It Matters What Systems Systematize Systems

Haraway keeps reminding: it matters what stories tell stories, what descriptions describe descriptions, and so forth.

I am going to put on trial (where the Committee will be the jury, I will be the person on trial and the Judge, and my dissertation will be a collection of documents, exhibits, etc).

I want to examine the Neoliberal Academy as a system (maybe fall back on General Systems Theory, Theory of Chaos, and also with sympoietic and autopoietic systems the Haraway describes in ch. 1) where thinking differently is suffocated by obsessions with predicting the future, the illusion of control, and the inevitable fatalistic, futuristic, deterministic rationalisms that send the crowds into either Apolcalyptic mood, or belief in some god, be it technology, science, religion, or anything else.

I will put on trial my future (ironic!) as a methodologist–either to answer Kuntz’s call to become a “responsible methodologst” (and whether such endeavor is even possible), or to find a way to exist in the present system.

 

Symphonic Literature | Academics performed

I signed my contract for 20 hours of work in the lab and in CORE. It came with a condition that I am enrolled 9 graduate hours. And so I thought I had only one class left to take–design of systematic studies. The rest could be direct research, and so I went on a hunt for a class that is both interesting and online or offered in AM (I promised Eddie this will be the last semester of him rushing across two counties home so I could be at school by 5).

First, I skimmed painting and drawing offerings–no luck. This would have been perfect! Then I considered a course from Adult Ed. This would have been a sensible choice, yes. But it just sounded like another class. Then I found Symphonic Literature course and sent an email to Jenni right away to see if my committee will approve. She said do it.

The next day I sent an email to the Music professor, Dr. Robison and we had a couple of back and forths about the content of the course and whether I have what it takes to get a good grade. There were a couple of thoughts of a philosophical nature tangled up with the logistics, and when we arrived at the conclusion that this class is a good fit for what I am trying to do, he agreed to issue me a permit.

Overjoyed, I sent an email to Jenni and Janet, and Janet replied the same evening (and copied Dr. Robison even though I sent my little report just to Jenni and her) with and encouragement and a little praise for me. Dr. Robison did not expect that because he felt the urge to reply and to acknowledge how well-supported I am.

The next morning Janet sent us another email. She addressed him “John” even though she never met him, and invited him (and me) to speak at her ABR class this fall. I felt like I was listening on a conversation between my dad and my teacher–when we moved when I was in first grade, my dad went to my new school with me to convince the teacher to let me join her class. Her class was full, and she gave my dad a hard time complaining how she already has so many students, but took me in in the end. I was standing there in the hallway, sweat dripping down my back (it was already late October, radiators were on), wondering what my fate will be. From my lower-to-the-ground perspective (I was short even for my age), the grown-ups were big and important and equals. I felt important too since my dad was advocating for me.

This memory reminded me of this conversation between Janet and Dr. Robison, and me. None of the negatives, but rather, the feeling of being important enough to be the topic of a conversation. The trust in Janet and her support. The moment of standing at a threshold, the feeling of potential–then it was almost a physical sensation, now it is thoughtful acknowledgement.

What really moved me to record this here, is the assumption in Janet’s invitation to her ABR class: Janet, an academic, reached out to Dr. Robison, another academic, ASSUMING he would be interested in joining his scholarship with ours. Unless, of course, Janet read up on him and knew exactly who she was inviting. It could be a little bit of both. Janet is very opportunistic in every best sense of the word–this is what makes her so amazing to watch at work! So it is possible she simply grabbed the bull by its horns. In this case her assumptions make a really interesting case study for analysis. If she did read Dr. Robison’s CV, then her email certainly takes on a different, not any less interesting angle of how interdisciplinary is performed, for example.

For now, I will stash this and add it to the many other notes of this sort on performing the academic.

Eddie and clothes

I tried my first round of wardrobe interviews with Becky over 7 months ago.

I also interviewed Eddie (2 interviews), though his explanations into his wardrobe were less dramatic and revealing. I gained some insights, though. Then I put these on hold and let everything compost. Slow Ontology style.

It has been months, but Wardrobe interviews have not gone away too far. They are always somewhere nearby… I cannot put my finger on what it is that is trying to come out yet, but I find myself primed to the topic. For example, I met a resource officer from Danny’s school at the movie theater and she was unrecognizable–talkative, smiling, friendly, connected–I took note that maybe her uniform made her perform her “resource officer” identity because out of her uniform, she was almost a different person! I really want to speak with a couple of officers about life, work, purpose, laws, education…

Today husband showed me an old (taken 4 years ago) video from our trip to Russia. Little Ed was 10, Danny just turned two. In the video, they are running around at night on the Red Square–all lit, beautiful, sparkly, historically and personally significant landmark, and yet, Eddie’s first comment was “I loved that Old Navy sweatshirt! I wonder what happened to it…” A few seconds later  he made a comment about his green sneakers “I ran those to the ground later in the year!” Clearly, clothes were an important piece, even a space in time processed and labeled in his mind as a “childhood memory.” His “childhood” identity in that video was a reference point for his now, how he perceives himself in the present.

I really want to dog into this deeper.

Geological nature of autism research

Today, I “accidentally” came across an article by Marcelina Piotrowski “Writing in Cramped Spaces” (2017). Jenni had posted several other articles from the special issue of Reconceptualizing Educational Research Methodology, 8(3) in the module “Doing PostQual I” and I became intrigued by the other articles in the roster.

Piotrowski’s writing is thorough, very well documented and organized. She is talking about cramped spaces and links medicine, literature, geography, ecology, art, and philosophy to  explain postqual and intersciplinary research. By doing so, she actually illustrated the concept with her own writing. On the highlighting index, this article received the brightest, most highlighted marks.

This read came at an excellent time–I struggled to start writing the lit review for our first POI study publication, and Piotrowski’s work helped me on two fronts: she began her writing with the discussion of disciplinary research–a direct hook to POI study, and explained why writing can become problematic. I  feel better, I can try putting that lit review together.  A post from earlier today captures some of my struggles as I try to figure out  how I am getting lost in exploration of the wildnerness of postqual and methological, political, and cultural dilemmas of educational research and yet, hearing my mom call me to dinner from three feet away. Of course I am having all these epistemological adventures in my head, without leaving the backyard!

Anyway, at the end of the article, when Piotrowski started pulling in ecology as an illustration of ecology as emploed by  Guattari, I thought about using geology and archeology to write about autsim. Autism is a multidisciplinary concept, but somehow, it is very much territorialized within each discipline. If you assemble all the plains of research together, you will end up with a very crude sculpture of Autism. I want to see if I can dig up some archeological artifacts buried in layers of sediment of research produced by multiple fields and their epistemological traditions. It would be cool to do a postqual meta analysis of autism research. Map it, take it apart. See at what point the division in to high and low autism came to be. The DSM wars, the methodologies used. It would be neat to take on geology or archeology as a guide because sediments are formed by the climate, geological, and biological activities. So I can at least map the climate of the culture, scientific methodological rock samples, and play with it some more to develop my methodology of inquiry as a parallel to geological and archeological research. I could do a survey of literature by year of publication. Tons of work, but maybe well worth it.

Mixed and Mixology

I cannot get out of my head the recent round of interviews my department conducted for two new openings–one for the mixed method position, the other for quant. In a way, the event has made an impression on me…It brought the sense of urgency and with it the potential of generative anxiety, the good kind that motivates. Dr. Dedrick kept offering little comments on the process–receiving nearly a hundred of applications to finally narrowing the search down to a handful of candidates, arranging for the final interviews, flying the finalists in, showing them around, meeting the faculty, administrators, and students… I wonder if someone enjoys this… I panic just thinking about how one day I may be in this position… mixed methods would be amazing…

And then I think about how I fell in love with research methods when I took my first RM class as psych undergrad, then the second… they were quant classes, too. At USF, I discovered qualitative and philosophy. How I have grown. This semester I am taking advance measurement class, single case experiments class, and a post qual class, and all I can think about how different and yet, the same they seem. At least qual does not pretend that the researcher is not a crucial part of the study. Subjectivity is a feature, not a condition that needs to be kept in check… Last night Dr. Ferron explained the essence of the statistical approach to analysis in such easy, palatable terms (both Dedrick and Ferron do that–they make quantitative methods friendly somehow, not so sterile) that I must question why do we have so many purists in research methods? Of course, it is a rhetorical question–there is a great deal of culture in academic training among other things.

In stats, we compare our observed scores to theoretical curves to prove or to disprove our null hypotheses. We design our studies using the logic tied to assumptions of normality, homogeneity of variance, independence… then there is a neverending tug of war between type I and type II errors that must be balanced well enough to convince the others who (also thanks to their training) only loosely (empirically or theoretically, or somewhere in between) agree on thresholds between statistically significant and not significant  results. And what of the general convention of 0.05 alpha? Arbitrary, but widely accepted. The data conceived, then collected, then analyzed as a model–observed scores, true scores… some of the concepts are “squishy” (in Dr. Dedrick’s own words).

It is ALL so damn squishy!

Barad’s application of quantum physics acknowledges and celebrates the squishiness. I like it. So as I think about “mixed methods” designs, they are just like a trail mix–the chunks that never quite blend together. Within most designs, quant and qual carefully observe their methodological boundaries. The methodologies are preserved and limited by conventions and traditions that decide what a researcher can and cannot do. Researchers are obliged to stick with conventions or else be scrutinized in terms of rigor, validity, integrity. They must be bold enough to answer methodological examination from BOTH qualitatively and quantitatively oriented peers. The risks are obvious. But what of risks? RISK is a construct, it does not have to be a variable or a sure limitation of research. Does it? Just think: risk, too, is a highly subjective term. It is socially constructed, much like validity, objectivity, and other measures that weigh a study and pronounce its value. So what if it is dealt with reflexively? I have nothing yet, just an abstract vision (which is yet, somehow, seems solidified) of my future employment as a methodologist.

I should totally try and conceive MIXED methodology designs as a cocktail, liquid and blended, not mixed like the trail mix.

So what if I do a single case experiment but analyze it qualitatively AND quantitatively?

Initial questions for online learning

Discussions are a convention. Why?

There are rules and student participate in discussion because it is a graded activity. They are mini writing assignmentes. I am concerned that for some students it is just busy work. They go through the motions, regurgitate the reading material or (if they have not read the assigned texts, try to sound like they did read.

I my experience, online discussions are rarely a space students use to think something out together. Often, questions posted are probes that seek a confirmation that the student read the material. Discussions are an accountability measure and one of the venues for assessment. They are easy to facilitate as long as the software allows for the message board type exchange.

What if they are structured to function the same way face-to-face meetings function? As a way to gauge what students think about the material they are learning…

There are often rules: use a collegiate tone, academic writing conventions, initial post minimums and deadlines, two meaningful replies must be posted by the certain date. These seem to pass from one instructor to another via training, with little challenge to convention.

In my online psych program, I had an opportunity to participate in various classes from a wide range of content specific areas. Some discussions were exciting, stimulating, they challenged me to look up additional resources, go above and beyond the required readings. I was able to reflect, synthesize, and apply the learned material, make it my own. Other discussion were mechanical. I learned more from doing readings on my own. What was different? How can it be a different experience?

Thinking-thinking, searching-searching

Two days ago I sent an email to Janet and Jenni asking the question about what counts as research after reading an article about native languages
https://getpocket.com/explore/item/the-strange-persistence-of-first-languages-1094253299

Janet replied:

“Nice writing and topic. Why does this interest you Anna? I believe you are searching- searching- searching for something and some things. Am I correct? Janet”

I think I only appear to be searching-searching because thinking–the actual act of thinking–gives me pleasure. Like making good food, like visiting a museum, like watching a good movie, like doing things together with my family, like making a quilt, sketching, or gardening, like watching my cat. I never seem to have enough time to do most of these things unless I sneak them into my daily list of chores (for example, since I cook daily, sometimes I make something special, like Thai curry, just for me because no one else in my family will eat it ). Similarly, living in a gated community gives me an excuse to do gardening. I sometimes escape my inside chores by justifying the need to keep the HOA happy but honestly, I simply steal a few minutes from my insanely busy schedule to delight in weeding, feeding, planting, and talking to my plants.

I took my first qualitative class last fall, so for a year, I have been living in this fertile state of consciousness that not only provides me with an excuse to enjoy the activity of thinking, but also encourages ideas, wonderments, questions, and more thought. In other words, the steady, consistent diet of Qual 1, Qual 2, Philosophies, Academic Writing, and now ABR have produced and concocted the ingredients that now caused this “leavening” in my head.

 

Why I like Bronfenbrenner

Now that my craze with Bronfenbrenner is waning, I can reflect on why I got so taken with it: it offered a model that helps me visualize relationships and human development. In my search for meaning, in my sense-making quest, this model provided just that–sense. It was so crystal clear to me, as potent as an epiphany! I even remember telling Jenni:  I will never want for another theoretical framework again–it is so robust, so pregnant with potential, so versatile! Jenni, of course, replied “that’s what worries me. You should not limit yourself.” I knew she is right, and I know she is right, but the value of my discovery of Bronfenbrenner is obvious: it contributed to my epistemological paradigm shift, or rather, awakening to my ontological awareness.