Category: Dissertation

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Positivism is like a map.

Navigating life as it is framed by personal ontological beliefs, social frames,  and ecologies, and even global dispositions of collective humanity (neoliberalist values, for example) reminds me of a life in a city. I now live in a single-family home and must drive everywhere, even to a store. But I grew up differently, and therefore, have the freedom to transport myself to my hometown any time I please through my memories.

Some streets are well-known and I rely on them to take me to my routine destinations. They are also starting routes to bus stops or even train stations or airports that transport me to places yet unknown. By traveling through these neighborhoods, I can predict where I will be if I take this road or this particular street. I can plan my route and calculate the time it will likely take me to get where I need to go. More often than not, I visit these destinations because of certain obligations or necessities: work, school, store, a meeting.

Yet there are always neighborhoods and places I have never visited before, whether they are a block or thirty blocks away. Occasionally, life will demand that I visit these places for whatever reasons, so I ask for directions, I pair up with another person to find my way, I consult a map. Sometimes, if I have a general idea of where my destination may be, I may even take risks by just trying to find the spot heuristically, using signs, clues, and just plain common sense; it all depends on my destination, the nature of my visit, and my time frame.

Positivism is like a map–it is created using rules and measures. Its utility is tied to its accuracy and rigid assumptions of accuracy. To serve its purpose, a map cannot be too general or ambiguous or mislabeled; otherwise, it is just a bad map. It is UNRELIABLE. Of course, there are maps that attempt to identify places that are still being developed or not even yet explored (Columbus, for example, was in the business of doing just that). Yet, life is more than a map. Some of my most satisfying adventures happen when I just walk and explore, take in the sights and the sounds, and smells, ask other people for help and their opinions, when I connect and create new memories, and when I EXPERIENCE my journey.

Therefore, I can say that I create knowledge about a place either through familiarity or through experience. Both methods are valuable. Both are needed.

I fear, however, that if I live my life by the map, afraid to be lost, I will be no better than a hamster in a wheel. A hamster’s hope is that it is stupid; I, on the other hand, may develop unwanted regrets to haunt me on my deathbed. Similarly, as a researcher, I wonder that if I follow maps and prescriptions, I may just miss my chance at greatness, and  join the multitudes of garden-variety scholars (all lovely people, I am sure!) afflicted by the “poverty of complexity” (Manning, The Minor Gesture, p. 17) for the fear of being judged and not found worthy by other scholars, to attain tenure, to survive budget cuts, to publish or perish, to please, to appease, and for any other reason they stay clear of the “confused heap” (Manning, p. 17) that sometimes represents qualitative research.

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Developing philosopher?

This is happening again: Janet’s class (ABR) has not even started, and I am already in that mental “leavening” mode: my head teeming with ideas and arguments why some ideas are worth pursuing and others are not.

This time, in the summer 2018 break, I did not allow myself slouch between the semesters: I have been trying to read Erin Manning’s “In the Minor Gesture” book that Jenni recommended months ago, but I have not had the time to read. Side thought bubbles up: “How do professors do it? Where do they find the time to read to stay intellectually fit? I hope that in my professional future I am afforded the opportunity to read texts not directly related to my job objectives.” I also have been reading Foucault: “Madness and Civilization” (Richard Howard’s translation). I have not gone past the introduction. Reading is heavy, but not so much because I do not understand it, but because I am compelled to highlight every other thought–they all seem so profound. I wonder if this is how all my philosophy readings are going to be.

Speaking of philosophy… I signed up to do a presentation on Autoethnography in Janet’s Qual 1 class, and there has been a constant stream as I imagine what I will say and why. It is a jumbled mess at the moment. I feel the urge to teach this class sometime, but right now I am still processing and organizing all that I learned. I do not have a good autoethnography to show for myself–just bits and pieces that need time to ferment and grow as I am still walking on this shaky ground trying to justify that my voice as a researcher and participant is important. I have been down this road many times by now, and I am fairly confident that if I find some other person’s story of her experiences as an individual with autism fascinating and illuminating, then likewise, my story as a parent of a child with autism will find someone’s attention. But there is more significance to my struggles than I originally thought: it is not that I struggle with self-esteem (I have in the past, and I still do in certain areas); not that I lack confidence as a researcher and a speaker (I know I do, though oddly, I am extremely confident that my lack confidence is just lack of experience easily remedied); it is that I realize that I am trying to shed the skin of positivism and grow a new one, not yet sure which one. I like Foucault. I like Manning. I am sure I like others as well, but I am not yet familiar with them. This is where my struggles with autoethnography brood. This is where philosophy comes in.

So I consider my idea for a dissertation that focuses on my journey from a mother, graphic artist, an undergraduate psychology major to a researcher and a PhD (see here, Idea Number Four), and I realize that this might actually be good. I wonder how many of us students graduate as doctors of philosophy without considering philosophy beyond the Philosophies of Inquiry class. I know some students who want the degree to prove to someone they can, some need the degree to stay relevant in their jobs, others are there for the knowledge and training, many are driven by a mixture of reasons. But how many of us are actually delving into philosophy because we sense the developmental need? How many of us make the time to read anything other than our textbooks? It is incredibly difficult with all the other competing needs and wants. I want to enjoy my children–they are amazing! I do not want to wake up one day and realize that time flew by and I missed it all. I want to say “yes, they grew up too fast, but I enjoyed watching them grow.” Danny now is in first grade–he is still lovey-dovey, cuddly, cute. He needs a lot of attention and both Ed and I are happy to give it to him, but what about the time to read and to think? I look at Eddie every day and I marvel at how he became such handsome, strong, kind, and intelligent young man. He is barely 13, but he is more mature than this. I enjoy him as a peer and find it difficult to talk down to him. Becky, too. She is a teenaged girl with all the frustrating and annoying attitudes and habits, and I catch myself being too critical and not at all supportive because her attitudes drive me crazy, but she fascinates me with her insights into her world of autstic perception, and I love the moments when we hang out and talk; when she wants me to do her hair or asks me to go for a walk. Where do I find the time to enjoy my husband? We both seem to agree that in this stage of our lives our children are a priority, so we try to connect whenever we can knowing our seeming lack of attention to each other is temporary. We still manage to challenge each other intellectually whenever we can and keep making our journey together, but also somehow parallel to each other. Hence, my development as a philosopher cannot follow a traditional academic path (is there such thing as “traditional academic path,” anyway? I guess, I am referring to a brilliant young undergraduate who just kept going to school instead of taking a break to start a family, to figure out who I am and why I exist) I must live and find my growth through daily experiences. A month ago, as I was rambling about Foucault to Eddie, he  must have referenced whatever concept he formed about philosophy, commented about my interest in philosophy and asked whether I still want to do research, then I answered “well, I am going to be a Doctor of PHILOSOPHY,” and suddenly, it dawned on me that so far, my experience with philosophy has been shallow, not nearly enough to count toward the “Ph” in the “PhD.”

As for the idea for my dissertation, the one where I want to talk about my journey to the PhD, I keep interrogating it. This time, I apply Manning’s discussion of what counts is a good research problem and what does not: ”

“Here I am following Henri Bergson, who suggests that the best problem is the one that opens up an intuitive process, not the one that already carries within itself its fix. A solvable problem was never really a problem, Bergson reminds us. Only when a question is in line with the creation of a problem is it truly operational. Most academic questions are of the solvable, unproblematic sort. What the undercommons seeks are real problems, problems intuited and crafted in the inquiry.” “The challenge, as Bergson underscores, involves crafting the conditions not to solve problems, or to resolve questions, but to illuminate regions of thought through which problems- without- solutions can be intuited.” p. 10
So I think my idea is a good one as it helps shed some light into the androgogy of developing a student into a PhD. It is certainly in line with the mission of education and preparation of research methodologists.

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Communications with peers

Selene in June 2018, after our last Interviewing Theory and Practice class where our shared a quote from Dr. Richard’s encouragement to me (“you are my star student”). I did not share her name :

“She (he?) is great. Hang on to her, if you can. I am nearly finished with my program, but keep asking every professor: “Are you my mommy?”

Erin in a phone conversation on July 2, 2018. We talked about our Visual Research Methods assignment:

“I am not like you. I get carried away by an idea. You are a great communicator!”

I was flattered: I get carried away by ideas, too, but I never thought I am great at communicating. In fact, I thought I was just the opposite. Not a confident one, anyway.

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Dissertation Ideas

The dissertation is a reality that materialized at the end of my master’s coursework. It is remarkable how differently my fellow students think of their dissertations–I have been asking–they are all at different stages.

The spectrum begins with “I have no clue” and ends with “I am getting ready to defend, my topic is awesome!” Many find the idea stressful. Me? I cannot wait! I know it will be something great–otherwise, why would I even bother with it, right? Besides, Dr. Richards said it will be great, whatever it is, in her email to me on June 16, 2018.

My problem is too many ideas–each seems better than the last one. I’d say I am drowning in them, only drowning is such a negative term–if water is to describe my experiences, then I am in a waterpark–sliding, jumping, diving, and floating in the lazy river, depending on what class I am taking and with whom. There is no sense of anxiety, at least, not yet, only the sense of adventure.

Idea Number One

Currently, I am on my fifth or so topic idea. When I first started my Master’s program, I wanted to investigate what it means when people say “I do not test well.” This was completely in line with my “Research, measurement, and Evaluation” program. I wanted to look into the culture of standardized testing (I am not a fan of it as a parent, but because I grew up in the USSR, I cannot say I am entirely opposed to it–it was a fact of life, everyone had several end-of-course exams beginning with grade four or so.)

I wanted to bring into my study the topic of educational philosophies, the psychological piece centered on “stress” and “test anxiety.” Source of data collection? Well, surveys and interviews. A quantitative analysis of available test records was also an idea, but I knew the data may not be available. This idea came the year I took my Foundations of Curriculum class and statistical analysis courses I and II. GRE exam was a fairly recent event, too.

Idea Number Two

There were a few ideas in-between. One summer, I took Foundations of Educational Research class online and was taken with the idea of researching Motivation in online learning. At that time, I was still planning to do my Ph.D. in Educational Psychology and coincidentally, was still processing my experiences as an undergrad (I earned the entire Psychology degree online at Saint Leo University). I felt I was a connoisseur of online learning and thanks to plenty of shop talks at home with my husband, an online course designer at St. Pete College, we had much to discuss.

The theory? Deci and Ryan’s Theory of Self-Determination. Method? Quantitative. Design? quasi-experimental.  I enjoyed planning every little detail of my study. Down to the design of every instructional activity and whether or not I should consider it as a variable. Then I took my first qualitative class, and suddenly, this idea was not as much fun as… well, I did not know yet, but I knew the feeling–a new idea was about to hatch.

Idea Number Three

The Christmas before my second qualitative class, there came trouble at Becky’s charter school–the school refused to provide accommodations to her, and we felt our rights were violated. More than anything, I was angry that her teacher and principals refused to admit–both in word and deed–that she has autism. Earlier that year, Becky was also Baker Acted, and by the time the charter school troubles came, my husband and I just went through a real-life paradigm shift. We finally came to terms that Becky does have autism, and we were trying to figure out what it meant for us, for her, for the boys, for all of our present and future. So in qualitative II, I started writing an autoethnography about mothering my high-functioning autistic child. This was personally therapeutic and seminal to my further development as a researcher. I returned to my original reason for wanting to abandon the life of a starving graphic artist when I enrolled at Saint Leo to study psychology in 2012-to learn about autism. So my dissertation idea was to explore the bioecology of an autistic child’s development. Theoretical framework? Bronfenbrenner. Methodology? Qualitative. Method? Interviews, narrative, autoethnography, and visual, as appropriate.

Idea Number Four

Then I started writing about how Becky and I connect–a facet that fits my study of bioecology well as a link between the developing child and a prominent influence on her: me. This project coincided with my Philosophies class where I attempted to place myself on the grid of philosophical approaches to inquiry. Becky went through a rough patch, I did not feel like writing about our connection, and then spiraled down Lewis Carrol’s rabbit hole, much like Alice. I became aware that despite producing several reflexivity statements in my last year, I have no clue who I am as a researcher! One this was for sure: I was confused. I ran for help to Dr. Richards, to Jenni, to Dr. Zeidler. I wrote one journal entry after another, trying to make sense of my thoughts.  Through it all, I was conscious of my development and decided to do a dissertation about the “birth of a researcher” and to investigate investments of professors, of courses, of personal circumstances, and other elements that were shaping me into who I am. The brilliant part is that dissertation would be the natural evidence of the journey. Methodology? Qualitative, of course! Method? I would use my journal entries, email exchanges with professors and students, course descriptions and reflections and other pieces as data, then assemble them into one final piece.

Idea Number Five

It is getting better and better! My growing epistemological pains and studies initially led me to believe that positivism is disgusting to a truly qualitative researcher, yet, I grew up a positivist. Could I be bi-oriented as I am bi-lingual and bi-cultural? I considered an analogy: Mowgli, a human, raised by the wolves. Never quite fitting with either world and yet, a forever part of both. While it is tempting to assume that “people” in this analogy represent the more humanistic, constructivist look at life and the animals are more in line with Pavlov’s dogs, and therefore, data-driven, inhuman, positivistic, I am cautious. Dogs (as well as wolves, bears, and panthers, too) are wonderful, and by no means, the parallel expresses a belief that Russians are less human that Americans, or any other nonsensical idea of the sort. I am really after the illustration of how difficult it is for Mowgli to fit into either culture, to completely align himself with either ideology, culture, philosophy, or even physical location of his bed. At the moment, I feel like a researcher Mowgli–a positivist through upbringing, an interpretivist through personal development. This does not have to be a  deficit–it could be a strength. Of course, there is a chance that some positivists and quantitative researchers will disown me, much like some of Mowgli’s wolf pack did. Some interpretivists will turn their noses and decide I reek of “dog,” but as long as I have my Baghiras and my Baloos, and my kind villagers, I could really uncover something extraordinary.
Method? Qualitative. Methodology? Bricolage! Narratives, emails, drawings, photos, and maybe even sculptures. Limitations? …as abstract as the sky.