Scribble, scribble … toil and gain?

I am a scribbler. I have piles of notebooks and notepads and bits of paper in folders and scraps of files on my PC full of notes and scribbles and ideas (in various stages of being worked through). This is not really a super-efficient system, because I have too many ideas and notes in too many places, but they are somewhat thematised and organised – it’s a work in progress. The point I want to make in this post has to do with the value of the scribbles, not the filing of these (although we’ll get to that).

When you undertake something like a PhD, you envision from the beginning that final, formal, written meisterwerk you will toil and toil and toil over for at least three years of your life. You think a lot about producing all those words, and this produces a lot of anxiety and also a real feeling of anticipation. A LOT of different kinds of thinking, reading and writing have to go into producing that meisterwerk. It follows that you need different places to do these kinds of reading, thinking and writing. I keep reading and research journals, and I read and write at my desk, on the couch (often results in naps, though), and also in the car on the way to work (often on my phone), or in the garden on a sunny day. I try to make it less like a chore, although this is not always possible. I think you need to see value in doing small, informal, scribbly writing as well as more formal, ‘this goes into the thesis’ forms of writing. You need to see all of the small bits of thinking and ‘percolating’ (my friend Deb’s very apt term) that you do as moving you forward, but it can be hard to do this if you don’t keep track of all of this steady progress.

research journal inside

I think that PhD students put a lot of pressure on themselves to produce pages of formal writing that they can send to their supervisor, to indicate progress and on which to receive feedback and often tend to feel like unless the writing or reading they are doing is ending up in The Thesis, it’s not all that valuable. I’d like to challenge this. I did this to myself, especially in the beginning of my PhD. I made loads of notes, very formally, and kept trying to write chapters way before I was ready to. After I learnt to keep a research journal, I relaxed a little, and started to enjoy scribbling bits and pieces of ideas and thinking, connecting dots or creating new dots to think about. I still worried a lot about producing the formal words, but I could see that the scribbling was slowly but surely moving me forward, especially in weeks where an hour of scribbling the whole week was all I could manage. There were a lot of weeks like this, and if I had not been scribbling I would not have been doing much of anything except searching databases and saving new papers I was not getting around to reading (I’m not sure this counts as PhD work, really).

There has to be a balance between formal and informal academic work – I don’t think you can write a whole thesis in scribbles (sadly). You need to move between informal and formal forms of writing and thinking – the PhD dissertation is a very sophisticated form of academic writing and thinking, and requires a lot of its writer. But, I suppose I am arguing for more value to be placed on the informal kinds of thinking, reading and writing that you can do rather than seeing these as silly, or less worthy of your time. Without these initial and ongoing forays into the scribbles, drawings and informal ramblings, you may try to rush towards doing the formal, academic, this-goes-into-the-thesis writing before you are ready. If you do, this may well reflect in the feedback you receive, and this could end up being demotivating or really hurtful and difficult to deal with.

I think the bottom line, annoying and trite as this may well sound, is that writing and everything that goes into making writing possible is a process, and it unfolds in pieces over time, sometimes smoothly and sometimes in a very bumpy fashion. If we can try to hold onto the process and trust that the product in the form of the meisterwerk will come, we can probably find it easier to indulge the scribbling and drawing and less formal work that can push our thinking forward, can provide more creative outlets for us to do our academic work, and can make for very interesting reading when the process is at an end. So, scribble, scribble, scribble – the toil will be worth the trouble ;).

Iterativity in data analysis: part 2

This post follows on from last week’s post on the iterative process of doing qualitative data analysis. Last week I wrote a more general musing on the challenges inherent in doing qualitative analysis; this week’s post is focused more on the ‘tools’ or processes I used to think and work my way through my iterative process. I drew quite a lot on Rainbow Chen’s own PhD tools as well as others, and adapted these to suit my research aims and my study (reference at the end).

The first tool was a kind of  ’emergent’ or ‘ground up’ form of organisation and it really helps you to get to know your data quite well. It’s really just a form of thematic organisation – before you begin to analyse anything, you have to sort, organise and ‘manage’ your mountain of data so that you can see the wood for the trees, as it were. I didn’t want to be overly prescriptive. I knew what I was looking for, broadly, as I had generated specific kinds of data and my methodology and theorology were very clearly aligned. But I didn’t really know what exactly all my data was trying to tell me and I really wanted it to tell its story rather than me telling it what it was supposed to be saying. I wanted, in other words, for my data to surprise me as well as to show me what I had broadly hoped to find in terms of my methodology and my theoretical framework.  So, the ‘tool’ I used organised the data ‘organically’ I suppose – creating very descriptive categories for what I was seeing and not trying to overthink this too much. As I read through my field notes, interview transcripts, video transcripts, documents, I created categories like ‘focusing on correct terminology’ and ‘teacher direction of classroom space’ and ‘focus on specific skills’. The theory is always informing the researcher’s gaze, as Chen notes in her paper (written with Karl Maton) but to rush too soon to theory can be a mistake and can narrow your findings. So my theory was here, underpinning my reading of the data, but I did not want to rush to organise my data into theoretical and analytical ‘codes’ just yet. There was a fair bit of repetition as I did this over a couple of weeks, reading through all my data at least twice for each of my two case studies. I put the same chunks of text into different categories (a big plus of using data software) and I made time to scribble in my research journal at the end of each day during this this process, noting emerging patterns or interesting insights that I wanted to come back to in more depth in the analysis.

An example of my first tool in action

An example of my first tool in action

The second process was what a quantitative researcher might call ‘cleaning’ the data. There was, as I have noted, repetition in my emergent categories. I needed to sort that out and also begin to move closer to my theory by doing what I called ‘super-coding’ – beginning to code my data more clearly in terms of my analytical tools. There were two stages here: the first was to go carefully through all my categories and merge very similar ones, delete unnecessary categories left over after the merging, and make sure that there were no unnecessary or confusing repetitions. I felt like the data was indeed ‘cleaner’ after this first stage. The second stage was to then super-code by creating six overarching categories, names after the analytical tools I developed from the theory. For example, using LCT gave me ‘Knowers’, ‘Knowledge’, ‘Gravity’ and ‘Density’. I was still not that close to the theory here so I used looser terms than the theory asks researchers to use (for example we always write ‘semantic gravity’ rather than just ‘gravity’). I then organised my ‘emergent’ categories under these headings, ending up with two levels of coded data, and coming a step closer to analysis using the theoretical and analytical tools I had developed to guide the study.

By this stage, you really do know you data quite well, and clearer themes, patterns and even answers to your questions begin to bubble up and show themselves. However, it was too much of a leap for me to go from this coding process straight into writing the chapter; I needed a bridge. So I went back to my research journal for the third ‘tool’ and started drawing webs, maps, plans for parts of my chapters. I planned to write chunks, and then connect these together later into a more coherent whole. This felt easier than sitting myself down to write Chapter Four or Chapter Five all in one go. I could just write the bit about the classroom environment, or the bit about the specialisation code, and that felt a lot less overwhelming. I spent a couple of days thinking through these maps, drawing and redrawing them until I felt I could begin to write with a clearer sense of where I was trying to end up. I did then start writing, and working on the chapters, and found myself (to my surprise, actually) doing what looked and felt like and was analysis. It was exciting, and so interesting – after being in the salt mines of data generation, and enduring what was often quite a tedious process of sitting in classrooms and making endless notes and transcribing everything, to see in the pile of salt beautiful and relevant shapes, answers and insights emerging was very gratifying. I really enjoyed this part of the PhD journey – it made me feel like a real researcher, and not a pretender to the title.

One of my 'maps'

Another ‘map’ for chapter writing

A different 'map' for writing

A ‘map’ for writing

This part of the PhD is often where we can make a more noticeable contribution to the development, critique, generation of new knowledge, of and in our fields of study. We can tell a different or new part of a story others are also busy telling and join a scholarly conversation and community. It’s important to really connect your data and the analysis of it with the theoretical framework and the analytical tools that have emerged from that. If too disconnected, your dissertation can become a tale of two halves, and can risk not making a contribution to your field, but rather becoming an isolated and less relevant piece of research. One way to be more conscious of making these connections clear to yourself and your readers is to think carefully about and develop a series of connected steps in your  data analysis process that bring you from you data towards your theory in an iterative and rich rather than linear and overly simplistic way. Following and trying to trust a conscious process is tough, but should take you forward towards your goal. Good luck!

keep calm

 

Reference: Chen, T-S. and Maton, K. (2014) ‘LCT and Qualitative Research: Creating a language of description to study constructivist pedagogy’. Draft chapter (forthcoming).

 

Using metaphors for thinking and writing your PhD

I read a really interesting article recently by Frances Kelly on using metaphors in thesis writing, and she highlighted to kinds of metaphors: structural and conceptual. As I understand her, a structural metaphor can help you to use an image or an idea to organise and shape your thesis – to lend it an underlying narrative of sorts. A conceptual metaphor can be used as a way of thinking about what your argument and data actually mean, or the shape your methods and methodology are taking. She mentions a common PhD-related metaphor that could possibly be used both structurally and conceptually: the journey. I am sure many of you have heard this metaphor and even used it for your own thinking about your PhD process and what kind of journey is has been or is for you.

I am using a metaphor in my PhD, a structural metaphor that came to me quite early on as I was trying to work coherently with all the layers of theory and conceptualisation that are now mostly contained in chapters 2 and 3. It is the image of an archaeological dig of sorts. I have outlined 6 stages, steps or layers in the process of doing a ‘dig’ and each chapter now aligns with these. I was just using this image and idea in my theory chapter to unpack and fit the parts of theory into a whole, but a friend suggested I try using it for the whole thesis and it has worked well. This metaphor or image has, importantly, helped me to think about what I am doing and need to do at each stage in telling the story of my study, and how the parts fit together to make a whole.

Image from NBC News

Image from NBC News

In my use of this metaphor, I move from choosing the dig site and giving my reasons for the choices, to finding and setting out the right tools for the kind of dig I am doing, and to help me find the things I need to find. I then move on to do the dig with the tools, describing and reflecting on my process of digging, explaining why I did not do certain things and did do others. Then, in my two ‘analysis’ chapters, I go on to show you what I have found in the dig and what I think these artefacts mean in relation to my reasons for doing the study and my chosen framework. I conclude as I explain the significance of the findings within the area in which I chose to dig, and within the field in which I am working. I like this metaphor – I have found that it has helped me to focus and also given me a space to play and be creative while still producing a fairly normal, regulation PhD thesis. 

Like all metaphors, though, there are things it does not do and ways in which it could all fall apart and confuse people who may interpret it differently. So, if you want to try and use either a conceptual or structural metaphor in your own thesis, these would be my top tips:

1. Choose an image or idea that has resonance with your study – either with the field of study, the research questions, the methods you are using or the conceptual framework. It should not just be creative frippery, it should work on a deeper level and tie in clearly with what your study aims to achieve or say.

2. Work out very carefully how you are using the metaphor and for what end. You will need to explain its use very carefully to your reader-examiners so that they cannot misinterpret it, or tell you it makes so sense and to take it out. Try it out on your supervisor or a critical friend and see what they think.

3. Choose something that excites you or makes you feel creative – think about adding images as well as just words to describe the metaphor. A friend of mine used Alice in Wonderland’s journey down the rabbit hole as a metaphor for her thesis with beautiful illustrations and it worked really well. Take your readers on your creative journey by pulling the metaphor very clearly into the places it belongs and showing your readers why they need to take it as seriously as you do.

Happy thinking, scribbling and writing, everyone!

Reference:

Kelly, F. 2011. ‘Cooking together disparate things’: the role of metaphor in thesis writing. Innovations in Education and Teaching International, 48(4): 429-438.