Parallels: My Methodologies and Theoretical Framework

Creswell (2007) and other authors e.g. (Denzin, 2010b) describe ‘different’

approaches to qualitative inquiry, however, many elements (and likewise some controversies) within each of these methods had a part to play over the course of my research. Serendipitously, the foundational approaches or ‘traditions’ of my

epistemology are simultaneously entwined within the methodology and topic of my research. This is because, as I explained in Chapter Two, there are complex socio-political and historical contexts within lesson observations, which in turn forms part of a unique professional habitus. Therefore there is arguably no ‘overall truth’ of any

‘objective assessment’ possible; the nature of teaching and learning is by definition fluid and impossible to define. Hence qualitative research of this nature - as I explain in more detail later in this chapter – does not and cannot offer a claim of any

‘monolithic truth’. The complex contexts of the researcher, participants, socio-political situation and numerous other factors, all contribute to an interpretation: one of many which can illuminate otherwise hidden aspects of individuals’ behaviours.

For this reason, it is necessary to make these connections between theoretical, philosophical elements and methodological ones within this (methodology) chapter, wherever appropriate. To begin, I pose the problematisation of positivism as this is

119 embedded within my research questions. For example, the epistemological question of whether (a) truth exists and what is acceptable knowledge can be coupled with philosophical issues of objectivity/subjectivity within an observation. For instance:

 How might an observer know when ‘learning has happened’ (Ofsted, 2006)?

 How can a definition of ‘good’ teaching for one individual, mean the same for another?

 Does an observer (need to) hold a view of empirical realism when observing a lesson?

Likewise, does the presence of an observer (or researcher) impact the ‘truth’ that is being sought in the (quality of) the teacher (or participant)? (Ezzy, 2010; Letherby, 2003). However, it is Eisner (1997) who points out that bearing in mind the growing interest in inventing new ways of knowing and representing knowledge, the

definitions of objectivity and subjectivity have perhaps become less valuable than the investigation into where these definitions arise (and conflict). The philosophical debates I outlined in Chapter Two assert that it is the usefulness of knowledge rather than its perceived ‘validity’ that should concern researchers. Hence, in support of Sparkes (1992) and Ellis (2000), I investigate here what some would define as less academically ‘conventional’ ways of expressing my research outcomes.

a. Ontological Considerations

I explained in Chapter One my motivations and intellectual journey to reaching this point. It is necessary here to briefly summarise the aspects which are specific to my own perspectives to this research. These experiences are important aspects of the approach and structure of this research and form the foundation for the theoretical framework from which I draw my inspiration. As I explained in the previous chapter,

120 James and Biesta (2007) use the term ‘professional habitus’ to define personal teaching ideologies that inform teaching practice, and in this thesis my habitus also informs my approach as a researcher. The value of the researcher’s experiences has been debated (Atkinson, 2005) arguably because research becomes biased and therefore perceived as ‘less valid’ if the individual views and emotions of the

researcher are involved. For me however, one of the most profound examples of the potential impact of personal experience can be found in the writing of Kay Redfield Jamison (1995), who draws on her academic expertise to convey her experiences of suffering from manic depressive disorder. Similarly, the book I mention in Chapter One, Section 2, by Oliver (1996), throws new insights from the perspective of an individual who articulates his experiences of being both able-bodied and disabled.

My motivation to seek out an understanding of the processes behind observations eventually became (for a limited time at least) my ‘intervention for exit’ from FE

(James, Biesta, 2007 p. 118). Positive change in the managerial approach happened sometime after I had left the college where my (extended) learning journey had begun - partly a result of my efforts at raising awareness of the unintended consequences of the observation procedures. My motivations for pursuing this research area were firmly based on my disillusionment and my emotional experiences – past, present and future hopes for its positive improvements.

Emotional experiences that are emancipatory – both in nature and aspiration – are powerful catalysts for change and fundamental to teaching and learning. As Nias (1996) points out, teachers’ frequent use of deeply emotive language to describe their professional lives, is not often associated with the average workplace: e.g.

“passion”, “dangerously stressed”, “profoundly disturbing”, “great joy” etc.

Controlling and channelling these emotional energies inevitably has both a positive and negative influence on teachers’ work, and their self-concept (Nias, 1996).

121 Bathmaker (2005) and Colley (2001) see unique aspects to the emotional labour of teaching in FE. Teaching is a creative art, or ‘craft’ created by and around our personal ideology (Wragg, 1999). A teacher’s ethos and sense of self is inevitably shaped by their past (educational) experiences (Bathmaker, 2005 p. 19). James and Biesta (2007) suggest that there is also a collective sense of ‘self’ that is developed in the staff-room where colleagues often support each other through many emotional experiences; to some extent they become ‘one’ with the field. FE’s diverse student population, many adolescent or young adult learners and often community-oriented location (both geographically and culturally) create uniqueness to the learning and teaching atmosphere of FE that is difficult to define.

Furthemore, Nias, (1996) suggests that teachers generally take their role as ‘carer’

as given: they are in close contact with individuals whose progress in the world is their responsibility and understandably they are passionate about their students, their skills and often their institution. The use of the word “their” is important – there is a territorial aspect to the teachers’ domain – one that is increasingly being

threatened by external factors²³. Many teachers are also politically passionate about the government policies that they are surrounded by, and this territoriality has

perhaps evolved as a result of the stark contrast of the stresses and anxieties of their role outside the classroom compared to the enjoyment and rewards that are often provided within. Indeed, often they articulate how they feel they hold some moral responsibility for their students’ social and emotional development, for example in this quote from the research of Gleeson et al., (2005):

23 This important ‘territorial’ issue is something I return to in the analysis chapters which follow.

122 The joys are of course the students that you can see you’ve, or feel you’ve made a difference with, the ones that have really come on. You know their confidence builds and so on. However you look at it you’ve got to have had some part in that… (‘Rachel’ in Gleeson, Davies et al., 2005 p. 452)

Like Rachel above, my colleagues and I often talk of the importance of our sense of responsibility towards our students. This is why Sartre’s existentialism brings

meaning to me personally and therefore to the ontological aspects of my research.

The ‘freedom’ inherent in the autonomy that is teaching is simultaneously a

philosophy that we hope our students will develop: decision-making is, after all, as much about learning (the pros and cons of different choices) as it is about self-confidence. As Price (2001) commented, the essence of being viewed as a ‘good’

teacher is often found in the personal rewards the role brings in witnessing this development in others – rather than any external acknowledgement. After a lesson observation, teachers may be labelled by their managers and peers with the grade they have obtained and may even label themselves - for example ‘I’m a (grade) three’ (perceived as failure). Even though a lesson observation is just a small part of the duties of a teacher, as I explained in the previous chapter it is often perceived as an implicit judgement on the self (Butler, 1997). Indeed from the existentialists perspective, Sartre (1943) would term the feelings of being labelled in this way as

‘Being-for-itself’ (as opposed to ‘Being-for-others’) but would perhaps be critical of any perceived hierarchies between these terms (Detmer 2008; Levy 2002).

However, I want to problematize these kinds of binaries of identity and self,

performativity and authenticity, in an attempt to gain an insight into whether and how these types of terms and thinking impact upon how FE staff experience

observations. In drawing on aspects of Interpretive Interactionism this research is not

123 pursuing a singular ‘truth’. Instead, I seek to explore the emotional experiences within the context of this study in order to provide some insights into the ‘how’ of these processes.

This personal involvement and experience with the subject matter under

investigation creates a cross or multidimensional aspect to my project, which, from the outset, arguably because of my background, could also be described as multi-disciplinary. Indeed, others have described this kind of complex relationship as

“between methods” (Richardson, 1997 p. 60); something which goes beyond a traditional approach offering an opportunity for new knowledge. Rather than being detrimental to the process; “…any analysis must rely on everyday experience, yet must transcend that experience” (Corbin, Strauss, 2008 p. 62 my emphasis). Denzin (2010) warns us against the dangers of believing that just by using two or more methods that an ‘overall truth’ may be uncovered as although this may provide me with further confidence about data analysis, the complexity of this research area, requires elucidation through more than one means (Denzin, 2010 p. 239). So rather than a simple ‘triangulation’ of data, I aim to provide what Richardson (1997)

describes as a ‘crystallisation’ effect; a multiple, dense, complexity of perspectives that eventually may allow the reader a better understanding of the emotions involved for FE staff during a lesson observation.

b. Grounded Theory²⁴

An heuristic (Moustakas, 1990) or grounded theory approach (GT) (Charmaz, 2008) can address some of the difficulties that these ontological complexities present. This is because they allow for fluidity in developing increasingly abstract ideas from

24 The explanation of GT is deliberately positioned here within the thesis rather than within the theoretical chapter because it is strongly situated within the pragmatic processes I employed during this study.

124 analysing and re-analysing participants’ narratives (Charmaz, 2008). It also

encourages the researcher to be ‘grounded’ in his/her own personal ideology

(Denzin, 2010a). But the how and where of this ‘groundedness’ is controversial, as I explain below. This is mainly because, since the initial publication of GT (Strauss, Corbin, 1990) many diverse ‘families’ of methods within the GT genre have evolved (Bryant 2009). Rather than a specific research method, Babchuk (2010) therefore defines GT as a ‘flexible set of principles and practices’ (2010 p. 9)

What Moustakas (1990) describes as a ‘GT-type approach’, insists on ‘truth-seeking’

amongst the participants narratives, which, as I explain more fully below, is impossible here on a number of levels. Furthermore, Moustakas (1990) suggests that ‘heuristic methodology’ develops into a therapy for the participants, where “one develops a new view of self and life and makes possible movement towards

authenticity, self-efficacy and well-being” (Moustakas, 1990 p. 124). Whilst I don’t doubt that Moustakas has considered the ethical implications of this aspiration, and the complexities of the theoretical perspective (for himself and his participants), this view does not fit with the constructivist interpretive framework I use here. In contrast to Moustakas, what encourages me with Charmaz’s perspective is an opportunity for what Letherby (2007) describes as a ‘cook book’ approach: that is, to create my own, unique version of a recipe; improvising slightly, whilst basing the main ingredients on previous expertise and traditions. Using metaphorical images can be a useful way of exploring this issue. Some may view their own theoretical and methodological lens as positioned upon a linear continuum; sociological theories perhaps being at one end of the spectrum and psychological concepts at the other. However I favour the analogy of picking ‘ripe’ plums from the conceptual tree, in that each branch may be interconnected but produces differently positioned fruit - some of which may be out of reach, but may, in time become accessible. Whatever our unique perspective, if

125 we are to truly embrace what may be described as a post-positivist approach, then we should strive to transcend artificial barriers such as sociological versus

psychological paradigms and playfully ‘mix it up’ (Ellingson, 2008).

In seeking new meanings to existing data, new data can be sought and, in turn emerge and therefore the research process becomes truly organic in nature and open to change and interpretations. Data is not ‘formed’ by the researcher, but GT accepts that there may be some appropriate, intelligent ‘shaping’ of the data, simply because of what we know (Charmaz, 2008). There seems no logical reason to leave out the ‘shoulds and oughts’ that I have formed from my experience and background (Denzin, 1989). This particular aspect of GT can effectively address social justice studies, because ‘enacted processes’ (Denzin, 2010a) are only made real through actions that are performed repeatedly. In my research, this is exactly what I am interested in studying: i.e. the perceptions and experiences of different individuals’

behaviour in a classroom observation.

In using a Constructivist Grounded Theory (CGT) approach (Charmaz, 2008), I am following the initial GT ‘guidelines’, but without the objectivist, positivist perspective it was based upon. Indeed, Thomas and James (2006) claimed that the intrinsic, contradictory nature of Stauss’ post-positivist GT is still (like many research studies of its time) reliant upon mainly positivist perspectives that seemingly were difficult to evade or ignore. The important aspect of this approach, for me, is that personal philosophy, biography and interpretivism plays such a fundamental part. So, yes, there is some bias – that’s because as a sociologist interested in emotions, it is the inherent social constructs, including language that forms the starting point of my investigation. This research simply would not exist without my being motivated to pursue it; motives that are embodied in my feelings! We cannot pretend to be

126

‘outside reality’ if we consider the possibility that there may be no such thing. Mead (1934) viewed research not as a ‘discovery’ of any truth – only that relationships, experience and research can together share the (de)construction of meanings. This ontology and equality ethos fits with my values and beliefs described above. I am optimistic my approach and method serves to strengthen my objectives to explore the emotions within the reported power relationships that are investigated in this research.

CGT holds an acceptance that we all construct our own interpretation of the complex meanings of our data and that rather than a hindrance, this is crucial to its (and our) development. It does not assume that ‘impartial observers enter the research scene without an interpretive frame of reference’ (Charmaz, 2005 p. 509). Likewise, my own belief is that an individual cannot observe a lesson without being affected by their own life-history, interests, relationships and other numerous issues. Just like the context of a lesson observation, the context of a research study is crucial to a fuller understanding of the interpretations inherent in any outcomes. Hammersley (2010) sees this ‘context’ as central to qualitative inquiry. But what is ‘context’ and how can we tap into our ‘sociological imagination’?

…the sociological imagination is the capacity to shift from one perspective to another, from the political to the psychological, from examination of a single family to comparative assessment of […] the world; from the theological school to the military establishment, from consideration of an oil industry to studies in contemporary poetry. (Wright Mills 1959 p. 7)

Wright Mills believed that a sociological imagination was crucial to researchers because of the way it allows us to begin to understand our own experiences and

127 measure our own outcomes. It does this by locating ourselves within our own time and by assisting us to become aware of others and their impact on us and our research subject. However, open-mindedness does come with its own difficulties (Denzin 2010b; West 1996). The language we use every day is full of potential prejudices and cultural biases carried forward in their meanings, nuances and tone.

It is the interpretive researcher’s duty to draw meanings from the surface and deeper substance of the narratives we are offered. In this way we can encourage new ways of paying attention to the data and new meanings from these interpretations

(Ochberg, 2002). In Postmodern society, this brings a new relevance to the importance of interpretivism as interactional, and so leads us on to ways of

(re)presenting, viewing and interpreting data which have changed in radical ways;

ways that perhaps would have been unthinkable to academic writers from even a generation ago.

For these reasons, this thesis places the definitions, conceptualisation and interpretation of ‘what research is’, at its core. This is because this research is

‘grounded’ in my own views and experiences. As I have explained earlier, as a mature student, I firmly believe in the value of context that life experiences bring to our learning (Merrill, Hyland 2003; West 1996) and of the importance that context brings to the classroom (O'Leary, 2006). But a sociological imagination is more than using personal experience in research; it is expressing a reflexive self and using our imagination and creativity in the research process itself (Campbell, 2000; Sparkes 2002) as I explain in Section 4, below.

c. Critiques of Grounded Theory

As I explained above GT has evolved dramatically since its ‘birth’ in 1967 - to the extent that some say that it should no longer be termed such (Thomas, James

128 2006). This hinges on the view that without its quantitative foundation, GT is more

‘inventive’ in nature than a method of discovery, ‘grounded’ in nothing other than interpretations. One of the main criticisms of GT has been its development into a more positivist space. Indeed, for some, its move away from the foundations of its qualitative, humanistic approach, into a more ‘pseudo-scientific’ methodology apparently reduced its credibility (West, 1996). But just as GT allows for fluidity and change, then GT itself must evolve to allow for the developments that the 21^st century has provided. For Charmaz (2005) this involves problematizing the post-positivist roots of GT and adding a new, constructivist social-science grounding. This may involve a move away from the technical procedures that restrict a wholly

qualitative approach (e.g. software packages such as NVivo, dialogue statistics or discourse analysis). It may also challenge a ‘taken-for-grantedness’ that research objectives must ‘verify an official goal’ (Charmaz, 2005).

However, whatever the term or definition of the GT ‘method’, it is the constructionist lens that is of value here. Kathy Charmaz’s attempts at separating her more organic, creative approach from the anti/positivist methods that had been popular at that time were because, in her own words: “At that time social constructionists talked about everything being socially constructed but did not address their own constructions.”

(Charmaz, 2012). The creativity inherent in ‘invention’ is an important concept here, as I explore the meanings of playfulness within my own professional habitus and those of my participants (Bourdieu, Wacquant 1992; Richardson, 1997; Winnicott, 1971). This conviction forms a fundamental basis for my professional habitus. As I have written above, there is an important parallel between my research topic and my research. By its very nature, my research and the wider research situation itself can never be totally objective – however you interpret the definition of that word

129 (Hammersley 2010; Letherby 2003). Because the concept of interaction is so crucial, I found Denzin’s (1989) Interpretive Interactionism, the roots of which are firmly within Mead’s Symbolic Interactionism (Mead, 1969), together with those views mentioned above, to be the most appropriate perspective to assist me with studying this topic. As I explained in the previous chapter, this hermeneutic-phenomenological approach suggests we cannot and (more importantly) should not ‘factor ourselves out’ during the processes of qualitative research. This is important because, not only

129 (Hammersley 2010; Letherby 2003). Because the concept of interaction is so crucial, I found Denzin’s (1989) Interpretive Interactionism, the roots of which are firmly within Mead’s Symbolic Interactionism (Mead, 1969), together with those views mentioned above, to be the most appropriate perspective to assist me with studying this topic. As I explained in the previous chapter, this hermeneutic-phenomenological approach suggests we cannot and (more importantly) should not ‘factor ourselves out’ during the processes of qualitative research. This is important because, not only