Category: Epistemology

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Method Meets Art (ABR) quotes

Leavy, P. (2014). Method meets art, second edition: Arts-based research practice. Retrieved from http://ebookcentral.proquest.comCreated from usf on 2018-08-27 09:02:12.

 

“Narrative researchers attempt to avoid the objectification of research participants and aim to preserve the complexity of human experience (Josselson, 2006). The turn to narrative can be attributed to a confluence of other factors as well. Stefinee Pinnegar and J. Gary Daynes (2007) note four converging phenomena with respect to the turn to narrative inquiry: (1) the relationship of the researched and researcher, (2) the move from numbers to words as data, (3) a shift from the general to the particular, and (4) the emergence of new epistemologies.” p. 42

Just thinking:

So far, qualitative researchers effectively defended the importance of their subjectivity and solidified their presence in own studies. Similarly, we stretched the boundaries of what counts as data by turning to narratives, music, drawings, even fiction, and other forms of artistic expression. How, then, do we define research? What makes a difference between the work of a “proper” social scientist and a journalist? Why are some pieces beelined into academic databases and others exist in digital spaces of the world wide web?

Is it the degree that makes researcher a researcher? The formal training? Does one have to have a degree in teaching to be a teacher? Does one have to go through chef training to bring superior culinary experiences and then discuss their methods and undergirding cultural experiences? Is “research” a term either deliberately sustained or occurred as a by-product of neoliberal worldview?

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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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Minor Gesture, Erin Manning

“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

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Thoughts on knowledge

i feel like I am camping near the entrance of something important. I have been roaming these shores for months, unable to enter. I smell it, I see its contours obscured by fog, I hear sounds, I am drawn, but I cannot figure out how to grow gills. Arts based research and its philosophical fibers. Currents and waves. Or just an alien world, not necessarily one like a sea. I want to breathe it in, but even at my best, I am just a snorkler with a mask who bobs on the surface, limited by my physiology of a land creature. Or an earthling limited by my earthly shape. I am taking classes with Janet and now and then I talk to Jenni, and I want to come visit them where they are, but I was raised  a positivist. Positivism is my reality. I understand its rhetoric, or at least, I feel comfortable inhibiting its structures, but in my heart, I know I am more, much more. I never fit in. As a child, I used to draw a lot. I played an instrument and enjoyed classical music. I knew where to escape when life became monotonous with all its demands for sense-making.

Postructuralist ideas became a highway that brought me back to the familiar shores of thought. And now I am quieted and dumstruck by Erin Manning’s “what if knowledge were not assumed to have a form already? What if we didn;t yet know what needed to be taught, let alone questioned?” (Minor gestures, p. 9) What if? We are condiitioned and trained to live in the reality that Manning calls neo-liberalism. What if we did not have to conform? If only I could take a pill like Neo in the Matrix trilogy and wake up a real reality. Is it even a specific reality? Neo and his fellow humans shared one, but are realities singular?

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Art Bochner

” memory is both an epistemic project, a seeking after fidelity with what actually took place, and a pragmatic one, a coming to terms with what chance has given us in order to make a self for oneself” p.172

Bochner, A. P. (2012). Bird on the wire: freeing the father within me. Qualitative Inquiry, (2), 168.

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Constructivism Quotes

Humans as social being interact with two realities: a physical/temporal reality, composed of houses, streets, (…) children, co-workers, families, (…) and other tangible objects, and time; and an enacted, or constructed, reality, composed of the interpretive, meaning-making,(…) role-assuming activities which produce meaningfulness and order in human life. p. 61

Yvonna Lincoln in Paul, J. (2005). Introduction to the philosophies of research and criticism in education and the social sciences. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson.

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Tom Barone: Arts Based Educational Research ABER Quotes

Tom Barone. Perspective 5: Arts Based Educational Research

“Despite all these encouraging developments, artistic approaches to research in the areas of the human studies, including education, remain somewhere on the margins. Academics who have been professionally socialized into a narrow view of what constitutes legitimate research often find it difficult to imagine the potential utility of alternative research approaches.” p. 69

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Phillips, D.C. “Nine Perspective of Research” Quotes POSTPOSITIVISM

Philips, D. C. Nine Perspectives of Research, Chapter 4

“A few aestheticians might argue that art (and hence ABER) can involve a quest for certainty. (…) For a story, play, photograph, or film to fulfill this sort of summative purpose, it must function as a kind of mirror that reflects the reality of what has occurred. It must accurately represent, with a high degree of certainty, the facts of the matter. To that end, the unique perspective of the researcher must be filtered out of the work lest it be tainted by a bias that reduces certainty.” p.69

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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.

 

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Is knowledge made?

Academic Writing Class Journal

Two or three months ago in Qualitative II class, we watched a short clip  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tno6oG9KRFY

introducing Karen Barad. Andreas Roepstorff said in (1:17) “what it is like to create knowledge” and it struck me like a lightning in a clear sky: What? We can CREATE knowledge?

Until now, I realized, I thought knowledge is something that simply  IS. It is neither created nor changeable. To get it, people must reach out and grab it when they want to or need to. It is like the fabric of cosmos. Neutral, ever present, yet obscured unless specifically sought out or accidentally encountered.

Perhaps, this explains why I personally never had issues with passive learning? I grew up blindly believing in the authority of teachers. They are servants of knowledge, the sages who have been trusted the secrets of the Universe. Yet, I always was intrinsically motivated to learn actively: receive what is being taught, then go get some more on my own.

Hopefully, I will make sense of this rambling somehow, but I had to get it off my chest.

So now that I heard that knowledge can be created, where does it leave me in my epistemological beliefs? Well, first of all, I submissively receive this statement as a bit of knowledge: I just have been handed a key to unlock yet another cosmic secret. SO. Knowledge CAN be created…

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12 hours later, after I had a few more minutes to think about this while waiting in pickup line for Danny:

I think I differentiate between “knowledge” as an abstraction and “knowledge” as a concrete concept (“I know you like this…”). Growing up in USSR,  the concept of “knowledge” (as an abstraction) was well-nourished. On Septemeber 1 of each year, all children would start school. We called it the “Day of knowledges.” All students would dress up in “parade uniform” (girls white aprons, boys always wore suits with a white shirt anyway), and bring flowers to the teacher. There would be happy kid music blasting, and everyone would gather in the courtyard for a ceremony: first-year students would be welcomed, graduates-to-be would be wished well; there would typically be a speech from a respected member of the community–a WWII veteran, or a “Hero of Labor.” The principal would say something, too. In the end, a male representative of the graduating class would put a randomly picked (usually the smallest) first-grader (we did not have kindergarten) on his shoulders, and make a lap in the inner circle of the gathered crowd of students. The little one would ring a hand bell as a signal of the beginning of the first period of the new school year. The first lesson in each grade was a “Peace lesson” where students would discuss the importance of world peace. The day was always short so that in the afternoon students could go out to the city’s parks, carnivals, movies, and other entertainment spots to enjoy deep admission discounts. The entire country celebrated the “Day of Knowledges!”

Then I thought that my father, who taught auto engineering for 30+ years, would be called an assistant or associate professor, but in Russian, his position translated as “senior giver” (as in someone who “serves” or “presents” knowledge). The term “instructor” was reserved strictly for those who taught skills, such as “swimming” or “nursing” instructor. I think the power structure and the culture of passive learning in the classroom setting was built into our lives in many ways, including the linguistic channels.