Methodological reflexivity

In recent years, there has been an increasing body of research that has recognised the importance of reflexivity when conducting ethical research (Guillemin and Gillam, 2004; Etherington, 2007; Warin, 2011; Phelan and Kinsella, 2013). Bryman (2016) infers that it is often the case amidst methodological discussion, for the social researcher to include a reflexive account of their positionality and decision-making processes during the study, since social science research can be influenced by a variety of factors. Reflexivity involves researchers placing themselves and their practices under scrutiny, “acknowledging the

ethical dilemmas that permeate the research process and impinge on the creation of knowledge” (McGraw et al., 2000, p.68). For example, this includes examining our gender, age, ethnicity, identity, social class, religion, (dis)ability, previous experience, as well as rapport with participants (Sparkes and Smith, 2014). This understanding gives recognition to the implications and significance of the researcher’s choices within the research process and the consequences in relation to data collection and dissemination (Bryman, 2016). It goes someway in addressing how the social researcher may affect the way in which research is conducted and the findings interpreted.

With regard to my positioning within this study, I am a 26-year-old white British female. I come from a non-professional background and I am the only person in my family to have gone to university. My Bachelor’s degree was in Sports Education and Sports Development and my Master’s by Research degree focused on the educational trajectories of looked-after children. My previous Master’s degree could almost be considered a 'trial run' in my attempt to gain access to LACYP, but was ultimately unsuccessful in the necessary timeframe. With this in mind, I thought I was entering into this study knowing how difficult access would be and assumed that the additional length of such study, and the higher status qualification it afforded, would put me in a better position to access the field. How wrong I was. I lost count of the amount of rejections or unhelpful correspondence I received, which served to prove one thing; ultimately, no one within the contexts I contacted was prepared to take responsibility for facilitating young people’s involvement in the research. Often, I would simply be pointed in another direction or passed on to another person who was 'better equipped to help'. Ultimately my study felt like it was on standby until access was secured. Once a literature review was completed (although in a constant state of revision), I could not establish a fixed methodology since I did not know how many young people I would have access to, in what setting this would be, and for how long. I was aware that it was these things that would ultimately inform the methods I would adopt, and only knowing the methods could I plan subsequent stages. I felt, then, that I could not plan for anything, but was left collecting ideas, concepts and methods that could potentially be used. As such, I was rather ‘pushed’ towards developing a more ‘fluid methodology’, one more responsive to the emergent structure of the study. The difficulties I refer to, are not limited to my study (e.g. Murray, 2005). Although studies rarely address the practical issues of undertaking research with LACYP (Wigfall and Cameron, 2006), Heptinstall (2000) noted the difficulties in securing access to looked-after

children, with over 50% of her initial cohort lost due to exclusions by gatekeepers (e.g., social workers and parents). Despite being from a dedicated research unit, the process of recruiting 16 participants took her approximately 10 months.

Aside from the obvious emails, phone calls and meetings, my attempt to gain access to speak with LACYP was nothing like I had predicted. I cooked pizzas, made Christmas decorations, rock climbed and even went to a planned event at Center Parcs with LACYP, all in the hope that it would lead to me being able to speak with them. However, while I was allowed to talk with them in these scenarios, I was unable to collect data due to various ethical considerations and required processes (e.g. obtaining necessary consent). I attended the events voluntarily and was more than happy to do so; I wanted to show the gatekeepers that I was committed to getting to know these young people and offer any additional services I could. Nevertheless, getting to know these young people seemed almost impossible when not even the local authority (in which the group interviews took place) could predict their attendance at events or determine if they would turn up again. One particular local authority even had to cancel a particular event the day before it was due to take place due to lack of numbers (an event at which it was agreed I could collect data). Trying to access a group of (vulnerable) children who are not all in one school, but indeed belong to a 'Virtual School' and who may have moved placements six times during the course of this study, was always going to be problematic. The slow and lengthy process required to recruit looked-after children for research purposes has been widely cited in the literature (see Butler and Williamson, 1994; Thomas and O’Kane, 1998b; Heptinstall, 2000; Murray, 2005; Quarmby, 2014); a reason, perhaps, why so little research (particularly qualitative research) has been done in this area.

The whole process of gaining access revolved around relationships, and my experience in this study showed that it is more about who you know, rather than what you know. Many of the professionals I spoke with dismissed it before it had even been put to the young people, perhaps through fear of what the young people might say or a recognition of the level of work involved to set meetings up. This notion that gatekeepers may consciously or unconsciously block children’s participation in research has previously been recognised by Heptinstall (2000) who argues that not letting young people decide for themselves prevents their voice being heard. Only one line of access I pursued put it to their young

people to decide their own participation in the research; they did so through their Children in Care council. Interestingly, the young people were particularly interested and wanted to take part, since my study met the aims of a strand of their local authority initiative. I was granted permission from the gatekeeper to hear the young people’s voices during their bi- monthly meetings that groups of LACYP and care leavers regularly attend. I was invited to three different meetings, where the young people were split into age ranges and I was told to expect around 25 young people in total. However, despite eight months of negotiating access, and attending events and meetings with various professionals and young people, due to difficulties with securing consent (from adults), none of the group interviews happened. Only one consent form was received, with the gatekeeper noting that:

The situation with consent is that the carers’ need to sign the consent and sometimes they are unaware of what the project is really about and for some young people in care the consent has to signed by their social worker which sometimes can be extremely difficult.

This was discouraging, particularly as I had spent a considerable amount of time preparing relevant materials. To add to the frustration, the young people still attended the scheduled meetings - which had an explicit focus on youth voice - but because I was external to the council and had to gain separate consent, I was unable to collect any data with them; regardless of the fact that they wanted to take part. Negotiating access therefore remains a major challenge in conducting research with LACYP, which can have a significant impact on the timing of the research, as I discovered (Wigfall and Cameron, 2006).

When conducting research with young people, particularly with those who may have difficulties establishing relationships with regard to trust, I knew that it was important to build a rapport quickly so that they would feel more comfortable in sharing their experiences. Without opportunities to get to know people over a period of time, as I would have liked, I felt an extra pressure when meeting youth participants for the first time. It was an incredibly daunting feeling, not knowing how you were going to be perceived and if you were going to be accepted. This meant, for example, the things that some researchers may not acknowledge as relevant became incredibly important (e.g. what to wear, personal

mannerisms and giving active thought to the complex life histories of participants). This was especially challenging since most of the encounters I had with the young people were in the presence of local authority staff, so it was often a challenge to find the right balance between being respected as a professional to gatekeepers and yet not coming across as ‘another professional’ to the young people.

During the study, it was important for me to remember that my youth participants were used to individuals coming in and out of their lives, being asked questions, sitting in meetings and listening to decisions being made about/for them. To them, I was just another stranger wanting to speak to them. For this reason, I made it clear from the start that I was not a social worker, nor a teacher. I was not there to judge or pass on what they might say; I was purely there to listen and try and understand their experiences. I dressed in a casual but presentable manner (jeans and a jumper were the usual attire), and engaged in general conversation with the young people before any data collection took place. I would talk about everyday things such as current music or TV programmes or their plans for the weekend. I kept the interactions fun, informal and relaxed in order that I might be accepted by the young people (as someone they were willing to talk to) and remove any potential discomfort from their participation. This sense of rapport is something which has been suggested by Punch (2002) as necessary when speaking to children and young people, since they are often not used to sharing experiences with unknown adults (although, as noted, this may not necessarily be the case for LACYP). This is contrasted by Kendrick and colleagues (2008) who suggest that it can sometimes be easier to speak about things with a stranger as opposed to someone who has a positive view of them, particularly if it is to discuss potentially embarrassing, painful or shameful experiences. During this process, I was aware of the possibility of hearing some sensitive issues or distressing experiences. One “ethically important moment” (Guilleman and Gillam, 2004, p.262) was a personal disclosure by a young woman that I was not expecting during one of the three individual interviews I had with her. Although I knew that disclosures could happen with this kind of respondent group, I found this incident somewhat difficult to deal with, despite it having been historic and legally dealt with on behalf of the person concerned. I cannot be sure to what extent my age, gender and ethnicity may have affected the conversations I had with young people, but being female may have been a contributing factor in the disclosure mentioned above.

4.11 Summary

This chapter has provided details concerning the specific methodological principles, methods and context that guided, shaped and underpinned this study. It began by considering epistemological and ontological assumptions to explain why a qualitative methodological framework was predominantly adopted for this study. The potential challenges of doing research with children and young people, particularly those who are looked-after, were then identified, with scoping interviews introduced as a means of gaining knowledge that could help to shape and inform this current research. Further challenges in conducting research were considered in relation to ethical issues and, in particular, the process of negotiating access to LACYP and hearing their voices. The three phases of data collection were then explained, and the research methods employed in each were discussed in relation to their advantages and limitations for this study. Following this, the discussion proceeded to explore how consent, privacy and confidentiality were ensured during the research process and how the data were analysed to identify key themes for discussion. Finally, a reflexive researcher account was presented, documenting a personal view of the research process and the difficulties arising therein.

Having now addressed the methodology employed in this research, the following four chapters present the key research findings alongside relevant discussion. Each chapter includes an amalgamation of data from all three phases of the study, presented across three to four different sub-themes. Due to the different numbers of adult voices and the fact that some LACYP were interviewed on more occasions that others, certain voices may appear to be more apparent within the findings due to the greater insight of experiences that they offered. Broadly speaking, the chapter headings represent the key themes and the sections within each discussion denote the sub-themes. Throughout the chapters, the social ecological model (McLeroy et al., 1988) is drawn upon to provide clarity and understanding of the many different influences at play within LACYP’s experiences.