How fascinating it is to read about a new research methodology as a fourth year doctoral student! I thought Dr. Paulus had introduced me to about every ontology, epistemology, and methodology in Introduction to Qualitative Methods. Not really, but it sure seemed that way at the time.
Having read numerous articles, books, and one series of monographs by the preeminent phenomenographer Ference Marton (1981, 1982, and 1989), I have found a research methodology which speaks to my grandiose desire to know. Marton describes a method which seeks to capture, organize and make use of the various ways of knowing a concept through what he calls the “outcome space” of a concept (Renstrom, Anderson, & Marton, 1990). Having gathered the most varied possible responses to questions during “clinical deep interviewing,” a hierarchical diagram of the ways of knowing are produced (Neuman, 1999). Imagine the possibilities for teachers when they are able to identify precisely how a student understands a concept and concurrently knows the next step needed for advancement in that student’s understanding!
Powerful stuff, it is! In educational psychology, we refer to this as teaching within the zone of proximal development (Vygotsky).
The challenge for teachers is to determine the current level of understanding of each of our students. Armed with this knowledge, we are able to provide the learning activities and experiences necessary to help the student advance in their present level of understanding to a more mature knowledge of the concept. Ference Marton has developed the research methodology which will provide the mapping of concepts (understood from research, but with a strong foundational knowledge in the particular conceptual domain) needed to pinpoint the present level of knowing. It is heady stuff and I look forward to applying this methodology in the immediate future.
Marton, F. (1981). Studying conceptions of Reality: A metatheoretical note. Scandanavian Journal of Educational Research, 25(4), 159-169.
Marton, F. (1982). Towards a phenomenography of learning. Mölndal, Sweden: University of Göteborg Press.
Marton, F. (1989). Towards a pedagogy of content. Educational Psychologist 24(1), 1-23.
Neuman, D. (1999). Early learning and awareness of division: A phenomenographic approach. Educational Studies in Mathematics, 40, 101-128.
Renstrom, L.; Anderson, B.; & Marton, F. (1990). Students’ conceptions of matter. Journal of Educational Psychology, 82(3), 555-569.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Maxwell's Qualitative Research Design
Maxwell, J. A. (2005). Qualitative research design: An interactive approach (2nd ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.
What took me so long to get around to Maxwell? What a treat! Maxwell takes the reader on a productive (dare I say, pragmatic) journey through the research design process. While Maxwell is clear that this text is propaedeutic to the actual writing of a research proposal, I believe it goes well beyond the preparation needed for performance of an academic task. This text took me through writing activities and exercises that reminded me of Goodall (2000) and the emotive writing exercises associated with why we choose to study that which we choose to study.
Maxwell takes the reader through the process of research design that includes an articulation and critical review of one’s goals, relating to others’ and a design of one’s own conceptual framework, refining of research questions, determination and rationale for methods choices and an examination and addressing of threats to validity inherent in those methods. What a treat! It was like going back in time and asking myself, “What do you want to study when you grow up?” After treating each of the above steps in the design process in an independent chapter, Maxwell turns to a final chapter on turning this design into a research proposal. I’m ending the exercises with much more than an outline for a research proposal. I am concluding this valuable reading with a research agenda and the ability to articulate that plan to others. Yeah, Maxwell.
Goodall, Jr., H.L. (2000). Writing the new ethnography. Lanham, MD: AltaMira Press.
What took me so long to get around to Maxwell? What a treat! Maxwell takes the reader on a productive (dare I say, pragmatic) journey through the research design process. While Maxwell is clear that this text is propaedeutic to the actual writing of a research proposal, I believe it goes well beyond the preparation needed for performance of an academic task. This text took me through writing activities and exercises that reminded me of Goodall (2000) and the emotive writing exercises associated with why we choose to study that which we choose to study.
Maxwell takes the reader through the process of research design that includes an articulation and critical review of one’s goals, relating to others’ and a design of one’s own conceptual framework, refining of research questions, determination and rationale for methods choices and an examination and addressing of threats to validity inherent in those methods. What a treat! It was like going back in time and asking myself, “What do you want to study when you grow up?” After treating each of the above steps in the design process in an independent chapter, Maxwell turns to a final chapter on turning this design into a research proposal. I’m ending the exercises with much more than an outline for a research proposal. I am concluding this valuable reading with a research agenda and the ability to articulate that plan to others. Yeah, Maxwell.
Goodall, Jr., H.L. (2000). Writing the new ethnography. Lanham, MD: AltaMira Press.
Review of Van Maanen's Tales of the Field
Van Maanen, J. (1988). Tales of the field: On writing ethnography. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.
I was looking forward to Van Maanen’s text on writing ethnography for quite a while. Although I appreciated his writing style and years of ethnographic fieldwork experience, I was less than excited about the text. I found the chapters that delimited and described the types of ethnographic accounts (realist, confessional, and impressionist) valuable, but as usual, appreciated the examples of these styles more appealing. Van Maanen peppered the text with accounts (both published and not) of exemplars of each style of ethnography. After four years of reading drier peer-reviewed journal articles, it is refreshing to read high quality ethnographic work.
Van Maanen has convinced me, however, that I must try my hand at this ethnographic writing. If it is half as enjoyable to write as it is to read, my final year of dissertation research and writing will be a treasure rather than a chore!
I was looking forward to Van Maanen’s text on writing ethnography for quite a while. Although I appreciated his writing style and years of ethnographic fieldwork experience, I was less than excited about the text. I found the chapters that delimited and described the types of ethnographic accounts (realist, confessional, and impressionist) valuable, but as usual, appreciated the examples of these styles more appealing. Van Maanen peppered the text with accounts (both published and not) of exemplars of each style of ethnography. After four years of reading drier peer-reviewed journal articles, it is refreshing to read high quality ethnographic work.
Van Maanen has convinced me, however, that I must try my hand at this ethnographic writing. If it is half as enjoyable to write as it is to read, my final year of dissertation research and writing will be a treasure rather than a chore!
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Times they are a changin'
Folks, my plans for sailing through the semester are crumbling.... OK, so that's a bit dramatic. In fact, I am just missing the constant availability of my committee chair due to her health concerns. We are progressing, but my updated project proposal (posted less than an hour ago on BB) is a far cry from the lofty goals I originally set for myself this semester. Alas, slow motion is only my favorite in dancing!
I look forward to sharing with the group over the next several weeks through our workshops and presentations. I'm looking forward to our first group of presenters tonight and will focus on some synthesis of my recent readings from here on out in this blog.
I look forward to sharing with the group over the next several weeks through our workshops and presentations. I'm looking forward to our first group of presenters tonight and will focus on some synthesis of my recent readings from here on out in this blog.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
The Business of Research
Saldana has given us a sort of “chart of accounts” for coding qualitative data. I’m choosing this analogy because my brain is divided between the research world of graduate school and the financial world of business (yes, it’s tax time again!). In a chart of accounts, companies first list the assets of the business: cash on hand, buildings or land, accounts receivables, and equipment. These relate to the data in a qualitative research project. We have piles of documents, hours of audio, related theory, and the work of our predecessors – the assets of the project which we will use to turn a profit (yes, we do receive benefits for our research). Then, we list the liabilities of the company: loans payable, payroll liabilities (like taxes and accumulated benefits), customer advance payments and other accounts payable. This relates to the limitations of the research project. Here we have the goals and biases of our committee members, our presentation or journal audience, and generally some time constraints. We also have limitations of the study itself: our research frame, our ability to ask the right questions of our participants, the ability of our participants to understand themselves and their motivations and communicate that to us. – is this analogy getting old yet?
The “fun” in the research project and the chart of accounts comes in the three hundred and four hundred level accounts: the “retained earnings,” “income,” and “owners’ draws” in business or the results, findings, and conclusions in our research. But how we achieve these benefits in business or research relies on the “cost of goods sold,” which is the next level in our chart of accounts. Here we do all of the “work” of either the business or the research. Here we buy the raw materials that we will use to conduct our business, pay others to help us accomplish larger projects, and sometimes rent equipment that we use less frequently. Here is also where Saldana has his way with us: through the time, care and thoughtfulness of our coding and analysis.
Two little words captured my eye too often when reading the end of Saldana’s manual, “if needed.” Why would he give us this out and then go on for 35 pages demonstrating the purpose and benefits of second cycle coding? It’s like telling the business owner that preparing quarterly reports will provide them with valuable information and save them a lot of time at the end of the year, but this is not a requirement for successful operations. Some of the gems of this part of Saldana for me are:
“…creativity is essential to achieve new and hopefully striking perspectives about the data” (p. 150).
“Explaining ‘why’ something happens is a slippery task in qualitative inquiry (and even in some quantitative research). Gubrium & Hobstein (1997) put forward that ‘the whats of the social world always inform our understanding of the hows. …Taken together, these reciprocal what and how concerns offer a basis for answering a variety of why questions’ (p. 196)” (p. 154).
“The analytic memo is an uncensored and permissibly messy opportunity to let thoughts flow and ideas emerge” (p. 160).
A note from Clarke (2005):
“We need to address head-on the inconsistencies, irregularities, and downright messiness of the empirical world – not scrub it clean and dress it up for the special occasion of a presentation or a publication.” (p. 167)
Things I’m trying to understand:
Longitudinal coding – it doesn’t make sense to me to call qualitative research longitudinal. It is either redundant or conflated in my mind….By definition, we are not collecting a one-time survey result… this is something I need to think about some more – longitudinal data are implied in ethnography, anthropology, case studies, but I guess not all qualitative research… I can’t picture a longitudinal phenomenological study.
Things I really liked:
I really appreciate Saldana’s extra chapter on post-coding and pre-writing. This is another area where I sometimes rush or miss an opportunity for more insightful reflection. I particularly like the “Top Ten list” and the “touch test” and feel sure I will use one or both of these strategies as I put the finishing touches on an AERA paper that’s due for uploading next Monday! – I know, Saldana tells us to this pre-writing actually pre – the writing – it just came to me later…
Questions:
- What does it mean to say that a category “holds,” really? (p. 158)
- How is the idea of data “saturation” taken up by the various research traditions? (p. 161)
- How does Saldana’s clear passion for grounded theory fit with his pragmatic orientation?
Just as a business must pay for its expenses (you thought I forgot about this, didn't you); the researcher must wrestle with matters of ontology, epistemology, methodology, coding, categorizing, analysis, writing up the paper... The previous questions and musings will surely cause me to read more, think more, and continue to pay the bills for the rewards of understanding.
The “fun” in the research project and the chart of accounts comes in the three hundred and four hundred level accounts: the “retained earnings,” “income,” and “owners’ draws” in business or the results, findings, and conclusions in our research. But how we achieve these benefits in business or research relies on the “cost of goods sold,” which is the next level in our chart of accounts. Here we do all of the “work” of either the business or the research. Here we buy the raw materials that we will use to conduct our business, pay others to help us accomplish larger projects, and sometimes rent equipment that we use less frequently. Here is also where Saldana has his way with us: through the time, care and thoughtfulness of our coding and analysis.
Two little words captured my eye too often when reading the end of Saldana’s manual, “if needed.” Why would he give us this out and then go on for 35 pages demonstrating the purpose and benefits of second cycle coding? It’s like telling the business owner that preparing quarterly reports will provide them with valuable information and save them a lot of time at the end of the year, but this is not a requirement for successful operations. Some of the gems of this part of Saldana for me are:
“…creativity is essential to achieve new and hopefully striking perspectives about the data” (p. 150).
“Explaining ‘why’ something happens is a slippery task in qualitative inquiry (and even in some quantitative research). Gubrium & Hobstein (1997) put forward that ‘the whats of the social world always inform our understanding of the hows. …Taken together, these reciprocal what and how concerns offer a basis for answering a variety of why questions’ (p. 196)” (p. 154).
“The analytic memo is an uncensored and permissibly messy opportunity to let thoughts flow and ideas emerge” (p. 160).
A note from Clarke (2005):
“We need to address head-on the inconsistencies, irregularities, and downright messiness of the empirical world – not scrub it clean and dress it up for the special occasion of a presentation or a publication.” (p. 167)
Things I’m trying to understand:
Longitudinal coding – it doesn’t make sense to me to call qualitative research longitudinal. It is either redundant or conflated in my mind….By definition, we are not collecting a one-time survey result… this is something I need to think about some more – longitudinal data are implied in ethnography, anthropology, case studies, but I guess not all qualitative research… I can’t picture a longitudinal phenomenological study.
Things I really liked:
I really appreciate Saldana’s extra chapter on post-coding and pre-writing. This is another area where I sometimes rush or miss an opportunity for more insightful reflection. I particularly like the “Top Ten list” and the “touch test” and feel sure I will use one or both of these strategies as I put the finishing touches on an AERA paper that’s due for uploading next Monday! – I know, Saldana tells us to this pre-writing actually pre – the writing – it just came to me later…
Questions:
- What does it mean to say that a category “holds,” really? (p. 158)
- How is the idea of data “saturation” taken up by the various research traditions? (p. 161)
- How does Saldana’s clear passion for grounded theory fit with his pragmatic orientation?
Just as a business must pay for its expenses (you thought I forgot about this, didn't you); the researcher must wrestle with matters of ontology, epistemology, methodology, coding, categorizing, analysis, writing up the paper... The previous questions and musings will surely cause me to read more, think more, and continue to pay the bills for the rewards of understanding.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
It's Called a 'Manual' for a Reason
OK, so Saldana has earned a permanent spot on my book shelves. It would take a lifetime (or at least the half a lifetime I have left) to experiment with all of the coding methods outlined in chapter 3. As a reduction of choices for my present research interests, I find that I am most attracted to the grammatical and elemental methods of coding. I’m sure this is due in part to the types of data that I have “stacked up waiting for my attention” and due in part also to the subjects of my research interest: namely, teaching and teacher education around the education of students with special learning needs.
I have decided, following the Atlas.ti training and the projects I am working with at present, to attempt to apply both elemental methods of descriptive and in vivo coding to the reflections of course participants in a study of the experience of participating in the seminar on existential phenomenological psychology last fall. This subset of the data is in the form of written reflections in which the students responded to phenomenologically structured questions on a worksheet. The opening prompt is, “Please list 2 or 3 things that stood out for you in class today,” followed by three numbered and lined spaces for the three things. Half way down the page is the second prompt, “Describe what you were aware of at one of these moments.”
Using Atlas.ti, I have completed a first cycle of descriptive and in vivo coding of the student reflections. I am struggling with the warning from Tesch (1990) as cited in Saldana, that I take care to code the “topic, not [an] abbreviation of the content” (Tesch as cited in Saldana, 2009, p. 70). This is a struggle for me in existential phenomenology where so often the topic is the content. Alas, I will continue to struggle and memo about this growing understanding.
I am also interested in exploring ways of using magnitude coding in a comparison of the student reflections to those of the instructor, Howard R. Pollio, following each of the classes. I interviewed Howard following each class meeting and asked him to answer the exact same questions as the students, “What are two or three things that stood out for you in class today.” The major difference with Howard’s interview is that we went into a description of each of the things that stood out for him instead of just one item like the student reflections. Several of the examples of magnitude coding (p. 58-61) gave me ideas of how I might include a comparison of the topics and magnitudes of Howard’s reflections with those of the students. This is of particular interest to me pedagogically.
Just for kicks, I went to the OCM website at Yale to check out what my ethnographic friends might be coding in their studies of culture. Wow! Who knew that there were nine different ways to code for “marriage” or eight codes under “drink and drugs?” Now, I see why so many anthropologists earned a reputation as hippies – go easy, it’s just a little ethno-humor. I also want to talk to the folks at Yale about why just seven codes exist for “education.” We’ll leave that for another day…
I get the feeling that Saldana’s pages will be turned many times in the next year of dissertation data coding, analysis and interpretation. I’m glad to be able to have this resource to re-examine data in ways that I would never have thought of on my own.
I have decided, following the Atlas.ti training and the projects I am working with at present, to attempt to apply both elemental methods of descriptive and in vivo coding to the reflections of course participants in a study of the experience of participating in the seminar on existential phenomenological psychology last fall. This subset of the data is in the form of written reflections in which the students responded to phenomenologically structured questions on a worksheet. The opening prompt is, “Please list 2 or 3 things that stood out for you in class today,” followed by three numbered and lined spaces for the three things. Half way down the page is the second prompt, “Describe what you were aware of at one of these moments.”
Using Atlas.ti, I have completed a first cycle of descriptive and in vivo coding of the student reflections. I am struggling with the warning from Tesch (1990) as cited in Saldana, that I take care to code the “topic, not [an] abbreviation of the content” (Tesch as cited in Saldana, 2009, p. 70). This is a struggle for me in existential phenomenology where so often the topic is the content. Alas, I will continue to struggle and memo about this growing understanding.
I am also interested in exploring ways of using magnitude coding in a comparison of the student reflections to those of the instructor, Howard R. Pollio, following each of the classes. I interviewed Howard following each class meeting and asked him to answer the exact same questions as the students, “What are two or three things that stood out for you in class today.” The major difference with Howard’s interview is that we went into a description of each of the things that stood out for him instead of just one item like the student reflections. Several of the examples of magnitude coding (p. 58-61) gave me ideas of how I might include a comparison of the topics and magnitudes of Howard’s reflections with those of the students. This is of particular interest to me pedagogically.
Just for kicks, I went to the OCM website at Yale to check out what my ethnographic friends might be coding in their studies of culture. Wow! Who knew that there were nine different ways to code for “marriage” or eight codes under “drink and drugs?” Now, I see why so many anthropologists earned a reputation as hippies – go easy, it’s just a little ethno-humor. I also want to talk to the folks at Yale about why just seven codes exist for “education.” We’ll leave that for another day…
I get the feeling that Saldana’s pages will be turned many times in the next year of dissertation data coding, analysis and interpretation. I’m glad to be able to have this resource to re-examine data in ways that I would never have thought of on my own.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Coding with Saldana
Note to self: Read Saldana annually. This is perhaps the third time I have read the first two chapters of Saldana. Like my experience with any text, I am amazed at how the pages have changed since my last reading. I thought I put it safely on the “read” shelves, yet somehow Saldana managed to clarify several things for me in the months between readings.
First, the mysterious analytic memos: What a joy it is to re-read a text that makes more sense once you have fumbled through a few amateurish attempts at applying knowledge. Alison Anders suggests that we keep field notes, field journals, and analytic journals for each study in which we are engaged. This is in addition to the multiple data files, audio files and research team meeting notes on a given study. I’m always wondering… OK, this is something I am thinking about, now how can I capture it, where do I “place” it, and where does it fit within the larger project?
Saldana reminds me that there are a multitude of purposes for analytic memos and thus a variety of types of analytic memos. I am particularly attracted to the use of subtitles for analytic memos, which Saldana (2009) informs me “function as subcodes or themes and enable you to subcategorize the contents into more study-specific groupings” (p. 41). Thinking about my data, via the analytic memo, used to seem like personal musings that related more to my apprehension about the process. I now believe that this was a necessary precursor to more sophisticated analytic memo writing. I have balked at putting my thoughts about the codes, process, and connections between and among participants into concrete memos for fear that they were immature or unrefined. Saldana reminds me that my concerns are a legitimate and necessary component in the analysis and theorizing process. Early inklings inform or question what needs to be more clearly defined and understood. Don’t tell Trena, but I think she has been trying to teach me this for years!
Now, about coding: I have rarely been in the position of working on only one study at a time and I don’t see this practice changing any time soon – particularly through the dissertation process. While working with different projects, different research teams, and even different methodologies I become aware of the variety of idiosyncratic approaches to coding data. In a phenomenological transcript review, I am looking for “What stands out to me?” and “What is this unit of meaning about?” and “Is there another way to view this?” This practice changes when I am looking at case study data through an a priori theoretical lens of categories of themes or attributes. Finally, when left to my own devices, I tend to look for naming opportunities and in vivo phrases that are particularly interesting.
Saldana references Hatch (2002), who is sitting on my “un-read” shelf right now, in listing a myriad of pattern types and categorizations on p. 6. I find (as an abstract belief) that I could apply all of these patterns to any data collected. What I appreciate about Saldana’s approach to coding after all of the practical assistance is this repeated mantra that coding is not universal, but rather driven by both the researcher and the subject of inquiry. It does not mean that I am schizophrenic if I notice and code patterns, categories and themes in different ways for each different datum, it could mean that I am letting the meaning become known organically each time I engage with my research. Note to self: write an analytic memo about this new understanding.
First, the mysterious analytic memos: What a joy it is to re-read a text that makes more sense once you have fumbled through a few amateurish attempts at applying knowledge. Alison Anders suggests that we keep field notes, field journals, and analytic journals for each study in which we are engaged. This is in addition to the multiple data files, audio files and research team meeting notes on a given study. I’m always wondering… OK, this is something I am thinking about, now how can I capture it, where do I “place” it, and where does it fit within the larger project?
Saldana reminds me that there are a multitude of purposes for analytic memos and thus a variety of types of analytic memos. I am particularly attracted to the use of subtitles for analytic memos, which Saldana (2009) informs me “function as subcodes or themes and enable you to subcategorize the contents into more study-specific groupings” (p. 41). Thinking about my data, via the analytic memo, used to seem like personal musings that related more to my apprehension about the process. I now believe that this was a necessary precursor to more sophisticated analytic memo writing. I have balked at putting my thoughts about the codes, process, and connections between and among participants into concrete memos for fear that they were immature or unrefined. Saldana reminds me that my concerns are a legitimate and necessary component in the analysis and theorizing process. Early inklings inform or question what needs to be more clearly defined and understood. Don’t tell Trena, but I think she has been trying to teach me this for years!
Now, about coding: I have rarely been in the position of working on only one study at a time and I don’t see this practice changing any time soon – particularly through the dissertation process. While working with different projects, different research teams, and even different methodologies I become aware of the variety of idiosyncratic approaches to coding data. In a phenomenological transcript review, I am looking for “What stands out to me?” and “What is this unit of meaning about?” and “Is there another way to view this?” This practice changes when I am looking at case study data through an a priori theoretical lens of categories of themes or attributes. Finally, when left to my own devices, I tend to look for naming opportunities and in vivo phrases that are particularly interesting.
Saldana references Hatch (2002), who is sitting on my “un-read” shelf right now, in listing a myriad of pattern types and categorizations on p. 6. I find (as an abstract belief) that I could apply all of these patterns to any data collected. What I appreciate about Saldana’s approach to coding after all of the practical assistance is this repeated mantra that coding is not universal, but rather driven by both the researcher and the subject of inquiry. It does not mean that I am schizophrenic if I notice and code patterns, categories and themes in different ways for each different datum, it could mean that I am letting the meaning become known organically each time I engage with my research. Note to self: write an analytic memo about this new understanding.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Abstractions and theorizing
Grbich’s (2007) section on writing up data seemed at once both simplistic and helpful. What does that say about me that I reacted to the functional nature of Part Four? It’s probably related to the pragmatic research posture I am exploring…
Theorizing from Data (chapter 14) was the most helpful chapter, although certainly dealing with the complexity of theorizing from an elementary level. I have not viewed theory from this micro, middle, and grand level in the way that Grbich presents it. She speaks of these choices in the writing up of our research with terms like “theory directed” and “light theoretical interpretations” (p. 185) which makes me feel as if I am deciding to order an entrée or select my meal in an ala carte fashion! I’ll take the lightly theorized phenomenology with a side of heavily postpositivist multiple regression, please.
I do appreciate Grbich’s general style of presenting examples to highlight each of her categories in this and other parts of her text. I suppose she had to include examples from a variety of disciplines (business, management, sociology) in order to appeal to a larger qualitative research community. The lessons learned from this chapter came mostly in the form of illumination of the underlying assumptions of each level of theorizing and abstracting. My claims in this arena must be logically connected to the methodology my studies follow.
I took many cautions to heart from the multiple methods chapter. (When you have a hammer…) In particular, my own research design for my dissertation study will be improved as a result of the “Advantages of combining quantitative and qualitative results” section (p. 197). I am particularly attracted to the idea of using quantitative data to examine differences between groups (variability and covariability) while tracking changes over time (a yearlong teacher internship process) and qualitative data (interviews and focus groups) to approach an understanding of the experience for the participants. Grbich has helped me to conceptualize the frame for this data collection more clearly and to hopefully avoid some of the pitfalls of poorly designed mixed methods research.
Theorizing from Data (chapter 14) was the most helpful chapter, although certainly dealing with the complexity of theorizing from an elementary level. I have not viewed theory from this micro, middle, and grand level in the way that Grbich presents it. She speaks of these choices in the writing up of our research with terms like “theory directed” and “light theoretical interpretations” (p. 185) which makes me feel as if I am deciding to order an entrée or select my meal in an ala carte fashion! I’ll take the lightly theorized phenomenology with a side of heavily postpositivist multiple regression, please.
I do appreciate Grbich’s general style of presenting examples to highlight each of her categories in this and other parts of her text. I suppose she had to include examples from a variety of disciplines (business, management, sociology) in order to appeal to a larger qualitative research community. The lessons learned from this chapter came mostly in the form of illumination of the underlying assumptions of each level of theorizing and abstracting. My claims in this arena must be logically connected to the methodology my studies follow.
I took many cautions to heart from the multiple methods chapter. (When you have a hammer…) In particular, my own research design for my dissertation study will be improved as a result of the “Advantages of combining quantitative and qualitative results” section (p. 197). I am particularly attracted to the idea of using quantitative data to examine differences between groups (variability and covariability) while tracking changes over time (a yearlong teacher internship process) and qualitative data (interviews and focus groups) to approach an understanding of the experience for the participants. Grbich has helped me to conceptualize the frame for this data collection more clearly and to hopefully avoid some of the pitfalls of poorly designed mixed methods research.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Categories, Communities and Complexities
Grbich (2007) makes many communities of practice clearer for me with her categorical chapters of document analysis. I thank her for each and every “ah-ha moment” in my reading for this week. In particular, she helped me to understand the underlying ontology/epistemology of certain traditions (discourse analysis, for example) that construct reality in ways that are different from my own conceptions of “truth.” This is most helpful now that I have dabbled in different methodological approaches to data and document analysis.
I remember reading Reynolds’ (2008) The Single Woman and puzzling over phrases indicating that the language (discourse) used by participants allowed them to sort-of create themselves through the language. Reynolds is directly reflexive in stating that she views “identity as something that we can only know about through looking at social practices, since the inner subjectivity remains hidden from the researcher’s view” (p. 25). In examining the discourse and models of the single identity, Reynolds puzzled, “What different ways do they [models of the single identity] offer a woman on her own of understanding her life and her current situation?” (p. 26). My note in the margin next to this passage asks, “Does anyone need to be offered models to understand themselves?”
Citing Foucault, Grbich describes the social constructionist philosophy underlying discourse analysis: “Discourses are not about objects; they do not identify objects, they constitute them and in the practice of doing so conceal their own invention” (as cited in Grbich, 2007, p. 147, emphasis added). Perhaps my struggle with the social construction of reality lies more in the foundational beliefs underlying this philosophy than in my research-self that attempts to understand that I can only work with what my participants share and my interpretations of what they include and omit from their discourse. Noblit (1999) makes the point that “research techniques and methods in qualitative research are incidental to the central act of interpretation. We employ them so that we can make sense of some social scene, but they have no significance independent of the interpretation and the context in which they are used” (p. 14). This leads to some of the general approaches to organizing and making sense of the data before we begin more formal analysis.
Particularly helpful for me was Grbich’s opening chapter on content analysis, which allows the use of this analytic approach as a starting point to begin organizing and familiarizing oneself with a large corpus of data. I personally find it necessary to gather a sense of the whole before determining the exact next course of analytic action, even when approaching data with literature and methodological commitments in tow. While Grbich summarizes one use of content analysis as that, “It can simplify very large documents into enumerative information,” I might be able to tweak that strength in that it can organize a large amount of data into categorical information (p. 122). This adjustment of Grbich’s defining strength in content analysis moves away from the quantitative benefits and into a more thematic approach which I find more amenable to my work.
Grbich’s narrative analysis chapter likewise brought some comfort through continuity for me. Laying out the process of socio-linguistic approaches to narrative, Grbich cites Labov and the elements of a socio-linguistic approach to structured narrative (p. 127). This is consistent with the presentation of Labov’s “evaluation model” as cited in Coffey and Atkinson (1996):
Structure - Question
Abstract - What was this about?
Orientation - Who? What? When? Where?
Complication - Then what happened?
Evaluation - So what?
Result - What finally happened?
Coda - [Finish narrative] (p. 58)
I personally appreciate those golden moments when multiple authors refer back to the seminal work on a topic as Grbich does in her text through connections with Labov in narrative analysis, Jefferson in conversation analysis and Foucault in discourse analysis. These names and this continuity of presentation really help the novice researcher to hone in on those seminal theorists and works.
What I am still troubling with is the chapter about structural and poststructural analysis. Like everything else in my graduate school experiences, I shall attribute my misunderstandings of Grbich’s chapter to a lack of foundational reading on my part in this domain. While I have spent many hours in the process of deconstructing a text or a transcript, Grbich’s chapter did not eliminate, for me, the danger of “its tendency toward nihilism” (p. 180). I find when I am lost in the deconstructed bits, I must return from that place of disconnected pondering lest I allow the very practice of deconstruction to “very quickly lead to meaninglessness” (p. 180).
References other than Grbich
Coffee, A. & Atkinson, P. (1996). Making sense of qualitative data: Complementary research strategies. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.
Noblit, G.W. (1999). Particularities: Collected essays on ethnography and education. New York, NY: Peter Lang
Reynolds, J. (2008). The single woman: A discursive investigation. New York, NY: Routledge.
I remember reading Reynolds’ (2008) The Single Woman and puzzling over phrases indicating that the language (discourse) used by participants allowed them to sort-of create themselves through the language. Reynolds is directly reflexive in stating that she views “identity as something that we can only know about through looking at social practices, since the inner subjectivity remains hidden from the researcher’s view” (p. 25). In examining the discourse and models of the single identity, Reynolds puzzled, “What different ways do they [models of the single identity] offer a woman on her own of understanding her life and her current situation?” (p. 26). My note in the margin next to this passage asks, “Does anyone need to be offered models to understand themselves?”
Citing Foucault, Grbich describes the social constructionist philosophy underlying discourse analysis: “Discourses are not about objects; they do not identify objects, they constitute them and in the practice of doing so conceal their own invention” (as cited in Grbich, 2007, p. 147, emphasis added). Perhaps my struggle with the social construction of reality lies more in the foundational beliefs underlying this philosophy than in my research-self that attempts to understand that I can only work with what my participants share and my interpretations of what they include and omit from their discourse. Noblit (1999) makes the point that “research techniques and methods in qualitative research are incidental to the central act of interpretation. We employ them so that we can make sense of some social scene, but they have no significance independent of the interpretation and the context in which they are used” (p. 14). This leads to some of the general approaches to organizing and making sense of the data before we begin more formal analysis.
Particularly helpful for me was Grbich’s opening chapter on content analysis, which allows the use of this analytic approach as a starting point to begin organizing and familiarizing oneself with a large corpus of data. I personally find it necessary to gather a sense of the whole before determining the exact next course of analytic action, even when approaching data with literature and methodological commitments in tow. While Grbich summarizes one use of content analysis as that, “It can simplify very large documents into enumerative information,” I might be able to tweak that strength in that it can organize a large amount of data into categorical information (p. 122). This adjustment of Grbich’s defining strength in content analysis moves away from the quantitative benefits and into a more thematic approach which I find more amenable to my work.
Grbich’s narrative analysis chapter likewise brought some comfort through continuity for me. Laying out the process of socio-linguistic approaches to narrative, Grbich cites Labov and the elements of a socio-linguistic approach to structured narrative (p. 127). This is consistent with the presentation of Labov’s “evaluation model” as cited in Coffey and Atkinson (1996):
Structure - Question
Abstract - What was this about?
Orientation - Who? What? When? Where?
Complication - Then what happened?
Evaluation - So what?
Result - What finally happened?
Coda - [Finish narrative] (p. 58)
I personally appreciate those golden moments when multiple authors refer back to the seminal work on a topic as Grbich does in her text through connections with Labov in narrative analysis, Jefferson in conversation analysis and Foucault in discourse analysis. These names and this continuity of presentation really help the novice researcher to hone in on those seminal theorists and works.
What I am still troubling with is the chapter about structural and poststructural analysis. Like everything else in my graduate school experiences, I shall attribute my misunderstandings of Grbich’s chapter to a lack of foundational reading on my part in this domain. While I have spent many hours in the process of deconstructing a text or a transcript, Grbich’s chapter did not eliminate, for me, the danger of “its tendency toward nihilism” (p. 180). I find when I am lost in the deconstructed bits, I must return from that place of disconnected pondering lest I allow the very practice of deconstruction to “very quickly lead to meaninglessness” (p. 180).
References other than Grbich
Coffee, A. & Atkinson, P. (1996). Making sense of qualitative data: Complementary research strategies. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.
Noblit, G.W. (1999). Particularities: Collected essays on ethnography and education. New York, NY: Peter Lang
Reynolds, J. (2008). The single woman: A discursive investigation. New York, NY: Routledge.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Clarities and Commotions
I really appreciate Grbich’s (2007) attempt to offer guidelines for the uses of such a variety of approaches in part two of her text. The introduction to this section, however, speaks to the fuzzy nature of qualitative research in general, offering the analyst to “trial new ways of proceeding” and then “publish the outcomes for other research to add to their list of possible choices” (p. 37). This clarity is why doctoral students grow premature gray hairs. (OK, mine are just mature – not the pre-.)
In regard to the content of part two of her work, I appreciate that Grbich helps to frame the most popular approaches to analysis. This section of the text helps to frame the historical landscape from which each analytic approach has grown. I also find her examples, resources and summaries quite accessible. It reminds me of other texts (Bentz & Shapiro, 1998; Creswell, 2007/2003; and Bogdan & Biklen, 2007) which provide a state of the practice view of a number of qualitative approaches to analysis.
For the purposes of this course, and my project goals within the course, I will need to use Grbich as a jumping off place and read much more detailed accounts of how others create either clarity or commotion with the blending of different approaches to analysis. For example, I am looking at the possibility of blending Grbich’s classical ethnographic approach with that of existential phenomenology. Howard Pollio (personal communication, November 9, 2010) introduced a new approach, phenomenography, to me last semester that I am finding few examples of in my area of research interest. This interests me greatly and I am determined to read more widely on the use and underlying assumptions inherent in this approach.
In the meantime, I am finding that extensive readings of ethnographies and phenomenologies are helping me to think more critically about the strengths and advantages of each approach. I find Goodall’s (2000) description of the “New Ethnography” to be more centered on the presentation and narrative composition of ethnographic work rather than on self-discovery and Marxist critique as Grbich frames it. Perhaps this is due to my own frame of reference – do you think? I am fortunate to have been able to read several ethnographic works, such as Bettie’s (2003) Women Without Class; Bourgois & Schonberg’s (2009) Righteous Dopefiend; Ferguson’s (2001) Bad Boys; Lareau’s (2003) Unequal Childhoods; Milner’s (2006) Freaks, Geeks and Cool Kids and Ellis’ major autoethnographic work (2004) The Ethnographic I this year. These books excite both the reader and the scholar in me! I find the narrative writing style of ethnographic accounts to provide the clearest test for validity – does the reader believe what you are saying is true is in fact true from his or her own personal worldview. Have you made your claims from the research data and connected this with the literature? Has your own personal bias been exposed and subjected to critique? Have you attended to your own persona as the narrator of the story of others. Goodall describes this form of ethnographic reflexivity as “akin to the function of self-disclosure in friendships” and includes how you treat people, reflect on your experiences in the field, and attempt to derive meaning through your explanations (p. 131). Clearly, these matters are much bigger than merely your approach to analysis of the data collected in a study. It involves the tools of authorship, storytelling and the ability to effect an emotional reaction from your reader. Powerful stuff!
From Grbich’s treatment of phenomenology, I find that I have been operating on the assumption that Husserl, Heidegger, Merleau-Ponty and Gadamer’s approaches were not incommensurable frameworks. I have attempted to understand the search for essences as the focus of phenomenology with Heidegger’s Dasein and Husserl’s focus on a “return to the things-themselves” without conflict. My naïve understanding of key differences between Husserl and other phenomenologists lied in the assertions about bracketing. Husserl believed that one could bracket out their own views and experiences in order to keep the research pure and free of researcher bias. Heidegger, Merleau-Ponty and Gadamer counter that this is an impossible condition to achieve and lacks value if it could be achieved. All of our experiences are necessary in order to understand another’s position as a being-in-the-world and we need to be cautious that our interpretations are truly deriving from the participants in our research practices. I am regularly reminded to “show me that [interpretation of meaning] in the text” (Howard Pollio, personal communication, various dates and times).
This warns me that I have perhaps been reading at a more superficial level and need to examine more critically the unique foundations of existential phenomenology as it diverges from classical and hermeneutic phenomenology. Grbich does help me sort some of this out by stating that “The difference in approach here from the classical phenomenology of Husserl [speaking of Heidegger and Merleau-Ponty’s existential phenomenology] lies in the broad movement from the abstract to the real – the meanings for being must be uncovered first – in contrast with Husserl’s movement in classical phenomenology from the real to the abstract” (p. 91). This is a critical distinction for existential phenomenology and I am thankful to begin to sort this out.
Which brings me back to where we started…. I am need of a coherent methodological framework for analysis (still thinking that phenomenography may work) which will require me to convince my readers of the soundness of this decision, the reflexivity of the research process, and the (hopeful) possibility of an evolution in my understanding as I read more of these research publications.
In regard to the content of part two of her work, I appreciate that Grbich helps to frame the most popular approaches to analysis. This section of the text helps to frame the historical landscape from which each analytic approach has grown. I also find her examples, resources and summaries quite accessible. It reminds me of other texts (Bentz & Shapiro, 1998; Creswell, 2007/2003; and Bogdan & Biklen, 2007) which provide a state of the practice view of a number of qualitative approaches to analysis.
For the purposes of this course, and my project goals within the course, I will need to use Grbich as a jumping off place and read much more detailed accounts of how others create either clarity or commotion with the blending of different approaches to analysis. For example, I am looking at the possibility of blending Grbich’s classical ethnographic approach with that of existential phenomenology. Howard Pollio (personal communication, November 9, 2010) introduced a new approach, phenomenography, to me last semester that I am finding few examples of in my area of research interest. This interests me greatly and I am determined to read more widely on the use and underlying assumptions inherent in this approach.
In the meantime, I am finding that extensive readings of ethnographies and phenomenologies are helping me to think more critically about the strengths and advantages of each approach. I find Goodall’s (2000) description of the “New Ethnography” to be more centered on the presentation and narrative composition of ethnographic work rather than on self-discovery and Marxist critique as Grbich frames it. Perhaps this is due to my own frame of reference – do you think? I am fortunate to have been able to read several ethnographic works, such as Bettie’s (2003) Women Without Class; Bourgois & Schonberg’s (2009) Righteous Dopefiend; Ferguson’s (2001) Bad Boys; Lareau’s (2003) Unequal Childhoods; Milner’s (2006) Freaks, Geeks and Cool Kids and Ellis’ major autoethnographic work (2004) The Ethnographic I this year. These books excite both the reader and the scholar in me! I find the narrative writing style of ethnographic accounts to provide the clearest test for validity – does the reader believe what you are saying is true is in fact true from his or her own personal worldview. Have you made your claims from the research data and connected this with the literature? Has your own personal bias been exposed and subjected to critique? Have you attended to your own persona as the narrator of the story of others. Goodall describes this form of ethnographic reflexivity as “akin to the function of self-disclosure in friendships” and includes how you treat people, reflect on your experiences in the field, and attempt to derive meaning through your explanations (p. 131). Clearly, these matters are much bigger than merely your approach to analysis of the data collected in a study. It involves the tools of authorship, storytelling and the ability to effect an emotional reaction from your reader. Powerful stuff!
From Grbich’s treatment of phenomenology, I find that I have been operating on the assumption that Husserl, Heidegger, Merleau-Ponty and Gadamer’s approaches were not incommensurable frameworks. I have attempted to understand the search for essences as the focus of phenomenology with Heidegger’s Dasein and Husserl’s focus on a “return to the things-themselves” without conflict. My naïve understanding of key differences between Husserl and other phenomenologists lied in the assertions about bracketing. Husserl believed that one could bracket out their own views and experiences in order to keep the research pure and free of researcher bias. Heidegger, Merleau-Ponty and Gadamer counter that this is an impossible condition to achieve and lacks value if it could be achieved. All of our experiences are necessary in order to understand another’s position as a being-in-the-world and we need to be cautious that our interpretations are truly deriving from the participants in our research practices. I am regularly reminded to “show me that [interpretation of meaning] in the text” (Howard Pollio, personal communication, various dates and times).
This warns me that I have perhaps been reading at a more superficial level and need to examine more critically the unique foundations of existential phenomenology as it diverges from classical and hermeneutic phenomenology. Grbich does help me sort some of this out by stating that “The difference in approach here from the classical phenomenology of Husserl [speaking of Heidegger and Merleau-Ponty’s existential phenomenology] lies in the broad movement from the abstract to the real – the meanings for being must be uncovered first – in contrast with Husserl’s movement in classical phenomenology from the real to the abstract” (p. 91). This is a critical distinction for existential phenomenology and I am thankful to begin to sort this out.
Which brings me back to where we started…. I am need of a coherent methodological framework for analysis (still thinking that phenomenography may work) which will require me to convince my readers of the soundness of this decision, the reflexivity of the research process, and the (hopeful) possibility of an evolution in my understanding as I read more of these research publications.
Monday, January 24, 2011
[Re]visiting old Friends
I have been grateful for the opportunity to re-consider, re-flect, re-view, and re-vise my own ontology, epistemology, axiology, and methodology for the past couple of years at UTK (beginning with a look at “osophies and ologies” in intro. to qual). Grbich (2007) provided me with another wonderful excuse to look at the underlying assumptions inherent in all research traditions.
After reading chapter 1, I pulled out Guba and Lincoln’s (2005) own re-visioning of research paradigms in their chapter in the third edition of the Handbook of Qualitative Research. I was particularly attracted to the section where the authors discuss “Catholic questions directed to a Methodist audience” (p. 202) as this analogy speaks to all of the dimensions of personhood for me. It:
give[s] a sense of how paradigms, or overarching philosophies – or theologies – are incommensurable, and how questions in one framework make little, if any, sense in another. (p. 202-203)
This has been a frustrating road for me and I believe the answer might lie in the addition of theological considerations. You see, I believe there exists a “real” reality, “’out there,’ apart from the flawed human apprehension of it” (Guba & Lincoln, 2005, p. 203). In my research, then, I feel compelled to understand whatever portion of that “real” is accessible to me as a flawed human.
This idea appears to contrast with my constructivist views on the partial, relative and subjective views of social science. Guba and Lincoln describe their constructivist views on objectivity:
We are persuaded that objectivity is a chimera: a mythological creature that never existed, save in the imaginations of those who believe that knowing can be separated from the knower. (p. 208)
While I do not believe objectivity an illusion, I agree with constructivist assertions that human views on “truth” can only be partial, partisan, particularistic, and problematic (Eisenberg & Goodall, 1997). I find that Goodall (2000) elaborated well on this constructivist posture when he explained:
What counts as the truth depends on where you are standing when you observe or participate in it, what you believe about it in the first place, and what you want to do with it – or who is paying you to do something with it – once you name it. (p. 12)
Thankfully, Grbich helps to reconcile my pulls in seemingly opposite directions when she discusses the combining of approaches in research in Chapter 2. I believe that my postures as thinker, seeker of “truth,” and qualitative researcher requires extensive reflexivity and bracketing in my writing. Creswell (2003) helps me to speak to others about my position when he describes pragmatism and pragmatic knowledge claims:
Instead of methods being important, the problem is most important, and researchers use all approaches to understand the problem. (p. 11)
This posture does not represent a “I can’t make up my mind” posture as some may impose on us, but a conscious resolving of the tensions between the grand narrative that I believe exists in an inaccessible way for me and that portion of it that is accessible to me at this time, in this space, with this knowledge, and with these participants.
It is my hope that I will continue to afford myself opportunities to grow, learn, reflect, and change positions. I find it one of the most frustratingly satisfying experiences of my adult life! In the meantime, I will operate today on the position that I believe a capital T “Truth” exists apart from my ability to comprehend it, that I must bring subjectivities together to get to as many prismatic views of the crystal (where did this metaphor of the crystal come from?) as I can, and approach truth as Creswell (2003) defines it for the pragmatist:
Truth is not based in a strict dualism between the mind and a reality completely independent of the mind. Thus, in mixed methods research, investigators use both quantitative and qualitative data because they work to provide the best understanding of a research problem. (p. 12)
Perhaps my curiosity is too great or my knowledge is too small, but I am most interested in examining research problems from this perspective.
After reading chapter 1, I pulled out Guba and Lincoln’s (2005) own re-visioning of research paradigms in their chapter in the third edition of the Handbook of Qualitative Research. I was particularly attracted to the section where the authors discuss “Catholic questions directed to a Methodist audience” (p. 202) as this analogy speaks to all of the dimensions of personhood for me. It:
give[s] a sense of how paradigms, or overarching philosophies – or theologies – are incommensurable, and how questions in one framework make little, if any, sense in another. (p. 202-203)
This has been a frustrating road for me and I believe the answer might lie in the addition of theological considerations. You see, I believe there exists a “real” reality, “’out there,’ apart from the flawed human apprehension of it” (Guba & Lincoln, 2005, p. 203). In my research, then, I feel compelled to understand whatever portion of that “real” is accessible to me as a flawed human.
This idea appears to contrast with my constructivist views on the partial, relative and subjective views of social science. Guba and Lincoln describe their constructivist views on objectivity:
We are persuaded that objectivity is a chimera: a mythological creature that never existed, save in the imaginations of those who believe that knowing can be separated from the knower. (p. 208)
While I do not believe objectivity an illusion, I agree with constructivist assertions that human views on “truth” can only be partial, partisan, particularistic, and problematic (Eisenberg & Goodall, 1997). I find that Goodall (2000) elaborated well on this constructivist posture when he explained:
What counts as the truth depends on where you are standing when you observe or participate in it, what you believe about it in the first place, and what you want to do with it – or who is paying you to do something with it – once you name it. (p. 12)
Thankfully, Grbich helps to reconcile my pulls in seemingly opposite directions when she discusses the combining of approaches in research in Chapter 2. I believe that my postures as thinker, seeker of “truth,” and qualitative researcher requires extensive reflexivity and bracketing in my writing. Creswell (2003) helps me to speak to others about my position when he describes pragmatism and pragmatic knowledge claims:
Instead of methods being important, the problem is most important, and researchers use all approaches to understand the problem. (p. 11)
This posture does not represent a “I can’t make up my mind” posture as some may impose on us, but a conscious resolving of the tensions between the grand narrative that I believe exists in an inaccessible way for me and that portion of it that is accessible to me at this time, in this space, with this knowledge, and with these participants.
It is my hope that I will continue to afford myself opportunities to grow, learn, reflect, and change positions. I find it one of the most frustratingly satisfying experiences of my adult life! In the meantime, I will operate today on the position that I believe a capital T “Truth” exists apart from my ability to comprehend it, that I must bring subjectivities together to get to as many prismatic views of the crystal (where did this metaphor of the crystal come from?) as I can, and approach truth as Creswell (2003) defines it for the pragmatist:
Truth is not based in a strict dualism between the mind and a reality completely independent of the mind. Thus, in mixed methods research, investigators use both quantitative and qualitative data because they work to provide the best understanding of a research problem. (p. 12)
Perhaps my curiosity is too great or my knowledge is too small, but I am most interested in examining research problems from this perspective.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Did anyone see my blog anywhere?
It took me all day to locate, reset the password, and log into this "old" blog from last year's Discourse Analysis course with Trena. I struggled to get into the flow of blogging last year, but am committed to trying it again - OK, so it is a course requirement - that works.
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