My goodness, it feels a long long while indeed since I was last here. The Finland conference was but three months ago, but conceptually is much further away. Somehow taking a summer off has given me the distance I needed to recharge my academic self-confidence and creativity. And after the madness of June and three conferences almost back-to-back, I feel like I can face anything now. Anything. Famous last words..?
Yes, June was too busy really to take in anything much: the Warwick postgraduate conference was fine, but I was tired and a little under-organised, and didn't really make the most of it as an opportunity to engage with another research community. My presentation went well, though, and my audience of 7 asked some stimulating questions and got a bit of chat going, which was a change from my previous conference. The Manchester School of Education Student Conference was also (more or less) fine, though IT felt rather tired and was certainly poorly organised - the chair for my session announcing, on entering the room, that we actually had 10 minutes to present instead of the scheduled 20, with a hurried compromise for 15 negotiated just as I was about to start speaking - but it was good to see what my colleagues are up to, and a useful opportunity to air some of my thoughts about Bakhtin. I do think now, though, that there is much room for improvement in my presentations: the Finland conference, where I was presenting for the first time, was really just about getting it done, about reaching that milestone; but with the other two, and particularly my Manchester presentation, it became clear to me that I'm too wordy, too complex, and essentially presenting a condensed written text. I think perhaps I'm so complacent about my written communicative ability that I expect this to carry over into my presentations, and of course it doesn't. This will be a focus for this year, starting with the Society for Research into Higher Education Newer Researchers' Conference in Newport in December: I'll be presenting my thoughts on motivation and critical EAP to an interdisciplinary group of HE researchers, and will be unable to assume anything like the level of knowledge and expertise of my previous audiences. The first of many challenges this year...
My submission to Gender and Education was rejected, which was far less of a disappointment than I expected it to be - possibly because it wasn't directly connected with my doctoral work and doesn't have the same level of emotional involvement. Anyway, the chief criticism was that the scale of it was too small, which gives me a useful frame of reference regarding scope; and I've come away from it feeling like I've had a trial run at something for which I'll know how to be much better prepared in the future. And, importantly, to ask for help with - but that too, I think, will be easier now I have a clearer idea of what is expected. That was the fear, actually - that if I brought my work to someone saying I wanted to try and publish it, someone I knew, they might think me ridiculously deluded; but from an anonymous reviewer it's far, far easier to take. And besides, having done it once, I now know that no-one WILL think me ridiculously deluded - or if they do, it'll almost certainly never get back to me. Wow - see, this is why blogging's great. I've only just articulated that. There's always a bend in the learning curve...
So this is looking rather like a review of recent(ish) developments, which might be a good way to leave it, as for the verbally unchallenged such as myself these blog posts can easily over-extend themselves. I have thoughts on the future to spew forth also, but to keep it continent I'll end this here and blog again later in the week, when meetings have been had and thoughts/autumn skirts have been gathered.
From my splendid new study at Plas Heulwen, and the lovely rusting tree outside my window - am hwyraf!
Monday 19 September 2011
Saturday 11 June 2011
Finland, Finland, Finland...
...if not the country where I want to be, at least somewhere I wouldn’t mind staying longer. It’s nice here, it is. Lots – seriously, LOTS – of lovely trees and lakes, dendrophilic hydrophile that I am; a miracle of efficiency and functionality, with everything designed to make life as easy as possible for as many as possible; beautiful, lingering taffeta sunsets; and helpful, interested people, not at all as shy and silent as I’d been led to believe (though I suspect Jyvaskyla was somewhat atypical in that respect). It was just too hot, which is hardly Finland’s fault, and lack of air-conditioning, sealed mosquito-feart windows and almost endless daylight made for a couple of turbulent nights’ sleep. But it was lovely to walk home along the lake in the feathery midnight dusk.
I’ve barely seen Jyvaskyla, what with being conferent and all, but like the university campus, it sparkles white and glassy. As a pedestrian you’re always at risk from Jyvaskyla’s Lycra Army, a constant and perilous flow of cyclists, skateboarders, rollerbladers, rollerbladers with skis, and the occasional little sperm-shaped luge, which tend to crash amusingly into the grass verges. And there’s been some great eating – all pretense to vegetarianism shamelessly tossed out to compost so we could fill our faces with reindeer liver, venison, and bear sausage, with mouthwateringly sharp berry sauces, sauerkrauts and salads. My favourite, though, was the pickled courgette at breakfast – by the end of the week I’d even mastered the inadequate wee serving tongs to the extent that I could spear a whole wedge of them…
And of the conference: a very positive experience overall, and one that’s boosted my academic confidence. There were a fair few motivation papers, mostly from individual differences perspectives, including some interesting work from Ursula Lanvers of the Open University on the motivational perspectives of British learners of foreign languages, and Charlotte Ohrstrom of the University of Copenhagen on the motivation of adults learning Danish. A symposium on beliefs and agency in language learning also led to fruitful discussion, and included a paper on Bakhtinian dialogical perspectives and voice work among Finnish young learners of English, which was particularly encouraging for me given the comparative lack of interest in Bakhtin in L2 scholarship. Perhaps inevitably, there were some poorer presentations too; which, though always disappointing, will go into the store of academic experience, reiterate that shoddy scholarship can appear at all levels, and reinforce ways in which I can (hopefully) avoid it in my own work. Most surprising (and ‘tis perhaps surprising that it was surprising) to me was the solid but uninspiring work, the middle-of-the-road work, the fair-enough but unoriginal work, the work without any real ‘so what?’ I guess I’d been prepared for good, I’d been prepared for bad, but not really for indifferent. Perhaps it’s a result of the long psychological-emotional build-up to my first conference and presentation – perhaps I was coming to it in a heightened state of emotional responsiveness. I don’t know… Just as importantly, there was quality hanging-out time with my conference buddies, Manchester colleague Achilleas ‘The Beardless Wizard’ Kostoulas and Taha Hamad from Aarhus University in Denmark, and much good socialising and collegial/collaborative potential. A great conference, I’d say, and I had a wonderful (and exhausting) time.
One of the (expected) highlights was the appearance of The Man Himself, Zoltan Dornyei – or Dr D, as he was commonly referred to by the conference chair – who, in true rock n’roll fashion, appeared only on the final day to give his plenary address. I felt uncharacteristically awkward about approaching him, and was grateful for Taha’s gentle bullying; and he was a very nice man, supportive of our idea for forming a collaborative L2 motivation research group and offering to participate as and when he could. He was also an entertaining and engaging speaker, and his talk on Dynamic Systems Theory reiterated one of the things I most admire about him: that he constantly challenges his own ideas, not only refining his models and theories but actively seeking to address their limitations, to the extent that he wonders, as he said in our breaktime chat, whether his approaches thus far have really created a broad enough picture of L2 motivation. Owing to the thronging crowds around him and the awareness that others wanted their share of his time, I wasn’t really able to pursue this point with him; but waited with some excitement for his talk. Which, though interesting, seemed to me still to place learners at the passive periphery of research, victims of the dynamics, the system and the theory which they themselves (presumably, if the goal is to stimulate more effective teaching and learning) have inspired and from which they are (presumably – see above) ultimately expected to benefit. In fairness, Dornyei was applying the system to group dynamics, where, as he pointed out, some level of generalisation should be possible if we are to say anything meaningfully applicable to the vast variety of classroom contexts. But still, but still… it doesn’t sit well with me. Even less so his enthusiastic espousal of Retrodictive Qualitative Modelling as not merely a new qualitative research methodology, but THE ULTIMATE qualitative research methodology. Given his assertion that ‘ALL qualitative research should be done this way’, the word ‘dogmatic’ may not be going too far. At one point he actually said something along the lines of:
[dismissively] You can take six or so participants and do some kind of interviews with them, then analyse the results according to something you might call grounded theory and claim that the results ‘resonate’…
But what be the use in that, pray? Hello, Dr D. That’s my PhD right there. It was so scornful, so sweeping… I wouldn’t say it depressed me, as I don’t have the level of personal investment in Dornyei’s work that many others there did; but it did teach me that open-mindedness is not necessarily a prerequisite for a successful and admired academic. There was no Q & A session after – presumably owing to time constraints, although from my own beer-terrace vantage point it appeared that all everyone wanted to do was go to the pub – but I wonder if anyone would have raised this. I’m not sure I would have done – perhaps because I was somewhat deflated, and didn’t feel psychologically equipped for the argument even if I’d thought there was any point starting it.
I’ve also come away from the conference with a clearer understanding and articulation of my problems with the terms ‘social/cultural/emotional capital’, liberally used by a fair few researchers at the conference and with which I’ve never been entirely comfortable without being able to say exactly why. I was at a presentation with a particular focus on these terms, and began to observe the frequency with which the verbs ‘acquire’ and ‘accumulate’ were used to refer to them, and I came to realise what my problem is: they have explanatory power only in a unidirectional relation, positioning the acquirer/accumulator of capital (in this case, the English language learner) as wanting to move towards the centre of the society they wish to access, gathering symbolic capital to themselves until they feel equipped for this move. However, the communities and society in which the language learner is situated are not fixed, and are fluid and changing as a result of the variety of people constantly moving within them, including the language learner. A co-conferent, who'd heard me trying to articulate this rather more hesitantly in the discussion following the presentation, wondered if I’d read Sfard (I hadn’t), and thought my point resonated with her acquisition/participation metaphors – something for me to follow up there. More broadly, it made me think about why we do research, what our purpose is: is it enough simply to illuminate, to show the workings of a phenomenon, or should we then be actively working for change as a result of our knowledge, to make things better? I don’t mean to suggest that one or the other of these should be the case for all researchers everywhere; of course there are myriad research foci and purposes, and there will never be one size to fit all. However, it seems a fundamental question: if the forces of capitalism are instrumental in the movement of so many people across the world, and in the oppression and domination of these people – and, importantly, if English is the language of the trade and business through which capital flows and the system is upheld – how can we justify using the vocabulary of capitalism to describe the power structures learners are negotiating? If our aim is only to describe, then maybe there’s an argument; but if our aim is to describe and challenge, then it becomes more complicated. Should we be contributing to the perpetuation of the system by imprisoning ourselves and the people with whom we’re working within its own vocabulary? Or should we be looking for something new, contributing to a move towards change starting with the words we use?
Big stuff, this, and a very long blog post, and I’m tired, and I flag. I’ll certainly be coming back to this point. But for now, I’ve a whole weekend off, with many exciting possibilities – the most appealing of which is a lie-down and a good book. A NOVEL, for, like, PLEASURE. Lovely lovely.
For now - hyvaa paivaa.
I’ve barely seen Jyvaskyla, what with being conferent and all, but like the university campus, it sparkles white and glassy. As a pedestrian you’re always at risk from Jyvaskyla’s Lycra Army, a constant and perilous flow of cyclists, skateboarders, rollerbladers, rollerbladers with skis, and the occasional little sperm-shaped luge, which tend to crash amusingly into the grass verges. And there’s been some great eating – all pretense to vegetarianism shamelessly tossed out to compost so we could fill our faces with reindeer liver, venison, and bear sausage, with mouthwateringly sharp berry sauces, sauerkrauts and salads. My favourite, though, was the pickled courgette at breakfast – by the end of the week I’d even mastered the inadequate wee serving tongs to the extent that I could spear a whole wedge of them…
And of the conference: a very positive experience overall, and one that’s boosted my academic confidence. There were a fair few motivation papers, mostly from individual differences perspectives, including some interesting work from Ursula Lanvers of the Open University on the motivational perspectives of British learners of foreign languages, and Charlotte Ohrstrom of the University of Copenhagen on the motivation of adults learning Danish. A symposium on beliefs and agency in language learning also led to fruitful discussion, and included a paper on Bakhtinian dialogical perspectives and voice work among Finnish young learners of English, which was particularly encouraging for me given the comparative lack of interest in Bakhtin in L2 scholarship. Perhaps inevitably, there were some poorer presentations too; which, though always disappointing, will go into the store of academic experience, reiterate that shoddy scholarship can appear at all levels, and reinforce ways in which I can (hopefully) avoid it in my own work. Most surprising (and ‘tis perhaps surprising that it was surprising) to me was the solid but uninspiring work, the middle-of-the-road work, the fair-enough but unoriginal work, the work without any real ‘so what?’ I guess I’d been prepared for good, I’d been prepared for bad, but not really for indifferent. Perhaps it’s a result of the long psychological-emotional build-up to my first conference and presentation – perhaps I was coming to it in a heightened state of emotional responsiveness. I don’t know… Just as importantly, there was quality hanging-out time with my conference buddies, Manchester colleague Achilleas ‘The Beardless Wizard’ Kostoulas and Taha Hamad from Aarhus University in Denmark, and much good socialising and collegial/collaborative potential. A great conference, I’d say, and I had a wonderful (and exhausting) time.
One of the (expected) highlights was the appearance of The Man Himself, Zoltan Dornyei – or Dr D, as he was commonly referred to by the conference chair – who, in true rock n’roll fashion, appeared only on the final day to give his plenary address. I felt uncharacteristically awkward about approaching him, and was grateful for Taha’s gentle bullying; and he was a very nice man, supportive of our idea for forming a collaborative L2 motivation research group and offering to participate as and when he could. He was also an entertaining and engaging speaker, and his talk on Dynamic Systems Theory reiterated one of the things I most admire about him: that he constantly challenges his own ideas, not only refining his models and theories but actively seeking to address their limitations, to the extent that he wonders, as he said in our breaktime chat, whether his approaches thus far have really created a broad enough picture of L2 motivation. Owing to the thronging crowds around him and the awareness that others wanted their share of his time, I wasn’t really able to pursue this point with him; but waited with some excitement for his talk. Which, though interesting, seemed to me still to place learners at the passive periphery of research, victims of the dynamics, the system and the theory which they themselves (presumably, if the goal is to stimulate more effective teaching and learning) have inspired and from which they are (presumably – see above) ultimately expected to benefit. In fairness, Dornyei was applying the system to group dynamics, where, as he pointed out, some level of generalisation should be possible if we are to say anything meaningfully applicable to the vast variety of classroom contexts. But still, but still… it doesn’t sit well with me. Even less so his enthusiastic espousal of Retrodictive Qualitative Modelling as not merely a new qualitative research methodology, but THE ULTIMATE qualitative research methodology. Given his assertion that ‘ALL qualitative research should be done this way’, the word ‘dogmatic’ may not be going too far. At one point he actually said something along the lines of:
[dismissively] You can take six or so participants and do some kind of interviews with them, then analyse the results according to something you might call grounded theory and claim that the results ‘resonate’…
But what be the use in that, pray? Hello, Dr D. That’s my PhD right there. It was so scornful, so sweeping… I wouldn’t say it depressed me, as I don’t have the level of personal investment in Dornyei’s work that many others there did; but it did teach me that open-mindedness is not necessarily a prerequisite for a successful and admired academic. There was no Q & A session after – presumably owing to time constraints, although from my own beer-terrace vantage point it appeared that all everyone wanted to do was go to the pub – but I wonder if anyone would have raised this. I’m not sure I would have done – perhaps because I was somewhat deflated, and didn’t feel psychologically equipped for the argument even if I’d thought there was any point starting it.
I’ve also come away from the conference with a clearer understanding and articulation of my problems with the terms ‘social/cultural/emotional capital’, liberally used by a fair few researchers at the conference and with which I’ve never been entirely comfortable without being able to say exactly why. I was at a presentation with a particular focus on these terms, and began to observe the frequency with which the verbs ‘acquire’ and ‘accumulate’ were used to refer to them, and I came to realise what my problem is: they have explanatory power only in a unidirectional relation, positioning the acquirer/accumulator of capital (in this case, the English language learner) as wanting to move towards the centre of the society they wish to access, gathering symbolic capital to themselves until they feel equipped for this move. However, the communities and society in which the language learner is situated are not fixed, and are fluid and changing as a result of the variety of people constantly moving within them, including the language learner. A co-conferent, who'd heard me trying to articulate this rather more hesitantly in the discussion following the presentation, wondered if I’d read Sfard (I hadn’t), and thought my point resonated with her acquisition/participation metaphors – something for me to follow up there. More broadly, it made me think about why we do research, what our purpose is: is it enough simply to illuminate, to show the workings of a phenomenon, or should we then be actively working for change as a result of our knowledge, to make things better? I don’t mean to suggest that one or the other of these should be the case for all researchers everywhere; of course there are myriad research foci and purposes, and there will never be one size to fit all. However, it seems a fundamental question: if the forces of capitalism are instrumental in the movement of so many people across the world, and in the oppression and domination of these people – and, importantly, if English is the language of the trade and business through which capital flows and the system is upheld – how can we justify using the vocabulary of capitalism to describe the power structures learners are negotiating? If our aim is only to describe, then maybe there’s an argument; but if our aim is to describe and challenge, then it becomes more complicated. Should we be contributing to the perpetuation of the system by imprisoning ourselves and the people with whom we’re working within its own vocabulary? Or should we be looking for something new, contributing to a move towards change starting with the words we use?
Big stuff, this, and a very long blog post, and I’m tired, and I flag. I’ll certainly be coming back to this point. But for now, I’ve a whole weekend off, with many exciting possibilities – the most appealing of which is a lie-down and a good book. A NOVEL, for, like, PLEASURE. Lovely lovely.
For now - hyvaa paivaa.
Thursday 19 May 2011
Research interviewing rocks!
It really does. In so many ways. I've done four of eight interviews so far (in the first round of four over the year), and we're all - I and the people I'm working with - having such fascinating conversations, making so many connections. Because, of course, they ARE conversations, and we are co-constructing, co-theorising. So far my questions, structured chiefly in a 'Can you tell me about..?' format, have generated a lot of thoughtful, insightful, and candid responses; and after I've asked all the questions on my list, each person of their own accord has spent roughly the same amount of time again reflecting on what's been said, making connections between experiences, beliefs and perceptions that they hadn't made before. And we're engaging in these reflections and making these connections together. It's so endlessly interesting...
It's got me thinking in particular about my belief, which I didn't even consciously know I held until today, that linguistic interest or ability 'comes from' somewhere beyond the individual. Almost everyone I've worked with in my past motivation studies had someone or something external they could identify as a stimulus for their interest in language learning - usually their parents' or family members' enthusiasm for them to learn, often due to an awareness of the 'usefulness' of English or a wish for their child to make use of opportunities they never had; or a family ability tantamount to a genetic trait. This stems in part from my own family background: my paternal grandfather was an interpreter during the second world war, fluent in four languages with a good working knowledge of several more, and my own aptitude for languages was always rationalised as 'you get that from your Grandpa'. I had cause to reflect on this during an interview today, and was a little shocked to realise I'd never considered that an interest in and aptitude for languages might just spring from within, without having to be traced back to some external source. I'm sure this must sound very basic - it seemed so basic to me that I was a little thrown by the recognition. Which might be reflected in the comparative incoherence of my explanation. If I manage to express it better, I'll let you know.
I also began to recognise that the people who want to take part in my study are extremely self-directed and highly motivated people, as evidenced by most of their reasons for working with me. This is something I'll have to account for, and would make an interesting topic in itself - how to reach those people whose language learning experiences might have been at best uninspiring, at worst painful? How can their experience be accessed? Perhaps I'm over-generalising here - it may be that after more meetings, with a little more trust and safety in our relationships and more time for exploration, some of the problematic aspects of their experience will become apparent. Time will tell...
It's got me thinking in particular about my belief, which I didn't even consciously know I held until today, that linguistic interest or ability 'comes from' somewhere beyond the individual. Almost everyone I've worked with in my past motivation studies had someone or something external they could identify as a stimulus for their interest in language learning - usually their parents' or family members' enthusiasm for them to learn, often due to an awareness of the 'usefulness' of English or a wish for their child to make use of opportunities they never had; or a family ability tantamount to a genetic trait. This stems in part from my own family background: my paternal grandfather was an interpreter during the second world war, fluent in four languages with a good working knowledge of several more, and my own aptitude for languages was always rationalised as 'you get that from your Grandpa'. I had cause to reflect on this during an interview today, and was a little shocked to realise I'd never considered that an interest in and aptitude for languages might just spring from within, without having to be traced back to some external source. I'm sure this must sound very basic - it seemed so basic to me that I was a little thrown by the recognition. Which might be reflected in the comparative incoherence of my explanation. If I manage to express it better, I'll let you know.
I also began to recognise that the people who want to take part in my study are extremely self-directed and highly motivated people, as evidenced by most of their reasons for working with me. This is something I'll have to account for, and would make an interesting topic in itself - how to reach those people whose language learning experiences might have been at best uninspiring, at worst painful? How can their experience be accessed? Perhaps I'm over-generalising here - it may be that after more meetings, with a little more trust and safety in our relationships and more time for exploration, some of the problematic aspects of their experience will become apparent. Time will tell...
Monday 16 May 2011
May-hem, in a good way
Ooops - too long since I did this. Too long. There are excuses (or reasons, depending on your benevolence): I had post-holiday blues for a week or so, for, having spent Easter in beautiful places, I learnt afresh how little Manchester, though it has much to offer in many departments, casts in the way of aesthetic balm. I've also been mired in marking, which I hate, and am crap at - feedback, fine, but numerically categorising and boundarising is not my forte. But it's over now. Just finished. I'm sure there'll be something I've omitted to attach/tick/upload somwhere, but I've a few days before deadline to remember it...
In PhD news, I've started recruiting participants, and found my advert on the University's Research Volunteering page to be quite effective - after two Masters dissertations and various MSc assignments trying desperately to get ANYONE to take part, I've been comparatively inundated with responses. Many asked about reimbursement and didn't get back to me after I told them they'd be paid only in tea and cake and self-exploration, but those who expressed interest nonetheless have been very enthusiastic. And I too have been cranking up the enthusiasm (not that there's not tanks of it already, mind) on account of an insight from the first potential participant I met, who, after yet another ethically-conscious reminder that they were free to withdraw at any time, said to me: 'You keep telling me I can withdraw, but you never tell me I can stay'. I felt slightly ashamed of myself for sacrificing human warmth and welcome to become an ethics-form monkey. Or parrot. Or ass, perhaps. Anyway - twas a good insight.
In other news, I've had a book chapter proposal accepted, which is most exciting. The working title is Social identities and multiple selves in foreign language education, edited by Damian J. Rivers and Stephanie Houghton. The chapter is based on my MA dissertation, and the blurb is as follows:
Lou Harvey (UK)
The social and pragmatic parameters of L2 motivation: Investigating the motivation of three UK ESL learners
An investigation of 3 UK ESL learners motivation in relation to globalizing world, identity, future selves and selective participation in social development. Very much rooted in Gardner and Lambert, and Dornyei.
This is also the subject of the paper I'll be presenting at the 14th Warwick International Postgraduate Conference in Applied Linguistics (28th - 29th June), for which my abstract has just been accepted. So I've got this paper to write, plus my paper for the New Dynamics conference in Jyvaskyla at the beginning of June. I'll also be presenting at two conferences here at the School of Education in Manchester: From Here to There and Back Again: Conference papers by the Language Teacher Education community on 3rd June, at which I'll be presenting my Jyvaskyla paper; and I'm about to start work on an abstract for a paper for the Student Research Conference on 5th July, which will be based on my methodological work on Bakhtin, voice and agency (I'll post a link to the abstract when it's written). So there's plenty to keep me busy in June: four conferences, initial interviews, transcription, two hen weekends (both of them mine, so no escape), and moving house.
Think I'll miss out on July but come up smiling in August.
In PhD news, I've started recruiting participants, and found my advert on the University's Research Volunteering page to be quite effective - after two Masters dissertations and various MSc assignments trying desperately to get ANYONE to take part, I've been comparatively inundated with responses. Many asked about reimbursement and didn't get back to me after I told them they'd be paid only in tea and cake and self-exploration, but those who expressed interest nonetheless have been very enthusiastic. And I too have been cranking up the enthusiasm (not that there's not tanks of it already, mind) on account of an insight from the first potential participant I met, who, after yet another ethically-conscious reminder that they were free to withdraw at any time, said to me: 'You keep telling me I can withdraw, but you never tell me I can stay'. I felt slightly ashamed of myself for sacrificing human warmth and welcome to become an ethics-form monkey. Or parrot. Or ass, perhaps. Anyway - twas a good insight.
In other news, I've had a book chapter proposal accepted, which is most exciting. The working title is Social identities and multiple selves in foreign language education, edited by Damian J. Rivers and Stephanie Houghton. The chapter is based on my MA dissertation, and the blurb is as follows:
Lou Harvey (UK)
The social and pragmatic parameters of L2 motivation: Investigating the motivation of three UK ESL learners
An investigation of 3 UK ESL learners motivation in relation to globalizing world, identity, future selves and selective participation in social development. Very much rooted in Gardner and Lambert, and Dornyei.
This is also the subject of the paper I'll be presenting at the 14th Warwick International Postgraduate Conference in Applied Linguistics (28th - 29th June), for which my abstract has just been accepted. So I've got this paper to write, plus my paper for the New Dynamics conference in Jyvaskyla at the beginning of June. I'll also be presenting at two conferences here at the School of Education in Manchester: From Here to There and Back Again: Conference papers by the Language Teacher Education community on 3rd June, at which I'll be presenting my Jyvaskyla paper; and I'm about to start work on an abstract for a paper for the Student Research Conference on 5th July, which will be based on my methodological work on Bakhtin, voice and agency (I'll post a link to the abstract when it's written). So there's plenty to keep me busy in June: four conferences, initial interviews, transcription, two hen weekends (both of them mine, so no escape), and moving house.
Think I'll miss out on July but come up smiling in August.
Monday 18 April 2011
Ups and downs and merry-go-rounds
A Good Thing happened this week, and also a Less-Good-In-An-Immediate-Sense-But-Ultimately-Good Thing, both as a result of all this public profiling on blogs and websites and such things as wot da kidz like to get down wiv. I've reached out to the world and the world has reached out to me in response - and it's good to be reminded of that reciprocity, of the connectedness of all things.
Having posted on the Language Teacher Education blog that I was submitting an article to Gender and Education, I got an email from a colleague suggesting, in very friendly and collegial terms, that I seek help and advice from my colleagues when involved in such an undertaking, as it is something of a big deal. He deduced that I hadn't done so from my supervisor's response to my announcement (something along the lines of 'What are you publishing, and where?'), and told me that this particular supervisor had been invaluable in helping him shape his own work. No big thing, on the surface - very supportive, and a pleasing reminder that people want to engage with me and my work. But it was painful to read, and tapped into a raw feeling: it was a reminder of the extent to which I'm still blocking full participation in the academic community. I've been struggling with the loneliness of academic life and the endless examining of the inside of my own head, and as a result of this ambivalence I've been resisting the very thing that might have made me feel better - reaching out to people. I felt a little ashamed of myself at this recognition, and at the fact that not only did I not ask for help but that it never occurred to me to do so. And I've made something of an identity shift in response: whereas before I thought my self-starter, getting-on-with-it mentality was ideal for PhD study, now I'm seeing it as just another trait to be held in balance - sometimes it will serve me well, and sometimes it will need challenged. (Oh - I do enjoy it when Scottish English creeps into my idiom...)
And the Good Thing... A few days ago I got a phonecall from a student in Denmark, also studying motivation for learning English, who had been guided to my website by one of my collegues here in Manchester and was interested in sharing ideas. It was very exciting, as I don't really know anyone else working in the L2 motivation field, and testament to the power of networking. We've been exchanging emails and he has inspired me to contact some of the people whose work I've been reading, to introduce myself and ask if they can put me/us in touch with any students they know with similar research interests. So I'm starting to feel like a participant in a community, with some control and (of course) agency in terms of shaping my role within that community. And it feels good.
And that's me for now, with nothing to report except that I have a sore throat in the midst of all the spring loveliness, which is just wrong. And that I saw a particularly depressing piece of graffiti in a pub loo over the weekend, saying GIRLS, MAN THE FUCK UP AND GET SOME SELF-ESTEEM. Thanks for that, genius. If ever there were an indication of why girls' self-esteem may be at risk...
Having posted on the Language Teacher Education blog that I was submitting an article to Gender and Education, I got an email from a colleague suggesting, in very friendly and collegial terms, that I seek help and advice from my colleagues when involved in such an undertaking, as it is something of a big deal. He deduced that I hadn't done so from my supervisor's response to my announcement (something along the lines of 'What are you publishing, and where?'), and told me that this particular supervisor had been invaluable in helping him shape his own work. No big thing, on the surface - very supportive, and a pleasing reminder that people want to engage with me and my work. But it was painful to read, and tapped into a raw feeling: it was a reminder of the extent to which I'm still blocking full participation in the academic community. I've been struggling with the loneliness of academic life and the endless examining of the inside of my own head, and as a result of this ambivalence I've been resisting the very thing that might have made me feel better - reaching out to people. I felt a little ashamed of myself at this recognition, and at the fact that not only did I not ask for help but that it never occurred to me to do so. And I've made something of an identity shift in response: whereas before I thought my self-starter, getting-on-with-it mentality was ideal for PhD study, now I'm seeing it as just another trait to be held in balance - sometimes it will serve me well, and sometimes it will need challenged. (Oh - I do enjoy it when Scottish English creeps into my idiom...)
And the Good Thing... A few days ago I got a phonecall from a student in Denmark, also studying motivation for learning English, who had been guided to my website by one of my collegues here in Manchester and was interested in sharing ideas. It was very exciting, as I don't really know anyone else working in the L2 motivation field, and testament to the power of networking. We've been exchanging emails and he has inspired me to contact some of the people whose work I've been reading, to introduce myself and ask if they can put me/us in touch with any students they know with similar research interests. So I'm starting to feel like a participant in a community, with some control and (of course) agency in terms of shaping my role within that community. And it feels good.
And that's me for now, with nothing to report except that I have a sore throat in the midst of all the spring loveliness, which is just wrong. And that I saw a particularly depressing piece of graffiti in a pub loo over the weekend, saying GIRLS, MAN THE FUCK UP AND GET SOME SELF-ESTEEM. Thanks for that, genius. If ever there were an indication of why girls' self-esteem may be at risk...
Saturday 16 April 2011
Ethical approval, funding, and huzzahs!
The University Research Ethics Committee (known by the charming acronym of UREC, which always conjures images of gouty professors) has finally bestowed approval on my PhD, which means I can go forth and collect data. Or at least, I can do so after recruiting participants, which will be the hard part - I've started with an advert on the University's Research Volunteering page, so we'll see who that yields. Having originally been approved subject to minor changes, I had to do the following to fully satisfy the committee:
- encrypt my laptop for data security purposes;
- add my supervisor as a 'what if something goes wrong?' contact instead of myself (in case the problem should be with me);
- provide contacts for various relevant support organisations in case participants become distressed;
- provide a statement explaining that I would seek cover under the Lone Worker's Policy if I conduct any interviews in participants' homes (rather than in, for example, a public cafe).
It's a relief for it all to be over - going to the committee was a strange experience, calculated in every way to remind me where the power in the University lies (hint: not with me), and clearly much more about University liability than about the ethics of research. But at least I can now push on with data collection and analysis, aka The Interesting Bit...
I also found out this week that I've been granted School of Education funding for the New Dynamics conference in Finland - along with the remainder of my ESRC research training grant, that's the conference almost entirely covered. Which is great, because Finland ain't cheap. I'll need to keep to UK conferences for a while - speaking of which, I'll be attending and hopefully presenting at the 14th International Postgraduate Conference in Applied Linguistics at the University of Warwick, 28th and 29th June (abstract pending approval), and will be attending the 5th BAAL Gender and Language Special Interest Group Event (GaLSig) at Aston University on 20th September. Exciting stuff, eh?
Now I must get ready to go dub-dancing to Jah Shaka in Sheffield tonight. I've always had an antipathy for Sheffield on account of having hated the school I went to nearby (well - on a Pennine) - but it's shifting, friends, it's shifting. Partly because I enjoy a bit of undulation after Manchester's relentless flattitude; but maybe also because, as my friend Slinky Jones keeps telling me, it's kind of a cool place...
- encrypt my laptop for data security purposes;
- add my supervisor as a 'what if something goes wrong?' contact instead of myself (in case the problem should be with me);
- provide contacts for various relevant support organisations in case participants become distressed;
- provide a statement explaining that I would seek cover under the Lone Worker's Policy if I conduct any interviews in participants' homes (rather than in, for example, a public cafe).
It's a relief for it all to be over - going to the committee was a strange experience, calculated in every way to remind me where the power in the University lies (hint: not with me), and clearly much more about University liability than about the ethics of research. But at least I can now push on with data collection and analysis, aka The Interesting Bit...
I also found out this week that I've been granted School of Education funding for the New Dynamics conference in Finland - along with the remainder of my ESRC research training grant, that's the conference almost entirely covered. Which is great, because Finland ain't cheap. I'll need to keep to UK conferences for a while - speaking of which, I'll be attending and hopefully presenting at the 14th International Postgraduate Conference in Applied Linguistics at the University of Warwick, 28th and 29th June (abstract pending approval), and will be attending the 5th BAAL Gender and Language Special Interest Group Event (GaLSig) at Aston University on 20th September. Exciting stuff, eh?
Now I must get ready to go dub-dancing to Jah Shaka in Sheffield tonight. I've always had an antipathy for Sheffield on account of having hated the school I went to nearby (well - on a Pennine) - but it's shifting, friends, it's shifting. Partly because I enjoy a bit of undulation after Manchester's relentless flattitude; but maybe also because, as my friend Slinky Jones keeps telling me, it's kind of a cool place...
Tuesday 12 April 2011
First article submission
Ahhh - a beautiful sunny weekend we've just had, more June than April, and I got myself nicely sunburned on the beach at Porth Dafarch and atop Barclodiad y Gawres, Anglesey, North Wales. Sadly I hadn't brought my swimming togs, though the sea was bone-achingly cold even for a paddle; certainly my compadres thought so, as they sat on the beach clad in grey-and-black trainers and hoodies, watching me wade in my sundress. Ah well. With a nod to the Derridean proclivities of one of my co-Cymrics: Vive la differance.
Just submitted my first article to a peer-reviewed journal - in this case, Gender and Education. Am quite delighted at having something of which I'm proud enough to submit (whether its quality is commensurate with my pride is another matter); but, more immediately, at having hauled myself through the online submission process.
For.It.Is.Tedious. And no-one tells you this stuff. I had to:
a) download a Word template to tell me what headings went where and in what font/style;
b) excise my table from the body of the text, indicating only [Table 1 near here], and put it in a separate document;
c) rewrite my references in Chicago style, with initial line-overhang;
d) rewrite my abstract in 200 words, according to the publisher's direction; then saw the journal's stipulation of a max. 150-word abstract and rewrote it again;
e) write a cover letter with a 'statement of relevance' - why my article is of interest to the journal and what is novel about it;
f) choose preferred reviewers - well, I didn't have to do this, but I did. I just assumed the journal itself would send to appropriate reviewers, but it seems there is the option to give the names of two or three people you think might read your work from a sympathetic standpoint. Again - no-one tells you this stuff. After mildly panicked consultation with my vastly more experienced Dr and PhD housemates, Aggie Hirst and Chris Rossdale, I suggested two academics who have been particularly influential for me - but still feel uncomfortably presumptuous about doing so;
g) tick lots of boxes confirming all sorts of legal requirements - that you have not submitted this manuscript anywhere else, that you have read the copyright terms, that you understand the ethical dimensions;
h) excise all identifying markers from one of the manuscripts in preparation for blind peer review.
And more, for the whole business has taken me a good two full days. In fairness, when I created my account and actually started the submission process, it was quite straightforward - the system was reasonably user-friendly and took me through everything step by step. What was frustrating, though, was the absence of one definitive checklist for the journal - there were author guidelines on the journal page that said one thing (e.g. 'submit author details on a separate page'), then links to guidelines on the publisher's page that said something else ('submit author details on a separate document'). That slowed the process down considerably. However, it is done - and I know what to expect for next time.
Speaking of which, am thinking of putting something together from my qualitative MSc assignments, in particular the Qualitative Data Analysis module, in which I explored interview data from both an inductive and a deductive perspective in order to understand how learners perceive and experience agency. It was interesting, it was. I'll poke around some of the qualitative inquiry journals, I reckon, and let you know.
Photosynthesise well, my friends!
Just submitted my first article to a peer-reviewed journal - in this case, Gender and Education. Am quite delighted at having something of which I'm proud enough to submit (whether its quality is commensurate with my pride is another matter); but, more immediately, at having hauled myself through the online submission process.
For.It.Is.Tedious. And no-one tells you this stuff. I had to:
a) download a Word template to tell me what headings went where and in what font/style;
b) excise my table from the body of the text, indicating only [Table 1 near here], and put it in a separate document;
c) rewrite my references in Chicago style, with initial line-overhang;
d) rewrite my abstract in 200 words, according to the publisher's direction; then saw the journal's stipulation of a max. 150-word abstract and rewrote it again;
e) write a cover letter with a 'statement of relevance' - why my article is of interest to the journal and what is novel about it;
f) choose preferred reviewers - well, I didn't have to do this, but I did. I just assumed the journal itself would send to appropriate reviewers, but it seems there is the option to give the names of two or three people you think might read your work from a sympathetic standpoint. Again - no-one tells you this stuff. After mildly panicked consultation with my vastly more experienced Dr and PhD housemates, Aggie Hirst and Chris Rossdale, I suggested two academics who have been particularly influential for me - but still feel uncomfortably presumptuous about doing so;
g) tick lots of boxes confirming all sorts of legal requirements - that you have not submitted this manuscript anywhere else, that you have read the copyright terms, that you understand the ethical dimensions;
h) excise all identifying markers from one of the manuscripts in preparation for blind peer review.
And more, for the whole business has taken me a good two full days. In fairness, when I created my account and actually started the submission process, it was quite straightforward - the system was reasonably user-friendly and took me through everything step by step. What was frustrating, though, was the absence of one definitive checklist for the journal - there were author guidelines on the journal page that said one thing (e.g. 'submit author details on a separate page'), then links to guidelines on the publisher's page that said something else ('submit author details on a separate document'). That slowed the process down considerably. However, it is done - and I know what to expect for next time.
Speaking of which, am thinking of putting something together from my qualitative MSc assignments, in particular the Qualitative Data Analysis module, in which I explored interview data from both an inductive and a deductive perspective in order to understand how learners perceive and experience agency. It was interesting, it was. I'll poke around some of the qualitative inquiry journals, I reckon, and let you know.
Photosynthesise well, my friends!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)