005 pre-meeting Stephen). Suddenly, I was teaching retro-marketing in my modules at both UG and PG level and I have to say, that my students really responded positively and they seemed to engage more with the material and ideas, just like Stephen’s students did: I’ve never had a problem when I present ‘that stuff’ (postmodern ideas) to students, be it post or undergraduate. On the contrary, I find that they get it right away, that they know where I’m coming from, that ‘that stuff’ makes a semblance of sense to them. (Brown, 2001, p. 204) I concur with Stephen here, I have never had an issue with presenting marketing/management ideas in a different way (namely through jazz) – I actually find that the alternative lens better articulates the ideas under discussion and engenders a more active role from my students in the pedagogical process. Stephen’s Trilogy: The Marketing Code (2006), Agents and Dealers (2008), The Lost Logo (2009) – well, what can I say about this ‘management thriller trilogy’ (Brown, 2009, p. 391). The marketing/management lessons are in abundance and presented in such a creative way. Once again, they helped to transform my pedagogical practice and provide a new means of communicating marketing/management ideas to my students. Dare I say it, I think they actually promote (ed) a deeper approach to learning! Needless to say, these three books still remain on my reading lists, because they are (a) still relevant in terms of content and (b) they are a much more creative vehicle to deliver

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knowledge than a ‘standard textbook’. By their very nature they naturally promote critical thinking by those who read them. I have selected two of Stephen’s vast cannon of work here, but there is so much more that I could have incorporated. I feel that these works, though, had a major impact on shaping my professional practice in the classroom. Just like Gerard Presencer shaped me as a trumpet player, Stephen has most certainly played a major role in my development as a management educator, and for that, I am truly grateful!

Imitate, assimilate, innovate: My practice as a management educator The case study so far has broadly focused on my practice as an improviser in the musical sense, but I continue to apply the Imitate, Assimilate, Innovate model in my educational practice. I will examine this from a teaching, academic research and curriculum design perspective. I have always had a passion for teaching from a very young age, having watched my late father inspire so many with his natural and unique talents as both a musician and music educator. Dad had this amazing ability to light up a room and inspire those who had the pleasure of being in his company to thrive with their music. His pedagogical philosophy was simple – empathy, nurturing and good communication skills were central to his practice. It certainly worked for him and his students. Thousands of students were fortunate to be taught by him and many have gone on to do amazing things musically, with lots succeeding in other areas outside of music. Dad’s view was that music should be inclusive and he held a firm belief that the transferrable skills from learning to play an instrument and being part of an ensemble (he led a successful wind band that spanned 30 years and helped shape the musical and other life skills of thousands of pupils) plays an important part of one’s development and ultimately their professional practice. So, I followed my dad’s footsteps into education (management education as opposed to music education) and followed Terry’s model to develop my educational practice. I imitated dad’s pedagogical philosophy and put it at the heart of my own practice. As I have developed my experience over the years, I have the confidence to challenge orthodoxy in the learning and teaching space – just like he did in music education. For example, he challenged his peers who believed that achieving excellence in music was getting kids into the County Youth Orchestra, by demonstrating how making music inclusive can be equally, if not more impactful. I like to think that I continue to challenge orthodoxy in the management education space through arguing for alternative lenses to examine aspects of leadership and management discourse. My primary lens to achieve the latter is of course jazz music through the application of the jazz metaphor, based on a dissection of my own practice as a gigging musician. By doing this, I offer

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my strategy students (of all levels) an alternative view strategic management, drawing upon the principles of jazz and improvisation. I began this journey exploring the jazz metaphor back in 2003 when I published my first paper. Back then, I began imitating those scholars who were writing about the jazz metaphor in the organisational studies space, I relatively quickly moved to assimilation (by identifying a gap in the marketing literature) and introduced the jazz metaphor, but written from my perspective as a jazz musician. Innovation then subsequently followed by examining in depth my practice as an improviser and going beyond merely writing about jazz and its linkages with marketing discourse; I was indeed breaking down the intricate workings of the jazz group and exploring the infinite art of improvisation, in short, bringing the jazz metaphor to life. I took this a step further by developing my academic publications into practical workshops that I continue to deliver to my students and as an Executive Education package. For a more detailed view of my academic publications in the jazz metaphor space see Dennis and Macaulay (2003, 2007) and Dennis (2015).

Improvisation and leading management curricula development In 2011, I left my role as a Principal Lecturer in Marketing to take up a role of Associate Dean (Learning & Teaching) at a Scottish Higher Education Institution. This was a big step up at a relatively early stage of my career. It was indeed a fast and for the most part and informal learning curve. I had to step out of my marketing silo and look a business and management as a broader and connected discipline. Once again, I found myself drawing upon my musical practice to inform my development in this new territory. Indeed, I was, albeit subconsciously, embracing Clark Terry’s model once again to aid my learning. Before I go into more detail about that, I first wish to provide a little context about some of the criticisms and challenges surrounding management education that I discovered by immersing myself in the literature and, perhaps most importantly, the key networks such as The Association to Advance Collegiate Schools of Business (AACSB) and The European Foundation of Management Development (EFMD).

The challenges of management education Since the financial crisis in 2008, there has been considerable interest in the role of business schools and the programmes that they deliver. Indeed, as Locke and Spender (2011) point out, business schools have been charged with having a role to play in the events leading up to the financial crisis, because of their pronounced emphasis on financial engineering. Another criticism of business schools and management education more generally, is the failure of not emphasising the need for an ethical and moral compass. Gregg and Stoner

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(2008) argue that the lack of emphasis on ethics in business school curricula was a likely contributor to some of the epic failures in large companies, for example, ENRON and WorldCom. But prior to the financial crisis business schools and management education more broadly was in the spotlight, as Bennis and O’Toole (2005, p. 96) point out in their article: Business schools are facing intense criticism for failing to impart useful skills, failing to prepare leaders, failing to instill norms of ethical behavior – and even failing to lead graduates to good corporate jobs. Thomas, Thomas and Wilson (2013), argue that business schools are at a turning point in their evolution. The old model of business school that has a traditional and, arguably silo approach to the curriculum and its delivery will continue to come under critical attack if it does not change its outlook and embrace a more holistic and multidisciplinary approach to the curriculum. Indeed, this appears to be a recurring theme in debates about the currency of business schools and their curricula and is heavily debated in Thomas et al. (2014) in their second instalment of examining management education. I was struck by a quote in the first chapter that was initially adapted from a news story that appeared in the New York Times in March 2009 and made reference to the decline in the teaching of humanities. The article strongly argued that “students exposed to the humanities (such as arts, culture, history, literature and philosophy) are better prepared to develop their capabilities in areas such as moral and ethical reasoning and critical thinking that are growing in importance in society” (Thomas et al., 2014, p. 3). You may be reading this now and wondering what relevance challenges in management education has on this largely jazz-focused case study. The point I really want to illustrate is that I used the same method to learn a new approach to management education as I did to develop as an improviser. By immersing myself in the literature, the debates and the key business school networks – AACSB, EFMD, CABS, CEEMAN and perhaps the initiative that has had the most profound impact on my thinking and learning – Principles for Responsible Management Education (PRME), I have challenged my paradigmatic assumptions (Brookfield, 2012) and completely altered my practice as a management educator. I have done so as follows: •

•

Broken free from the silo approach to management education. My main academic background is strategic marketing, but I am now a more rounded management educator – advocating a more trans/multidisciplinary and creative approach to management education, which pervades my practice. Taken a more holistic approach to curriculum design, drawing upon other discourse to provide alternative lenses to examine key aspects of management education.

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•

I place social value, sustainability and the United Nations 17 Sustainable Development goals at the heart of all of my academic work in order to emphasise the important role that business can play in society.

Whilst immersed in this new territory over the past 7 years, I have subconsciously been following Clark Terry’s model of learning and have done so informally as well. At the beginning, I was very much imitating and replicating ideas from the likes of Copenhagen Business School (at the forefront of management education on the whole responsible business, sustainability and PRME agendas), e.g. looking at their teaching methods and folding some of their ideas into my own pedagogical practice. In my time as Associate Dean (L&T) at the Scottish HEI, I began imitating ideas from the likes of Anne Colby, who argued that undergraduate business courses should adopt a more liberal arts approach (Colby et al., 2011). I led a full-scale undergraduate portfolio review of the business and social sciences provision at this institution and those ideas above that I had been exposed to move from pure imitation to assimilation in the sense that they were tailored to the school’s values and spanned beyond the management portfolio. Whilst my practice as a management educator continues to evolve in the responsible business space, I feel that I have been able to innovate in my practice. I offer an example below of my leading the development of the MBA at Teesside University: The MBA at Teesside University – I returned to Teesside University (where my academic career began back in 2001) and was tasked with writing a brand new MBA from scratch. The brief I was given is that this should not be a ‘vanilla’ MBA. Music to my ears and a challenge I was very happy to take on. The result is an MBA that breaks down the silos and is transdisciplinary in its approach; an MBA that has entrepreneurial leadership at its heart; an MBA that allows learners to reflect on their professional practice and develop their leadership capabilities and finally, an MBA that has sustainability and the role that business can play in society at its heart. An extremely different MBA from others in the sector and some might say quite a risk to take this to market, but an example once again of my practice as a jazz musician guiding me. For in jazz, we take risks all of the time – that’s where the magic often happens. And the magic is happening as student numbers on the course are healthy and continuing to grow, but most importantly, learners are feeding back that as a result of the learning on the course, they are making changes to their professional practice and their organisations. In conclusion, then, this case study has focused largely on my development as a jazz improviser – adopting Clark Terry’s model (Imitate, Assimilate and Innovate), but I have also demonstrated how I have used this in my management education practice, both from a pedagogical and research perspective. I am constantly immersed in developing my trumpet playing and improvisation skills and my practice as a management educator. I still imitate

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in all areas of my practice, after all that is how we begin a journey to learn something new. The key is, though, to ensure that the imitation progresses to assimilation fairly swiftly, otherwise originality is questionable. Innovation is more hard to achieve and, arguably, define, but in order to stand out as both a jazz musician and an a management educator, I feel I need to be striving to do things a little differently to keep my jazz audiences and my students engaged. Take for example, the MBA that I designed which is markedly different from the others in the market place and takes learners beyond management discourse to develop their practice – and does so using experiential methods of learning. There is no doubt that being innovative all of the time is a challenge, but it is a challenge that keeps my passion ignited and my curiosity levels off the Richter scale. To quote David Epstein, I have Range. I use my breadth of experiences as a jazz musician and management educator, continuously experimenting in both areas of my practice and taking, risks and detours along the way to enhance my performance (Epstein, 2019). In learning in the way I do, I have made and continue to make mistakes, but these mistakes sharpen my practice and a jazz musician and management educator. I encourage you to do the same! Finally, I leave you with some words of wisdom from the late iconic jazz trumpeter and though leader – Miles Davis: Do not fear mistakes, for there are none! (Miles Davis) Now pass me that cookbook … I am determined to build traction in practice an amateur chef!

Marit Due A professional journey in the field of road transport and knowledge needs for future transport systems Introduction In this case study, I first present my professional journey within the road transport sector, and I reflect on my development through formal and experiential learning processes. I highlight the key learning periods, which are presented chronologically to illustrate how my learning has developed over time. I have nearly 30 years of work experience, of which some 18 years within international cooperation. I have held various positions such as road transport engineer, road transport planner, development worker, adviser, manager, director and strategist.

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Thereafter, I describe how societal trends impact the transport systems, which in turn will require new and different knowledge and competences of the work force and more international cooperation for developing knowledge and common systems, standards and regulations. This is a challenge for all actors involved, and in particular for universities and other educational institutions that have to adapt their curricula and training programmes to meet future knowledge needs.

Choice of study At school, I achieved good results, but I had no particular subject preferences. To me it was important to get an education in order to realise myself and make a contribution to the society. I was fascinated by technology but also by social and cultural sciences. At that time, I had not seen much of the world, but I was very curious about other countries and cultures. I believe this global outlook already began with school lessons in geography, history and religion. I had confidence in my academic ability and was determined to go to university. I was attracted to the idea of working abroad and in particular in the developing world. When making my choice of profession, I therefore took into account international work opportunities. My choice was to study civil engineering since I believed it would provide a solid and flexible springboard to fulfil my aspirations.

The first work experience I was motivated to start my career in my home country to practise my newly gained knowledge and get work experience as civil engineer. I took up a position in the road administration within the field of asset management. At that time, there was nothing exceptional being a female engineer, but it was my experience that more senior male engineers were somewhat sceptical about my professional qualifications and abilities. I was not really prepared for this situation, and I felt some pressure to perform even better than my male colleagues. Despite being a tough start of the career, I gained, however, more self-confidence as I proved that I was able to cope with a difficult situation and perform professionally.

Entering the developing world After a couple of years in my first job, I was successful in finding a job within development cooperation based in my home country. This was a big change in both tasks and working environment. Coming from an engineering culture, I was now exposed to a multidisciplinary and multicultural setting. The organisation covered a wide range of fields such as health, education, energy, infrastructure and transport. I worked with road transport using my knowledge in a different and more holistic development context.

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I was entrusted with complex assignments that included assessments of road transport sector plans and proposals for support to the road transport sector in development countries, evaluations of projects and preparation of appropriation documents and agreements. I got formal training from courses on various tools, approaches and methodologies used within development assistance. These courses were important for me in terms of developing skills needed for the job. I was filled with enthusiasm by becoming a member of the development community and was highly motivated for the job. I had a lot of admiration for my knowledgeable and experienced colleagues. At the same time, I realised that I had to work hard to meet their expectations. They greatly inspired me by being both demanding and encouraging, and I felt being in a very enabling environment for professional development and learning. The next opportunity came after 2 years when I was recruited to a UN agency where the job involved infrastructure and transport projects in developing countries. I got a fixed term contract for 3 years, whereof the first 2 years at the headquarters. Here, I was in charge of project planning, implementation and evaluation. I felt that the job requirements were high; I was often left alone with complex assessments during field assignments. Fortunately, I had some experience from similar work and that helped me better understand my role and my tasks. My capability to work independently became stronger during this period, and I became more self-confident professionally as I was able to fulfil my assignments. The last year of my contract I spent in a field office where I was more involved in practical work and got hands-on experience from working in a developing country with local people. My work in development cooperation and in a developing country was a unique experience that has had a lasting professional and personal impact on me. It gave me knowledge on road transport policies, strategies and operations in developing countries, and I got a much broader perspective on the role of road transport in social and economic development. From the various assignments I developed my skills in analysing, synthesising and evaluating large amounts of information. Working with people from different cultures was exciting but also challenging, and I had to become more tolerant and able to adapt to different situations. My interpersonal sensitivity increased, and I became more aware of the importance of understanding and respecting ethical codes of different cultures. My world view changed because of this experience as I got a much broader perspective of life and a better understanding of the issues of poverty, underdevelopment and development assistance. At the same time, I learned to better appreciate the social justice and welfare and political stability of developed societies. Living in a developing country provided an opportunity to better understand how big the gap between the rich and the poor really is, and I had some mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, I felt I was contributing to the betterment of the society, whilst on the other hand, I had some bad feelings

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of being a wealthy person in the poverty surrounding me. Despite the complexity and difficulties of development cooperation, I still have faith in it as a way of alleviating poverty.

At a crossroads As my contract with the UN was coming to an end, I had to make up my mind about the future. One option could be to stay within the development assistance community, but the prospect of my field was not very bright at that time. Multilateral organisations, such as development banks and UN agencies, as well as donor countries had slowly started shifting their assistance away from the road transport sector. Their development agenda was under revision in favour of other areas of cooperation such as education, health, environment and good governance. Because of this shift, the activities of the UN in my field were also gradually reduced. When I started my career in development cooperation, I was very enthusiastic and believed that I could make a contribution. Although I think I did to some extent, I found my ambition to make a difference hard to attain. In development cooperation, it takes time to achieve results, and for me, this was somewhat exhausting. With this feeling of exhaustion together with the fact that there was little prospect of continued development work in my field, I decided to return to my country.

Back to the North From my new experience, I had got an increasing interest in planning and strategic development, and I wanted to further develop my skills in this area. I attended university courses on these subjects and got a job in my present organisation. My new tasks included strategic planning of road transport investments and impact assessments. In addition to technical aspects, this job also involved financial, socioeconomic and environmental aspects. It was important to have good knowledge and understanding about the political systems and processes and also about planning processes and methodologies. I enjoyed the new working environment in which I felt I was prospering. In particular, I appreciated the team-based work. My colleagues were engineers, planners, economists and social scientists, and we could draw upon each other’s professional knowledge and experience. In my former positions, I was not used to this kind of formal team work, and now I did my best to develop myself as a good team member. By working in a public administration under the political agenda of the parent ministry, I got insights into how the government system functions. I developed the ability to recognise decisions and events that influence current policies and position of own organisation. I found it, however, somewhat

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frustrating to be part of a system where decisions sometimes appear irrational and based on political principles and priorities rather than on professional assessments. During this period, I was entrusted a job as a project manager for the planning of a major road project. It was a disputed and controversial project as it required a huge investment in a sparsely populated area. The plan should serve as basis for a government decision on the project. To be better prepared for the task, I attended courses on project management. I acquired managerial skills in terms of being responsible for ensuring results, supervising others and using resources in an efficient and effective way. I gained experience in leading a project with conflicting interests and in communicating in a transparent and open manner. As this was not a straight forward job, I felt it was a great achievement to complete it within the given time frame and budget and to the standards required. I had been given an opportunity to demonstrate my managerial capability, and this assignment inspired me to look for more manager experience.

Serving an international association My next experience was to be seconded by my employer to an international road transport association for one year. This international experience was different from my first one within development assistance. The association exists to facilitate knowledge exchange between countries, and my duties as technical adviser were to follow up the activities of the strategic plan, to participate in commissions and to provide support to the secretariat. The opportunity to be seconded to an international association has been of valuable professional and personal benefit. Some benefits were immediate, such as the additional professional contacts made and the experience of working in a different culture. There were other benefits whose full value have been recognised over time. I was exposed to a variety of road-related areas that has given me a better appreciation of the different areas and the benefits of international cooperation across the areas. The experience of working in an international environment also provided the opportunity to better understand how different nationalities approach and prioritise various issues and how multicultural teams can work together effectively. Greater understanding of the benefit of the association to developing countries has also been one of the benefits, along with recognition of its commitment to promoting best practises. The secondment gave me new insights and learning and made me believe that road transport organisations worldwide have a lot to learn from each other and that international associations play a very important role in facilitating exchange of knowledge. After my secondment, I have continued being involved in the association’s activities. With my background in strategic road transport planning, I joined a relevant committee for 4 years. Working with specialists in this area from other

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countries was very inspiring and rewarding, and I have made use of the new knowledge and skills acquired to further develop my planning practices at home. Later, I did another interesting piece of work related to the association’s focus on developing countries. I was very motivated to carry out this study as I could draw on my experience from development cooperation to develop new thinking and understanding on a complex issue. The study investigated how the concept of institutional capacity building is defined and understood within the development assistance community and reviewed road transport sector projects and assessed their performance and results in terms of capacity building. This work gave me more insights into development aspects in the road transport sector and made me rethink my own experience and understanding. It further enabled me to enhance my research and development capability.

Managing international activities For the last 10 years, I have been responsible for my organisation’s international activities, and in this position, I have been shaping the activities to suit the knowledge needs of the organisation. During the first period, I attended management training courses that enabled me to better understand my role and responsibilities. The training focused on improving individual management skills such as increasing self-awareness, creating team spirit and performance focus, handling change management and setting strategic visions and goals. When I started this work, I had no previous management experience apart from project management. During this period, I have developed competence in strategic management and leadership, and I have gained experience in leading processes with complex and conflicting interests and in organising the work. It has been important to me to demonstrate that I am able to formulate main focal points and detail long term strategy and also to deliver practical results. The experiential learning along with the formal management training has made me more self-aware and self-confident. I am involved in discussions and networks with engineers from different parts of the world, and it is essential that I know their various spheres of work and understand their concerns. In addition to my experience from various technical fields and from international cooperation, I believe it is important to know the organisation well, its areas of responsibility, its position and role in the society, its values and culture etc.

Approach to learning and meaning-making The aspirations and goals of my working life have gradually changed, partly because they have been realised and partly because of my learning. I have developed my career through a combination of planned actions and presentation of opportunities.

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I have always been eager to gain new experience and learn, and that is why I have been looking for new opportunities and challenges. I gradually realised that experience alone does not necessarily lead to learning; learning requires critical reflection. To me, a reflective practice is essential in practice-based professional learning as a way of learning from experience, and it is also a way to bring together theory and practice. Over time, my ability to reflect on my actions and engage in a process of continuous learning has developed. Critical reflection has been helpful to better understand my motives, perceptions, attitudes, values and feelings. I would not have been able to gradually create my own profession without self-reflection. My management experience has been particularly important in creating a reflective practice as it requires continuous critical thinking, problem-solving and decision-making. A reflective practice has further helped me make meaning, or sense, of all actions and events, in that I see meaning-making as a way of understanding and interpreting experience. Learning and meaning making go hand in hand, and it involves more than looking back on past actions and events. I have consciously tried to include factors such as emotions and responses and to use that information to reach a higher level of understanding. A few years ago, I carried out a Professional Doctorate based on my experiential learning within international cooperation and knowledge development with the aim to gain a better theoretical fundament to further strengthen my practice. It was very rewarding both professionally and personally to go through this academic programme and further reflect on my learning and develop new thinking. Over the years, my professional identity has changed due to the various work roles and social and cultural environments I have been exposed to. I no longer feel a strong identity connected to the field of engineering; instead I regard myself as a knowledge strategist and broker in international cooperation. In the following case study, I outline expected changes in the transport systems and subsequent needs for new and different knowledge and ways of working. These changes are related to my field of work in that they will certainly require more international cooperation and managers and professionals who can engage in self-reflection and adapt to meet emerging knowledge needs.

New transport systems and knowledge needs Trends in the field of transport Historically, technological advancements tend to take place in an exponential rather than linear way. We often refer to new and revolutionary technologies and innovations as disruptive when they are ground-breaking and challenge our current ways of working and business models. It is usually the case that disruptive technologies and innovations have the potential to make considerable improvements. An example of disruptive technology in the transport

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sector is the development of reliable car batteries which has enabled the increase in the production and use of electric vehicles. Traditional ways of working are becoming replaced by digitalised working processes and tools. In road infrastructure planning and construction, the use of model-based road projects, 3D-technology, visualisation tools etc. is increasing. Infrastructure owners have started developing a digital twin to the physical infrastructure, which will enable communication with automated vehicles. In the transport sector, the term intelligent transport systems (ITS) is commonly used. It can be defined as systems in which information and communication technologies are applied in the field of road transport, including infrastructure, vehicles and users, and in traffic and mobility management, as well as for interfaces between different modes of transport. ITS may improve the efficiency of transport, such as improved mobility and traffic safety and reduced negative impacts on the climate and environment. More recently, the term cooperative ITS (C-ITS) has been introduced. Whilst ITS focus on digital technologies providing artificial intelligence placed at the roadside or in vehicles, C-ITS focus on the communication between those systems, whether it is a vehicle communicating with another vehicle, with the infrastructure, or with other systems. Vehicles and infrastructure equipped with C-ITS can, for example, communicate a warning to each other, after which the drivers are informed about the upcoming traffic situation in time for them to take the necessary actions to avoid potential harm. Other potential benefits of the use of C-ITS include reduced congestion and improved driver comfort. All this is based on advanced sensor technology, communication and interaction between vehicles and centralised systems, as well as on the processing of large amounts of data using artificial intelligence. There is a progression towards seamless transports, where different modes of transport can be integrated and coordinated. It is important that these systems have a high level of security. Misuse of data and hacking of systems may be catastrophic for traffic and traffic safety and must be prevented. Another global societal trend is the urbanisation, and with fast-growing cities, there is a need for new urban transport solutions that are efficient, safe and climate/environmentally friendly. In urban areas in particular, the new concept is sharing/pooling of transport means.

A new role of infrastructure owners It is obvious that the introduction of connected and automated vehicles and shared mobility represents a paradigm change which will impact the society and our lives and transport patterns in many ways. It concerns policymakers and regulators, the industry, the scientific community and not at least citizens and businesses as end users.

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The rapid pace of innovations and product developments are for the most part driven by the industry, and particularly vehicle manufacturers. It is a challenge for infrastructure owners (usually road transport authorities) to respond to the new circumstances in an appropriate and timely fashion. The transport systems are in a transition phase, and new technologies have the potential to make transport more safe and secure, greener and more reliable. However, whilst the application of new technologies is expected to solve some transport problems, they may also create new ones. Yet, there are plenty of issues that need to be solved, such as the ownership and management of vehicles and traffic data, privacy matters and not at least responsibility and legal aspects, such as when the driver no longer controls the automated vehicles. Another important aspect is the public acceptance of new solutions. Infrastructure owners must ensure that the road network has the necessary digital infrastructure that is reliable and has enough capacity and redundancy. The digital infrastructure will be used for data acquisition, communication, information, road user charging and traffic control. They must also shape their role as regulator which implies seeking legal and ethical clarifications, defining principles for data ownership and the division of responsibilities between public and private stakeholders, as well as ensuring compliance to international legislation and agreements. They should be a leading stakeholder in developing the legislative basis, rules and regulations that will ensure harmonisation. They should demand that new technologies and systems comply with rules and regulations, such as for privacy protection and civil security, and they must ensure supervision and enforcement of the legal requirements. Furthermore, they have to establish suitable governance models that foster an institutional readiness to tackle a variety of interdependent issues.

Future knowledge needs To develop new systems for transport, it is necessary to cut across traditional fields of expertise and organisational borders. In this situation, the public sector, industry and academia have to cooperate at both the national and international levels to stimulate knowledge development and innovations. This tripartite cooperation constitutes a kind of triple helix. In the medium to long term, it is likely that some existing professions will fall dramatically or even disappear, some professions will change, and some new professions will appear to meet emerging needs. The challenge is to develop a workforce that matches the new situation and needs of the sector. Whilst it is difficult to predict what exact knowledge and skills that will be needed, we can assume that the workforce will have to possess combined knowledge and skills. That implies that transport planning and engineering is combined with fields such as information and communications technologies, artificial intelligence, social science, environmental science, economy and law. The workforce would need disciplinary skills as well as interdisciplinary

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skills to be able to work together outside their professional boundaries in teams and in networks. To be interdisciplinary, one first has to be disciplinary, since in an interdisciplinary team, everyone provides knowledge from its field(s). It is probable that new and interdisciplinary forms of knowledge will shape new professional disciplines, and it is a question how conservative and discipline-based universities and other higher educational institutions will respond to such new educational and knowledge requirements. Educational institutions have, to some extent, already started to respond to this new situation by introducing revised and new programmes into their curricula and the students to interdisciplinary work, project work and innovation. The relatively new concept of massive open online courses (MOOC) is likely to become an important part of continuing education and lifelong learning. This will imply that professionals can upgrade their knowledge in different ways than before and have more easily access to knowledge from abroad. In this context, it is interesting to look at a concept that has been introduced at some Scandinavian universities. They now offer master programme courses on ‘Experts in Teamwork’, where students share their knowledge with others to solve tasks as a team. It involves relational skills, the ability to work together and to bring out the best in each other. The students take part in an interdisciplinary team where they get an opportunity to sharpen their skills on major real-life challenges facing society. The aim is that students will take advantage of the interdisciplinary skills in their team to find solutions for a specific project. After reflecting on the group dynamics and cooperation in the group, they take concrete actions to improve their cooperation. In a world of new and disruptive technologies and big societal challenges, organisations must respond by becoming willing and able to adapt to new work premises and environments. It is necessary that organisations foster a culture for continuing learning and development, and reconsider, amongst other factors, traditional approaches to transfer of knowledge and experience. By way of example, it is common in organisations to appoint mentors to work closely with young employees and introduce them to the existing work methods and processes. However, with the rapid changes and new technologies this approach can be counter-productive as young employees will learn and adapt to outdated ways of working. A more productive approach can be ‘reversed mentoring’ where young employees are allowed to introduce new methods and processes to their older work mates. This would require a change in the learning culture of organisations.

Summary Compared with other professionals in the road transport sector, my career is quite atypical. It has gradually evolved from being a road transport professional to become a specialist in exchanges and development of knowledge

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between countries. This change process has been driven, for the most part, by deliberate actions to shape a job that suits my professional and personal preferences and perspectives. As a young civil engineer, I felt that working in my home country was not enough; I wanted to use my profession in a broader societal context, and preferably in developing countries. I got the opportunity to work some years within development cooperation abroad – an experience which greatly impacted my further professional choices. Some years later, I got involved in knowledge exchanges in the field of road transport on a global level, and I was reassured that nations can greatly benefit from cooperation and mutual learning. As I had become even more fascinated by international cooperation, I decided to continue my career in this direction, and for the last 10 years, I am charge of international activities of my organisation. To further strengthen my practice, I have obtained a doctorate within the field of knowledge development in international settings. Today, I regard myself as a knowledge strategist and broker, and the kinds of knowledge and skills I use in my job are manifold and have been acquired from formal and informal learning processes. I combine disciplinary knowledge and technical know-how with an understanding of the politics and culture of my organisation and of international organisations, cross-cultural understanding and language and communication skills. To create my own profession, I consider it necessary to possess a high degree of personal agency, which implies being proactive and self-directed, and engaging in self-­ reflection. My 10 years of management experience has particularly helped to develop agency and a reflective practice. It is anticipated that the transport sector will be facing dramatic changes in the years to come. Social trends such as digitalisation, automation, electrification and increased awareness of climate change and the environmental impact of the transport sector will create new and different transport systems. These trends along with disruptive technologies are expected to bring about complex chains of events and societal changes in the medium to long term. In this dynamic situation, there will be a need for extensive cooperation between the public sector, industry and academia, both at the national and international levels. Whilst it is difficult to predict what exact knowledge and skills will be required to practice in the future, it seems obvious that there will be more interdisciplinary working environments. All parties involved will be facing challenges in this changing situation. The academia will have to reconsider their curricula and training programmes, road transport organisations will have to change their learning culture and ways of working, and professionals will have to be adaptive and engage in critical self-reflection and continuous learning. All parties should be prepared for broad international cooperation involving development of knowledge and common systems, standards and regulations.

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Bryony Hannah Learning and working in and through drama Having worked in theatre, television, film and radio for the last two decades, I’ve been lucky enough to learn from some of the best teachers, directors and most highly respected actors. I started in fringe theatre and later went on to train at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art (RADA). Since graduating, I’ve been in many shows at the National Theatre and West End, as well as playing a core character in the long running series Call the Midwife for the BBC.

Learning as a way of life I approach acting from the standpoint that it is a never ending cycle of discovery and growth. Even by retirement age, I will still encounter work that feels alien and daunting. If in some people’s opinion I ever did become an expert – in another’s eyes I could be a hackneyed fraud. The essence of acting is ‘to hold, as ’twere, the mirror up to nature,’ (Shakespeare’s Hamlet). Therefore, the minutiae of my everyday experiences become opportunities to understand the world better in order to represent it through art. I am fortunate that we live in a time where the product of my profession is wrapped into the fabric of our lives. Our leisure time is bound up with the cinema, theatre, radio – and most homes have a television or streaming device. It’s part of many people’s daily routine to wind down by watching something in the evenings. Television dramas, documentaries, the news, reality shows are all food for the hungry artist. And I really am talking 24 hour a day growth/learning. It becomes a way of life. Even when during a low patch, I binged on Grey’s Anatomy for months on end – this was learning. Their style of delivery, emotional commitment and character development is phenomenal; a master-class in American television acting. I anticipate growing/learning not only through each job I do – but also through each average day or life experience I encounter. When I first auditioned for drama school the main advice was to ‘go away and live a little’. ‘Living’ was considered essential research for becoming an actor. Applying your own personal growth to your job, and being able to develop your professional practice accordingly can be extremely rewarding. That way you never feel stagnant.

The self as both instrument and product Unlike painters or makers, my product is my-self. And not just the body – I can’t simply go to class each day like a dancer and quantifiably work on my craft – it’s the body and mind; the self. Perhaps closer to an athlete; where the

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mental preparation is as necessary as the body’s readiness. But more than that, as an actor it is your unique view of situations, your character choices that are important. What you bring to a role, your interpretation of a text. And I’ve found that these days even that is not enough. The work itself is key – but also literally you as a person. Can this woman sell our product on This Morning? Is she interesting/shiny in herself? Working in the industry for 3 years prior to training at the RADA gave me a unique perspective. I was actively gleaning as much as possible from every experience, whilst also logging the skills I lacked and would need to acquire. I heard many actors and directors speak about their craft through masterclasses; read books; spoke to like-minded people; worked; and more importantly – went to the theatre. More and more it seems being good at your job is not enough. Employers are looking for the whole package.

Watching actively I can still hear my secondary school drama teacher drumming into us “Go to the theatre”. And he was right. The first year I moved to London at age 20, I was a waitress mainly. But I also went to the theatre around seventy times. A music teacher of mine once asked us to ‘actively listen’ to a piece. Hear a phrase of music, and then imagine where you would musically take that phrase next if you were writing it. Often the composer would take the melody elsewhere in an extraordinary manner. Occasionally you would instinctively know where the music was headed and it would feel cathartic. I take the same approach when watching acting performances. Although I have never professionally played Nina in Chekhov’s The Seagull, I feel as though she is part of my cannon. I studied the play at A-level. Worked on Nina’s main speech for a drama exam. And have seen many productions where I’ve actively watched that character; making choices with the actor playing her along the way. “I’d interpret that line differently. That’s an interesting layer to their relationship. I think I would build momentum here … etc.” One production particularly stands out. Katie Mitchell directed The Seagull at the National Theatre with Ben Whishaw as Konstantin and Hattie Morahan as Nina. I was waiting for her big speech. Waiting and waiting. And then suddenly I realised it had happened. It was so brilliantly just a fleeting, awkward, half conversation in the doorway to a stormy night. There was no ‘speechiness’ about it. A while later, I happened to sit next to one of the actors at the theatre and we spoke about the show. She revealed that the director was obsessed with outside pressures. For example, the pressure of time. So the actor was asked to keep worrying about getting back. That she’d been there too long. That she’d be missed or discovered. Also, the pressure of the weather. Being

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wet through from the rain. Knowing she’d have to duck back out there any moment. Looking for a break in the downpour. This was one of the most famous speeches a young actor could have. And yet by shifting the focus away from that, away from herself to external pressures it revealed the situation in a totally unique and extraordinary way, whilst making it more part of life. Using your imagination and challenging yourself to think how you would tackle hypothetical issues that could arise within your company can be good practice, without the pressure of needing to deliver.

Unhelpful formal learning From the very beginning, I was told I needed to work on my voice. Before going to drama school I had read the book Towards a Poor Theatre by Grotowski (Grotowski, Barba and Brook, 1976) and saw that there was a voice workshop being held at a respected teaching establishment, exploring his approach. The main idea as I remember it was that there are different sound resonating areas within the body and that these are naturally connected to varied emotional states. The thought was that if you could choose to locate your voice in a part of the body then perhaps the corresponding emotion might arise. On the second day we began with a vocal warm up, during which we lay down in semi-supine and did some deep breathing. Completely by surprise, I became highly emotional and began to cry deeply. Everyone in the class was worried, I was embarrassed and confused – and found myself mumbling that it had been a rough morning. I was very shaken the entire day, and for months afterwards, I questioned whether I was strong enough emotionally to withstand being an actor. What saddens me now is that a response such as this is actually completely normal and natural and happens sometimes. You hit the breath in a certain way and a wellspring of emotion can erupt. It’s actually what the whole course was about! And yet the teacher was unqualified and insensitive. She actually ran out of material soon afterwards and we ended up filming some scenes that were completely unrelated. It was a mess. Check the credentials of teachers, even if it’s at a recognised institution, before signing up to a course to further your growth.

Positive formal learning Learning at the RADA was a whole different ball game. Not only were the staff experts in their chosen field, but the pupils themselves had gone through a rigorous four-round audition process in order to earn a place. The principal of RADA was insistent that we students would learn as much from each other as we would from the teaching staff. There’s a phrase ‘Acting is reacting’, meaning that you don’t perform in a glass case. You come having

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done your preparation, full of ideas, and then get up with your scene partner and see what they have to offer. They may deliver a line or have a physical energy, which in turn will spin your work in different directions to any you could have foreseen. Indeed, that moment where what you bring meets what your partner brings and creates something new and dynamic in the middle is what acting is all about. It’s almost a chemical reaction. On a molecular level the air particles change and an audience knows they are watching something truly unique and real. In scene studies such as those we were simultaneously the learner and the teacher. There was also the added element that we students were watching each other’s progress daily and knew what the other had to work on. So there were definitely times during exercises where I would actively invite my fellow student to enter a different realm of their work – to help them move forwards. It is now recognised that the best leaders are often also the best coaches. To not only be conscious of your own learning trajectory but that of your colleagues’ and to assist them to move forwards helps create a vibrant and fulfilling working environment. Education in the creative arts is interesting in that the very nature of the training is in ‘doing’. You can accrue as much knowledge as you like about Stanislavsky, the Meisner Technique or the Method but it’s pretty useless unless you can embody those techniques, putting them into action. You ‘do’ in class, and then you continue to ‘do’ in the outside world. Every audition I prepare for, every workshop, rehearsal process or post show chat in the pub is a learning opportunity. Whilst training, there was always a teacher as an outside eye, and we as a class were encouraged to comment on each other’s work. Now, I rely on the director of a production to keep me on the straight and narrow and aid the growth of my role. But the reality is that the director is often busy with so many elements of the show that they don’t have time to babysit. I therefore recruit the help of the Assistant Director, vocal coach, choreographer, dramaturg; any trusted individual who is part of the team. This not only can help them feel more autonomous and involved, but allows me to ask for specific help. Such as, “Would you mind keeping an eye on my physicality please? Any pointers on where I could be more elegant or ideas on how I could keep my status would be most welcome”. At other times, especially when filming, you need to be your own coach. There is usually still budget for a full cast episode read-through at the start of filming, but rarely time for any rehearsal prior to your filming day. Therefore, the read through is essential to see where you fit within the whole piece and to check you are in the correct style of play. You need to develop an awareness of your fellow actors and the world you will be slotting into. And also reflect on how you could continue to flesh out your work before your filming day. RADA made it clear that they couldn’t expose us to everything, but aimed to give us the tools to be able to tackle anything that might come our way

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in the future. There was also the firm belief that 10, 20 years down the line, aspects of the training would slot into place. And I’ve felt this to be true. Asking for input on your development from members within your team is not only insightful but can open a dialogue; helping build trust and mutual respect.

The long game At RADA, I had a wonderful voice teacher. However, because the voice is so connected with expression of self – my vocal journey got somewhat hijacked by a process of confidence building; trying to identify what was in the nebulous cloud of fear and dread I was encountering. I also found there was a focus on lung capacity, e.g. breathe in for 4 counts and out for 8. In for 4 and out for 20. Which always made me feel inadequate as I have quite a small frame. The techniques were biased towards relaxation too, which looking back I can see was an unhelpful concept to me. Just recently, I worked at Shakespeare’s Globe on The Merry Wives of Windsor and had a revelatory voice coach. First, she made it clear that making a big sound takes muscular effort. The basis is ‘zzz zzz. jjj jjj’, produced by kicking in your diaphragm. She reckoned that if we did just five minutes a day we could build up the muscularity to deal with the vast outdoor arena that is The Globe. This filled me with hope. I could definitely find five minutes every day – and naturally once I got started, I often worked for ten or fifteen. She also had a way in her warm ups of connecting voice to a quickness of thought. “Life in the mind. Life in those articulators”. The sounds we made whilst warming up were never meaningless. They had intention to communicate specific feelings behind them. I was to imagine angel wings as I breathed in; to think of sending my voice behind as well as in front of me. But most importantly, we first had to deal with my state of mind. The last place I wanted to be was on a stage being looked at. Which is tricky to navigate when that’s your job! So it was about recognising that I had to find a desire to be heard, a desire to be seen. And when I got my head around that the rest fell into place. I’d trained at RADA, worked with voice staff at the National Theatre, with the illustrious practitioners from the Royal Shakespeare Company; everyone. But it was only when I decided that I wanted to be heard that I finally unlocked my voice and everything I’d learnt over the years made sense. Your state of mind can drastically affect your work. Once this is acknowledged both by yourself and your peers, help can be put in place to allow you to perform at your best.

Reflexivity During training we were encouraged to keep personal journals, in order to reflect and take charge of our learning. Day 1 and on the first page, I wrote ecstatically about discovering the word ‘inspiration’. That the thought comes with the in-breath and is then expressed, using the same air by the voice.

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What is interesting looking back over my diaries is that I made that same ‘discovery’ three or four times. You are taking in so much experiential information that you can sometimes forget the basics. Journaling was particularly useful if I’d not connected with an exercise in class. Having the opportunity to re-look at what the message of the tutorial had been and assimilate it after the event when I was less emotionally involved was very useful. Once in a Laban class, I just could not get on board with what we were being asked to do. And spent most of the class sitting very still as magical nymphs and fairies whirled around me. Our teacher just let me be and afterwards suggested that to further my work perhaps I needed ‘to be ok with feeling uncomfortable’. To live in that uncomfortableness and see what I could achieve. On reflection what a great lesson that was. When I’m out of my comfort zone and wishing I could bolt for the hills, I often think of her words. Be ok with feeling uncomfortable. This form of reflection has been key to my ongoing learning throughout my career. For example, after an early performance of a play the director will usually give notes. But I also run over the show in my mind afterwards and give myself notes on what I want to achieve in the next performance. These can be simple technical issues like “I need to come on a couple of beats later at that moment to correspond with the lighting change”. Or it could be an alternate interpretation of an otherwise illusive line; or reflecting on where I need to get to emotionally by certain scenes and how I can aid that journey. Whilst refining these specific details, I also have an eye on what I am holistically trying to achieve in my ongoing development as an artist. I have to own the fact that no one knows my work better than myself and take responsibility to make sure I’m never repeating but always endeavouring to grow. Whilst learning you will inevitably get things wrong. If you are unused to being out of your comfort zone, this can be bewildering and off-putting. But it is ok to feel uncomfortable. It shows you are pushing the envelope.

Learning by doing Working with professionals on Arthur Miller’s The Crucible at age 20 marked a massive change for me. These were people who had trained. Who ate nuts and dried fruits and had given up drinking. I wanted to be in the rehearsal room as much as possible. There were actors who were off book on day one, playing razor sharp intentions. But I learnt as much about being an actor in the pub. Listening to stories about Larry Olivier. Consoling those mourning their stolen careers. Seeing how the understudies in a visiting company had been side-lined and deciding to try and avoid that route.

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When I was first starting out at age 18, I would do anything and everything. Short films, sketch comedy, improvisation, classical texts; and all for no money. For the joy of learning and the hope of progressing. One such production was Lillian Hellman’s The Children’s Hour at The Union Theatre; a London fringe venue then situated under a railway arch. I had tried out for the leading girl Mary Tilford but was given the smaller role of Peggy. Once the show started we were unable to access the dressing room upstairs due to the theatre’s layout and creaky floorboards. So we had to sit backstage for the entire show. We girls weren’t even in the second half other than a couple of scene changes so there was a lot of sitting trying to be quiet. Most of the girls occupied themselves with various games, but for some reason, I decided to listen. I must have listened to the entirety of that play (minus the scenes I was actually acting in) around thirty times. The part I was interested in was Miss Dobie. I could hear from the actor’s first entrance whether her energy and intentions had slightly changed, and it was a delight to hear the play unfold afresh each night. New meanings were illuminated. Themes transpired. And the play itself gradually bedded down into my psyche. I also listened intently to the actor playing the role I had originally auditioned for. She had a completely different take on Mary Tilford, so it was interesting to follow along and imagine how I might interpret the lines in my version. Seven years later, having now graduated from drama school, I was invited to audition for the Children’s Hour again. This time in the West End with Kiera Knightley, Elizabeth Moss and Ellen Burstyn in the leading roles. Even though I hadn’t read the play for many years, I still knew it intimately from listening to it so many times in the dark. I was concerned that my Mary Tilford would be nothing like the one I’d listened to. And that maybe I didn’t have the immorality within me to play her fully. But in the audition, I came with my ideas and listened to the way director Ian Rickson spoke about Mary. He seemed to be on her side, and this knowledge allowed me to step forwards. I brought my ideas, met his and created something new. It can be easy to be passive at work, especially when you are bored. But actively seeking opportunities to grow may benefit your future. In the end, my performance in The Children’s Hour earned me an Olivier Award nomination, but it wasn’t all plain sailing. I had a big scene with a far more established actor who played my grandmother. We worked from different methods and at different paces. In one run through I just decide to play all my intentions to the max and indulge in the aggressive nature of my character. The result was that my scene partner became flustered and off balance. In some scenarios with contemporaries that I know, they would have found this interesting in itself and potentially an insight into what their character might be feeling on some level. But with her it was unfair. I put her

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under undue pressure and should have held back so that we could grow the scene in tandem. One great piece of advice I got at RADA was ‘make your scene partner look good’. It seems arbitrary but is important to remember. You have to do it together or the whole thing falls apart. Another member of the cast and I were having a deep and meaningful conversation over some strong Sake one night when she revealed that she desperately wanted to improve and deepen her work. Another member of our company, the eminent Academy Award winning actor Ellen Burstyn, had actually co-founded Lee Strasberg’s illustrious American school for working actors in New York, The Actors Studio. So we asked her to lead some classes in The Method with us. What followed was a series of master classes on the Harold Pinter Theatre stage with those members of the cast who wished to join. Ellen talked us through exercises in sense memory. And then we later applied these skills to speeches. My dresser also joined the sessions as he was keen to learn. It was extraordinarily generous of Ellen and such a privilege. But it was also a reminder that we never stop learning at any age and can get fresh insight into our craft from taking another approach. Having the humility and desire to keep learning in later life is most commendable and can inspire colleagues to reflect on their own process.

Behave like it’s true and it might become true This is one of Stanislavsky’s core ideas. On Tom Hanks’ Desert Island Discs he speaks about doing all the preparation you can for a scene, in the hope that once you get in-front of camera the ground is fertile enough for something to spark to life and actually happen. When I was working at the National Theatre on Tom Stoppard’s play Every Good Boy Deserves Favour, one of the co-directors set up an extraordinary exercise for us. His background was in sight-specific theatre with the company Punchdrunk, and so he arranged to take us to the disused wing of an asylum for the afternoon. The play was set in such a place, in Russia in the 1970s. We’d previously been recommended to look at the memoir To Build a Castle by Vladimir Bukovsky as a reference point for a political prisoner who was sectioned by the Russian state for his beliefs. We had a troop of dancers in the play who were scattered about the rooms in the asylum as guards, or phantoms. And within each cell were different tasks for us to complete; many inspired by Bukovsky’s (1979) book. It was an incredibly distressing yet illuminating afternoon. I ran around trying to find my ‘father’ as in the play. Encountering real and imagined obstacles. In some respects, approaching the boundaries of sanity myself. By behaving like it was true, it began to become true. The final cell I found myself in had matchboxes and cigarette papers. You were asked to write a note on the paper and put it in the matchbox. I wrote

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to my ‘father’ in character, and when I was told the exercise was finished, I was very shaken. When everyone was debriefing, I couldn’t find the words to speak. And later requested to go back and retrieve my matchbox. It had already been tidied away so the director and I went through the bins until we found it. I then carried the matchbox in my character’s trouser pocket during the show. It was never seen by the audience but had such personal resonance that it acted as a short cut back to the emotions released in that asylum experience. Role-play can be such a valuable tool for learning if you personally invest in it.

Only human Some say to ‘wipe your feet at the door’ when you turn up to do a job; to leave your day behind on the mat. But in reality we are human and our daily emotions will naturally feed into our work. I’ve experienced this in unhelpful ways when feeling personally low and bruised. It’s easy to shut down and avoid communicating or playing with your colleagues. To not want to risk getting things wrong. But this not only harms your work but stifles that of others too. Because, as I said earlier the real magic occurs between you; it’s not generated by just one person. I’ve also experienced acting into an abyss – where my scene partner is so frightened or wrapped up in their own stuff that whatever you throw at them no energy comes back. They are immovable as granite and unable to respond with any spontaneity. It’s incredibly hard work and dissatisfying to watch for an audience. But what I am grateful for in my profession is that all the crap that happens in life may at some point be channelled constructively into art; into a force for good. As long as the emotions don’t completely take over and skew the piece into something vastly different, and as long as you continue to work with your colleagues as a team, then emotions can give rise to an intoxicating vitality. Your work self and home self are one and the same. Staying available to your fellow colleagues even when the sky is falling down may help to positively channel any static energy.

Coda On the last night of Every Good Boy Deserves Favour, I found the director in the bar and asked if he’d mind keeping hold of my precious matchbox for me. He had mentioned previously that he had a drawer of treasures. Then I requested that when I was older, he find a way to return the matchbox to me. So that I would be reminded of how deeply I cared as a young artist. I’m hoping it will find its way back to me one day.

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Peter Macdonald Learning through struggling to teach others Introduction Before I began to write this case study, I gave a lot of time to reflect on my journey of learning from the late ’70s to the present day. I realised that I went from being a very downtrodden individual who believed he was stupid and incapable of learning, to a recognised facilitator offering Leadership and Management advice to many top organisations. The puzzle I was presented with created the following questions I needed to answer: a b c d

What made me believe I was stupid and incapable of learning? What helped me start to believe in myself and that I was not stupid? How did those around me contribute to my beliefs? How did my experiences shape my beliefs and goals?

I structured this case study under the following broad headings and have summarised with some tentative conclusions: Schooling – finished in 1976 British Army – 1978–2000 Civilian career – 2000–2017 Master’s degree 2017–2019 Conclusions

School This was a painful time both mentally and physically. My parents were Catholics so I went to a number of schools and was taught by Nuns, Benedictine monks and Jesuit priests. Their methods of teaching and motivating pupils were at best questionable and often relied on corporal punishment as the ultimate motivation for the child. I was labelled as not being academically minded and in my own opinion, was left to rot with little or no expectation of progression. The self-fulfilling prophecy got to work and proved the negative expectations held for me were manifested into poor results and poor behaviour. This unfortunate state of affairs touches on questions ‘a’ and ‘c’ above. Those around me, my schoolteachers, deemed me stupid and unable to learn. After poor results in my O Level (now GCSE) of just two O Levels in English Language and English Literature, I was asked to leave due to my

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unacceptably poor academic achievement. I only achieved those two qualifications due to the care and passion with which the teachers taught the subjects. They were both the sort of teachers remembered for good and positive reasons.

Summary of school School had a profound effect on my self-esteem, self-belief and future aspirations. It is little wonder that I struggled to think of what I wanted to do as I felt unable to do anything worthwhile. It is little wonder I joined the army as a basic soldier. Even when asked to go for a commission, I refused the opportunity, as I knew how stupid I really was; after all, I had been taught that I was worthless. Schooling had convinced me that I was not academically minded, I was too stupid to be taught anything worthwhile, and that I would not go very far in life at all in terms of becoming successful or living up to my father’s ideas of success. The whole experience left me feeling a failure; schooling had a most damaging impact on my formative years and this from an institution, and people, who should have known better.

British Army (1978–2000) The start of my journey of learning through experience and formal courses began in 1978 when I joined the army. Having been identified as a potential instructor and taught all the required military skills during basic training, I was placed on various courses so that I could master the techniques to instruct on the subjects. Whilst I discovered my passion for imparting skills, knowledge and understanding, I found that I disagreed strongly with the army methods of instruction and how my superiors wished us to deliver training. This was to become the catalyst for my search for best practice, albeit what I now realise I favoured as best practice. Through many discussions, arguments and even disciplinary events through my army career, I managed to persuade people I encountered along my journey that a far more interactive approach would give better results and a far more enjoyable experience for both learners and instructors. My beliefs about learning came to a head when I was on a first aid instructors’ course and I used a technique to teach a Teaching Practice on the control of bleeding. I used an approach based on asking questions of the learners so that they could reason out the right way to deal with the various types of bleeding. Many years later, I discovered I had been using Socratic questioning. I failed the Teaching Practice and was in fact RTU’d (Returned to Unit) as a failure. On my return, I was asked to explain myself to a high-ranking officer and when I did, he took my thinking to the Commanding Officer and

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I was put back on the course and passed. This was the first time I really started to believe in myself. Perhaps I did have ability, perhaps school was wrong! I had been given recognition and praise for my thinking so I continued using this approach which I called ‘Self-Teaching’. A second event took me quite by surprise. I was being observed delivering a training session to army recruits by an observer and as it happened, the observer was himself being assessed by an officer. After the session, I was given excellent feedback and the officer added how impressed he was with my ability to adapt my approach to the individuals in the room. When he asked me more in-depth questions, I realised that I had automatically used my knowledge of each individual to ensure effective communication and learning. I had unconsciously begun to recognise the need for individual human engagement which the rigorous hierarchical structure of the army did not recognise. It would appear I had discovered a need for what is now recognised as Emotional Intelligence (EI). In my last few years in the army, I discovered I had been given the nickname of the ‘quiet sergeant major’. People noticed I did not have to scream and shout to get things done, I worked on a personal level and knew each of my soldiers well enough to understand how to get the best from them. The highest compliment of my military leadership skills was from a very strict Commanding Officer who said, “his troops would follow him anywhere and he wouldn’t have to ask”. These few events make the 22 years seem very short indeed. My confidence gradually grew due to the recognition and even others emulating my delivery style. In summary, I started to believe in my ability to train others. I believed that I knew how to deal with people, how to relate to and manage both their negative and positive triggers. If only many of my teachers in my schooling had done the same!

Summary of British Army The past ghosts of school where I left feeling stupid, unteachable and a failure had through the 22 years been killed off permanently. I had a new thinking towards learning and that was that anyone could learn regardless of their background or school record. I now had a recognised praised and effective way of delivery training and facilitating workshops. The many students, peers and leaders through my 22-year career had praised me as a trainer/facilitator and this gave me great confidence in my ability. I had been called the quiet sergeant major who didn’t need to shout, a great people person and my Commanding Officer had said of me “his troops would follow him anywhere”! I had one huge looming concern though! How on earth could I manage in the civilian world where I had no reputation or experience? How could I learn to become a trainer/facilitator in civilian life? Could I in fact manage this?

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Civilian career (2000–2017) When I left the army in July 2000, I worked for a huge organisation as a freelance trainer on a few projects and again found myself challenging the method of training we were told to use. Fortunately, I had a great manager called Gary who allowed me a level of ‘flexibility’ to facilitate my sessions which proved to be a great success. All my observed sessions met with the same excellent feedback and compliments on my interactive way of training. Again, I gained confidence in how I believed training should be conducted and people treated. After that organisation, I went to work for a professional Institute which taught IT trainers how to teach their learners’ IT systems and software. I helped this organisation deliver their key courses which were how to use a very interactive and engaging delivery approach using Socratic questions at the heart of their delivery technique. Within just a few weeks, I had challenged the methodology and was quickly labelled argumentative and over challenging. I did challenge as I had learned that challenge is good. I discovered this saying by the writer John Milton (Swainston, 2008, p. 12) who said, “Where there is much desire to learn, there of necessity will be much arguing, much writing, many opinions; for opinions in good men is but knowledge in the making”. I took these words and have lived by them ever since and they appear at the beginning of all my workshops and courses encouraging those in the room to challenge anything I say. I have always challenged anything that I believed was unsuitable or could be improved upon. Although I gained a reputation as a rebel, I believe my points were, albeit unwelcome, mostly adopted. To this day, I still challenge anything that I believe should be challenged. I believe that most of my learning was through the countless discussions I had with fellow instructors, learners and assessors through the years, has been a great source of learning and challenged my own thinking as well. In 2010, whilst working at an organisation focused on Learning and Performance, I was asked to visit one of their clients who had some reservations about a programme the organisation delivered. After I returned from the client having listened to their points about the programme, I tended to agree with a lot of what they said. The MD at the time authorised me to rewrite their training and assessor programme from the ground up which I did. I had the help of some very experienced people who had far more experience of the programme than I did, and our thinking created what I believe is still used by the organisation today. The trust the MD and others placed in me was both welcome and daunting, I still had a few self-doubts, could I manage this, would I get it right. I then realised that my main concern was to ensure it was right for those using it. That was comforting. Many conversations later the new version was launched and it was tested thoroughly by a wonderful client called Annika, who to this day is a good

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friend and who offers me wise counsel. If I were to describe Annika, it would be, an extremely knowledgeable person who does not accept anything less than top standards. Experiencing this style of open, direct and impactful communication, helped me to use a more direct approach myself. This experience touches on the more positive aspects of my enquiry (b, c and d above) and helped shape my own beliefs more to my current thinking. My challenging ways were still causing ripples, so in early 2017, I resigned from that organisation to start my own training company LaPD Solutions Ltd. This was a significant move for me in terms of confidence and a number of ingredients helped me make that leap of faith. One of the factors that affect us and our confidence to do or not do something, is the impact of those around us. In the previous text you will find examples of this from the negative impact of teachers at school, through to the belief shown by others in my knowledge and ability. Fortunately, the latter won through and in terms of the self-fulfilling prophecy, my positive Pygmalion’s helped me to achieve the Galatea effect on inner belief. Two hugely positive and impactful Pygmalion’s for me to step out on my own and start my own business were from two long-time friends Tony and Peter. Both challenged me to become better, both stated repeatedly their confidence in my abilities and offered praise and recognition when deserved, but also critical reviews to develop those areas I needed to focus on. On a personal level my two children (in their 30s) also tested my thinking regularly. Listening to their experiences, how they managed others and how they too had been affected by our discussions on Leadership and Management also affected my self-belief and self-worth. I can categorically state that without these positive Pygmalion’s in my life I would not be running my own business on Emotional Intelligence-Based Leadership and Management. The success and how well my thinking has been received since I started my business has also impacted on me and this got me to a place where I felt I was professional, a specialist and that my knowledge had been proven by the test of time and various challenges along the way. I was, however, going to see that be greatly challenged in my next adventure.

Summary of civilian career This initially was scary, that move from the protection of the military world to the civilian world. Fortunately, I quickly learned that my skills were highly praised and even my challenging nature was no bad thing. The owner of the organisation I first worked for asked me to find him someone else like me which I did. The challenging nature still caused ripples of discontent, but I learned that it was always best to challenge and learn from those challenges.

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I was now convinced that learning was all about the learner and their experience. I still focus on ensuring what I do is relevant, engaging, challenging yet rewarding. I use EI in all I do and it is really well received. Receiving good feedback is always nice and motivational, but what gets me fired up the most is the recognition from organisations that the interactions I have had with their people have made a difference in terms of performance. Even at this stage I felt there was still something I needed to develop my world of learning, training and performance further; when I discovered practice-­based higher education, I knew exactly what that something was.

Master’s degree (2017–2019) The desire to begin this academic journey I undertook during my master’s degree with Middlesex University was born from two personal goals. First, it was my long-held desire to prove those who labelled me a person who would never be academically able, incorrect! Secondly, the programme lent credibility to my professional practice and discovered my passion around Emotional Intelligence. Initially, I pushed against the apparent complexity of the academic world, the use of simplicity and every day words were pushed aside in preference for the more advanced academic language; this annoyed me! My thinking on the use of words was to keep things simple, yet here was the world of academia doing the opposite. Whilst initially this cost me considerable time to master, I suddenly found myself reading such documents with ease. This alone fascinated me and my favourite quote to explain this is from Dennis Kwek, a research associate with the Centre of Research for Pedagogy and Practice, believes that persistence is the key. “If you persist, the articles will become easier because your brain gets rewired to read them”. I do believe that is what happened. My recent journey into the world of academia opened my eyes to my own bias, the impact bias can have, and many other aspects which have caused me to reflect on the skills, knowledge and understanding I have accumulated over the years. Interestingly, it has not only caused me to take a close look at how I will now use such skills, knowledge and understanding, but how I have used them in the past. My first surprise as I began this journey through the new world of academia, was that I had in fact not been acting in the best interest of my clients or for myself either! I hasten to add that this was an unconscious behaviour rather than a conscious one. I had never considered my own bias for things which agreed with me and that which I liked or preferred! I hardly read anything apart from the occasional paper which came my way. Then, I wondered how often I had read different thinking and almost ignored it as it was not in line with my own! So much realisation at once concerned me. After discussing this with a colleague, I was assured that my best intentions

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and professionalism had always been at the heart of all I did. Whilst this was comforting, this was not quite good enough, I had to change. During my research, I was pointed to the writing of Robert Kegan, an American developmental psychologist and author who was the William and Miriam Meehan Professor in Adult Learning and Professional Development at Harvard Graduate School of Education until his retirement in 2016. One particular aspect of his writing gripped my attention and led me to some seriously deep reflection. It was what he termed a ‘Big assumption’. A big assumption differs from an assumption, as an assumption is something we think may be true, but at the same time we are conscious that it is not a certainty, or a fact. A big assumption is something we do not hold to be an assumption at all, but rather a truth. These big assumptions could in fact, like an assumption, be true or untrue, but because we believe they are true, we do not even consider their legitimacy so we never challenge them. We hold them as truths (belief really does create reality)! (Kegan and Lahey, 2009). Only when I started to critically consider some of my own thinking (big assumptions), and that which I had for many years held as true did I start to find far better knowledge and understanding of my own thinking, how I approach things and how I wanted to approach things in future. My new way of approaching things would incorporate critical thinking and research into the opinions of others, not just a yes or no opinion of my own. This in turn now leads to new thoughts and considerations which previously I would not have been exposed to. This discovery and new thinking brushed up closely to the word ‘Bias’! I know about bias as I talk about it and reference it in many of the talks I give. I have always known we have bias and worse yet unconscious bias, yet here I was a victim of it myself! So one of my key learning points from this experience is that we need to consciously work on recognising our own biases (Ross, 2019) and when we discover them delve into their roots to help us understand what cause(s) them and ideally to avoid them or recognise them quicker in the future.

Summary of master’s degree Again, the unexpected informal recognition from my peers, my professors and from clients as I enhanced my skills and approaches, all helped my confidence and self-belief. I now see learning still very much as learner focused and needing to be engaging, but I now know that the thinking and care I use prior to engagements, talks, training or facilitation have to be reflected on, critically considered and health checked through research. My reputation is important to me as well as my business, and I know that now being far more critical in my thinking brings far more to me and my clients than ever before.

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In reflection of the whole master’s degree journey, I would say that one of the key points is critical thinking. We have a duty of care and a responsibility to all we connect with and to critically review all we believe to be good and true.

Summary To summarise my personal experience from school to current day, is I feel best described as ‘from confinement to enlightenment’. That is exactly what it feels like I went through. Schooling took a young child and punished it for underachievement with beatings, ridicule and abandonment. It cast me aside as a lost cause with no hope. I am delighted to say that when reading back through this case study I see the sparks of light which good people helped ignite in me; those fires of positivity and belief which I so badly needed. Those fires lit hope in me at various times and helped to build confidence in my ability, they helped to burn those darker school days and help me believe I could do well and enjoy doing it too. To look and see where I am now, what I bring to both individuals and their organisations gives me great pleasure that I am helping others and pride in what I do. Although it wasn’t the skills, knowledge or understanding which made me feel how I now do about myself, it all helped on my journey. The real impact came from the people, their positive impact by what they said and did. I have for a few years now used a personal mantra which is ‘Dream, Hope, Believe, Do’. Thanks to my journey and the wonderful people I have met over the years, I definitely DO! I feel it only fitting to close the case study with this quote from Burnison (2012, p. 103): I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.

Emma Rees How do you catch a cloud and pin it down? Practitioner knowledge is a cloud. A cloud viewed from the outside looks solid and tangible, an entity to put one’s arms around and grasp; a firm platform to stroll about on and enjoy the elevated perspective. When a cloud from the inside is explained, it doesn’t at all make sense to those viewing it externally. The cloud of knowledge is a shifting shape, inviting you to go

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deeper, slipping through your fingertips, enveloping you. How do we know which way to go next? How do we pass the experience on? How do we explain, advise and inform? ‘Both identity and phenomenon – that is, both subject and object are unstable. How can an unstable observer establish objective knowledge of an unstable phenomenon?’ (Brown, 2014, p. 78). We recognise that the development of practitioner knowledge is inextricably bound to the development of self, which in its constant state of flux informs the acquisition, interpretation and holding of our knowledge in an ongoing tension between subject and object (Nonaka and Takeuchi, 1995). We accept that incomplete knowledge is all any practitioner has to work with, moving within our cloud with limited visibility but knowing intimately. I would argue that true objectivity is outside of our reach – our knowledge is not a user manual or a road map (Hildreth and Kimble, 2002). In my current professional role, I am module leader and lecturer for the Institute for Optimum Nutrition’s Nutritional Therapy diploma course. I am responsible for the clinical practice modules, which mainly involve the soft skills of the curriculum, including reflective practice. I am also a practising nutritional therapist. Do not go outward, return to yourself. Truth dwells within. Augustine, De Vera Religione (Lossl, 2012, p. 137). The germination of reflective practitioner knowledge for me was incidental to life events. These events unceremoniously pulled assumptions up from under me and shattered paradigms, pushing me to reflect for survival. As a child, I mimicked my mother, keeping a diary consistently every day of every year from 9 years old until my early 20s. Although the activity was unstructured and free-flowing, I came to understand the cathartic nature of writing reflectively very young and found value early, which helped me maintain this discipline. The content of my diaries illustrates my development through the stages of consciousness as outlined by Kegan (Love and Guthrie, 1999), with early writing exploring self-categorisation, bound by self-interest (no abstract thinking) and later writings demonstrating a developed sense of behavioural expectations and social awareness, but still immature in terms of a sense of responsibility and true consideration of others. Literature shows journaling to be a means of enhancing self-awareness, self-care, gaining perspective, problem-solving and writing skills (Blake, 2005; Charles, 2010), and I gained these through a self-imposed force of habit that was at the same time organic. Robert Dilts suggests value is gained by consistent behaviour that increases competence, which leads to value (Dilts, 2014) and evidence of this is present even in my childhood. From my early twenties my diary keeping became less routine, but I still journaled regularly throughout my adulthood and have enjoyed brief forays into creative writing, sometimes autobiographical.

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Regular journaling and creative writing allowed me to find my own writing style. I gained experience in self-analysing and self-discovery, naturally creating a forum for emergent issues. Not knowing differently, I wrote in a free-flowing form that became my hallmark and continued even as my reflective practice learning became more formal. The free-flowing style allows my thoughts to take shape and new ones to emerge; I intuitively follow where the energy is like a glider catching thermals. I write without a plan, about what presses on my mind, and I allow the writing to take me on its own path. I ‘go fearward’ (Turner-Vesselago, 2017, p. 34) and face things that scare me, entangle me, energise me. ‘It took me a long time to realise that there are two kinds of writing; the one you write and the one that writes you. The one that writes you is dangerous. You go where you don’t want to go. You look where you don’t want to look’ (Winterson, 2011, p. 50). Browsing through my journals over the years, I see that many habits of good reflective writing budded and started to blossom long before I knew what reflective practice was and I engaged with it in an unstructured and rudimentary way, all the while unknowingly nurturing ‘emotional, embodied, experiential, practical, spiritual and intellectual ways of knowing’ (Marshall, 2016, p. 42). The primary acquisition at the time was the developing sense of self, with reflective ability organically unfolding as I applied basic tools for survival and self-progression. Through decades of journal-keeping, I have found my voice, cultivated habit, demonstrated courage. I have stretched my wings in the practice of self-analysis and reflection and spontaneously adopted elements of Freefall writing. This personal route into reflective practice was reinforced and enhanced by formal training at master’s level where I identified ways in which to sharpen these skills in the service of formal self-inquiry. Drawing on guidance from established action researchers and writers and seeking input from critical friends enabled me to introduce better structure, more discipline and better skills of self-appraisal and to begin to develop mindfulness and immersion in the moment. For now we see in a mirror, darkly. (1 Corinthians, 13:12). As a young adult at university, I studied languages because of my love of travel and culture, and these studies led me to delve into European literature and philosophy. But long held paradigmatic assumptions came to be challenged by two things: my discovery of post-modern philosophy, and more importantly the death of my mother. Key beliefs and expectations about life were shaken, and I was forced to scrutinise strongly maintained paradigms including religious convictions and associated causal assumptions. I came to see that a large part of my principles and beliefs were planted deep in indoctrination and that I had never been encouraged to think critically. I went forward

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tentatively and with fear, and started to question; worried that all would be revealed as false if I did. I left the Christian denomination I was familiar with and found stability in more contemplative and intellectual expressions, such as Ignatian spirituality. However, several years later, I was met with another disorientating dilemma which occurred in the shape of my marriage ending, leaving me alone with three young children. Once again this destroyed many assumptions that I had grown up believing – that marriage was for life; that mine would be successful because my parents’ marriage was; that what we had planned for the future would happen. It was a life crisis. However, as I adapted to life alone, I was slowly able to examine myself in a ‘magnifying mirror’ (Bassot, 2016, p. 16) and see a little more clearly who I actually was, rather than seeing myself via long established filters that told me believable things such as that I was lazy, when actually I was hard working. In the years preceding my encounter with reflective practice as a discipline, I was forced to confront and reassess my assumptions with unstructured thought processes and free-fall writing as my only tools. At around the same time, I started my training in nutritional therapy and finally encountered reflective practice as a formal discipline. Knowledge acquired informally butted up against formal learning and the two didn’t appear to complement at all. Encountering reflective models in formal education did not sit well with me after decades of free flow writing. I didn’t like the formulae, I didn’t like the boxes and I didn’t like the well-trodden paths that endless folks trod. I didn’t want to be told I had to. Clumsily handling these reflective models when used to a fluid and unstructured approach left me in a middle ground between what I had been told I needed to do in order to reflect and my disposition and habits. A critical incident in training clinic provided the pivotal point that helped me start to develop an appreciation of reflective models. In my very first student consultation, I found the tutor to be hostile. She was inexplicably sharp with me, raised her voice at me and visibly showed her disapproval of the recommendations I was planning to give. It shook me badly and undermined my confidence to continue with subsequent consultations. I turned to reflection using the models I had been taught in order to help me process the experience. It occurred to me that reflective models provided me with a framework both to confront difficult circumstances, but also to save me from being captive to looping thoughts processes that don’t go anywhere. Models push us on to the next step, with the final step meaning action. Action in itself must change things. The looping thoughts can’t remain the same, not exactly the same anyway, if new action is taken. Reflection might lead us to pierce those unproductive repetitive thoughts; to lead us to the core of the matter. I had tended to shy away from reflecting on difficult experiences; I didn’t want to relive the experience, I didn’t want to find out which mirror I had to end up looking into and what I might see. But the reflective model I chose held my hand through the process and guided me one step at a time. It broke ‘re-living’ the experience down

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into manageable chunks and helped me to move through the emotional into the cognitive. I understood that the model had supported me in a time of weakness; that although I had reflective ability, sometimes when the mind is dull or depressed or fearful, we have need for scaffolding. I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one’s mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one’s leisure. It becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you understand, when they are in this form. [in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Rowling, 2000, pp. 518–519)]. Upon graduating as a practitioner, I transferred my learning towards enhancing my practitioner skills and continued to value the technique, aiming to use the models taught. My concept of how to develop in my new professional life was a simple equation: see clients reflect on these experiences. Reflecting on a client consultation involved looking at what went well, what went less well, what was the outcome and what could I do differently. Obediently following reflective models resulted in a fairly mechanical process with not much understanding as to why I was doing it. I viewed the process of development as a form of stepwise progression that would hopefully lead me into knowledge and wisdom as the years went on. In the early days, I was unaware of a myriad of assumptions that underpinned each act of preparation and each encounter with a client. I made small assumptions such as how engaged or reluctant the client might be with the changes I would need to suggest – an assumption that rested on the client’s demographics, level of ill health and food diary. I would make assumptions regarding the financial burden of intended testing and supplement suggestions even before meeting the client, based on the job they did and area in which they lived. And then there were broader assumptions regarding what underpinning imbalance could be contributing to their symptoms. Making assumptions when diagnosing a health condition or imbalance can restrict the developing practitioner to operating inside a box within which they feel comfortable. If an inexperienced therapist is well versed in symptoms and protocol pertaining to a particular condition, he or she will be more likely to see this condition everywhere they go. Or else the therapist may have struggled with a personal health issue themselves and has encountered success in self-treating. The temptation is then to view clients through the lens of their own experience. This type of diagnostic flaw is known in medical circles as the availability bias – ‘referring to what most easily comes to mind (Wellbery, 2011, p. 1042). Dall’alba and Sandberg (2006, p. 13) praise ‘intuitive assessment of each situation against the background of previous experience’ as key in skilled practice, but relying too much on previous experience (whether novice or expert) can lead to diagnostic assumptions that blinker the therapist, pulling them away from efficient differential diagnosis

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and limiting successful outcomes. In my case, assumptions acted as a safe grazing ground in my early professional life, limiting me to areas in which I felt confident. As I matured as a therapist, I began to understand that I needed to scrutinise the assumptions I would naturally fall into when working with a client. Scrutinising assumptions means standing back to gauge the bigger picture, it means literally testing, to rule in or rule out what I believe may be happening, and it also importantly involves talking through cases with peers and colleagues that can challenge our assumptions to provide better differential diagnosis (Wellbery, 2011) – a principle of our professional supervision groups. This changing perspective enhanced my attitude towards my clients. I learnt to place myself outside my comfort zone in the interest of the client, drawing on literature and peer support to reinforce my steps into less well trodden terrain. Other aspects of my perspective regarding my professional responsibility as therapist also evolved over time. It is a euphoric feeling to have done ‘good’ in a person’s life, especially someone who I have witnessed struggling and vulnerable. It is exciting to see the person well again. As nutritional therapists, some of our clients are vulnerable. They are coming to us in chronic ill health, sometimes after having exhausted other options. In my early professional life, I was very focused on facilitating their health improvement, seeing this as the primary purpose of my professional remit. However, as I developed, I began to remember that facilitating autonomy was also a crucial part of the process. Transactional Analysis talks about the Karpman drama triangle (Stewart and Joines, 2008), within which it is easy to fall as therapist and vulnerable client. It is gratifying to ‘rescue’ a victim and tempting to forge a professional relationship with many clients based on this set of behaviours. But sitting inside this potentially gratifying scenario and developing autonomy in the client are two mutually exclusive acts, because as ‘victim’ the client believes in their own powerlessness (Stewart and Joines, 2008). One powerful way to equip the client with autonomy is through the application of clinical empathy, a subject that is covered in depth by authors such as Ofri (2017) and Mercer and Reynolds (2002). In simple terms, this may involve listening and checking understanding, followed by giving the client information at their level and in their words that can help them inform their choices and understand why they are making changes. Here, as in my own journey, a blending of the client’s personalised know-how (in this case of their own health, responses and beliefs) to formal learning (via the clinical setting) is required for a successful outcome and personal growth and development. So as a therapist, I have succeeded not only if the client becomes well, but if they have understanding of themselves and of the principles of good health that sit independently of my guidance. Not long into my practice, I also started work as a tutor and then lecturer and module leader. Over the years, I slowly inherited the clinical skills modules which completed a circle for me and enabled me to bring my arts

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background to a science-based course. I hadn’t acquired formal teacher training above level three: I learnt on the job, first as a learning support assistant in a secondary school, then as a higher education tutor and finally as a lecturer. Communicating reflective practice has been self-taught, through own reading which has prompted reflective development. I have also developed through my own private practice and via conversations with mentor-like figures. As such, not only have my teaching skills developed with time, but my perspective of how best to do so has also matured with experience. However, I was conscious of an uncomfortable juxtaposition between my secret intimate relationship with reflective practice that served to aid my own well-being and the more formulaic teaching approach I had to adopt that was practitioner and career development-focused. This continued friction became more obvious when I taught reflective models which still did not sit entirely naturally with me. Self-inquiry via study gradually surfaced strong feelings about the use of models, and I admitted that my informal and intuited relationship with reflection meant that the choice they presented me seemed drab, my freedom felt curtailed, my creativity curbed yet I had to express their value to my audience. How to teach the steps to reflective thought and writing when I had developed them so informally? How could I truly engage with them from such a personal subjective place when my journey to formal reflective practice seemed to have spoiled me for it? Over time, as I matured as a teacher, I started to look outwards. How our students view me was already very important, it built into my sense of professional identity, but as I grew, I started to consider the situation from the learners’ perspective in a deeper way and to reflect on my personal responsibility as a teacher. This was in part prompted by feedback I received. I started to realise that my role was deeper than just getting the students to ‘get’ it – my responsibility was in fact a set of contradictory challenges – I needed the students to accept what I taught and then grow to be able to essentially reject what I taught. They needed to view information critically in order to succeed as autonomous therapists and life-long learners (Gouthro and Holloway, 2013). I came to realise that the essence of my role was not only to guide students through the stages of skills acquisition (Dreyfus and Dreyfus, 2005) within my particular educational context, but also to encourage them to enter and practise thinking with Kegan’s fourth order of consciousness – to view critically their behaviour and their values (Love and Guthrie). As my perspective on my own professional responsibility shifted, so did my perspective on how best to develop it. I now work on developing an embodied understanding of practice (Dall’alba and Sandberg, 2006) – the attributes of good teaching (turns of phrase, style, confidence), although important, were no longer seen as central, and I became conscious of the primary purpose of teaching: to truly facilitate learning, criticality and autonomous thinking. As I analysed my teaching with the aid of formal self-inquiry, I came to realise that I had made teaching decisions based on both positive and negative

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personal experiences and assumptions that emerged from these rather than on literature and peer recommendation. I realised I felt sorry for myself too. I believed I had had impoverished experiences in formal reflective practice learning. And now I was meant to teach it! And be enthusiastic! And advocate techniques such as group learning without relevant personal experience. Reflective practice always took place quietly in my little isolated world as I poured my thoughts into the ‘basin’ and sifted through them for gold. My informally acquired understanding of the value of reflective practice had been inadvertently informing my communicating of this knowledge and understanding to others. I had struggled with the belief that reflection should be done in groups and that this is where it is done best. It hadn’t been a feature of my own study and had almost definitely informed my reflective practice teaching – in that although supervision wasn’t something I purposely omitted, it was something that hadn’t been a priority to include. Similarly, with reflective models, I had assumed that my learners would have the same issues with them as I had. However, concurring with Dilts’ levels and the building of value, like with any skill acquisition, you pick up the tools and ‘have a go’. Experience then embeds and brings life to the theories which take on resonance. I realised that a sense of value and in-depth understanding cannot be gained by viewing something externally, like a cloud; it is gained from experience, from picking up the tools and applying them (Brookfield, 2012), from entering into the cloud and walking about. I also realised that each student should be at liberty to develop a hands-on approach to reflective models that is unique to them and that reflects their own learning pathway. A commonality between the role as therapist and the role of a teacher is that both have an ultimate aim of not being needed anymore. Both roles are facilitative ones that guide and shape others towards greater understanding and autonomy. My resistance to see levels of assumptions at play, in myself and my tendency to believe that value in reflective practice would always be acquired via the mechanisms that had come naturally to me, meant that I had limited the paths of understanding and therefore autonomy available to the student. As assumptions were surfaced, new steps were made to combine my practitioner learning so far with literature and peer recommendation to branch out into new terrains of experimentation, to observe changes in student learning and nurture change within me. The journey of formal learning that traces my increasing understanding and practice of reflexivity has witnessed me move from a student, first of languages and culture, then of health sciences to become a qualified healthcare therapist and latterly a teacher and educator of therapeutic and communication skills, and reflective practice. Formal training, professional experience and practice have been unquestionably formative but must not hide the fact that ultimately I am developed to no greater extent via these processes than via my personal, spiritual and emotional journeyings – which lead to different ways of knowing (Seeley and Reason, 2008). Although learning

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since then has become more formal, my knowing remains dynamic, tacit and instinctual, bound up with who I am personally as well as who I discipline myself to be professionally (Nonaka and Takeuchi, 1995). The two leach into each other. It is the intertwining of formal with private learning, of the personal self and professional self that leads to the challenge of practitioner knowing and how to communicate it.

Christine Scholes Learning through and across professions “Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?” “That depends a good deal on where you want to get to”, said the Cat. “I don’t much care where”, said Alice. “Then it doesn’t matter which way you go”, said the Cat. “ – so long as I get somewhere”, Alice added as an explanation. “Oh, you’re sure to do that”, said the Cat, ‘if you only walk long enough’. Lewis Carroll (1982, p. 62) This short case study takes the form of my personal reflections on my on-­ going learning through and across various professions, over a period of more than 30 years. I have had careers in four professions: in chronological order, these are nursing, law, HR and executive coaching. The common thread, going through each of my experiences, is that each piece of learning adds to, and takes from, earlier learning experiences. Those learning experiences are a combination of formal learning and informal or situational learning. I put no more emphasis or importance on either one of those methods; it has been the combination of both that has been most beneficial to me in my career. In the context of this case study, I use the term ‘informal learning’, in the sense used in the following renditions of informal education, which resonate with me: “Informal learning … learning that occurs outside of schools” (Roggoff et al., 2016, p. 357); “the business of education might be defined as an emancipation and enlargement of experiences” (Dewey, 1997, p. 199); “informal and incidental learning is at the heart of adult education because of its learner-­centred focus and the lessons that can be learned from life experiences” (Marsick and Watkins, 2001, p. 25). Jarvis’s (1999) postulation that we build up knowledge by learning, doing, thinking and reflecting perhaps best summarises how I now engage in learning on a continuous loop. At this juncture, I should briefly say that what I mean by informal learning is not only the development of practical skills and experience through doing things and putting theory into practice, but also includes paying attention to what is going on in the

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moment and listening to those around me who can direct me to what is the next appropriate step. Paying attention in this context means listening to my client, whether a patient, family member of a patient, a legal client or a coaching client, and observing what is happening. In this case study, I abbreviate this to ‘listening to the situation’. Perhaps ‘listening to the situation’ represents my signature learning practice. My decisions to change professions are easy to explain and justify, as it mirrors my approach to, reasons for and quest for continued learning which is all about gaining meaningful experiences. By meaningful, I mean experiences that make a positive difference to my life and, hopefully, the lives of others. I have always sought to find meaning and richness in both my personal and profession life, which I find almost impossible to separate, through variety and making the most of the time I have on earth. Failure, for me, would be wasting time and not taking advantage of opportunities that present themselves. Serendipity, therefore, has played a major part in this quest. For example, my decision to move to Australia and pursue a career in law was born out of serendipity, the first part of which was the Australian government offering British nurses the opportunity to work in Australia with the added bonus of having one’s airfare paid or obtaining permanent residence in Australia with immediate effect. What a gift for a relatively modestly paid British nurse! The second piece of serendipity came a year or so later when I met a former nursing colleague who had enrolled to study law at the University in Western Australia. Armed with the security of knowledge that I could continue to work as a nurse and pay my way through law school, I made my application for my next learning adventure. Likewise, my decision to move into the HR sector was less about a long thought through decision and more about taking a calculated risk. As an in-house lawyer in an international industrial company, I had inveigled my way into the commercial world of the business by asking my commercial colleagues to let me help them to put in place some pro-active measures to avoid legal problems within their sector of responsibility. It was my way of learning more about the day to day business of business and perhaps also my way of saying, I am interested, let me be a part of this. As the business grew through acquisitions, I was offered the opportunity to combine my legal experience and knowledge and new found commercial knowledge in a new combined role of HR and Legal. The words of the CEO, “you will work it out” when I said I knew very little, if anything, about HR, have always rung in my ears and been a spur to learn. So too has the knowledge that there are always people around who know more and are willing to support and share their knowledge and experiences has been. My style of learning has developed, as I have got older and differs significantly from how I was taught to learn as a child. At an all girls’ grammar school, I was schooled in the rote learning tradition. I found it difficult to retain information that had been ‘imposed’ on me devoid of context,

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meaning or apparent relevance. The times table was a typical example. I didn’t appreciate why it was so important that I could immediately bring to mind that 7 × 8 was 56. There was no context that brought the times table to life for me and give it meaning. On the other hand, like many readers, I learnt poems by heart and can still recite many of them. Poems spoke to me in a way that numbers didn’t. I could understand that if Matilda continued to tell those dreadful lies it would end in tears (Belloc, 1991). It was a cautionary tale for me as a 6 year old. I could understand the message the poem was trying to convey very vividly. As an adult, I learn using a combination of formal and informal learning. Over the 30 years, my formal learning has included (i) classroom-based theoretical teaching coupled with ward-based practical nursing (which in itself was a combination of formal and informal on the job learning) leading to recognised nursing qualifications;1 (ii) structured university degree courses in law;2 (iii) a business coaching programme which was also formal classroom-based theoretical learning combined with practical supervised practice coaching sessions and reflective writing. My informal or situational learning comes from a qualitative basis – I look at what I do from within the context of where and why I am doing it. I am an inductive learner by which I mean that I ‘do not assume a single reality that exits apart from my own perceptions’ (Trochim, 2006, p. 8), but rather look at past experiences and past learnings and find patterns in them. My learning necessarily brings with it my own personal biases and background and, therefore, my reality of any given experience will differ from another’s. For example, as a senior nurse, part of my role was to mentor other nurses in my chosen field of intensive care. Part of the mentoring was about sharing skills that I had developed over a number of years as a nurse, with more junior nurses, however, I now appreciate that much of what I was doing was coaching. Nursing requires a great deal of emotional intelligence and empathy. I was coaching junior nurses to think about what that meant for them and how they could use it to best effect in given situations. This was not one sided learning; I learnt from them. We each brought to the nursing situations our different backgrounds, assumptions, general education, cultural upbringing and therefore our engagement with patients and their significant others could be powerful and meaningful in different ways. In addition, I learnt from patients and their relatives. A specific example of how I learned from a relative of a dying teenager has been one of the strongest on the job learning experiences I have had. The patient I was looking after was dying as a result of a long, painful and distressing illness. She had been unconscious for a few days. During those few days, I had spent more time with her family, particularly her father, and as a consequence learnt more about my patient as a person. The day she died, I had been allocated to look after her. Her father had said that his daughter always took pride in her appearance, especially her dark wavy hair. In that moment

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he was not explicitly telling me how to do my job but, implicitly, he was guiding me and listening to him I realised that my job that day was to wash his daughter’s hair and dress her in her favourite clothes. In this situation, I know that I learned by listening to her father. Whilst each of my four careers was distinct, in the sense that each had its own practice, they were also interwoven; each brought something to the others. My learning from one helps to inform both my practice and my ongoing learning in another. I have not abandoned the learning from one in order to pursue a different career. For example, my formal legal training taught me to approach problems logically and objectively and look at problems from the bottom up and the top down. These skills have been useful and invaluable in my HR and coaching careers. Nursing taught me the power of empathy and listening, two critical ingredients for any role but especially so in my coaching practice. An overarching thread going through not just every career decision but every decision in my career is “is what I am doing ethical”. The words “do no harm”, which Alderson used in the context of ethics in research (Alderson and Morrow, 2011, p. 17), continue to be applicable to me as a professional practitioner. I have reflected on what it is in my learning that gives me some comfort that I am acting professionally, ethically and safely and concluded that it is the on-going learning through practice, experience, development of skills and intuition, learning from critical incidents and critical reflection, heavily underpinned by the initial formal training and qualifications, and, importantly for me, listening to the situation. The formal training was usually the first step in acquiring sufficient knowledge and developing basic skills to be able to practice competently at the entry level of my profession. The qualifications and practice certificates I gained in nursing and law signified to me and others that I had sufficient knowledge and skills to practice safely and ethically. Each of my careers has either started with, or been informed by, a formal qualification. The importance to me of the formal qualification is threefold: first, it provides me with the theoretical basis upon which to base my subsequent practice; secondly, in the opinion of an external independent professional accrediting body, the achievement of the qualifications is an indication to me and others that I have achieved a level of competence, safety and ethical practice, to practice safely in my chosen profession; thirdly, in the case of nursing and law, it provides me with the qualifications I needed in order to be allowed to practice in those professions. In two out of the four professions, the qualification was obligatory to enable me to call myself and to practice as a nurse and lawyer respectively and be added to the official registers of certified practitioners. It has struck me that, in common with many other professions, on their own, the formal structures in nursing and law provided me with the licence to practice and the knowledge and confidence that, provided I followed the

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rules, I would be practicing safely and ethically. 3 I recognise, however, that those formal structures only opened the doors to the profession and only with further informal learning would I develop beyond the level of basic practitioner (Dreyfus and Dreyfus, 2005). The subsequent ‘on the job’ informal learning taught me how to question what I was doing and pay attention to what was required in the moment. It taught me to look at things in perspective and context and build upon all the practical experience I was gaining to make me better, more effective and authentic in my practice. Informal learning also helps me to recognise and address gaps in my knowledge and experience and develop empathy, problem-solving and facilitating skills. At the time of writing, in the United Kingdom, there is no obligatory entry qualification to practice as an HR professional. I transitioned into HR at a senior level, having been invited to do so by the CEO and Group HRD of the company for which I was working as a legal counsel. I had no HR qualifications or training but was reassured that they believed in my ability to learn ‘on the job’, with the support and mentoring of more experienced HR colleagues and an executive level course in strategic HR.4 My experience in HR was, therefore, quite different from my experiences as a nurse and lawyer and consequently I went into it with some trepidation, but also excitement, at the prospect of learning something new. The short executive course gave me some initial confidence and ethical compass and structure within which to practice. I recall being struck by the diversity of experience of the other international students and the different directions many of them had taken in their HR careers. This was exciting to me and opened up networks of support and knowledge I came to respect and value. I kept in touch with a few of the other students and, over the years, have benefited personally and professionally from the advice, experiences, expertise and perspectives many of them have shared with me at different points in my career. As I think back on my experience as an HR practitioner and where, what and how I learnt, I realise that those areas of HR where I didn’t have any formal training were the areas where I felt least confident and, from an ethical point of view, less comfortable in my abilities. That lack of self-­confidence came from my obvious lack of experience but also the absence of an initial ‘licence to practice’ which, as I have said earlier, was recognition that I was safe to practice. In law and nursing, the journeys I took to obtain those licences helped me to develop knowledge and skills in a framework and structure in which I felt comfortable and which gave me the confidence and basic competences I needed to start practicing. I had been promoted to a senior HR position based on my success in a different role and discipline, namely law. It was through on-going experience, mentoring and situational learning that I came to appreciate that whilst success in one profession does not guarantee success in another, the lessons

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learned, particularly around human behaviour, and experiences gained from other professions and life experiences can be very beneficial in other professions where interaction with people is a key element of the role. Reflecting on a critical incident which occurred during my period as an HR practitioner helped me to understand more fully that embracing one’s limitations can be one of the most powerful learning experiences. The critical incident took place very soon after I had been offered my first HR position. I was offered a coach but turned down the opportunity because I had no experience of coaching and my naïve and uneducated view at that stage was that it was a tool used for remedial work and I was afraid of publicly acknowledging my lack of knowledge and experience. Fortunately, I found myself amongst very experienced and supportive HR professionals and began to learn what I didn’t know and what I needed to do to plug my knowledge and experience gaps. I also had a second opportunity to be coached which I fully embraced. Another lesson this taught me, and which has been useful in my coaching career, is not to assume that people know and understand how coaching may benefit people in different ways. I have learned that giving people context relevant to their own positionality is essential for helping them to make informed decisions about whether or not to be coached and by whom. A second critical incident that had a strong, positive and lasting impact on my learning also occurred fairly early in my HR career. I had engaged a business psychologist to facilitate a senior management team building and bonding workshop. The team was diverse, in terms of styles and disciplines, but we had one common goal of achieving success for the business. Success was predominantly measured by quarterly financial results and the share price. How we achieved those results, however, was as relevant to actually achieving them. The behaviours we demonstrated were important and relevant. We were each measured on how ethically we had worked as individuals and as team members. Working ethically in this context was about treating one another with respect and behaving with integrity and honesty. Simply achieving the results was not enough. One of the activities in the workshop was a Myers-Briggs Type Indicator5 psychometric assessment that each of the senior managers undertook under the facilitation of the business psychologist. As a result of that assessment, I learned more about myself as a person, and why I prefer to do things in the way I do. It helped raise my self-awareness. I also learnt about my colleagues and why they acted as they did and how our respective different preferences could be exploited to get the best out of each individual and the team as a whole. For me it was an exercise in listening to people and the situation. The psychologist opened a door that was revelatory and transformational for me and made me reach a deeper more fundamental appreciation of differences between people. It raised my self-awareness particularly around what I felt comfortable doing and where I felt safe and effective in my practice and

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where I did not. This critical incident was an impetus for me to explore business coaching as a next career step. I believe we bring different types of knowledge to our professional practice. For example, in my current profession of executive coaching, I have learned various techniques in coaching and experienced and observed what works for certain people, in certain situations. My years of practice as a coach have helped me to feel more at ease trusting my instincts and drawing on tools and coaching techniques, such as silence, where appropriate. When and what tools to use is, to great extent, dictated by the coaches and what they are saying to me in words, actions and even silences. It is the coaches who give me the lead. My own coaching toolbox, together with intuition and reflection on what has worked in different situations, is constantly evolving as I engage in continuous learning through coaching experiences, masterclasses, professional supervision and peer sessions and on-going professional reading and coaching engagements. I also consider the coaches’ own styles and approaches, their emotions and sensitivities and what they are hoping to get out of the coaching sessions and learn from them. I reflect in and on action, so a question I may ask myself is – is what I am doing or experiencing similar to something I have experienced before in a different context, environment, set of circumstances and if so, what can that earlier experience teach me which could help in the current situation (Schön, 1987). Schön says that reflecting in action is “… where we may reflect in the midst of action without interrupting it. Our thinking serves to reshape what we are doing while we are doing it …” (Schön, 1987, p. 26). He uses the term ‘seeing as’ to describe situations where an experience brings to mind an earlier experience which may be different in many respects but shares some similarities which can’t necessarily be identified. He refers to this as creating ‘generative metaphors’. A memorable, critical incident occurred in a coaching session relatively early in my coaching career. I was coaching a senior partner in a law firm. He had been struggling with why he was still practicing in an industry that held no interest for him. Having tried various questions and experienced the conversation going round in circles, I felt stuck. I then brought back to mind what Nancy Kline had to say about the power of silence in a coaching session “You may feel awkward when the quiet first sets in … yet when a person is thinking out loud and suddenly is quiet but is not stuck, the quiet is alive. Neither the person nor the quiet needs rescuing. They need attention only – and more quiet” (Kline, 1999, p. 51). So when my client appeared to come to an impasse and was quiet, I didn’t ask another question. Instead, I held the silence and just let him be. The silence went on for a full two minutes. Initially, it was awkward, but I observed a change in his face and his whole demeanour and his thinking was palpable. He suddenly said, “I know what I have to do. I have been looking at it from the wrong angle”. What I had to say in that moment with my client would not have been as important as what he had to say for himself and I had to be silent to enable that to happen.

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What I learnt from the critical incident related above was that by recalling my formal learning and using it in a situation where my instinct and experience told me it was the right thing to do, I was combining both formal and informal in the moment learning. The incident was an example of where I was seeing the situation as similar to a previous unrelated situation of when I was caring for the dying teenager and which I refer to earlier in this case study. As well as taking from Kline’s teaching on silence and listening, I was thinking about my experience of caring for a dying teenager. The experience with this senior lawyer was similar to my experience with my patient but at the same time it was different. Whilst the patient herself couldn’t talk to me personally, she spoke to me through her father and taught me that what was important for her at that very moment was personal care and grooming so that she was prepared for her imminent death. The lawyer was also telling me about himself and only through silence between us could that insight be brought to the fore. In both cases, what I had to say or do would not have been as important or helpful as what the person herself/himself, either personally or through another, had to tell me. I had to listen to really hear what they were saying. Reflecting on my informal learning experiences for the purpose of this case study, I have found that those circumstances in my career where I have learned best and inculcated that learning are those occasions when the person to whom I am providing professional services tells me what I have done has made a difference to them. They may tell me in actual words, though more often it is in actions or observed outcomes. Almost without exception this feedback occurs when I have stopped and really listened to what is going on and to what my client needs. I listen to the words spoken, watch the body language and facial expressions to see what my client is asking for and needs and reflect on whether what is happening is like something that I have experienced before and I am seeing it as similar to an earlier situation (Schön, 1987). I was recently on a flight that was delayed by four hours. Naturally tensions were high. The captain stood at the front of the plane and apologised to the passengers for the delay. He acknowledged and empathised with their frustrations and clearly explained the reason for the delay. As he walked slowly down the aisle of the plane, looking from one row to the next, giving passengers the opportunity to speak to him and ask questions, I reflected that in this one simple gesture and communication he had put people at ease. He hadn’t necessarily solved the problem of the delay but he had acknowledged and apologised for it. This experience, which of course is not unique, was an informal learning experience for me. It wasn’t a new piece of learning but seeing how one person had responded to a particular situation and dissipated tension was a reminder to me that listening to what people are saying and judging their needs is a powerful learning tool.

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In conclusion, my own learning style is a complementary blend of formal Higher Education and informal ‘on the job’ learning based on experiences, organisational and client contexts and culture, ‘listening to the situation’ and a growing self-awareness and confidence built on the development and application of acquired skills and formal learning and intuition. What informal learning means to me is about being open and honest and transparent and includes learning from past experiences and from those with more or different experiences, contexts and perspectives that can be brought to bear on my own practice. Formal Higher Education has always been the start of my learning in whatever profession I was practicing. Learning is an exciting on-going journey of reflections and actions that never ends. It is lifelong learning. It can take one on different paths leading to new experiences. As I reflect on my own learning experiences which have included changing professions, I know that some of those paths have been undulating, rocky and at times have appeared unpassable, but the alternative would have been stasis or missing out on new knowledge. The overriding attributes that have helped me have been an overwhelming greed for new experiences and knowledge, resilience, curiosity, willingness to try something new and fear of missing out! The kindness and patience of others in giving me opportunities, sharing their experiences, skills and knowledge have enabled my own learning and transfer from one profession to another and I thank them for that. We are in this together and it is fun. In the words of Alice and the Cat, “ – so long as I get somewhere”, “Oh, you’re sure to do that, if only you walk long enough”. (Carroll, 1982, p. 64)

Miguel Toribio-Mateas Becoming a professional opinion leader Context As a practitioner working in an emerging field of healthcare, I am presented with daily challenges and opportunities. I am exposed to complex problems that exist in the real world, i.e. not contained within the realms of a dataset or a laboratory. These problems don’t often have clear defining boundaries. This means they are not easily labelled as pertaining to a discrete discipline. On the contrary, they require my being able to draw from a range of sources of evidence in order to unpick the messiness that characterises them. Knowing

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which sources of evidence to choose from and to trust is a challenge in itself, as is turning that evidence into practice in a congruent way and often ‘on the fly’, adapting it to suit different situations where I may need to communicate with stakeholders using different language registers, from scientific to plain English. I find myself navigating a professional landscape that is highly responsive to developments in a diversity of disciplines. The open-­ endedness and newness of this ecosystem provides for plenty of opportunities for learning. On the flipside, there is more of a sense of being a work in progress, i.e. ‘becoming’ than of ‘being’ when it comes to professional identify. I have become comfortably acquainted with all of this uncertainty and have embraced it as an ally. Amongst the chaos, I’ve continued to rethink my ideas and to keep adding layers to my professional practice in order to effect positive disruption and to create my own voice that mixes and matches diverse elements of my personal background in a creative and innovative way. Without having set out intently to become a professional opinion leader, I believe my ability to adopt and adapt have contributed to my becoming the sought-after practitioner I am today. I hope my storytelling will inspire others to grow and evolve into future leaders in their fields.

Evolution and creativity According to Maguire (2018, p. 106), “evolutionary complexity accepts the fact that ‘systems’ can change their nature qualitatively over time”. A range of new problems and new opportunities keep systems adapting and co-­ evolving fluidly with each other so that the overall system continues to create itself over time. My own profession – Nutritional Medicine – exists within a complex adaptive system called healthcare which is in constant flux. In a landmark paper on complexity science in healthcare published in the British Medical Journal in 2001, complex adaptive systems were defined as ‘collections of individual agents with freedom to act in ways that are not always totally predictable, and whose actions are interconnected so that one agent’s actions changes the context for other agents’ (Plsek and Greenhalgh, 2001a, p. 625). I have been both and agent and a witness of the profound transformational process that my profession has been immersed in since my days as a nutrition student back in the early 2000s. Along with the ebbs and flows of the system evolutionary trajectory, I have also grown and changed, becoming what Clarke (2003, p. 102) refers to as an ‘individual human actor’ rather than just a mere observer. An important part of that growth and change has been to consider my creativity as a desirable trait and to embrace it as a key enhancer of my situatedness, as opposed to the handicap that it can be seen to be in certain environments such as my the clinical neuroscience lab where I spent 2 years of my life working with neural stem cells. In a book chapter entitled ‘Autoethnography: A Journey of Blocked and Unblocked Creativity’, Hernández-Romero – a transdisciplinary researcher breaking boundaries

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between creativity, psychology, sociology and education – writes about ‘the patriarchal world of competition, results, rationality and objectivity’ (2017, p. 185). This is a pretty accurate depiction of the atmosphere that could be sensed in the faculty of life sciences. So thick that it could be cut with a knife. Creativity cannot be fathomed or explained simply and this can create tension with rationale, like ‘two sides of the coin; contrary, complementary, but perhaps also interdependent’ (Carroll, 2013, p. 1). On that basis, I wouldn’t have dreamed of bragging about how creative I have been all my life as I would have lost the trust of my colleagues who’d immediately thought I wasn’t rigorous enough. My doctoral degree journey at Middlesex university was completely at the opposite end of the spectrum in that faculty members encouraged me to reacquaint myself with the creative Miguel that had been hiding for fear of imposter syndrome, a well-known contributor to mental health issues in doctoral students (Lau, 2019; Wilson and Cutri, 2019). When I realised that trying to hide my most defining personality trait in order to fit in had done very little for my confidence as a practitioner, I actually went completely the opposite way and embraced the concept, starting to describe myself as a ‘creative scientist’. Paradoxically, the organisations I have carried out consulting work for since then tell me that they found the idea of a creative scientist/ researcher extremely exciting. Their feedback has been corroborated by the increase in requests for my presence at public speaking events as well as for the media. Is being creative part of my purpose in life? Possibly. Professor James Kaufman of the University of Connecticut, an internationally recognised leader in the field of creativity, has written extensively on how creative activity can enable individuals to find meaning in life, helping fulfil “the needs for coherence, significance, and purpose”, reminding “one of life’s joy and the many possible connections with humanity” and leaving “the type of legacy that may resonate with younger generations” (Kaufman, 2018, p. 1). I have certainly found creativity to enhance my life’s meaning, as well as the uniqueness of my professional voice, which has encouraged me to want to research connections between some seemingly disparate disciplines such as microbiology, neuroscience and the arts, particularly music and its effects on the gut microbiome, known to communicate with the brain via the network of nerve fibres scientists call ‘the gut-brain axis’ (Toribio-Mateas, 2018, p. 18).

Developing as a translator Many of the compliments I get in my professional life revolve around the theme of my ability to translate complex scientific concepts into practical applications. I believe there is a translational bridge to cross between research and practice and between science and its application. A vast array of

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opportunities for learning appears throughout a person’s life. With regards to my own experience, one could argue that I have been fortunate enough to be exposed to many such opportunities in work environments where plentiful knowledge was there to be soaked up. However, opportunities don’t materialise unless one is able to recognise them. I believe I have transformed my own perspective about what learning is and that I’ve developed a skill for identifying cues that switch on my brain’s ‘learning mode’. When I find myself in contexts where knowledge is abundant and in need of translation that ‘learning mode’ seems to be ‘on’ by default. Personally, I see transdisciplinary learning as a transformative journey that permeates individual agency, both within and across contexts. The ongoing exploration of one’s situatedness provides cues that point towards the next learning opportunity, which often only materialises by making connections across different fields and drawing from different learning modalities. I believe reflective practice is as an indispensable companion in this journey, which Mezirow (2009, p. 90) refers to as lifelong or ‘transformative learning’ and that many have difficulty assessing and demonstrating. In fact, from conversations with my peers I have realised that many have difficulty assessing and demonstrating informal learning as part of lifelong learning. The majority of them naturally think of learning as formal and explicit, e.g. a university degree, so they miss out on learning opportunities that, as Hager (2012, p. 776) so elegantly puts it, “arise contingently and opportunistically as events unfold in the workplace”. My transition from being highly unaware of the wide range of knowledge that was at my disposal when solving issues ‘on the job’ to being able to recognise learning opportunities – becoming imbued in the learning that they afforded me without questioning their nature or trying to define it – is possibly the single most important transformation I’ve experienced as part of my professional development. I guess this could be seen as my acquaintance with the state of knowing that Schön defines as ‘tacit knowing-in-action’ (Schön, 1984, p. 49). And the informal learning technique that I believe I have come to master over the years is the ability to come to terms with making mistakes very quickly and to learn from them without the unnecessary frustration, anger and despair that they can bring about, particularly in the workplace (Heimbeck et al., 2003). Researchers at the Harvard Business School have looked into learning from failure in healthcare settings and have found that discussing and analysing mistakes openly amongst team members can foster learning, both at individual and team level (Edmondson, 2004). In fact, I love Keith and Frese’s (2005) refreshing view on mistakes as opportunities that provide us with informative feedback about our actions and that can thus become important sources for knowledge. Whether knowledge is seen as competence/ability (Lehrer, 2018), as acquaintance (direct knowledge of certain things or people thanks to his previous experiences with them) (Martens, 1992; Viale, 2013), or as propositional

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(recognition of information to be correct) (Shope, 1992), I believe it needs to be translated in order to find its true meaning in context. Without the context, it is easy to see knowledge from a positivist angle as static and unchanging (Kuhn, 2012), whereas in the context of a ‘messy’ real world where non-linear dynamics abound, knowledge is influenced by both personal and social history (Hamilton and Pinnegar, 1998), both of which contribute to professional situatedness. In the words of Elizabeth Ellsworth “reality … is always someone’s reality, constructed in and through particular intentions and interests, and from particular locations on multiple networks of power relations” (Ellsworth, 1997, p. 179). Knowledge translation is a complex, multistep, cyclical process that involves synthesising evidence and creating knowledge products; interacting with target users to assess needs and identify barriers; using that information to tailor evidence syntheses or knowledge products and select implementation strategies; applying implementation strategies; and monitoring to evaluate impact and ensure that research use is sustained (Graham et al., 2006, pp. 13–17). Translating knowledge is paramount in the context where I operate as a clinical practitioner, where I find myself needing to implement newly generated evidence into my practice ‘on the fly’. By working with research tools known as patient-reported outcome measures (PROMs) (Weldring and Smith, 2013) that enable me to measure the effect of my recommendations, I aim to feed back into the system by supporting my clinical decisions with the best research evidence available. However, I also draw from my clinical expertise and critical thinking – key components in the acquisition of informal knowledge – as part of my decision-making process, which also takes into account my patients’ values and preferences. All of those additional criteria help filter the initial evidence so that it can be adapted into relevant recommendations, which are then measured by means of validated self-reporting tools. As an example of these tools, I have been using the Brief Resilience Scale by Smith et al. (2008, p. 196) as a reliable means of assessing resilience, defined as ‘the ability to bounce back or recover from stress’. Using this scale alongside another PROM such as the Bristol Stool Scale by Lewis and Heaton (Lewis and Heaton, 1997) – a scale that provides a useful guide to gastrointestinal health – enables me to gather important information about how people I work with in clinic are coping with health-related stressors and how those might be affecting their gut. I am collecting and interpreting these data with the ultimate aim of publishing it, so that I can ‘close the loop’ of the evidence-based practice model that tends to fail me on a regular basis when insufficient research evidence is available for me to direct change. My frustration with models of practice that prioritise research evidence at the expense of the other types of knowledge discussed in this case study is shared by leading voices in the field of evidence-based medicine. For example, in a critical literature review entitled ‘Is it time to drop the “knowledge translation” metaphor?’ Dr Trisha Greenhalgh (2011), Professor of Primary Health Sciences

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and leader of the ‘Evidence-Based Medicine (EBM) Renaissance Group’ at Oxford University acknowledged that evidence-based practice would benefit from including the following points: a

the situation-specific practical wisdom (phronesis) that underpins clinical judgement, b the tacit knowledge that is built and shared among practitioners (‘mindlines’), c the complex links between power and knowledge, and d approaches to facilitating macro-level knowledge partnerships between researchers, practitioners, policymakers and commercial interests. (Greenhalgh and Wieringa, 2011, pp. 507–508) Failing to gather insights from interventions, even when relying on best research evidence in order to support clinical decision-making, perpetuates the lack of translation of tacit knowledge into formal knowledge by means of peer-review and implementation into practice. Figure 4.1 below illustrates the process described in this section. Translating knowledge into practice-based evidence in the real world is a challenging but rewarding process. Measuring the effect of that translated knowledge and feeding back into the pool of knowledge known as ‘evidence

Figure 4.1  Translating knowledge into practice-based evidence.

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base’ enables for the refinement of science, retesting hypotheses and individualisation of recommendations. When the effect of translated knowledge goes unmeasured, evidence isn’t peer reviewed and remains anecdotal. With regards to how my ability to translate knowledge has contributed to my becoming an opinion leader in non-clinical areas of my professional life, I felt it pertinent to highlight a paragraph in the conference proceedings of a review of modern trends toward shaping the image of educational leaders, presented by Poliakova, Skitina and Vetrinskaya, (2018) at the 2017 Prague Institute for Qualification Enhancement (PRIZK) and International Research Centre (IRC) ‘Scientific Cooperation’ International Conference: The authors looked into the factors which contribute to the establishment and development of a new type of educational leaders that are able to make creative, theoretical and practical contributions in the innovative processes in education. The study reveals that graduates have a fairly clear idea of the essence of leadership. They understand leadership not only as a process of formal management of social communities but also as a high level of professionalism. The image of a teacher-leader the students shaped has the potential of a researcher and a knowledge translator. (Poliakova et al., 2018, p. 484) One of the techniques I’ve used to translate knowledge over the years is the use of analogies, often humorous and drawing from popular culture so as to make the learning experience more accessible to all. The drawing of analogies is a daily action of human reasoning (Gilbert and Justi, 2016), so it is no surprise that their role in science education is extensively documented in literature (Iding, 1997; Nersessian and Chandrasekharan, 2009; Newby, Ertmer and Stepich, 1995). Figurative language and evocative use of images and diagrams in presentations for talks and lectures are my favourite tools when it comes using analogies in my professional life.

Navigating uncertainty Learning from mistakes can facilitate innovation (Oeij et al., 2017; Van Woerkom, 2012), a process defined by Schumpeter as ‘creative destruction’ (Croitoru, 2012; Matsunaga, 2019). Reflecting on the many years, I spent working in technology development to service the healthcare and scientific communities, I can clearly see the influence of the knowledge I acquired then on the current version of my professional self and how it actually inspired me to be the person I am today. I was in charge of training and education programmes for hospitals, research centres at universities and pharmaceutical companies. My customers were all scientists, clinical researchers or healthcare professionals. I was training these professionals in

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how to improve their scientific literature searching skills that was my job. But I felt I’d rather be one a scientist myself, which catalysed me to go back to college and study Nutritional Medicine and then Clinical Neuroscience. Having studied Environmental Decision Making at postgraduate level, I was excited by the non-linearity principles of complex health systems (Sturmberg, Martin and Katerndahl, 2014, 2017). However, I soon found out that nutrition practice was an extremely competitive field where graduates from courses that were not ‘mainstream enough’ to be respected by the establishment were easily dismissed as ‘not evidence-based’. My university degree happened to be recognised by the regulatory body that provided a regulatory framework for complementary therapies, some with better scientific evidence base record than others. Inadvertently, I had ventured into uncharted territory, and my only tools for survival were my ability to learn something new and to adapt to the terrain. Of course, I enjoyed the advantage afforded by the tacit knowledge of ‘scientific librarianship’ and information management I had acquired over the course of many years of experience working in such areas. But my formal education was seen as ‘emerging’ by some, which presented a threat to my professional development, instead of as an advantage. It was clear to me that in order to survive I had to learn to unlearn some of my core behaviours, chiefly ‘being creative by default’, which may have been seen as ‘not-rigorous’ enough in my new context. I knew deep down that there would be a time when I would be able to become reacquainted with my creative modus operandi, but that I had to be adaptable to my circumstances in order to evolve. This temporary unlearning enabled me to get the headspace necessary complete a master’s degree in clinical neuroscience, which meant having access to professional recognition such as being able to become a chartered scientist, and I set solid grounds upon which to continue to build layers of informal learning from a range of sources, including talks, social media and ongoing communication with peers in both mainstream and alternative circles. I was actually surprised to find myself doubting, questioning and rebelling against some of the established paradigms followed by those working closer to the alternative side than the complimentary or indeed the mainstream, particularly the degree of complacency around the lack of evidence for some interventions, which leaves whole communities exposed to criticism by those who want to move away from anecdotes and wish to build practice-based evidence. This was probably the main reason why I decided to raise awareness of the need to use validated PROMs, not just a way to foster integration but also as a means to improve communication amongst healthcare practitioners and researchers. At this point, I realised that the creativity I had tried to shut down was actually needed in order to make sense of reality in settings where evidence was so inconsistent at best, or totally lacking at worst. How could I translate knowledge – both formal and informal – so that it could help me deal

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with problems presenting different degrees of linearity, from fairly linear to completely messy? Without the open mind and the creativity that I’ve always trusted, I wouldn’t be able to navigate the uncertainty that I am presented with every day, in different areas of my professional practice. So, perversely, I had to ‘unlearn to unlearn’ or, in other words, become mindful of the fact that some traits and behaviours can be useful at times that one wouldn’t expect them to be. And to be flexible enough to recognise this without feeling that one’s situatedness is to blame for making me change some of the qualities that I feel are at the very core of who I am. Subjectively experienced authenticity is considered to be a good indicator of the degree to which a person is ‘fully functioning’ (Rogers, 1965, p. 21) Therefore, I believe it was important for me to feel that core pieces of the human being I am play a role in my ability to fulfil my full potential as a professional. As an example of navigating uncertainty, I worked with Professor Tim Spector of King’s College London for 2 years developing a microbiome sequencing biotechnology company called ‘MapMyGut’ which aimed to be the first direct-to-consumer microbiome assessment company in the United Kingdom. Human microbiome science a booming field, with hundreds of papers being published every day. However, a lot of the science is still emerging in nature. Even working in one of the most respected science institutions in the world (King’s College London) with a professor who is amongst the 1% most cited researchers in the world, I felt that sometimes we were working too close to the chaotic end of the spectrum, and that wasn’t a good thing. We needed some uniformity, some ‘normality’. It would have been too easy to be spellbound by the complexity of the gastrointestinal tract as a system and by the almost unfathomable quirkiness of the microorganisms that inhabit it, resulting in MapMyGut’s provision of really complicated results interpretation and dietary recommendations that meant nothing to the end user. Based on the inherent complexity of that field, it will probably take years to have definitive answers to questions such as “what are the best foods to promote the growth of beneficial bacteria?” However, Tim and I managed to work together on the ‘edge of chaos’ (Figure 4.2), a lovely metaphor for managing complexity borrowed from the work of Martin and Felix-Bortolotti on systems complexity in healthcare (2010). We embraced multiple theories to develop a system that gave individuals some valuable answers based on their bacterial makeup, enabling them to make sense of the non-linear system that is their gut as part of the complex adaptive system that is the body. We broke grounds and innovated together, and it was immensely gratifying to have the opportunity to learn from a leader in this exciting research field, who agreed with me that the future of nutrition “could look very different if we tore up the old text books and cautiously embraced new technologies and the Internet”. But above all if we treated every patient as a research subject, every meal as an opportunity and every food as a potential drug

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Figure 4.2  Working at the edge of chaos.

(Toribio-Mateas and Spector, 2017). This work-based learning experience at King’s College propelled me into a ‘go to’ person in the field of applied microbiome science to the extent that – years later – I find myself heading the Health Research and Innovation team for a successful microbiome biotech company which happens to be very similar to the vision that Tim and I had for MapMyGut. A fortunate coincidence? Perhaps. Or perhaps the outcome of navigating chaotic waters with an open mind but with a sense of direction. In any event, it seems that opportunities for learning do appear in a variety of places: at university, at work and even through interactions with others, and it is imperative for anyone wanting to become a professional opinion leader in their field of practice to be able to make creative, theoretical and practical contributions to innovation in that field, developing reflexive approaches to life and learning. In a world that is complex and often incongruous, where ‘there is no blueprint for dealing with unprecedented change’ (Ryan, 2015, p. 3), I believe these navigation skills are an absolute necessity for professional success (Figure 4.3). The context I operate as a practitioner is often messy. It presents me with real-world problems that require a creative approach in order to navigate the complexity that characterises them. They are the type of problems that can seldom be resolved using the sort of rules one would apply when trying to deal with a simple situation.

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Figure 4.3 Navigating uncertainty. A certainty-agreement diagram adapted from Plsek and Greenhalgh (2001b).

Strategic growth or ‘a happy accident’? I am a hard worker and have been since my first weekend job at 14 wrapping presents in a family-run store. When I decided to radically change career as an adult and to become doctoral student so I could be ‘a proper scientist’, I didn’t anticipate how incredibly enriching yet demanding these experiences would be. So when people praise me for my work, I feel immediately humbled. I’ve never had anything served to me in a silver plate, and compliments feel good. But part of me also feels that they are thinking about how I must have planned my life so carefully in order to achieve professional success. The reality is that serendipity has played a really big role in making me the practitioner I am today and that my skill has been to recognise where informal learning opportunities have emerged, despite their apparent randomness, so I could make the most of them. I have certainly made a few mistakes along the way, but keeping an open mind about work as an important part of my life, and having a flexible attitude towards learning and professional development, has helped too. Both the challenge and the satisfaction have contributed to my increased confidence as an opinion leader in the fields I operate in. In fact, I wouldn’t change one single day of my last few years, particularly from deciding to become a scientist, even if it meant having to go back to university as a mature student, which has its own set of problems. Complexity science

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suggests that we may be better off by learning to abandon linear models, accepting unpredictability, respecting and utilising autonomy and creativity and responding flexibly to emerging patterns and opportunities (Plsek and Greenhalgh, 2001b). However, my experience of the mainstream was that this seemingly appealing complexity was regarded as ‘interesting but woolly’, so that most of it was lost in translation, resulting in the push to conform being much stronger than the push to innovate. The perverse positive outcome of this exposure to expectations from ‘the establishment’ opened my mind even more and made me care less about all the things that I cared years ago, like what would someone think of me as a professional coming into healthcare and science later in life and having accessing the field from the fringe. This was simply me posing the question, i.e. hence why it was in italics and had no reference. I’ve edited the text to avoid confusion. I thought of Katerndahl’s paper ‘Lessons from Jurassic Park: patients as complex adaptive systems’ (2009). I love a great paper title! Katerndahl, a medical doctor and professor in Family and Community Medicine argued that many practitioners may follow non-linearity principles at work without even being aware of the jargon needed to label them. Schön (2017, p. 50) claims that reflection-in-action is ‘central to the “art”’ by which practitioners sometimes deal well with situations of uncertainty, so that they take into account instability, uniqueness and conflicting values. I agree wholeheartedly with Schön because the application of scientific disciplines to tackle complex situations is most definitely an art. Thanks to this re-acquaintance with my more creative self I continued to explore more complex/chaotic areas of my professional context and discovered the field of Health Neuroscience, which sits at the interface of health psychology and neuroscience and it is concerned with the interplay between the brain and physical health over the lifespan (Erickson et al., 2014). Reflecting back on the last 10 years of my professional career, I realised that I belong in a varied field of practice that is non-judgemental and that enables me to make sense of evidence as a practitioner and to create evidence as a researcher and an academic. I have also realised that I love clinical work, but that having done 13 years of it, I now get much more lit up by working in research settings, particularly developing and validating tools that help other clinicians measure outcomes, so that they can create real-world evidence and experience practice-based learning within their own professional contexts.

Final thoughts Hager (2013, p. 100) argues that “as a practice changes and evolves in often complex and unpredictable ways, so must the practitioner learn in order to remain a capable practitioner”. I would argue that unlearning and adapting are equally important traits for success. Having been drawn to a mainstream scientific discipline like neuroscience and to the apparent precision of science

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that’s mostly based on quantitative research, I found myself full of self-doubt and suddenly understood what Haddad and Aubin meant when they wrote about scholarship being ‘a hindrance to creativity’ (Haddad and Aubin, 2013, p. 339). Learning to unlearn, and then unlearning those things again, i.e. navigating uncertainty adapting to choppy waters, has potentially been the secret to my success has been my ability to adapt to the environment I operate in. Drawing from some of Maguire’s words, it may well have been my open-mindedness to explore co-evolution opportunities with the systems I have been immersed in that has enabled me to co-discover, to co-create over time ‘and to respond adaptively’ (Maguire, 2015; Maguire, 2018, p. 106) to changing demands in my professional context. I hope to continue to experience many more co-evolutions and to share my experiences with those who are keen to read about them in years to come.

Russell Wate How do you learn to become a detective? This case study explores the journey that someone goes through to become a senior Detective. Who or what is a senior Detective? This is an individual who investigates major crime which includes offences of homicide. The case study explores my personal journey in particular how I became a senior detective and how this seemed to work for me, and how I continued learning even when I had achieved this goal. I consider the question, can you become an effective senior detective, just by completing the necessary courses? I also consider tacit knowledge, or theory in use, that you only learn by carrying out the work of a detective and speculate on how success appears to come through a blend of informal and formal learning experiences the mix and timing of which will be different for each person. Finally, I consider my second career, which involves the review of serious abuse and harm to children or adults, with a view for public protection agencies and individuals to learn lessons from these cases. I consider whether I had completed the learning required to carry out these reviews when I left the police service, or was that just where the learning started and is it a process of continuous learning?

Learning competence In order to be seen as qualified or competent to be a detective, you have to have attained a Professionalising Investigative Process (PIP) level. PIP was developed by the police service to provide a structured and consistent

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development and then maintenance programme for investigative skills. It delivers the capability to conduct professional investigations at all levels in the police service and in other sectors of law enforcement. The overarching aim of PIP is to deliver registration, examination, training, workplace assessment and accreditation to a national standard at each level. The PIP levels are: PIP 1 – priority and volume crime investigations (all police officers are trained to this level). PIP 2 – serious and complex investigations (all Detectives are trained to this level). PIP 3 – major investigations (all senior detectives are trained to this level). I was qualified and therefore deemed competent, at various stages in my career in all of these levels and for the last 12 years at PIP level 3. For me though I would argue that even though an individual has completed the training course, then completed a number of tasks in order to put together a portfolio and therefore makes them accredited, that this does not mean to say they have learnt to be or in my opinion are an experienced detective. In his book ‘Bounce’ Matthew Syed (2010) discusses a proposition that he developed from hearing about, reading and then contacting a psychologist by the name of Anders Ericsson, who had completed some revolutionary work in the field of developing expertise. In his proposition, Syed says you need 10,000 hours practice to make you good at something. He quotes David Beckham (A professional footballer). Beckham concurs ‘my secret is practice’ he said. ‘I have always believed that if you want to achieve anything special in life you have to work, work and then work some more’. (Syed, 2010, p. 80) I spent 8.5 years as a detective constable and then many years subsequently in each rank including detective chief superintendent. Maybe it is because I did those 10,000 hours to become a senior detective, I am wedded to this as a route to learning, rather than just doing a course and submitting a portfolio being the route.

When did the learning to be a detective start? If I take us back to the beginning of my career and reflect on those first years as a police officer, I am not sure I could pinpoint when I wanted to be a detective, nor my overarching specialist discipline for the majority of my service.

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I am not sure if it was having an interest in solving crime that led me to make this choice. If I turn this around and consider Adair (2013, p. 77) who said: It is usually easier to identify the fields that you are not suitable for, because you lack the necessary level of interest or mental aptitude, or temperamental characteristics to do really well in them. It may be that I was not interested, or did not have the temperament for uniform policing, rather than actively wanting to be a detective. However, I believe that my greatest skill is my want, and ability, to problem-solve. The work of a detective is primarily about problem-solving; how a crime occurred and who did it. I feel this aptitude is something that I need to develop and nature in order to learn to be a detective or more experienced one. As I have already mentioned, I spent a number of years as a generic detective. During this time, I became in my view, this experienced investigator. I dealt with all aspects of crime, ranging from car thefts to being part of murder enquiries. I was certainly successful, having a reasonably high detection and conviction rate, hence re-enforcing my view that I was an experienced investigator. If I return though to the thoughts of Syed (2010, p. 119), in his book Bounce he says that “The ten thousand rule, then is inadequate as a predictor of excellence. What is required is ten thousand hours of purposeful practice”. So, the fact that I completed these years as a detective does not necessarily mean that I was continually learning to be a better and more experienced detective. Syed (2010, p. 101) re-enforces this point and states. We do our jobs but often with our minds absent- partially or wholly, from what we are doing. We go through the motions. This is why as dozens of studies have shown length of time in many occupations is only weakly related to performance. Mere experience if not matched by deep concentration, does not translate into excellence. I worked during this time in a very small criminal investigation department office. This meant that all of us had to investigate a really wide range of crime, often on our own. I strongly believe that this environment, coupled with a willingness to continually consolidate my learning and develop new skills involving new type of investigations, helped me to develop this deep concentration, and I was never in a case of just going through the motions. At this time, I was what I, and others, would regard as a very experienced detective. However, this experience was in the clear-cut cases of burglary, vehicle crime and adult assault, not cases where there is such ambiguity on whether a crime may, or may not have occurred. One of the attributes though that I believe I learnt and unconsciously developed during this time, probably through the volume of different cases, is what could be described as a good gut feeling when it came to these investigations.

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Munro (2011a, p. 38) when quoting Gigerenzer (2002, p. 228) states that this is acceptable Gut feelings are in fact neither impeccable nor stupid; they take advantage of the evolved capacities of the brain, and are based on rules of thumb, that enable us to act fast and with astounding accuracy. There is no doubt that I was able to whether consciously or not, use gut feeling to speed up my decision-making. Ericsson, Prietula and Cokely (2007, p. 121) though feel that this isn’t enough and in order to improve and develop, we actually need an expert coach It takes at least a decade and requires the guidance of an expert teacher to provide tough, often painful feedback. It also demands would-be experts to develop their ‘inner coach’ and eventually drive their own progress … Deliberate practice that focuses on tasks beyond your current level of competence and comfort. You will need a well-informed coach not only to guide you through deliberate practice but also to help you learn how to coach yourself. I had at this time as my boss, a very experienced and exceptional crime manager. He had very high standards, and there was absolutely no doubt that if I or others didn’t deliver what was required, the feedback was both tough and painful. I learnt so much from him. What I realise that I failed to do and should have done is ask him to formally coach me. This would certainly have helped me as a more complete learning development progress.

How did my learning as a detective change when involved in safeguarding? After I had been a detective sergeant (DS) for a period, I was ready for my next challenge (learning experience). I saw a job advertised to work as a DS in charge of a safeguarding team. I applied and was successful. Suddenly I had to learn to think differently this was to work jointly with other agencies to safeguard vulnerable people and children in particular. In terms of the other agencies, they each have a different responsibility to safeguard and promote the welfare of children, but we do this as a multi-­ agency partnership. Although, to a certain extent, I had to ensure that the paradigm of my own professional training and a police position wasn’t lost. Learning how to do this interdisciplinary way of working really helped to develop my thinking. It shaped how I worked through the rest of my service. There is so much written in the academic literature in relation to both how

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hard, but essential, this joint agency working is. As Davies and Ward (2012, p. 136) in their book on ‘Messages from Research’ commented: There is compelling evidence of the need for effective interdisciplinary and inter-agency working at all stages of child protection work. Evidence comes from multiple ways of looking at service delivery including analyses of what happens when things go wrong, and research on everyday routine practice. It is also clear that joint working both at an inter-agency and front-line level is difficult and involves overcoming cultural differences as well as organisational and cross-sector boundaries. The challenge is to achieve continual improvement in the interests of children and families. The first learning I had to do was to try and understand what each agency did. I did this by spending time with the manager equivalents to my rank and finding out how and what way they operated. This was extremely useful learning. Another thing I had to learn quickly was the use of a different language that people seemed to use in safeguarding. This spurred me on many years later to be a co-author of a textbook that in essence translates the safeguarding language, Multi-Agency Safeguarding in a Public Protection World (Wate and Boulton, 2015). I learnt very quickly that as a police officer I was unable to keep children safe without working very closely with other agencies. Stice (1987) corroborates my thinking of working with other professionals, but also having the ability to see the perspective from other professional’s points of view makes your thinking clearer. So, with the help of professionals from other disciplines, your thinking can be cross-discipline. It is generally accepted that problems cannot be solved without our knowledge base. Medical problems can only be solved with a knowledge base in medicine, legal problems with a knowledge base in law; engineering problems, with the knowledge bases specific discipline of engineering; and so on. While the knowledge base of problem-solving is domain specific, the thinking skills can be generalised across boundaries between disciplines. (Stice, 1987, p. 23) One of the key pieces of learning I needed to comprehend quickly was that in safeguarding you operated as part of multi-agency system. This meant that any action that I initiated on behalf of the police may have unintended consequences to other parts of the system for example in children social care. I had a different boss who, at this time, actively wanted to coach me. This though was not as a Detective, he felt that I and others were far better equipped than him to do this, but to develop an outwardly looking outlook from policing and to also develop myself academically. He ensured that I

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engaged with other agency training and enrolled me on various academic courses. He would always pull me up quite strongly if my thinking was solely from a detective point of view. For example, arrest, charge and prosecution were my sole focus rather than considering what was best for the child or vulnerable adult and other agencies, working in the safeguarding system. I also continued to ensure that as a detective, I was continuing to build up my own personal knowledge base. I made sure that I was involved in a number of investigations, some of a type I hadn’t been involved with before, attending any relevant training courses that I could and continuous professional development seminars. What these two coaches (my original crime manager boss and my public protection boss) enabled me to do, from in essence this point on, was to be able to self-coach. As Ericsson et al. (2007, p. 121) described, “It also demands would-be experts to develop their ‘inner coach’ and eventually drive their own progress”. I became able to select what areas I needed to develop, who I was best to learn from and what tasks I needed to complete. After a period of time, I moved on from this role and had a number of further promotions. I continued to be a detective, and as I went through the ranks, I dealt with and completed the training to be one of those detectives who investigate homicides. One of the cases that I dealt with was the deaths of Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman. There is so much I could say, both personally and professionally, about my involvement in the investigation into the girls’ deaths. However, what dealing with the girls’ deaths did give me was a worldwide recognition of a case that I played a significant part in. This recognition was/is, not only from policing but also multi-agency partners, and in fact the public in general. Most people, including professionals, only know what they saw and read in the media and, as a result, have no in-depth knowledge of what actually took place. I have found the case has been, rightly or wrongly, a bridge, and a door opener for me in all sorts of situations. The below newspaper quote about my involvement states: The detective oversaw the investigation of the ditch where the bodies of Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman were found – one of the most complex forensic investigations in British criminal history. (Daily Telegraph,14 October 2008) I don’t believe it was a complex as was being made out, but it was a very emotional investigation. I was though ready for it; I had done the 10,000 hours of purposeful practice. After a number of requests, I made a decision to write an article based on what I learnt from my involvement in the case. This article was published in a national journal of investigating homicide and major incidents. I had now got to the stage where I was able to pass on my learning not just to those, I worked with but on a much wider national stage.

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Learning to make a difference at a national level I have often wondered how I ended up being the Association of Chief Police Officer (ACPO) lead for investigating child deaths: a role to which I was appointed in 2005. I had completed a master’s degree, and my dissertation focused on investigating child deaths. This was the first time that I had completed any real research, and development of my academic thought, into investigating the deaths. All of my earlier involvement had been as a practitioner, personally investigating the deaths. There is no doubt that the broadening of my thinking was, and is, extremely helpful to build up my now increasing theoretical understanding and depth of knowledge, in this complex area of what needed to be done to improve the police and their partners response to child deaths. One of the main strengths that I have, as the lead in this area, is my personal knowledge and experience of being an investigator of child deaths. One of my cases was that of Pink, where a 5-month-old boy was killed by his father. At the Court of Appeal in 2006, Lord Justice Latham (Pink, R. v [2006] EWCA Crim 2094 (09 August 2006) made the following comment, “This case was an exemplar of the best way to present conclusive medical evidence”. Baroness Kennedy also commented, “This is a model case for both the police and judiciary to aim for”. She circulated nationally the judgement. The case is still highlighted as best practice. At the ACPO Child Death annual symposium dinner in March 2014 the keynote speaker was Professor Tony Risdon, a paediatric pathologist. He highlighted in his speech that the Pink case is what we need to strive for and replicate nationally, not just in policing, but, through the multi-agency partnership. If I am honest, there are things I would now change with the handling of the case. If any lessons come from this, it is that no case is perfect and you can improve on aspects all of the time. I could have used the model that my predecessor in the post did of being the lead by him, but I wanted to be inclusive and gain expertise from around the country. I had learnt by seeing him operate that this was a style that all the expertise sat with him, and although good in the respect of the one consistent voice, it was not a model I felt I wanted to continue. I was keen to expand my sphere of influence, through others, into every area by setting the sub-group approach, which covered all of the regions of the United Kingdom. As Covey (2013, p. 22) describes, I found this the best way to be proactive and influence others Proactive people focus their efforts in the circle of influence. They work on the things they can do something about. The nature of their energy is positive, enlarging and magnifying, causing their circle of influence to increase.

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I hoped, that by setting up the sub-group approach, it would allow me to get a foothold into a number of the ‘critical communities’ that I needed to, so that we could firmly establish this new way of working. It would also help us to reflect and collaborate as much as possible. Tarrant (2013, p. 108) describes how essential these communities are to make better interactions. The term ‘communities of practice’ was coined by Lave and Wenger (1991). It refers to the process of social learning that occurs when people have a common interest: Communities of practice are groups of people who share a concern or a passion for something they do and learn how to do it better as they interact regularly. Lave and Wenger (1991) suggested that communities could develop their practice in numerous ways such as problem-solving, requesting information, seeking the experiences of others, reusing assets, coordinating and synergizing, discussing developments, visiting others, mapping knowledge and identifying gaps. I have received feedback over the years that this was an excellent move and subsequent national leads have followed my model. A sub-group member stated: Without you Russell I think that child death would have been a single task action group. I am really pleased that you gripped it and channelled the membership into what it became. I am sure that the outcome of your work and discussions of the group have achieved three things 1. Fewer deaths. 2. Less traumatised families (including wrong prosecutions) 3. More convictions. I do think the learning to work this way came from my time working as a detective in a multi-agency environment. This moved me from being an insular looking detective, into an outward one seeking and gaining advice and expertise from wherever I could find it. One of things I felt I had to do as a national lead is to try and change the police culture when dealing with child deaths. In 2012, The Lullaby Trust (formally known as the Foundation for the Study of Infant Death [FSID]) published 40 stories from parents, or grandparents, telling of when their child died. Within this publication a parent made the following comment. Two CID officers arrived. They were the coldest most arrogant people I have ever met in my life. One of the officers said to me, “I know you’re a bit under the weather today but we will need to interview you”. At this point my mum jumped in and said, “Under the weather? She has just lost her son; how can she be a bit under the weather?” I shall never forget those policemen. They made me feel as though they believed I had murdered my son. A year after Jon-Lee’s death I made a

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complaint and I received a written apology on special headed paper saying the two policemen involved had been spoken to and my son’s death was the only cot death they had attended. To me they should have had some sort of training. (FSID, 2012, pp. 32–33) The National Police Improvement Agency published a briefing paper by Fox (2008) on his evaluation of developments in the investigation of sudden unexpected death in infancy. Within this paper, I make the following comment, reflecting on how we did things in the 1990s: … very badly. Police officers turned up with blue lights blazing. In my own experience you’d turn up with your DI who was in the main used to dealing with adult homicides- no child protection experience. You’d have SOCO’s (scenes of crime officers) there –they’d photograph everything. You’d seize all the bedding. Often parents were arrested. The police role then was very much about enforcement. (Fox, 2008, p. 14) It is against this background that I felt driven to change the way that the police responded to and dealt with child deaths. I had the responsibility to do something about making sure the feedback, as seen above, was a rare, rather than regular occurrence. As Senge et al. (1999) stated in his book Dance for Change, up until this point I had failed to think about learning. This is clearly due to on one hand, because I had issued national practice guidance and as a disciplined service, we should get on with it. On the other hand, my lack of knowledge and background in learning just didn’t allow me to think about it. Most advocates of change initiatives be they CEO’s or internal staff, focus on the changes they are trying to produce and fail to recognise the importance of learning capabilities. This is like trying to make a plant grow. Consequently, their initiatives are doomed from the start to achieve less than their potential-until building learning capabilities becomes part of the change strategy. (Senge et al., 1999, p. 9) Due to my lack of knowledge of training course construction, I used other people I saw as experts to help me. I learnt from being involved with them and not from saying this is how I want things done. A good example of this is we put in place, for each of the modules a case study for the students to work through. These were real case studies that we adapted to fit the training environment and get the best out of them. A complete change to my way of thinking that this is the national guidance just go out and do what it says in there.

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Although I am not 100% sure that this comment below, from a parent, is an impact of the training course, it came after we had commenced the course and after the guidance had been published. It is taken from the Lullaby trust 2012 publication and is in stark contrast to the previous quote I used earlier in this section. I hope that it shows that the police service has moved on from those earlier days. I take my hat off to all the police officers involved in our case. The two officers from CID were fantastic. It was obviously very hard for them as well but they were so understanding, and we never felt under suspicion. (FSID, 2012, p. 67) To sum up this critique, undoubtedly, the course has made a difference and was an innovative approach to translate the knowledge and theory of dealing with child deaths in a multidisciplinary way. The course has produced a workable model of practice for all officers to use.

Moving on to be a consultant. Does the learning stop? When I moved from being a serving police officer to a consultant, I was invited to sit as an advisor and was a part of Professor Eileen Munro’s review of child protection in England on behalf of the Government. I found this learning experience hugely beneficial to me, not only as personal development, but it also gave me a greater voice in government on behalf of policing. An added bonus was that I was able to work as part of the team that brought out the 2010 version of ‘Working Together to Safeguard Children’ (Department for Children Schools and Families (2010) (‘Working Together to Safeguard Children – a guide to inter-agency working to safeguard and promote the welfare of children’.) I also embarked on being one of the trainers of the investigating child death course I carried this out with a colleague. I learnt that I needed not to just to tell people what, and how, to do it, but to let the students work through the case studies themselves, and help and direct where needed. I think a key component for me was that training is not only way to learn in fact far from it. How I learnt and learn is the need to see and then do. What we encouraged all of students to do was the following week to read the Kennedy report in full. Confirm arrangements in their local area, attend a paediatric post mortem, and to get themselves working through how to deal with a child death. Shadow an experienced investigator when they are on call. Put together an ‘on call’ bag. The training course was and could only be the start of the process of learning to be a child death investigator. Feedback has been really good, and no negative comments, and in fact the opposite was evident. A couple of the responses are shown below. It is the best course I have been to in 16 years, informative, experience of trainer, passion and excellent experienced guest speakers – all of which was delivered at the right level!

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Excellent course – No one should attend/be expected to attend a child death without the accreditation this course provides. It was one of the best courses I have done and probably one I learned most from in relation to my role. However, the material for the course must be kept up to date with developments, and learning for me must be ongoing. A good example of this is I have been very fortunate to also be part of the Baroness Kennedy Working group, which produced in 2016 ‘Sudden unexpected death in infancy and childhood multi-agency guidelines for care and investigation’. The report was developed by this working group convened by the Royal College of Pathologists and endorsed by the Royal College of Paediatrics and Child Health. This is currently the key guidance used by professionals, so as well as great learning for me being part of the working group, it is also good for my students the opportunity to share experiences that I had learnt as being part of the working group. Another area work that I carry out is authoring serious case reviews. One of these reviews I conducted whilst I was the chair for Hammersmith & Fulham LSCB, was evaluated by Ofsted, who made the following comments about the quality of this review. The serious case review has been assessed against the criteria for conducting reviews as set out in ‘Working Together to Safeguard Children (Chapter 8)’. Our evaluation is that the review is outstanding. (Ofsted, 2011, p. 1) I could have sat back and feel that I have ‘got it cracked’ after receiving such positive comments from Ofsted. However, this is not my nature and not the method of learning that I have developed for myself. I try continually to work out ways to better analyse, and synthesise, the complex information that you receive from agencies, in relation to their involvement with the child who had died. It is important to try and constantly develop knowledge so that we can improve how we protect children. It is really important for me to ensure that I keep up to date and learn what is current in all of my work as a safeguarding consultant. Although I try, I find it difficult to keep as up to date as I should. Tarrant (2013, p. 170) comments on this: Many professionals lament the lack of time for reading about the latest thinking and new ideas about their practice. For many the longer they are in the job the less they have the opportunity to stop and look at how the theory is changing. Another problem is that most of us get so involved in the day-to-day pressures of the job that we do not have the ‘space’ to consider what is going on in the development of our profession.

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This emphasises for me, that I must create this space to enable myself to remain at the cutting edge of developments in my professional practice. Covey (2013, p. 5) coins the phrase, ‘Habit 7: Sharpen the saw’. He is talking in broader terms than just sharpening your professional knowledge, but also applies this to your physical and spiritual strength. These areas are frequently overlooked in the busyness of day-to-day work. I realise that I must also work on this holistically, if not, I will be unable to sustain the impetus and professional credibility which I have achieved. Professor Munro (2011b) highlights some research that she feels important for practitioners to consider, this failure to take time to think and keep up to date, and was completed by Oakeshott (1989). Michael Oakeshott draws attention to the limitations of a ‘crowded’ life where people are continually occupied and engaged but have no time to stand back and think. A working life given over to distracted involvement does not allow for the integration of experience. (Munro, 2011b, p. 87) I am clear that learning never stops, we have never got it cracked. If we do think that our credibility and our opportunity to really make a difference and perform well is severely hampered.

Paula Werrett Learning as a normative exercise Moon (2004, p. 104) acknowledges that, “all learning is in effect, learning from experience”. Even in formal learning situations such as lectures, a student must make sense of what he or she is hearing by linking it to existing ideas and frames of reference. I believe that what I have learned from experience has equipped me to effectively succeed in my professional sphere. In this case study, I will explore the learning that has been central to my ability to carry out my current job, and I will reflect on how my experiences have shaped the development of this learning.

Overview of current role My current role is Head of Courses at the Institute for Optimum Nutrition (ION). ION is a not-for-profit charitable organisation (established in 1984) whose key purpose is to train registered nutritional therapists. As Head of Courses, I have responsibility for ensuring (i) that ION’s diploma courses meet all of the requirements of the core curriculum for nutritional therapy,

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(ii) that students enjoy a first-class experience whilst studying with the organisation and (iii) that students develop the skills they need to become safe and effective nutritional therapy practitioners with successful practices. As the market for nutritional therapy students is highly competitive, it is vital that the ION diploma courses provide excellent value for money and that potential students perceive clear reasons to enrol on one of the ION diploma courses in preference to a competitive offering. My staff team consists of 8 academic staff, mostly part-time home-based module leaders as well as a larger team of contract markers and clinical supervisors. Aged 54 at the time of writing, I have amassed a wealth of career and life experiences, which I continue to build upon to improve my practice. In the sections below, I will attempt to outline the development of my learning. As much of this is held tacitly it is difficult for me to articulate. As Michael Polanyi (1974, p. 4) observes, “we know more than we can tell”.

Schooling and early influences on learning My appetite for learning started at a young age. An innate curiosity and conscientiousness coupled with a desire for recognition and reward encouraged me to work hard. Early success built self-belief and motivated me further. As a child of the seventies, learning involved passive reception of didactically transmitted knowledge. What Freire (2005) refers to as the banking approach to education. Whilst I undoubtedly gathered some useful knowledge and obtained the required qualifications, my early schooling and exam success were characterised by what is known as a surface approach to learning (Marton and Saljo, 1976) involving turgid memorisation and regurgitation of information, now mostly forgotten. This foundation left me ill-prepared for my university years studying a joint English/History degree where teaching was considerably less structured. The legacy was made more problematic by a chance conversation with a newly found acquaintance who planted a belief that university was predominantly a place to have fun and that working hard was no longer necessary. With only three hours a week of compulsory scheduled class contact and harbouring the assumption that I would get a degree regardless of my efforts, I struggled to motivate myself to undertake the required personal study. Gregarious by nature it felt alien to me at that time to sit for hours in a library attempting to read and digest books. Reading for me had always been a leisure activity and associated with relaxation so I struggled with the concept of passively reading as part of my study. Easily distracted and tired from a newly found social life I spent a disproportionate amount of time in the university library coffee shop. As Uslu and Girgin (2010) conclude, university is of course about more than the learning from the subject studied. Particularly for traditional campus – based students, learning happens in diverse areas and on multiple levels. Like many students I had for the first time to plan and organise myself, to shop

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and cook for myself, to clean, manage my laundry, take care of my finances, find my way around and build and foster new relationships with others from diverse backgrounds. Coming from a sheltered and protected family environment in a small market town this was somewhat of an onslaught and I didn’t always cope well, gaining myself a reputation of being a little dizzy and chaotic! Set against this backdrop my lower second class degree should therefore have come as no surprise, but perhaps strangely it was somewhat of a critical incident in my life evoking feelings of shame, low self – worth and a sense that I had let myself down; feelings which as I will explain went on to impact future choices and learning.

Searching for gold After completing university, disappointed with my degree result and conditioned by what I believed to be the expectations of my parents and society, I was keen to embark on a career that offered opportunities for progression and in retrospect that would afford me an impressive status in the eyes of the ‘outside world’. I settled upon marketing because I perceived that it involved a combination of creativity and analytical skills. Naturally introspective, I was also attracted to the need to become conversant with consumer psychology. Efforts to secure a job via the university milk round were thwarted by a degree in an unrelated subject and a naivety regarding the skills and qualities needed to impress a prospective employer. Eager to experience the excitement of the bright lights and to start working in order to pay off university debts, like Dick Whittington I travelled to London in search of gold. Following this move, my early career was characterised by a succession of different jobs in different organisations within sales and marketing as I tried to move closer to my dream of a role within a blue-chip company; in my mind, the pinnacle of status, security and opportunity. Although this dream took time to materialise, each new role afforded me experience in a unique environment and helped me to develop an understanding of different aspects of sales and marketing. Anxious to make my mark in the world, I lacked in those early days, the organisational and communication skills needed for success. A recent encounter with a novice tutor reminded me of the importance of organisational awareness and how much we take for granted in relation to the norms and expectations of communication and behaviour within the work place. These cultural codes are difficult to teach and must be learned experientially through contact with others, by observation, socialisation, coaching, making mistakes and positive reinforcement of appropriate practice (Dreyfus and Dreyfus, 2005). What I perceived at the time to be a breakthrough in my career plan in my mid-twenties came when I secured a position at Abbey National in the sales promotion division of their marketing department. This then paved the way for many future marketing jobs within other blue-chip organisations,

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like becoming part of a club where members get preferential treatment. Such experience helped me to develop many of the skills that I take for granted today; time management skills, an understanding of ethics, the importance of workplace politics and the ability to develop effective relationships with employees and management in order to motivate staff and get things done. Working as a manager in marketing afforded me some specific additional expertise. Managing complex projects honed my analytical, planning and evaluation skills, helped to make me creative, agile, visionary, commercially astute, results-driven and alert to inherent business risks and setbacks. I developed research and negotiation skills as well as an understanding of consumer psychology and purchasing behaviour, all of which has been useful to me in my current role.

A need for nourishment Over time though, despite success in my chosen career and having achieved my original career goal, I became aware that something wasn’t quite right. I was stressed and frustrated by the politics and my lack of agency within large organisations and quickly grew bored with each new role I undertook, moving on quickly whenever a new opportunity presented itself. What was I running from? Where did I want to go? Around the same time personal digestive issues and the death of my mother caused me to reflect on what I wanted from life. I realised that my personal development was thwarted and that I was now hungry for a different type of opportunity, one that would afford me more agency and flexibility and that had the potential to fit alongside future family life. I grew interested in developing my own business and enjoyed the prospect of career success being more closely predicated on my own efforts. Around this time, a chance conversation with a friend sparked an interest in nutritional therapy this turned out to be a key turning point in my career history and a nourishing influence on my future learning and development. Studying for 4 years to obtain my nutritional therapy diploma alongside my day-job was challenging and I realised that my didactic, passive early education had given me what Merrill (2001, p. 8) describes as “preconceived ideas about teaching approaches”. Knowles’ (1973) theory of androgogy holds that adults are ready and motivated to learn and have a need to know why something should be learned. So far so good, but a central tenet of Knowles’ ideas about adult education is that adults are also self-directed and able to organise their own learning. I had struggled with this at university and studying on a blended learning course with limited interaction with tutors and other students, I found it difficult at first to organise my learning and to understand whether I was on the right track. Perseverance and positive feedback, however, built self-efficacy (Bandura et al., 2001) and this in turn motivated me to persist. This was perhaps reinforced by a clearer understanding of

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the reasons why I was studying, what I stood to gain and a desire not to ‘fail’ in the way that I had at university. Aside from the learning about nutrition as a topic, studying for my diploma helped me learn and develop in a number of other ways. Nutritional therapists must develop excellent client rapport and questioning skills and must provide tailor-made evidence-based solutions to ill-defined inverse problems using analysis, synthesis and regressive reasoning (Pena, 2010). Furthermore, nutritional therapists (NTs) must keep abreast of new research, must motivate clients to adopt recommendations and must ethically adapt their approach based on outcomes according to strict codes of conduct. Such an endeavour is by no means straightforward and consequently NTs are committed to lifelong learning. Notwithstanding these advantages for my personal and professional growth, perhaps the key benefit of my nutritional therapy diploma to my future learning and development was my introduction to reflective practice. It is essential for nutritional therapists to reflect on their consultation work and to identify and implement improvements to practice in order to develop their effectiveness as a practitioner. The advantage of this is that as Finlay (2008) observes, reflective practice helps us learn through and from experience and moves us towards gaining new insights of self and/or practice Thinking back to my early years as a practitioner such reflection was enormously helpful in helping me work through some of the critical incidents that occurred for me in practice and in assisting me to unearth some of my long held assumptions influencing my choices and behaviour; who could and couldn’t afford expensive tests and supplements; what sacrifices clients would be prepared to make for the sake of their health, who would and wouldn’t be compliant with recommendations. Reflection helped me to realise also some of my limiting beliefs; that clients wouldn’t think I was good enough, that my recommendations wouldn’t help them, that they would judge me for working from home and for not having a degree in nutritional therapy. For nutritional therapists there is an uncomfortable dissonance between the caring, helping aspects of the role and the need to earn a living. Reflective practice plays a key role in helping practitioners ensure that their practice is ethical and that decisions made can be justified and defended as being fair and in the best interests of the client. As practitioners we also need to be mindful of our own special interests and belief systems that may impact on our differential diagnosis generating what is known as ‘observation bias’ when we see what we expect or hope to see (Tripepi et al., 2008)

‘He who teaches, learns’ (Comenius, 1921, p. 156) Although organisational weariness beckoned me towards a self-employed career, time soon showed that my destiny was to work with others. I found it isolating to work by myself. As a newly qualified nutritional therapist I craved

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the opportunity to engage with peers, to discuss cases and to build new knowledge based on such encounters. In constructivist terms, knowledge is generated socially through interaction with others (Vygotsky, 1978) and as Duane and Satre (2014) assert, the constructivist learning method is particularly appropriate for the development of scientific knowledge. Additionally, as Vygotsky (1978) argues, the social interaction and mentoring that come from collaborating with peers promote motivation to continue learning as well as the development of new knowledge. Thus, when an opening at the Institute for Optimum Nutrition to take on the role of seminar tutor and clinical supervisor alongside my personal nutritional therapy practice presented itself, I was keen to take this on and so began my foray into the world of teaching and education. Teaching as a way of learning is well established. Bringing to mind what we have previously studied leads to deeper and longer lasting retention of material studied than simply just revisiting material (Duran, 2016). Preparing material for seminars meant that I had to find ways to simplify the concepts to make them easier for students to grasp. I had to make my tacit knowledge explicit. In order to do this I used metaphors, analogies and visual depictions to help my students to comprehend the key a points; a process that Nonaka and Takeuchi (1995) describe as externalisation. This process benefited not only the students but also helped me to embed many concepts that I do not believe I would otherwise be so comfortable with. Perhaps this is because as Gartner, Kohler and Riessmann (1971) argue, that learning for one’s own benefit and learning to teach others involve different cognitive processes. Additionally explaining material to others can prompt more learning than self-explanation because listeners can ask for clarification of any gaps or inconsistencies requiring us as teachers to embark in new learning (Webb, 1989). One of the key ways that I learned through teaching though was through the process of assessing student work which as Osmond and Merry (1996) observe, facilitates the development of critical analysis skills as well as deepening understanding of subject matter – something that only became apparent to me upon returning to education many years later. Additionally assessing students in clinic settings had the benefit of broadening my thinking and helping me to re-evaluate my own practice in the light of that learned through observing others (Han, James and McLain, 2013).

Bringing it all together After working in this way for just over 6 years, a close colleague asked me to additionally cover her clinical work at ION whilst she went on maternity leave. This serendipitous opportunity turned out to be pivotal as my increased physical attendance at ION’s head office afforded me exposure to the new senior management team who were keen to utilise my perceived commercial skill set to develop new clinical products and services. When,

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shortly after this, the academic team was restructured, I was offered the position of module leader as well as overall course leader for the diploma course. Finding myself suddenly thrown into this new role could be described as somewhat of a ‘critical incident’ in my career. With a limited background in education, no handover, no induction, a team of inexperienced and newly recruited module leaders and a recent exodus of key academic staff, my introduction was far from smooth. My line manager at the time, the then Dean, did his best to support my developing learning about pedagogy and androgogy, guiding me to appropriate resources and using coaching and collaborative working approaches that involved me in decision-making and helped me to arrive at my own conclusions. Such ‘scaffolding’ played a critical role in helping me to learn about education and enabled me to imitate similar approaches with my own staff team. Notwithstanding this however, I am aware looking back on this period that my survival was mostly dependent upon skills learned much earlier in my career. Organisational skills, planning and communication and people management were all key. Arguably one of the most important skills was my ability to frame and solve problems. Kilman and Mitroff (1979) have argued that problem-solving is central to the management role. Problemsolving is predominantly intuitive and as I have discovered in working with my own staff, is difficult to teach through verbalisation. Thinking back to my first year as course leader, I can see that my increasing adeptness at framing and resolving problems was a key skill that got me through that challenging period and enabled me to firstly survive and ultimately to flourish. With an exodus of key staff members, a Dean with no qualification in nutrition and poor documentation of what Nonaka and Takeuchi describe as declarative knowledge, I was left to mostly rely on my own resourcefulness to deal with the multitude of questions, issues and dilemmas that I was faced with on a daily basis. Linked to my problem-solving ability and perhaps my most important asset, however, was my developing ability to reflect and the learning that ensued from such reflection. As course leader, I experienced countless disorientating dilemmas (Mezirow, 1990) when my assumptions about how students and staff colleagues perceived reality were proved to be false. When I commenced my new role for example, the organisation was significantly under – resourced with an ongoing loss of key staff. Praised at the time for my commitment to work extremely long hours to enable the course to continue running, I came to see my value to the organisation solely in these terms. Later, under new management when it was pointed out that a manager’s role was to identify, commission and manage required resources (rather than trying to do so much personally), I realised that my assumptions about my value were actually erroneous and that I needed to change the way I worked. A similarly disorientating event occurred on one occasion when students provided feedback many years ago regarding what they perceived to be the

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inadequate level of support available to them on the course. At the time, I found this difficult to comprehend. They were adult – learners weren’t they? Weren’t they supposed to be able to work independently? Surely they could come forward and ask for help if needed? Discussion with colleagues and a review of the learning literature helped me to see that over time I had become very self-directed and resourceful and that I was unreasonably expecting my students to operate in a similar way. This realisation led to better understanding of my students needs and has helped direct my efforts towards a more gradual approach to developing student self-directedness along the lines of Grow’s (1991) staged model. Personally, it has helped me to think more about different perspectives and to be more understanding when the needs of others are different to my own. Although stressful to manage at the time, such ‘critical incidents’ have been instrumental in enabling me to develop the course and to develop myself as a manager. As Mezirow (1990) argues, it is when we face disorientating, un-expected consequences that we are motivated to reflect on what went wrong and how our own actions and assumptions influenced proceedings. Being able to reframe and adjust assumptions such as these has been crucial to my ongoing ability to develop personally and to apply such learning to my practice. Study at Master’s level has further developed such criticality challenging me further to unearth personal paradigms and meaning schemes and to critically scrutinise them. Boucher (2007) found reflective practice to have a beneficial effect in developing managerial people management skills and personally I have also found this to be the case. Over time as my reflection has become more critical and I have taken time to consider my biases and to think through alternative ways of looking at a situation, this has enabled what Mezirow (1990) describes as ‘transformational learning’ to take place. Taking time to reflect on why a particular meeting with an employee may not have yielded the expected results or how best to work with an individual who is underperforming I have found to be enormously helpful in facilitating new more successful approaches. When I reflect now I am better able to understand the source of such conflicts as rooted in different priorities, ideologies and belief systems. As Mezirow (1990, p. 1) argues, “What we perceive and fail to perceive, and what we think and fail to think are powerfully influenced by habits of expectation that constitute our frame of reference, that is, a set of assumptions that structure the way we interpret our experiences”. Looking back, I see how differently I manage challenging encounters now to those experienced earlier in my career where I would have responded defensively; would have lost my composure and risked damaging professional relationships. Now I am able to achieve more appropriate instinctive responses to challenging situations; what Schön (1984, p. 49) describes as ‘reflection – in action’.

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Chia (2009) observes that knowledge is not simply a commodity that can be easily transferred. Rather it must be “grown, re-grown and incorporated into the modus operandi of an individual through material social practices”. In the story above, I have attempted to capture the way that my life-­experiences have shaped my learning and enabled me to develop the knowledge that allows me to be the professional that I have become today. Central to this development has been my deepening understanding of who I am, what has shaped me and what I am striving to become. I am no longer driven by the need for status in the eyes of the outside world; neither do I feel the need to keep switching organisations to maintain professional interest. Rather I have discovered a deeper satisfaction characterised by ongoing reflection on and in practice that enables my continual learning and improvement.

Summary This concludes the final of the 11 case studies. These contributions will be used in the next chapter to discuss using the earlier reviewed literature sources.

Notes 1 State Registered Nurse and Intensive Care Nurse 2 LLB and LLM 3 Different legal jurisdiction requires different qualifications to allow an individual to call themselves and practice as a barrister and/or solicitor. In Western Australia, where I initially qualified as a barrister and solicitor, the entry requirement for admission to practice in the courts of Australia was a law degree (LLB) followed by a period of approximately 12 months as an articled clerk 4 Human Resource Strategy in Transforming Organisations. Executive Education programme, London Business School 5 Myers-Briggs Type Indicator is a self-report questionnaire designed to make Carl Jung’s theory of psychological types understandable and useful in everyday life (OPP, (2000) Introduction to Type – A Guide to Understanding your Results on the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator)

Chapter 5

Findings, discussion and conceptualisation of informal learning in occupational practices

Introduction This penultimate chapter brings together the previous chapter on the 11 case studies and the two literature review chapters on learning (informal and formal), work practices (normative and innovative/creative) and professional inquiry. There are two goals for this chapter. One is to delineate the case studies using the literature reviewed to provide deeper insights into the journey making and work practices of the participants’ current occupations. The other goal is to formulate, using the findings, a conceptual framework to help us, as users, to understand and apply the two dimensions of learning and occupational practices. These activities ought to be viewed within the sociocultural, economic and political contexts where the possibility of transformations of these participants might happen. These possible transformations would lead to another dimension that might affect the understanding, action, behaviour and cognition. This means the whole person can be modified: how to view the world (externally) and oneself (internally).

Findings This section begins with an analysis of the 11 participants’ case studies before discussing them. Following the analysis, the pertinent stages are discussed and from which the four themes, namely, work practices, forms of learning, reflection, and sociocultural, economic and political dimensions, are configured. These four configurations are delineated using the 11 case studies and supported by the related literature sources. At the end of this section and the discussion section, the foundation for a theoretical framework for (informal) learning in occupational practices would have been laid. This framework will be discussed in the third section. The analysis covered the various stages (Robson and McCartan, 2016). They included identifying phrases, patterns and themes and triangulating the identified scenarios from the case studies. These stages generated codes. From reading the case studies several times, 26 phrases or points of references were

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identified. Also, the frequencies of their occurrence were noted. Of these, further reduction of related patterns or sub-themes was evidenced into seven. And from these patterns, four themes were isolated. They included work practices, learning types, reflection and social issues. Furthermore, the analysis consisted of applying the identified themes to generalise a set of typology and linking it to the theoretical frameworks. The two authors in this monograph checked each other’s analysis to agree on the final analysed findings. The 11 case studies were read several times to be acquainted with them, and arising from these were identifiable repeating points of references or phrases. These phrases are listed and discussed according to the frequencies of their occurrences, starting from the highest rates. Five phrases scored a frequency of 11 times. They are informal learning, formal learning, journey-making and journaling, experiences and reflection. Formative practise or professional development has a frequency of 10 times. (Technical) knowledge and transformation have a rate of 9 times, and eight occurrences are skill sets and social interactions. Leadership, individual working/practice and emotional intelligence have frequencies of 7 times, whereas cognition and collaborative working with 6. Those phrases with four occurrences are coaching, normative working/practices (relating to standards) and problem-solving. Tacit or subtlety has a frequency of 4, and those of three occurrences are a community of practice, embodied approach, confidence, intuition, novel ideas and love/passion. There were no points of reference at two times, and finally, trust is mentioned only once. Perhaps, at this stage, explanations of the terms would be helpful before looking at the sub-themes from the 26 points of reference. The two forms of learning – formal and informal – have been discussed earlier in Chapters 1 and 2, and so further delineations are not necessary except that these modes of learning appeared to be significant in the 11 contributors’ perspectives. Journey-making is perhaps not surprising that the term appears most frequently since part of the brief in writing the contributions is to explain their pathways to their current occupations. Relating to this journey-making is experience. This term may include their involvements, participations, encounters, exploits, etc., whilst making their transitions from where they start from to where they are now. Experiences from the perspective of this research monograph would include not just life but also occupational or work-related and, where relevant, pedagogic ones too. As with know-how, the tacit and explicit dimensions, as mentioned in the earlier chapters, especially Chapter 2, are pertinent in exploring this phrase. Reflection is the last of the most common term that has featured in the case studies. Perhaps, it is a phrase that may be elusive from a definition perspective. From a linguistic stance, this term refers to an activity, usually a cognitive one that is associated with looking back, contemplating of one’s past, relating to one’s experiences, occurrences, missed chances, etc. Perhaps, from an educational standpoint, the research by Pollard et al. (2008) is,

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probably, the most definitive exploration on this subject especially as they offer a structural framework to provide a deep understanding of the process. Schön (1987) provides two types of reflection – reflection-in-­action and reflection-on-action as a way of understanding the term from occupational and educational perspectives. However, there are critics (e.g. Atkins and Murphy, 1993; Greenwood, 1993; Eraut, 1995) of this typology. They focus on the lack of clarity of the two types of reflection, the lack of acknowledgement of the time dimension and the inconsistencies between his theorising and the illustrated pedagogic interventions. Two of the main issues regarding this much-used term in education are the lack of a robust conceptualisation of the term and the incoherence of teaching reflection to trainee teachers. Formative practise or professional development has the next highest number of hits. This practice is ongoing professional activity that occurs after qualification in the relevant occupations of the contributors. Perhaps, in more traditional professions such as law, accountancy and clinical practices such as emergency medicine, specific regulations are governing the need for continuous professional development (CPD). The rules might stipulate the forms that CPD takes, the required hours per year, etc. Knowledge and transformation are the next two phrases on the list. Knowledge is defined eclectically in this monograph to encompass the various forms of knowledge including occupational, educational, technical and discipline-related. Knowledge also covers experiences of life, pedagogic and occupational forms. Perhaps, a more inclusive term might be knowhow, and this might include abilities, capacities, intelligences and skill sets. These knowledge types may be explicit or tacit, and the literature sources by Polanyi (1966), Nonaka and Takeuchi (1995) and Collins (2010) have delineated on the implicit forms of knowledge. The delineation of knowledge has been covered in Chapter 2. A wide-ranging definition of knowledge by researchers (Eraut, 2004; Winch, 2014; Evans, 2016; Loo, 2018) is used to provide a comprehensive approach to understanding this term and also to apply it with deep insights to pedagogic and occupational practices. Transformation, again, was discussed in Chapter 2, and the related proponents of this term are Kegan (2009) and Mezirow (2009). For Mezirow (2009), transformation or transformative learning relates to changes in people mentally, emotionally and in short whole being that may lead to actions in a sociocultural environment. Interestingly, Mezirow included in his delineation the psychotherapy angle. Kegan (2009) provides a different approach to transformation, which he calls ‘transformational learning’. Unlike Mezirow, Kegan provides five stages/steps of transformation. For Kegan (2009), this process is not only age-related but also directly correlated to the levels of complexity of transformation. The highest level, which he names, the ‘self-transforming mind’, where not every person can attain.

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Going down the frequency order of phrases, we have skill sets and social interactions. Skills or skill sets, such as interpersonal and intrapersonal intelligences or ‘soft’ skills, are frequently emphasised in reports [especially government reports such as the ‘Leitch Review of Skills’ (Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, 2006) in the United Kingdom and the ‘Skills for Prosperity: A Roadmap for Vocational Education and Training’ (Commonwealth of Australia, 2011) in Australia] and even in research documents [e.g. Brown, Green and Lauder (2001) on high skills and Bennett, Dunne and Carre (1999) on core and generic skills]. Perhaps, the term is easily understood and identified by the public. One of the seminal papers by Dreyfus and Dreyfus (2005) on skills and their four-stage phenomenological model of skill acquisition have been critiqued. Loo (2018, p. 27) commented on their paper: The notion of skills was not defined nor was there an attempt to offer any supporting conceptual frameworks. Furthermore, ‘Intuition’ appeared in the text only 11 times without any attempt to define it, as if there was common agreement with its definition. The article (Dreyfus and Dreyfus, 2005) started with making claims about knowledge engineers and medical expertise and that expertise could not be captured in systems that were bounded by rules. However, there was no attempt to define or use these occupational roles concerning illustrating the model of skill acquisition. Instead, driving and chess playing were used. English (1993) offered not dissimilar perspectives to Loo (2018) regarding skills and the nursing profession. In this monograph, skill sets are acknowledged not on their own but alongside other forms of know-how such as abilities, attitudes, experiences and knowledge. Social interactions are activities that take place in social environments where there are exchanges between people within a system of rules, codes of behaviour and other codified or non-codified regulations. The settings of these interactions might include formal (e.g. organisations) and informal (e.g. gatherings) settings. The related concepts include social constructivist learning theories [e.g. the Zone of Proximal Development as propounded by the psychologist, Vygotsky (1978)]. Sociologists like Castells (2000) and Knorr-Cetina (2005) lend their approaches to the importance of working in social environments and their effects on the work. It is this environment that the contributors in the previous chapter operated in. Those phrases with a frequency of 7 include leadership, individual working/ practice and emotional intelligence. Leadership abilities may be viewed as activities that provide a vision or a way of negotiating the future. This activity takes place in social contexts, and as with the previous phrase, it involves social interactions, and abilities such as powers of persuasion are necessary to convince people of one’s vision. Again, this topic was discussed in Chapter 2.

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Individual working or practice is central to this monograph as it involves occupational training by a person. This agency, i.e. a person, object, activity or organisation, is central to this research monograph. The corollary to individual working is collaborative working where people come together in pursuant to a common goal. Again, this involves a vision and action to create an outcome. From an occupational perspective, the outcome may be a product, service or a process that is a result of such agency practices. Emotional intelligence is a term which might easily be equated with researchers such as Goleman (1996) with his concept of ‘emotional intelligences’ and Gardner (1999), ‘multiple intelligence’. We have used interpersonal and intrapersonal intelligences as a conceptual framework, unlike that featured by Dreyfus and Dreyfus (2005). Goleman focuses on the psychological aspects of a person’s skill sets, whereas Gardiner covers a broad spectrum of intelligences to include special, mathematical and logic, etc. Six contributors mentioned cognition and collaborative working. Again, the latter phrase was mentioned in junction with individual working, and so no further explanation is necessary. Cognition is an activity relating to a person’s mental capabilities, and an epistemological approach of an eclectic definition of know-how) taken in this monograph offers the readers insights into the way occupational practices are performed. Gardner’s (1999) concept of multiple intelligences and Sternberg, Kaufman and Pretz’s (2004) idea of creative leaderships provide possible frameworks to thinking about a practitioner’s mental processes. Coaching, normative working/practices (relating to standards) and problem-­ solving were phrases mentioned by four contributors in their descriptions of the occupational journeys. Coaching may be viewed as a form of educational activity, which is usually associated with the occupational practice. This activity may be delivered or facilitated by an experienced practitioner to someone with less experience. This relationship, as exemplified by Vygotsky’s (1978) ZPD, provides a working framework for understanding the dynamics of an ‘expert’ with a ‘novice’. Examples of such occupational practices, which spring to mind, include apprenticeships, clinical training like emergency medicine and nutritional therapy and education. This phrase has traction to this investigation. Normative working refers to working in standard situations. Perhaps, the other end of the spectrum is creative or innovative working, which suggests an effective practice that is out of the norm where creativity is included. As in Chapter 2, creative working in the knowledge economy was posited as a version of innovative practice. The relevant literature surrounding this practice includes Nonaka and Takeuchi (1995), Drucker (1999), Reich (2001), Zuboff (2004) and Loo (2017). Normative working, perhaps the less ‘seductive’ of the two forms of practices, uses, like the creative cousin, know-how. Some of the advocates of normative working include Kahneman (2012), Kemmis and Green (2013) and Evans (2016). Also, the normative occupational work is associated with

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professional standards where such regulations define the work practices, and that quality and accountability are prerequisites to belonging to a profession/ occupation. Problem-solving may be viewed as a skill or a creative attribute. In Chapter 2, researchers such as Csikszentmihalyi (1988), Sternberg et al. (2004) and von Hippel (2006) offer conceptualisations of creativity. Relating to creativity is problem-solving, and the previous researchers have written about this ability. What is not usually mentioned is problem-seeking, which is seen as a ‘poorer cousin’ to problem-solving. Perhaps, providing an outcome is viewed as more important than the earlier creative process of identifying or seeking the problem. Of course, both of these innovative processes are required. Tacit or subtlety, as suggested by the four contributors, has relevance with implied and non-explicit actions, which may not be easily identifiable. To this end, the opposite end of the spectrum is explicit knowledge. Loughran (2009), referring to teaching, mentions that this educational activity has a strong tacit dimension and that it is the job of the teacher educator to make it explicit for the trainees to learn from. Equally, one may argue that subtle actions are difficult to describe or write down and maybe easier to impart by demonstration as a teaching strategy. One may think about such activities as riding a bicycle. Perhaps, the most quoted of sources concerning tacit know-how is Polanyi (1966) whose type of knowledge is of the scientific variety. From the perspective of this monograph, there are specific contributors whose journey making relates to the sciences such as nutritional therapy and occupational psychologist. For those in non-science-related occupations like acting, boardroom coaching, detecting executive coaching, knowledge strategist, leadership and management facilitating, management education and professional opinion leadership, a different conceptualisation of tacit knowledge is needed. Collins (2010) offers a typology of three forms of tacit know-how ranging from relational, somatic and collective ones. These were mentioned in Chapter 2. Included in the previous occupational list are those in business, leadership and management occupations. Perhaps, the two Japanese researchers, Nonaka and Takeuchi’s (1995), conceptualisation of the ‘four modes of knowledge conversion’ would be helpful. These modes include ‘socialisation’, ‘externalisation’, ‘combination’, and ‘internalisation’, which they call ‘knowledge spiral’. The reasons why their model has traction in understanding tacit know-how are they view knowledge eclectically to cover practitioners’ beliefs, theoretical or disciplinary knowledge, experiences, intuition, insights and hunches. The participants drawn from all levels of a business organisation are involved in this socially enhanced environment of close working, and it consists in socialising outside of office hours. Nonaka and Takeuchi’s (1995) approach to viewing tacit and explicit knowledge would enhance our understanding of the 11 practitioners in this monograph. Turning to those phrases indicated by three contributors, these include a community of practice (CoP), embodied approach, confidence, intuition, novel ideas and love/passion. CoP is part of the genre of phrases, which refers

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to the social contexts of occupational practices, which include learning and teaching. The learning concept of social constructivism, propounded by Vygotsky, Piaget and Bruner, argues that learning occurs within the social structures of the relevant stakeholders especially the learners and acknowledging and understanding where the learners are from will improve their learning activity. Vygotsky (1978) suggested the CoP concept where learners learn not in a vacuum but a socially oriented environment and thus affected their learning. He also offered the ZPD concept, which is favoured for understanding learning in apprenticeships and the training of clinicians. From the perspectives of the 11 contributors, CoP would also include their organisational settings, the stakeholders they deal with and even the broader environment that may affect their occupational practices. The embodied approach represents the concept of providing something tangible or concrete to an idea, expression, quality or notion, which may otherwise by intangible or invisible. This activity may be advantageous in facilitating learning for those who may not have the experiences and perceptions to comprehend a new expression or concept. Interestingly, only three participants mentioned confidence. One would think that this ability of one’s belief or trust in achieving the required outcome would be a prerequisite for a first step in a journey. Part of the journey making of these contributors would involve making several attempts to getting to where they want to be or are at presently. And these series of step changes include the whole being would require a degree of confidence. Perhaps, it would be interesting for other readers to understand the forms of confidence and the related factors that led up to the modifications in the contributors’ journey making to achieve what they had gone through. Intuition has already been mentioned alongside the earlier discussions of skill sets and tacit knowledge. Nonaka and Takeuchi’s (1995) concepts are pertinent to this phrase. Novel ideas are related to creativity and innovation, and these have been discussed in Chapter 2 on creative working, especially from the knowledge economy landscape. Love/ passion for the job is viewed as an attitude and related to this attitude is knowhow, which in this monograph covers a wide array of elements. This attitude is understated as it is obvious that such a positive frame of mind is needed in the pursuant of any goal and in this case, an occupational one. The final phrase that is mentioned by one contributor is trust. Trust may be viewed alongside confidence and love or passion as positive ability. In the case of Nonaka and Takeuchi (1995), their concept of belief may also be included in this genre of abilities to understand occupational practices. So far, we have delineated the 26 phrases that were used in the writing up of the 11 contributors. The next stage is to reduce these into a doable list of sub-themes before coming up with a shorter list of themes for discussion. Even at this stage, having read the above texts, one can envisage the possible connections between the phrases. Seven sub-themes were identified, and in no particular order, they are learning, know-how, social, attributes/attitudes/ capabilities, working, creativity and reflection.

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For the learning sub-theme, it includes informal and formal ones. The know-how sub-theme covers skill sets, cognition, knowledge, experiences and tacit/subtlety. Social sub-theme consists of social interaction, CoP, leadership and coaching. Attributes, etc. sub-theme includes confidence, trust, intuition and love/passion. The working sub-theme has these phrases: collaborative working, individual working, normative and formative working and embodied application. The penultimate sub-theme of creativity consists of problem-solving and novelty/ideas, and the final sub-theme of reflection includes phrases of thinking, journey making and transformation. The next stage of the data analysis encompasses four themes. They are work practices, learning, reflection and social. Regarding the work practices theme, the phrases include working, creativity, attributes and capabilities. In the second theme of learning, it covers learning, know-how, attributes and abilities. As one would have observed, there are commonalities between the two themes. These are attributes and capabilities. The third one – reflection – is also the seventh sub-theme, and the fourth theme is also the social subtheme. The rationale for not linking these to other themes is because these two sub-themes and themes are significant. Thus, equal discursive spaces are required for the final two themes, and the next section will discuss the themes using the case studies and supporting literature sources.

Discussion From the analysis above, it would make sense to try and classify the significant narratives from the 11 case studies from Chapter 4 into the four themes. On reflection, the four themes offer us a structured framework to think about the narratives and indeed this approach allows us later to create a conceptual framework, but the reality is the narratives are too interconnected for such a thematic approach. Thus, a joined-up discussion using literature sources from the earlier review chapters and the pertinent narratives is pursued. This discussion takes the forms of (a) delineating the observed interconnected dimensions of the 11 cases and (b) examining the two main themes of working practices and learning. We identify at least three connective aspects. The first connective dimension is creativity (Csikszentmihalyi, 1988; Gardner, 1999; Sternberg et al., 2004). Scholes (p. 108) mentioned this aspect (‘Work practices’ theme) when she referenced her professional practices: My learning from one helps to inform both my practice and my ongoing learning in another. I have not abandoned the learning from one in order to pursue a different career. For example, my formal legal training taught me to approach problems logically and objectively and look at problems from the bottom up and the top down.

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She referred to her ability to problem-seek and problem-solve regarding her legal training. However, Dennis (pp. 66–67) offers the unusual perspective as a management educator with his application of imitation, assimilation and innovation model, which inspired from his love of jazz playing. Dennis’s love of music and innovation in his music making is via his father, both as a musician and as a music educator. This form of enculturation was later refined and honed into his teaching of management: I began this journey exploring the jazz metaphor back in 2003 when I published my first paper. Back then I began imitating those scholars who were writing about the jazz metaphor in the organisational studies space, I relatively quickly moved to assimilation (by identifying a gap in the marketing literature) and introduced the jazz metaphor, but written from my perspective as a jazz musician. Innovation then subsequently followed by examining in depth my practice as an improviser and going beyond merely writing about jazz and its linkages with marketing discourse; I was indeed breaking down the intricate workings of the jazz group and exploring the infinite art of improvisation, in short, bringing the jazz metaphor to life. I took this a step further by developing my academic publications into practical workshops that I continue to deliver to my students and as an Executive Education package. I like to think that I continue to challenge orthodoxy in the management education space through arguing for alternative lenses to examine aspects of leadership and management discourse. My primary lens to achieve the latter is of course jazz music through the application of the jazz metaphor, based on a dissection of my own practice as a gigging musician. By doing this, I offer my strategy students (of all levels) an alternative view strategic management, drawing upon the principles of jazz and improvisation. Dennis’s innovative approach has resonance with Nonaka and Takeuchi’s study of innovative practices in Japanese companies. For Dennis, it is about acquiring through imitating his father’s approach to teaching jazz and assimilating his own experiences in hanging out with other jazz musicians to acquire the language of music making and playing and finally innovating resulting from these experiences. This three-stage process involves both explicit and tacit know-how as delineated by Nonaka and Takeuchi and their management-business research. They used the term “nommunication” (Nonaka and Takeuchi, 1995, p. 151) to describe this socialisation activity of drinking and communicating through the use of metaphors and analogies. Dennis, we presume, would equate with this enculturation approach whilst imitating and assimilating the world of jazz making through his years of observing his father and in particular being with jazz musicians in pubs and such like venues.

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In the ‘Learning’ theme by Toribio-Mateas (p. 114), it was critical thinking. The aspect of creativity and his clinical expertise are linked to his acquisition of informal knowledge and are part of his decision-making. This description may resonate with Kahneman’s (2012) system 2 of the decision-­making process as this requires a reflective element using his past occupational experiences, theoretical know-how and his continuous professional development. In the ‘Reflection’ theme, Toribio-Mateas (p. 125) described creativity as co-discovery, co-creation and adaptation. In the ‘Social contexts’ theme by Atter (pp. 41–42) as ‘off-piste’ questioning: I recall an exploratory meeting with a major financial services institution in Hong Kong. I had prepared a formal pack of data, with sample questions, key points, etc. However, when we went into the meeting, he ignored my briefing paper and began by asking the Board member across the table “… you like Jazz?” This was very new to me. I followed his lead and learned to go “offpiste” with the client. I started to reflect this in my contact reports and became ever more curious about what was going on outside the formal content of the meeting. Staying with Toribio-Mateas (pp. 113–114), there is also a leadership angle where he is operating in an emerging occupation of healthcare professional opinion leader. He is presented with daily challenges and opportunities and is exposed to complex problems in the real world. His abilities include adopting new and existing scientific knowledge and adapting to the challenges. This form of leadership may not be too removed from Sternberg et al.’s (2004) ‘integrating existing paradigms’ leadership style where the ideas from several disciplines are viewed as related and not as distinct, and they are integrated and made relevant to healthcare. Wate (p. 129) offers a different form of leadership skills with his setting up of a multi-agency system in England to access the ‘critical communities’ in facilitating his detective work in children social care. This leadership approach has similarities with Sternberg et al.’s (2004) ‘re-initiation leadership’ where Wate moves the police force in the safeguarding of children social care work to a different starting base by setting up a multi-agency system. The second connective example relates to formal and informal types of learning. These overlaps could be found in the ‘Work practice’ theme by Rees (p. 104) as her own learning pathway and Scholes (p. 108) as ongoing learning. In the ‘Learning’ theme, Rees (pp. 104–105) mentioned formal learning concerning reflexivity, private and formal forms of learning: The journey of formal learning that traces my increasing understanding and practice of reflexivity has witnessed me move from a student, first of languages and culture, then of health sciences to become a qualified healthcare therapist, and latterly a teacher and educator of therapeutic

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and communication skills, and reflective practice. Formal training, professional experience and practice have been unquestionably formative but must not hide the fact that ultimately I am developed to no greater extent via these processes than via my personal, spiritual and emotional journeyings – which lead to different ways of knowing (Seeley & Reason, 2008). Although learning since then has become more formal, my knowing remains dynamic, tacit and instinctual, bound up with who I am personally as well as who I discipline myself to be professionally (Nonaka and Takeuchi, 1995). The two leach into each other. It is the intertwining of formal with private learning, of the personal self and professional self that leads to the challenge of practitioner knowing and how to communicate it. Rees (p. 98) again in the ‘Reflection’ theme indicated the tensions that existed between formal and informal learning, whereas Toribio-Mateas (p. 116) used lifelong learning in his reflective practice. In the ‘Social contexts’ theme, Binks (p. 55) used the phrase self-managed learning. Self-managed learning as a philosophy is something that I use to inform my professional practice with groups of clients. It is also something that I use to inform my own learning. I develop my own knowledge best when working with other, curious professionals. We explore together, supporting the person, but also providing robust challenge to the thinking. We learn with and from each other in a way that is generous and generative, exploratory, uncomfortable and profoundly compassionate at times. Yes, I have internalised much of the practice that I have learnt over the years and can use my skill as a facilitator to facilitate my own learning. However, it is in the social space, the community of practice with its infinite variety and few if any easy answers where the real learning comes. The phenomenon of challenge from Macdonald (p. 91) offers different perspectives: negative challenging experiences at school and supportive challenges from family members, friends and a managing director of a company he worked for. Regarding his negative school experiences: School had a profound effect on my self-esteem, self-belief and future aspirations. It is little wonder that I struggled to think of what I wanted to do as I felt unable to do anything worthwhile. It is little wonder I joined the army as a basic soldier. Even when asked to go for a commission I refused the opportunity, as I knew how stupid I really was; after all, I had been taught that I was worthless. Schooling had convinced me that I was not academically minded, I was too stupid to be taught anything worthwhile, and that I would not go very far in life at all in terms of becoming successful or living up to

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my father’s ideas of success. The whole experience left me feeling a failure; schooling had a most damaging impact on my formative years and this from an institution, and people, who should have known better. However, his time in the British Army was a turning point for him when his commanding officer believed in his ‘Socratic questioning’ approach and his army experiences gave him the confidence to turn negative challenges to positive ones especially in Macdonald’s civilian career. These seemingly ‘everyday’ events will chime with readers who may have not dissimilar events in their lives especially the failure of their 11-plus examination at the final year of the English primary school education. And recovering from such adversities later in life is a remarkable testament to turning around a seemingly ‘dark cloud hanging over one’s head’ into something positive and fulfilling for oneself and with others. Werrett offers a slightly different challenge in her journey, not in her schooling, but at her university period: My appetite for learning started at a young age. An innate curiosity and conscientiousness coupled with a desire for recognition and reward encouraged me to work hard. Early success built self-belief and motivated me further. As a child of the seventies, learning involved passive reception of didactically transmitted knowledge. What Freire (2005) refers to as the banking approach to education. Whilst I undoubtedly gathered some useful knowledge and obtained the required qualifications, my early schooling and exam success were characterised by what is known as a surface approach to learning (Marton and Saljo, 1976) involving turgid memorisation and regurgitation of information, now mostly forgotten. This foundation left me ill-prepared for my university years studying a joint English/History degree where teaching was considerably less structured. The legacy was made more problematic by a chance conversation with a newly found acquaintance who planted a belief that university was predominantly a place to have fun and that working hard was no longer necessary. With only three hours a week of compulsory scheduled class contact and harbouring the assumption that I would get a degree regardless of my efforts, I struggled to motivate myself to undertake the required personal study. Gregarious by nature it felt alien to me at that time to sit for hours in a library attempting to read and digest books. Reading for me had always been a leisure activity and associated with relaxation so I struggled with the concept of passively reading as part of my study. Easily distracted and tired from a newly found social life I spent a disproportionate amount of time in the university library coffee shop. Werrett’s challenging time at university eventually turned for the better whilst working at a blue chip organisation where she developed her

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management skills, ethical values, time management abilities and effective relationships with employees and management. As part of the management team, she understood the relevance of the workplace politics. Like the challenging journeys of Rees, Macdonald and Werrett above, they are the fortunate ones who have managed to turn negative challenges into positive ones through the application of their intelligences (Gardner, 1999) and reflective abilities (Schön, 1987) amongst other perceived concepts of learning and work. However, there are also others who may not be as fortunate as the Reeses, the Macdonalds and the Werretts. We hope that this publication might in some way inspire them. Werrett describes a turning point in her life to be herself: Over time though, despite success in my chosen career and having achieved my original career goal, I became aware that something wasn’t quite right. I was stressed and frustrated by the politics and my lack of agency within large organisations and quickly grew bored with each new role I undertook, moving on quickly whenever a new opportunity presented itself. What was I running from? Where did I want to go? Around the same time personal digestive issues and the death of my mother caused me to reflect on what I wanted from life. I realised that my personal development was thwarted and that I was now hungry for a different type of opportunity, one that would afford me more agency and flexibility and that had the potential to fit alongside future family life. I grew interested in developing my own business and enjoyed the prospect of career success being more closely predicated on my own efforts. Around this time, a chance conversation with a friend sparked an interest in nutritional therapy this turned out to be a key turning point in my career history and a nourishing influence on my future learning and development. The above illustration by Werrett might almost be taken out of the leaf from Csikszentmihalyi’s (1988, p. 330) idea of a ‘rare event in life’ that could motivate one to start a creative action, like in Werrett’s case, to forge a new career path in nutritional therapy in order to be herself. As Csikszentmihalyi (1988) suggests, this creative act cannot be done by one alone as we live in a ‘socio-cultural system’. The know-how such as knowledge, experiences, abilities and skill sets are examined. The contributors mentioned experience in both learning and work. Due (p. 72) used her past work experiences when working for a UN agency. Hannah (p. 81) in the ‘Learning’ theme views her minutiae of everyday experiences as opportunities to understand the world better and apply to her acting. The essence of acting is ‘to hold, as ‘twere, the mirror up to nature,’ (Shakespeare’s Hamlet). Therefore, the minutiae of my everyday

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experiences become opportunities to understand the world better in order to represent it through art. I am fortunate that we live in a time where the product of my profession is wrapped into the fabric of our lives. Our leisure time is bound up with the cinema, theatre, radio – and most homes have a television or streaming device. It’s part of many people’s daily routine to wind down by watching something in the evenings. Television dramas, documentaries, the news, reality shows are all food for the hungry artist Staying with the ‘Learning’ theme, Scholes (pp. 105–106) sees her experiences as a common thread to the learning of her four professions. I have had careers in four professions: in chronological order, these are nursing, law, HR and executive coaching. The common thread, going through each of my experiences, is that each piece of learning adds to, and takes from, earlier learning experiences. Those learning experiences are a combination of formal learning and informal or situational learning. I put no more emphasis or importance on either one of those methods; it has been the combination of both that has been most beneficial to me in my career …. I should briefly say that what I mean by informal learning is not only the development of practical skills and experience through doing things and putting theory into practice, but also includes paying attention to what is going on in the moment and listening to those around me who can direct me to what is the next appropriate step. For Scholes, formal and informal learning are of equal importance. She uses her learning to put theory into practice. Alongside this approach, she observes and listens to direct her in her next step. Scholes views informal learning as having a qualitative basis, where she looks at previous experiences and past learning and finds patterns in them. The formal programme (in Chapter 3) offered at Middlesex University captured the formal (structured) and informal (occupation-related) learning elements where learners enrolled on this doctoral course to formalise their informal learning that they had gained from their professional practices. Part of the informal learning whilst gaining experiences on the job might also be reliant on formal knowledge gained from earlier academic learning. This conundrum of formal and informal learning is played out on the Middlesex programme. The intricate mix of the explicit and tacit nature of learning could also be viewed from Nonaka and Takeuchi’s (1995) four-stage sequence of their knowledge spiral. In a sense, the Middlesex programme is about bringing together the explicit and the tacit know-how and developing the practitioners as learners to become more insightful professionals within a formalised and supporting structure.

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Hannah’s (p. 88) learning includes from and with peers as a social activity: Another member of the cast and I were having a deep and meaningful conversation over some strong Sake one night when she revealed that she desperately wanted to improve and deepen her work. Another member of our company, the eminent Academy Award winning actor Ellen Burstyn, had actually co-founded Lee Strasberg’s illustrious American school for working actors in New York, The Actors Studio. So we asked her to lead some classes in The Method with us. What followed was a series of master classes on the Harold Pinter Theatre stage with those members of the cast who wished to join. Ellen talked us through exercises in sense memory. And then we later applied these skills to speeches. My dresser also joined the sessions as he was keen to learn. It was extraordinarily generous of Ellen, and such a privilege. But also a reminder that we never stop learning at any age, and can get fresh insight into our craft from taking another approach. Dennis’ (p. 62) learning to improvise occurs informally and formally, but it includes a socialisation dimension to it as with Hannah’s: For me, it was a combination of hanging around commercial musicians playing the Working Mens’ Clubs (my dad played seven nights a week most weeks, in various bands providing live musical accompaniment for cabaret acts), as well as some fine jazz musicians. I guess I learned a lot about music, life and culture generally in my childhood – particularly from some of the characters I met along the way is the Working Mens’ Clubs and I have no doubt that these early child hood experiences have contributed to my professional practice as both musician and educator. I learned very early on how to engage with people from diverse backgrounds, with a range of differing opinions. This, I feel helped shape my practice as a management educator in the fact I can appreciate and respond accordingly with a diverse range of learners e.g. from 1st year undergraduate students through to international students, through to senior leaders. Relatively soon after my initial meeting with Gerard in 1996, I began sitting in with various local jazz groups and ‘having a blow’. At that point, I was still very much finding my voice and both my technical ability on the trumpet and my knowledge of harmony etc. was still very much embryonic. What I did find, though, is the more I did this, the more I started to improve as a player and the more confident I became. Indeed, I was receiving feedback on my playing from experienced musicians; I was learning the rules of being part of a jazz combo and I was learning lots about the music in terms of its historical context. The formal learning I was undertaking with Gerard was now being augmented

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with more informal learning taking place in on the bandstand. I was imitating less and predominately assimilating in my improvisatory practice, steadily taking more risks in an attempt to innovate in a live performance setting. For Werrett (pp. 140–141), learning includes with peers as well as teaching: Although organisational weariness beckoned me towards a self-­ employed career, time soon showed that my destiny was to work with others. I found it isolating to work by myself. As a newly qualified nutritional therapist, I craved the opportunity to engage with peers, to discuss cases and to build new knowledge based on such encounters. In constructivist terms, knowledge is generated socially through interaction with others …. Teaching as a way of learning is well established. Bringing to mind what we have previously studied leads to deeper and longer lasting retention of material studied than simply just revisiting material (Duran, 2016). Preparing material for seminars meant that I had to find ways to simplify the concepts to make them easier for students to grasp. I had to make my tacit knowledge explicit. In order to do this I used metaphors, analogies and visual depictions to help my students to comprehend the key a points; a process that Nonaka and Takeuchi (1995) describe as externalisation. This process benefited not only the students but also helped me to embed many concepts that I do not believe I would otherwise be so comfortable with. Perhaps this is because as Gartner, Kohler and Riessmann (1971) argue, that learning for one’s own benefit and learning to teach others involve different cognitive processes. The above exemplars highlight the diversity of learning approaches, whether they involve formal and informal learning, learning in a controlled setting of Hannah’s workshops or Dennis’ ‘having a blow’ jazz sessions or Werrett’s more structured learning as a nutritional therapy practitioner or educator. These are learning in social settings with differing locations, needs, stakeholders, practices and know-how, which may lead to some degree of transformation (Greenfield and Lave, 1982; Coffield, 2000; Kegan, 2000; Mezirow, 2000; Jarvis, 2006; Illeris, 2007). These examples of social learning provide a logical connection to the third connection dimension of ‘Social contexts’ theme. Such examples were identified in the ‘Work practice’ theme (by Due, p. 72), in the ‘Learning’ theme (by Hannah, p. 81) and in the ‘Social contexts’ theme (by Atter, pp. 41–42 and Wate, p. 129). Due’s (p. 72) work (‘Work practice’ theme) in the developing nation exemplifies the social element in her engagement with different stakeholders with

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their cultural and ethical dimensions and her first-hand experiences of social justice, welfare and political systems. The last year of my contract I spent in a field office where I was more involved in practical work and got hands-on experience from working in a developing country with local people. My work in development cooperation and in a developing country was a unique experience that has had a lasting professional and personal impact on me. Working with people from different cultures was exciting but also challenging, and I had to become more tolerant and able to adapt to different situations. My interpersonal sensitivity increased, and I became more aware of the importance of understanding and respecting ethical codes of different cultures. My worldview changed because of this experience as I got a much broader perspective of life and a better understanding of the issues of poverty, underdevelopment and development assistance. At the same time, I learned to better appreciate the social justice and welfare and political stability of developed societies. Referring to moral values, for Scholes (p. 108), ethics offers her a common thread across her four professions, and her abiding career decision is asking the question, is what I am doing ethical? Thus, ethics is her moral and professional compass. The social dimension is heightened in Hannah (p. 81) acting career where television dramas, documentaries, the news, reality shows, plays, films and radio programmes are all food for her professional development. From the ‘Social contexts’ theme, in Atter’s (p. 42) case, his understanding of Asia covers extensive reading on the subject, enrolling on language classes, watching movies, visiting cultural sites and consuming the related cuisine that are all ways of understanding and getting acquainted with the location where he operates in. For Wate (p. 132), the setting up of sub-groups is a way of understanding and accessing these communities of practices for his detective work. The above examples reinforce the connectedness of the four identified themes of ‘Work practice’, ‘Learning’, Reflection’ and ‘Social contexts’. In addition to work practice as a theme, it also covered collaborative and individual working styles (Nonaka and Takeuchi, 1995; Reich, 2001), normative, formative and innovative/creative working (Csikszentmihalyi, 1988; Sternberg et al., 2004; Kemmis and Green, 2013; Evans, 2016; Loo, 2018), attributes, attitudes and skill sets (Eraut, 2004). Atter and Due mentioned the two working styles. Atter (p. 44) described the close working relationships with Mr Chu where trust, as an attribute, was essential. Due (p. 72) worked independently in a developing country, and that taught her

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self-confidence. Other qualities, attitudes and skill sets (know-how) were fostered and heightened through collaborative working with local people in the developing country. The know-how included tolerance, ability to adapt, interpersonal sensitivities to understanding and respecting ethical codes of the different cultures resulting in changes in her world view and appreciation of social justice, welfare and political stability in the developing world. At the same time, Due (p. 72) admitted that working in this manner was challenging. Staying with the attribute and trust, Atter trusted his colleague, Mr Chu, whereas, Macdonald (p. 93) was trusted by his managing director of an organisation on learning and performance. Trust can be a two-way street. Binks (pp. 50–51) mentioned intuition [as mentioned by Nonaka and Takeuchi (1995)] as a work-related attribute. One can’t talk about experience without connecting to what is commonly referred to as intuition. How do experts make judgements without going through the laborious process of ‘working it out’? Is it just rapid pattern recognition, or is it more than that? How does intuition turn experience into a creative resource in the moment? … which whilst possibly associative, has a much greater degree of insight. The quality of insight is something that seems key to me as a practitioner …. The first is holistic intuition which is derived from different sources of data and integrated in a gestalt. This seems to consider the complexity of the situation and gives a way of thinking about what is paid attention to; what is foreground or background, figure or ground …. The second is inferential intuition, which would seem to be based on previous analytical processes having become automatic … the final one is affective intuition, essentially having a feeling about a situation, good or bad. Whilst I concur that emotions are a very useful source of data; I would contend that the amount of emotional intelligence required to discern between what is actually about the situation in front of you and your own biases and projections is considerable, and not that common. She distinguished three intuition varieties: holistic, inferential and affective (Pretz, 2014). The first variety is derived from different sources of data, and these are integrated in a gestalt manner. The middle type is based on past analytical processes, which have become automatic, and the third type relates to a feeling about the situation. Scholes (p. 108) describes her use of intuition as from critical incidents and critical reflection, heavily underpinned by the initial formal training and qualifications, and, importantly for me, listening to the situation. The formal training was usually the first step in acquiring sufficient knowledge and developing basic skills to be able

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to practice competently at the entry level of my profession. The qualifications and practice certificates I gained in nursing and law signified to me and others that I had sufficient knowledge and skills to practice safely and ethically. This know-how is perhaps new to the findings by Eraut (2004) and Winch (2014) but not to Nonaka and Takeuchi (1995, p. 11) where the informal learning of know-how focuses on “highly subjective insights, intuitions and hunches that are gained through the use of metaphors, pictures and experiences”. Scholes (p. 113) also used the phrase, ‘greed for new experiences and knowledge’ is surprising as this attribute has typically negative connotations, and here, it offers a positive slant. An observation of the narratives in the 11 case studies is the similarity of the know-how in both working and learning situations. Scholes (p. 113) again emphasised resilience, curiosity, willingness to try something new and the fear of missing out, kindness and the patience of others in giving her opportunities. Toribio-Mateas (p. 125) mentioned open-mindedness as an attribute for him to explore creatively, which he used to co-discover, co-­ create and adapt accordingly (Maguire, 2015). Scholes (p. 106) and ToribioMateas (p. 123) included serendipity as part of their armoury of know-how. They viewed this feature as an aptitude for seeking new ideas and discoveries by chance. However, one may suggest that this may not just be down to luck but having the antennae to ideas and opportunities and using them to their advantage. This approach has resonance with an unconscious problem-­ seeking and problem-solving, which Csikszentmihalyi (1988) and Gardner (1999) would appreciate. This aspect of creativity has been discussed earlier. Binks (pp. 51–53) offers insightful descriptions of reflection and work practices, which lead to her approach of co-facilitation with colleagues: As a professional facilitator and consultant, reflective practice is something that I both use myself and encourage other practitioners to use. I am taking reflective practice as a particular element within learning from experience, as it is seen as an essential tool in the continued development of a number of professions including teaching, facilitation and social work …. This knowing in action seemed to be characterised by Schön as intuitive, ‘artful’, something cultivated with experience and used spontaneously …. I find myself drawing predominantly on my knowledge of facilitation, adult learning, psychology and leadership. Much of this is happening on the experiential and imaginal levels of knowing and perhaps even on the transpersonal. As such, more of a challenge to process cognitively, or at least linguistically. This relates to the above discussion of intuition. My accumulated experiences are available for me to draw on, without needing to be fully consciously aware. This is a fascinating

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experience; it is akin to putting my hand into a lucky dip and coming up with just the thing for that moment …. This final element, reflection on action, is perhaps what most people are familiar with and where reflective practice often begins. This idea of reflection on action doesn’t have to occur removed from the experience but is often seen as something that happens after an interval of time, perhaps only a few minutes, but even overnight …. This goes back, for me, to the social processes of learning, the reflection after the fact and the sharing of that reflection is still a useful aspect of learning, if not the whole picture …. I would consider the act of co-facilitation with colleagues from a variety of backgrounds and schools of thought, to be the single biggest source of my professional learning …. The joy of having been afforded the opportunity to work in an environment where there is an overt focus on the practice and principles of facilitation is perhaps a rare one. The above narrative by Binks covers several themes of social learning (including co-facilitation as a deliverer), working in a community of practice, reflection and transformation. In short, the encompassing passage offers a birds eye view of this research monograph. The final point concerns the future of work. Due (p. 79) offered her vision of this in the forms of interdisciplinary know-how and the offer of education on team working. Due’s idea is not too dissimilar to Loo’s (2017) findings in his research on creative workers. He suggested that these workers’ know-how ought to be multidisciplinary and that higher education institutions should provide collaborative working and learning, including in assessments. In summary, the discussions have centred on two identifiable spectra from the four themes. The first one relates to work practices: the normative and innovative/creative types. The second spectrum refers to the learning theme. The two ends of this learning spectrum are formal (including professional inquiry) and informal forms. And within the concept of the learning spectrum, we could argue that there are further related theories of learning. These are lifelong learning and transformational learning. Both formal and informal learning types situate in the lifelong learning concept as learning occurs throughout the lifetime of a person. However, a person will achieve only certain stages of Kegan’s five stages of transformational learning. As estimated by Kegan (Kegan and Lahey, 2016), the fifth and final stage – the self-­ transforming mind – might only be achieved by less than 1% of the population and seldom before their late 1950s or 1960s. Perhaps, connecting work and learning is reflective practice as identified by our contributors. Unlike Schön’s (1991) conceptualisation of his reflection-in-action as having a ‘conversation with the situation’, for some of our contributors (e.g. Binks, Dennis, Hannah, Scholes and Werrett), this involved more of a socialisation process with other stakeholders as well as self-reflection. This socialisation activity may be different to Schön’s more cognitive approach. Lastly, we might observe that

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the social contexts such as sociocultural, economic and political dimensions would affect the participants’ work practices and learning landscapes. In the next section, a conceptual framework will be delineated.

A conceptual framework of occupational education: Occupational practices, (informal) learning (and teaching) This research monograph focuses on informal learning, professional inquiry and occupational education from an epistemological perspective. Two spectra were observed. The first spectrum is related to work practice, which is connected to the participants’ professional inquiry regarding their work and their occupational roles (part of occupational education). The other spectrum refers to learning, and again, this relates to the three aspects of the book title. Connecting to the two spectra is the relevance and importance of knowledge. Knowledge is widely defined in this book, and thus the epistemological reference in the book title. These two activities – work practice and learning – are affected by the social, cultural, economic and political landscapes. This perceived structure is merely a device to help us to think about this investigation and is by no means discrete. As we have pointed out earlier, the work practices, learning, reflection and social contexts are interconnected, and thus they need to be viewed as a whole entity, where one aspect (e.g. work) cannot operate without the other (e.g. learning). The conceptual framework (Figure 5.1) is based on the literature review chapters (Chapters 2 and 3) and the 11 case studies in Chapter 4. Learning (OECD, 1996; Commission of the European Communities, 2007; Illeris, 2007), for this investigation, may be viewed as a spectrum of formal (by researchers such as Clarke and Winch, 2004) and informal learning (by researchers such as Greenfield and Lave, 1982; McGivney, 1999; Hager, 2004; Jarvis, 2006) forms. Thus, we envisage a spectrum of learning with the one end showing formal learning, and the other, informal learning. Of course, this is a continuum where the division of the two forms of learning is not clear-cut, and the apparent division is dependent on the contexts of learning-, work- and socio-related dimensions. For example, Rees (p. 105) described this learning continuum as “the two [formal and informal] leach into each other. It is the intertwining of formal with private learning, of the personal self and professional self that leads to the challenge of practitioner knowledge and how to communicate it”. For Rees, the connectedness of the learning types is evident together with the epistemological aspect and identities (though, personality is outside the scope of this investigation). For Scholes (p. 105), “Those learning experiences are a combination of formal learning and informal or situational learning. I put no more emphasis or importance on either one of those methods; it has been the combination of both that has been most beneficial to me in my career”. She provides an even-handed perspective of these learning forms.

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Figure 5.1  A conceptual framework of occupational education: Occupational practices, (informal) learning (and teaching).

However, within this learning spectrum (as a vertical one in Figure 5.1), practitioners learn throughout their lives as a child via experiences, formal education, life experiences and at work and beyond. This idea of lifelong learning (OECD, 1996) is an additional dimension to the learning spectrum. The other aspect is transformational learning (Kegan, 1982; Kegan and Lahey, 2009) where a person’s education may be viewed as a five-step scheme

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with the hardest step – the self-transforming mind – to attain. Rees (p. 98) alluded to some of Kegan’s transformational learning stages in her description of journaling activity. The germination of reflective practitioner knowledge for me was incidental to life events. These events unceremoniously pulled assumptions up from under me and shattered paradigms, pushing me to reflect for survival. As a child, I mimicked my mother, keeping a diary consistently every day of every year from nine years old until my early twenties. Although the activity was unstructured and free-flowing, I came to understand the cathartic nature of writing reflectively very young, and found value early, which helped me maintain this discipline. The content of my diaries illustrates my development through the stages of consciousness as outlined by Kegan (Love and Guthrie, 1999), with early writing exploring self-categorisation, bound by self-interest (no abstract thinking) and later writings demonstrating a developed sense of behavioural expectations and social awareness, but still immature in terms of a sense of responsibility and true consideration of others. The horizontal spectrum (in Figure 5.1) refers to the professional/occupational practices of work. Residing at one end is normative practice (Figure 5.2) (Kemmis and Green, 2013; Evans, 2016; Loo, 2018) and at the other end, innovative/creative practice (Drucker, 1993; Nonaka and Takeuchi, 1995; Reich, 2001; Zuboff, 2004; Loo, 2017). These work practices might be performed individually or collectively/collaboratively.

Figure 5.2  A conceptual framework of normative occupational/work practices.

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Concerning normative occupational practice (Figure 5.2), Rees (p. 101) used ‘the availability bias’ to describe practitioners’ standard mode of operating/working ‘inside a box within which they feel comfortable’. Toribio-Mateas (p. 117) insisted the term “is paramount in the context where I operate as a clinical practitioner, where I find myself needing to implement newly generated evidence into my practice”. This form of making disciplinary knowledge relevant to his practice may be associated with Bernstein’s (1996) recontextualisation process where knowledge is modified, translated and relocated to Toribio-Mateas’ practice. We envisage, for normative practice, a possible three-tier structure of practices. From the bottom upwards, are the past occupational experiences, i.e. experiences of previous work practices such as in a different professional capacity (e.g. Scholes’ earlier occupations in nursing, law and human resource management). The middle tier refers to a practitioner’s current occupational practice, and the top-level relates to pedagogic roles (where 7 of the 11 practitioners have some form of teaching/ coaching activities). For each of the three tiers, there involves similar recontextualisation processes. One is content recontextualisation where disciplinary knowledge is made relevant to the current practice (may it be teaching or professional), and this know-how is again modified in readiness for practice. One may view the first process as relating to curriculum development and the other process, for carrying out work practices. For the second recontextualisation process for each of the three tiers, knowledge of the organisation/ institution such as its protocols, systems and related professional regulations etc. are pertinent to the work practice along with the modified disciplinary knowledge. Scholes (p. 105) encapsulated this by indicating it is “putting theory onto practice”. In the final tier on teaching, all the know-how from the three practices come together to provide a final process – Integrated Applied Recontextualisation – where the accumulated know-how (integrated applied pedagogic knowledge) is applied to teaching and the related strategies such as demonstration, peer learning and role play are chosen to fit the specific part of the curriculum and the occupational context. The innovative/creative work practice may be viewed as four quadrants with two dimensions of individual-collaborative working styles, and single and multi-contexts of work (Loo, 2017). The first dimension is self-­ explanatory. The other refers to contexts such as reliance on technologies in the workplace, the use of multi-media platforms (e.g. Facebook, TV, cinema and internet), teaching and adhering to several sets of regulations in the production of a product or a service. In each of the quadrants, the relevant knowledge type as exemplified by Drucker (the technologist), Zuboff (the informated worker), Nonaka and Takeuchi (the knowledge-creating crew) and Reich (the geek and shrink) apply. Embedded in the quadrants are the creative dimensions of Csikszentmihalyi’s system’s view of creativity (1988), Gardner’s multiple intelligences, Sternberg et al.’s (2004) ‘propulsion model of creative leadership’, and von Hippel’s (2006) ‘democratisation of

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innovation’. For example, the quadrant of the individual working and single context, a nutritional therapist might be working with a client on a specific diet. Another quadrant of collaborative working and multi-contexts might involve a transport strategist working on a large project in a developing country covering road, rail and air transport systems alongside collaborating with several stakeholders of local people, NGOs and other international agencies. Both these normative and creative work practices and learning spectra require know-how. Know-how is defined as knowledge (disciplinary, pedagogic, tacit and explicit), experiences (occupational, life and pedagogic), and attributes, attitudes and skill sets (Clandinin, 1985; Shulman, 1987; Bernstein, 1996; Eraut, 2004; Loughran et al., 2003; Loo, 2012; Winch, 2014). The diverse range of attributes, attitudes and skill sets has been covered in the previous section. Examples of the know-how include confidence, curiosity, empathy, ethical stance, greed for new experiences and knowledge, interpersonal sensitivity, intuition, kindness, open-mindedness, patience, problem seeking and solving, resilience, serendipity, trust, tolerance and willingness to try. Finally, the two spectra would be affected by the social, cultural, economic and political contexts (Figure 5.1). To illustrate from the 11 contributors, Due (p. 72) gave an insightful account of “working with people from developing country … with people from different cultures … to better appreciate the social justice and welfare and political stability of developed societies”. For Atter (p. 42), he mentioned his quest for “or cultural sites. I mentioned this in meetings. I would ask them something I’d seen, perhaps a museum, historical site, a movie or a new restaurant. I noted down their reactions and the personal anecdotes that this often evoked”.

Summary In this chapter, the narratives from the 11 case studies were discussed using the literature sources from the earlier literature review chapters, which led to the conceptualisation of work/occupational practices and learning.

Chapter 6

Reflections of (informal) learning in occupational practices

Introduction We are at the end of this investigation. Chapter 1 set up the broad aims of this monograph in studying the journey making of the 11 participants within one occupation or between professions. It also defined the four terms of the book title. In Chapter 2, the literature reviews on informal and formal learning approaches and the work/occupational practices – normative and creative/ innovative – were carried out to support the discussion chapter: Chapter 4. In Chapter 3, a professional inquiry approach centring on the Middlesex University programme was discussed. In Chapter 4, the 11 participants provided perspectives of their occupational journeys and using these narratives along with supporting literature sources in a discussion in Chapter 5. The outcome of this discussion resulted in conceptualising a model of work/ occupational practices and learning. We argued that learning and working are intricately connected. Within this complexity of learning and working, the connection might be envisaged as two spectra of agencies. One referred to the learning spectrum where informal and formal learning approaches were featured, and the connectedness of the two methods was dependent on such contexts as the nature of the work, location, working culture and stakeholders. Similarly, the professional practice spectrum might be viewed as having two ends of the continuum of normative or everyday working style and creative/innovative working style. With the professional practice, a teaching dimension exists for the majority of the participants. Perhaps, this trend is symptomatic of the ever connectedness of occupational practice and learning. In short, these three activities are occupational education as delineated in Chapter 2. As with the other range, the line of demarcation was uncertain and dependent on the related contexts. The two spectra ought to be perceived as interconnected and within the two dimensions of learning and work, where social, cultural, economic and political factors at play. We started from the standpoint of subscribing to Hager’s (2004) call for a more balanced approach to learning and the acquisition and application

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of know-how for occupational and in occupational practices. This more nuanced approach was in contrast to Clarke and Winch’s (2004) more sequential and front-loaded approach of formal learning, followed by informal learning. From our investigation, education and work were found to be intricately connected; these might be formal or informal learning and overlapping know-how (though there were slight differences for learning and work practices) and normative and innovative work practices. These activities seep into each other. The connectedness of the actions is affected by the related learning and work contexts alongside the broader social contexts. Know-how included knowledge (theoretical/disciplinary, pedagogic and occupational practices), experiences (as mentioned and including life experiences), attitudes, attributes and skill sets. This eclectic definition of knowhow offered the investigation scope to conceptualise a model of learning and work practices. For us, know-how is the glue that binds learning and work. We are thankful to the editorial staff for suggesting the inclusion of ‘an epistemological perspective’ to the research monograph title. Much of the quoted narratives offered readers insights, understanding and hope to those wanting to take the plunge to change professions, lifestyles, etc. to be themselves. Perhaps, one observation of note resulting from this book was the added social dimension of reflective practice as exemplified by Schön’s (1991) more cognitive and individual-based reflection-in-action and reflection-on-­ action. There are other areas for further research. They are the relationships between explicit and tacit know-how and the supportive structures for those cavorting between occupations and within a profession. Others cover the possible connections between insights, intuition, hunches and beliefs as espoused by Nonaka and Takeuchi (1995) in framing learning and work and the educational offers to sustain and enhance such practices with the growing prominence and job reliance on informational, communications and electronic technologies. There may be an argument that Schön’s (1991) reflective practices are connected to the know-how of Nonaka and Takeuchi’s (1995) ‘four modes of knowledge conversion’ and Collins’ (2010) ‘collective tacit knowledge’. From the 11 contributions, we may distinguish two social varieties for further exploration. One refers to an immersive kind with others as a mechanism for collective learning (by Atter, Binks, Dennis and Hannah) where know-how resides with people. The other variety concerns know-how within the social contexts but, perhaps, one that is more driven by individuals for collective sharing and growing as exemplified by Due, Scholes and Wate. Perhaps, we as academics, who are interested in occupational education, should also consider the potential readers for this book. One group, in particular, which springs to mind as a result of us attending a recent learning technologies exhibition in London, is technologists with connections to learning who may benefit from accessing these findings. These technologists might want to consider developing their occupational expertise in a formalised approach, thus reflecting and re-energising practice with theory.

172  Reflections of (informal) learning

As this book is, perhaps, distinctive in its focus on occupational education encompassing work, learning and teaching from a professional perspective, further publications would only add to this debate. We should end by offering readers two images for consideration. The first refers to the witches’ cauldron in Shakespeare’s the Scottish play and the chanting of the verses, “Double double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble” (in Macbeth, Act 4 Scene 1). This image has parallels with this study. ‘Toil’ implicit in the case studies is behind the success stories of our contributors’ journeys, and some like Macdonald, Rees and Werrett are perhaps more candid, with the ‘challenges’ in their journey makings. ‘Toil’ may also be referenced to Thomas Edison’s quote of “What it boils down to is one per cent inspiration and ninety-nine per cent perspiration” (Newton, 1987, p. 24). The hard graft of making successes of their journeys is implicit in this study and one, which should not be overlooked. “Bubble” also has connotations in the creative arena, occupational and life experiences where the participants imbibe these experiences like in Hannah’s case as an actor, and be able to connect her past relevant experiences with her previous emotional states to enact new interpretations in her acting roles. This image of constant bubbling of the vibrant cauldron of know-how (as opposed to the exotic ingredients such as fillet of a fenny snake, adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting and howlet’s wing, described by Shakespeare!) in our contributors’ journeys begins from an early age. The journey making, whether consciously or unconsciously, and the experiences are stored away and retrieved when needed. This image is also pertinent to creative workers, such as advertising creative who imbibe life experiences ready to be refashioned for use in an advertising campaign (Loo, 2017). The fire cooking this rich soup of knowhow might be motivations whether these are coming from within the individuals or fuelled by external sources. In Werrett’s case, it was a mixture of both (i.e. self, death of her mother and conversation with a friend) in becoming a nutritional therapist. The scene depicted in this Scottish play might be dark or sinister. Still, this image also provides a part of one’s journey where not everything is bright and optimistic and being aware of this and overcoming this by actions offer that person a possible movement towards achieving her/his goal. And lastly, this image involves people, the three witches in this case and, for our study, the relevant stakeholders. Learning and work occur in social environments. The second image is by the French painter, Nicolas Poussin’s, ‘Dance to the Music of Time’ painting (Ingamells, 1989). This painting offers a happier scene than that depicted by Shakespeare. Here are four figures representing the four seasons joined together with their hands in a circular dance. This picture is a dance of time (as depicted by a lyre), which has resonance with lifelong activities like learning and work. The painting is also about life and journey, which is apt for our study where work and learning are constituents of the contributors’ experiences and their adventures. Poussin’s painting and

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our research are about the depiction of dance/journey involving people (and by implication, enculturation process). Furthermore, the four figures are facing outwards. Perhaps, one can equate this stance with attitudes like curiosity, open mindlessness and confidence, which are featured in our study. Even the presence of Bacchus, the Greek god of winemaking, has resonance with the informal activities (of work and learning) of Nonaka and Takeuchi’s (1995, p. 151) ‘nommunication’ and Dennis’s ‘imitate, assimilate and innovate’ jazz making of ‘having a blow’ with jazz musicians in public venues. Like in the previous image, this painting involves people and the surrounding elements of land, building, flora and fauna. Like with our 11 contributors, the dance by the four figures occurred in a social setting. Both these images are allegories, analogies and metaphors, which might be connected to our study of the complexities of work and learning in enculturated settings.

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Index

academe 26–35 actor 81 Adair, J. 127 Alderson, P. 108 artificial intelligence 26 Arnone, M. 33 assimilate 56 Atkins, S. 147 Atter, A. 36–47, 154, 161–162, 169, 171 Bandura, A. 139 Banks, F. 21 Barnett, M. 22 Barron, J. 62–63 Bassot, B. 100 Bell, D. 23 Belloc, H. 107 Bennett, N. 148 Bennis, W. 68 Berliner, P. 58 Berlyne, D. 32 Bernstein, B. 18, 20–22, 169 Billett, S. 18–19 Binks, S. 47–55, 155, 162–164, 171 Blake, T. 98 Boucher, C. 143 Brockett, R. 11 Brookfield, S. 2, 28, 68, 104 Brown, J. 98 Brown, P. 147 Brown, S. 64–66 Brown, V. 2, 28 Bukosky, V. 88 Burrell, G. 3 Callaghan, J. 9 Candy, P. 11 Carroll, J. 114

Carroll, L. 105, 113 Castells, M. 23, 148 Charles, J. 98 Chia, R. 144 civil engineering 71 Clandinin, J. 21, 169 Clarke, A. 114 Clarke, L. 18, 165, 171 coaching/coach 45, 47 Coffiled, F. 12, 160 Cohen, L. 3 Colby, A. 69 Colley, H. 9 Collins, H. 21, 147, 150, 171 Collins, M. 11 Comenius, J. 140 Commission of the European Communities 1, 8–9, 12, 15, 165 Commonwealth of Australia 148 continuous professional development (CPD) 16–17 Covey, S. 131, 136 creativity 114–115, 120, 149, 152, 154 critical incident 110–112, 143 Croitoru, A. 119 Crook, H. 61 Csikszentmihalyi, M. 4, 18, 24, 150, 152, 157, 161, 163, 168 Dale, M. 18 Dall’alba, G. 101, 103 Davies, C. 129 Davis, M. 70 Day, H. 32 Dennis, N. 56–70, 153, 159–160, 164, 171, 173 Department for Children Schools and Families (DCSF) 134

Index 187 detective 125 development cooperation 73 Dewey, J. 34 Dilts, R. 98 drama 81 Drucker, P. 18, 23, 149, 167–168 Dreyfus, H. 29, 34, 103, 109, 138, 148–149 Duane, B. 141 Due, M. 70–80, 157, 160–162, 164, 169, 171 Duran, D. 141 Dweck, D. 46 Edmondson, A. 116 Ellsworth, E. 117 emotional intelligence 92, 95, 107, 146, 149 Engestrom, Y. 36 English, I. 148 epistemological perspective 3–4 Epstein, S. 50 Eraut, M. 18–19, 147, 161, 163, 169 Erickson, K. 124 Ericsson, A. 128, 130 ethics 108, 169 Evans, K. 18, 21–22, 147, 149, 161, 167 executive coaching 105 Finlay, L. 140 flexicurity 9, 15 Foundation Study Infant Death (FSID) 133–134 Fox, J. 133 Freire, P. 12, 137 Frontier Economics Limited 21 Gardner, H. 4, 18, 24–25, 157, 163, 168 Gartner, A. 141, 149, 152 Gigerencer, G. 128 Gilbert, J. 119 globalization 8 Goleman, D. 24, 149 Gouthro, P. 103 Graham, I. 117 Greenfield, P. 11, 160, 165 Greenhalgh, T. 117–118 Greenwood, J. 147 Grotowski, J. 83 Grow, G. 143 Haddad, G. 125 Hager, P. 18, 116, 124, 165, 170 Hamilton, M. 116

Han, Y. 141 Hannah, B. 81–89, 157–161, 164, 171–172 Heimback, D. 116 Her Majesty’s Stationery Office (HMSO) 148 Herbert, C. 52 Hernández-Romero, L. 114 Higgs, J. 17 Hildreth, P. 98 Iding, M. 119 Illeris, K. 9, 13–15, 18, 20, 160, 165 imitate 56 Ingamells, J. 172 innovate 56, 173 Jarvis, P. 11, 160, 165 journaling 36–37, 86, 98–99, 146 Kahneman, D. 22–23, 149, 154 Kashdan, T. 33 Kaufman, J. 115 Kegan, R. 2, 12–15, 18–19, 28, 55, 96, 98, 103, 147, 160, 164–165, 167 Keith, N. 116 Kemmis, R. 22–23, 149, 161, 167 Kilman, R. 142 Kline, N. 111 knowledge 3, 11–12, 17, 19, 29, 36, 38, 71, 79, 84, 91, 93, 95, 97, 100, 106, 108–109, 113, 116–117, 133, 136, 144, 147, 157, 171; abilities (cognitive) 22–24, 71, 116–117, 147–148, 151, 157; acquaintance 116; aptitude 127; aspirations 71, 75; attitudes 22, 29, 148, 171; attributes 152, 171; base 21, 129, 141; beliefs 13, 21, 91, 99, 102, 151; capabilities 22, 72, 152; capacities 17, 147; curiosity 31, 113, 137, 169; co-facilitation 52; commercial 106; confidence 71, 92, 108–109, 146, 151, 169; declarative 142; development 78; disciplinary 21, 80, 108, 129, 147, 171; discourses (horizontal and vertical) 20; dispositions 23; economy 23; educational 21, 147; embodied 103; emotions 83, 89, 111; empathy 107, 109, 169; enthusiasm 72; experiences 13, 21–24, 27, 49, 76, 89, 95, 104–110, 113, 116, 146, 148, 157, 169, 171; expertise 38, 51, 117, 148; explicit 18, 21, 24, 147, 171; gut feeling 128; informal

188 Index 117; intentions 13; intelligences 147; intuitions 29, 50–51, 101, 103, 108, 146, 148, 151, 169; kindness 113, 169; knowhow 18, 22–23, 80, 99, 102, 147–148, 169, 171; knowledgeable practice 22; life 147; motivation 75; needs 76, 78; occupational 147; open-mindedness 125, 169; passion/love 146, 152; patience 113, 169; patterns 107; pedagogic 22, 147, 171; perseverance 139; personal practical 21, 130; practitioner 97, 101, 108; professional 19, 55, 136; recontextualising 47; resilience 113, 169; scientific 21; self- 55; sensitivities 111, 169; situated-specific practical wisdom 118; skill/skill sets 11–12, 19, 22–24, 26, 29, 53, 78, 82, 88, 91, 95, 97, 101, 105, 108–109, 123, 127, 142, 146–148, 157, 171; strategist 80; systematic 19; tacit 18, 21, 24, 27, 116, 118, 137, 146–147, 150, 171; teaching 21; technical 17, 80, 146–147; tolerance 169; transfer 19; translation 117; trust 146, 151, 169; understanding 91, 95, 97, 104; ways of knowing 17; willingness to try 113, 169; work (normative and creative) 21–24, 146, 149 Knorr Cetina, K. 23, 148 Knowles, M. 27, 139 Kuhn, T. 117 Lash, S. 23 Lau, R. 115 Lave, J. 132 leadership 75, 90 leadership and management consultancy 90 learning 1, 15, 72, 81, 94, 104, 106, 125, 129, 131, 134, 136, 164–165, 170; as a way of life 81; challenges 94; continuous 80, 125; doing 86; expansive 36; experiential 56–57, 136; explicit 116; formal 8–9, 18, 57, 59–60, 80, 83–84, 100, 104–105, 107–108, 113, 116, 120, 136, 146, 148, 152, 154, 158; from mistakes 119; improvise 58–59, 61; informal 1–2, 7–15, 18, 36, 56–57, 59–60, 80, 100, 103, 105, 107, 109, 112–113, 116, 120, 145–146, 148, 152, 158, 170; lifelong 7–8, 15, 103, 116; listening to the situation 108, 113; non-formal 7, 10; ongoing 86, 105, 108; online 79; on the job 107, 109,

113, 116; private 105; role-play 89; rote 106; self-managed 55, 155; situated 105, 107; sources 49; theoretical 107, 171; to trust 44; transdisciplinary 116; transformational 143, 147, 160; transformative 12–13, 30, 116, 146–147; unlearn 125; workplace 18–20 Lehrer, K. 116 Levine, M. 61 Lewis, S. 117 licence to practice 108 Livingstone, D. 12 Locke, R. 67 Lohman, M. 18 Loo, S. 1–35, 145–173 Lossl, J. 98 Loughran, J. 21, 150, 169 Love, P. 98, 103, 167 Macaulay, M. 58 Macdonald, P. 90–97, 155, 157, 162, 172 Maguire, K. 114, 125, 163 Malloch, M. 18 management educator 66–67, 69 Marsalis, W. 59, 62 Marshall, J. 99 Marsick, V. 18 Martens, D. 116 Martin, C. 121 Marton, F. 137 Matsunaga, N. 119 McGivney, V. 12, 165 mentoring 46 Mercer, S. 102 Merrill, B. 139 Mezirow, J. 12–13, 19, 29, 116, 142–143, 147, 160 Middlesex University 27 Mirick, R. 51–52 Moon, J. 136 Morrow, S. 48 multiple intelligences 149 Munro, E. 128, 136 Nersessian, N. 119 Newby, T. 119 Newton, J. 172 Nonaka, I. 18, 23–24, 98, 105, 141–142, 147, 149–151, 153, 155, 158, 161–163, 167–168, 171, 173 nutritional therapy 98, 136

Index 189 occupational education 2–3, 15–25, 165; practice 16–17, 95, 145, 165, 170–171; psychologist 48 Oeij, P. 119 Office for Standards in Education, Children’s Services and Skills (OFSTED) 135 Ofri, D. 102 Opdal, P. 34 Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) 1, 7–8, 10, 12, 165–166 Osmond, P. 141 Oxford, R. 61 Pena, A. 140 personal development 55 Plesk, P. 114, 123–124 Polanyi, M. 21, 137, 147, 150 Poliakova, N. 119 Pollard, A. 146 Ponterotto, J. 48 practitioner inquiry 2, 26–35, 50, 165 Pretz, J. 50–51, 162 professional opinion leader 113 Quah, D. 23 recontexualization 21–22; content 22; integrated applied 22, 168; learner 22; ongoing 22; pedagogic 22; reclassifactory 22; workplace 22 Rees, E. 97–105, 154–155, 157, 165, 167–168, 172 reflective practice 30, 51, 53, 55, 76, 80, 85, 97–98, 100, 103–105, 112–113, 116, 119, 140, 142, 146, 170 Reich, R. 18, 24, 149, 161, 167–168 Rintala, H. 18–19 Rittel, H. 28 road transport 70 Robson, C. 145 Rogers, C. 121 Ross, H. 96 Rowling, J. 101 Rubin, J. 61 Ryan, M. 122 Scholes, C. 105–113, 152, 154, 158, 161–165, 168, 171 Schön, D. 2, 30, 51, 111–112, 116, 124, 147, 157, 164, 171

Schope, R. 117 Seeley, C. 104, 155 Senge, P. 133 serendipity 106, 169 Shulman, L. 21, 169 Slotte, V. 18 Smith, B. 117 Sternberg, R. 4, 18, 25, 149–150, 152, 154, 161, 168 Stewart, I. 102 Stice, J. 129 Sturmberg, J. 120 supervision 53 Sutton, B. 1–35, 145–173 Swainston, T. 93 Syed, M. 126–127 Tarrant, P. 132 teaching 16, 103, 140, 160, 165 tech start-up founder 36 technologies 79, 171 Terry, C. 56 Thomas, H. 68 Toribio-Mateas, M. 113–124, 154–155, 163, 168 Tough, A. 11 transformative (see learning) Turner-Vesselago, B. 99 Uslu, M. 137 Van Woerkom, M. 119 Verloop, N. 21 Viale, R. 116 von Hippel, E. 18, 25, 150, 168 Vygotsky, L. 141, 148–149, 151 Wate, R. 124–135, 154, 161, 171 Webb, N. 141 Weldring, T. 117 Wellbery, C. 101–102 Wellington, J. 3 Werrett, P. 135–145, 156–157, 160, 164, 172 Wilson, S. 115 Winch, C. 19, 147, 163, 169 Winterson, J. 99 World Economic Forum 26 Zuboff, S. 18, 23–24, 149, 167–168