THESIS

Diagrams are missing from p.8 and  p.134 because of technical problems in uploading the full thesis with text and diagrams

These diagrams, labelled in the thesis as  "Figure 1 A pictorial overview"  and "Figure 2 Making sense "   are reproduced in the boxes immediately below

My apologies for this untidy solution to a web problem that is beyond my ken

Figure 2:   Making sense

 
From exploring practice to exploring inquiry:
 
  

a practitioner researcher’s experience.
 
 
 
  

Nigel Jeffrey Mellor
 
 
 
  

A thesis submitted in partial fulfilment

of the requirements of the

University of Northumbria at Newcastle

for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy.
 
  

April 1999

Please note: some alterations to the original thesis have been included for copyright reasons and for personal reasons, these are marked in red.

(1) I have not obtained copyright clearance to publish quotations on the web from the works of T.S.Eliot, George Orwell, Robert Graves or  Vikram Seth. I have removed these passages .

(2) The original layout of the thesis is lost on a floppy disc from 20 years ago. To help any academics who wish to reference quotations from it  accurately, however, I have given each page its original number, in the body of the text, in a form such as  #[p123]. This is not a very elegant solution, and creates lumpy page endings and blank space. This ruins my attempt at "good writing". Please accept my apologies, I could not create a pdf document at the time.

(3) To protect identities even more, I have made some small changes to the material concerning Mike and Celia. Also, to protect psychology colleagues from unwitting upset, I have cut out some material from chapter 7. I have made one or two other small change, marked in the text. None of these seem relevant to the major arguments of the thesis and I doubt anyone would ever want to reference the material that has been changed.

(4) Acknowledgements I have been asked to include for the web version are:

My articles Mellor 1997b, 1998a and b appear with permission of the publishers. The editors of Young Minds invite you to visit their web site www.youngminds.org.uk.

#[pii]
From exploring practice to exploring inquiry: a practitioner researcher’s experience.
 
   

 ABSTRACT

This thesis is concerned with my experiences as a full-time educational psychologist, engaged initially in an examination of practice which gradually transformed into an examination of the research process itself. It is offered as a contribution to the field of practitioner research methods.

The project was triggered by my enthusiasm for a particular approach to working with families of children referred for emotional and behavioural difficulties. The first part of the account sets this work in its personal and professional context and includes both published material and material in preparation, as illustration.

The second part focuses on efforts to develop a research method. The exploration draws on diaries kept in a systematic manner during a six year period, recording my activities and my reflections on these. The diaries provide the main data for the study. The project and its methods evolved during this time as I sought to understand my own research processes. I describe an unfolding inquiry which is likened to the growth of a banyan tree.

The third part of the thesis describes further refinement of the research method as it is applied to two topics: identity and making sense. A number of identities are claimed and tensions between these are held to shape the research path. Some of these identities are already existing or uncovered during the research; others, such as practitioner researcher are newly emergent.

The complex process of inquiry, involving a wide range of techniques, is called "messy method", where messy is taken to mean difficult, not careless. It involves a cyclical form of analysis or " making sense" of the data and a process of reaching platforms of understanding as I interact with the literature and my own data.

#[piii] During the project I follow many side issues, what I call "off-shoots". An account of such diversions I argue adds to the "strength" of the work, where strength is seen as an alternative term to validity.

The final part of the work includes some critique of the process and a drawing out of three main aspects of practitioner research from this experience: the importance of mess, values and communication.
 
   

#[piv] ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I am extremely grateful to Colin Biott and Sandy Wolfson of the University of Northumbria. They brought the creative tension of contrasting perspectives to the study, and gave unfailing support. Without them I would not have found a path.

Thanks is also due to an extensive circle of friends, relatives, counsellors and colleagues, academic and professional, without whose constant emotional and intellectual input I would not have been able to meet the immense challenge this work presented me.

Finally, I would like to record in particular the constant encouragement of my partner Mary and the tolerance of my children Kate and Joe.
   

#[pv] CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION p. 1
 
  

PART 1: Concerning myself and my practice.

Chapter 1. A story of myself. p. 12

Chapter 2. On practice. p. 24

Chapter 3. The Eric Harvey approach and attention seeking p. 34
 
  

PART 2: Evolving a method.

Chapter 4. Method before the paper "Notes from a method" p. 49

Part I: the beginnings.

Chapter 5. Method before the paper "Notes from a method" p. 72

Part II: additional issues.

Chapter 6. Notes from a method. p. 90
 
  

PART 3: Refining the method.

Chapter 7. Off-shoots. p. 111

Chapter 8. A mini-project: making sense. p. 118

Chapter 9. A mini-project around identity. p. 148

Chapter 10. Identity and research. p. 170

Chapter 11. Method after the paper "Notes from a method". p. 190

PART 4: Concluding thoughts.

Chapter 12. reflections on the project. p. 223

Postscript. p. 236

APPENDICES.

Appendix A. p. 240

Appendix B. p. 241

Appendix C. p. 255

Appendix D. p. 271

BIBLIOGRAPHY. p. 281 

#[p1] INTRODUCTION

This thesis is a description of my research experience while engaged in full-time occupation as an educational psychologist and registered as a part-time student at the University of Northumbria. The project began in autumn 1993. The account is intended as a contribution to the literature on practitioner research: it is my vision of how practitioner research can be.

1. An outline.

The text is in four parts. The first part sets the personal and academic context of the inquiry. The second concerns the development of a research method. The next section recounts how I tried to refine the method. The final part draws together some concluding comments. The investigation, involving reflection on practice and reflection on the method of researching this practice, followed a very fluid course; it contains, however, a backbone of systematic diary entries.

The record of this work differs from more conventional reports. It is an unfolding narrative which mirrors the evolving course of the research. The tale is not built around a simple structure such as introduction, literature, methodology, results, analysis, discussion, conclusion. I draw, for instance, on sources from a relatively wide range of perspectives to form a synthesis of my ideas and there is no central "literature review", material is explored as and when it is relevant in each chapter. The research is mainly about my efforts to develop a method of inquiry, so a "methodology", in the sense of providing a rationale for the means of carrying out the inquiry, is not presented as a separate element: struggles with methodology permeate the text.

"Findings", such as I imagine might arise from analysis of interviews in a "grounded theory" approach, for example, are not included. The diary notes which form the main "data" are subjected to a developing "analysis" (the reason for the quotation marks will become apparent in chapter 8), the outcome of which is an evolving understanding of the

#[p2] method of research: a kind of history of how I learnt to see what I was learning to do. There were no neat stages but I have, retrospectively, imposed a structure on the project to help along my explanation of what was at times a most confusing process.

The energy which has carried me through the past few years arises partly from my commitment to a particular form of case work. The original aim of the research was to investigate these interventions, but the focus shifted to exploring the process of research itself and a new source of energy came in to play: a desire to communicate my unfurling comprehension. The importance of communication for me is a theme I return to in the concluding chapter.

Although there are some practice outcomes (books and articles published and in preparation) and I describe some exploration of the work which triggered the undertaking, the emphasis in this thesis is not on any results flowing from these. The reader will not be a better educational psychologist at the end of the tale. I wish instead to convey my ideas on research to practitioner researchers from a variety of background. It is research I hope to develop, not practice.

The project is based mainly on two diaries collected over about six years as I studied my practice and my own research processes. In form these diaries were nearer to scrap books, they included for examples tapes, cuttings, jottings and longer reflective pieces. One diary, concerning practice, my reflections around it and attempts to improve it, plays a more minor role in the account. An article, reproduced in appendix C, and the interview tape accompanying the thesis (in appendix A) are two examples of the kinds of records I kept in this practice diary. They are included partly in illustration of my work as psychologist for those unfamiliar with the field. Further details of some of the practicalities of the study (the number of cases I rely on etc.) are included in chapter 4.

I draw to a limited extent on two other diaries, a counselling diary and a "science" diary which were in existence before the project began and continued throughout, but the main source of data for the project is my research diary, kept mainly as a hand-written record. I use the notes in these pages as if they were interview transcripts and quote them verbatim,

#[p3] they are largely in colloquial speech. Many of the views which are to be found in the diary extracts are not developed, they represent my changing positions at various times throughout the period, thus the arguments referred to in the data are not necessarily the arguments of the thesis.

PART 1 "Concerning myself and my practice" incorporates some personal history; an account of the development of educational psychology; and a description of the starting point of the inquiry: my interest in a particular form of case work, heavily influenced by a (now deceased) colleague, Eric Harvey. This work has at its centre short term, highly focused and directive interventions with the parents of children referred for emotional and behavioural difficulties and employs the key concept of attention seeking.

Chapter 1 is an autobiography written two years into the project, some comments on the uses of autobiographical accounts are included. This personal description foreshadows a discussion of the role of emotions in research and the potential complexity of identities we may carry which are developed in chapters 9 and 10.

Chapter 2 gives a brief history of educational psychology in this country. This introduces my concerns over teacher stress and the scientific nature of psychology and illustrates some potential tensions in the job around identity and other issues.

In Chapter 3 I explore what I call "the Eric Harvey method" and its associated central concept of attention seeking. Consideration of this concept and the practical difficulties of discussing it with teacher colleagues, led to the publication of an article and a book for teachers "Attention Seeking". The book is placed in appendix A together with an audio tape of a recent interview for illustration purposes. The Eric Harvey method itself, the idea of attention seeking and the book are, however, not subject to criticism in this thesis.

PART 2 "Evolving a method" describes the first stage in developing a research method, initially to explore this practice. The method became, however, a way of exploring this very exploration, as my concerns shifted to issues around "how to research". Emotional issues pervade the research, these are covered in passing in chapters 4 and 10, the main discussion is in chapter 9.

#[p4] Chapters 4 and 5, which are closely linked, outline the work in the early part of the project, the techniques used as I struggled towards an appreciation of how I was researching. I begin to develop the idea of the "messiness" of the process (see below) with its ethical concerns, worries over how far and what to change, inputs from many colleagues and reliance in part on serendipity and incubation. I start to leave a simplistic view of "scientific method" behind and come to accept my searching for a method to be the method.

Chapter 6 provides a copy of the paper, "Notes from a Method", which appears in the journal Educational Action Research. This paper outlines my provisional understanding of this method of inquiry, up to summer 1997, and offers an organic metaphor for the study: the banyan tree. It gives a snapshot of my position at the time of writing and sets the scene for the next part of the project as I begin to refine my ideas.

PART 3 "Refining the method" involves a further development of the method of part 2. Some aspects are expanded, such as a description of the "off-shoots" of the inquiry, those excursions into areas outside what came to be the central theme of researching researching. Inclusion of these is later justified as part of the process of seeking "validity". The main element of this part, however, is the explanation of how I tried to clarify the method further, for instance by examining two new areas: the topics of identity and "making sense". An outline of the second version of the method is the outcome of these further inquiries.

Chapter 7 explores part of one of these off-shoots, about the topic of reflection. This off-shoot continues concerns over the scientific stance of colleagues and introduces new concerns over identity and honesty (arising from efforts to publish a paper on the topic). Appendix C is a copy of this paper, "On Reflection", published in the journal Educational Psychology in Practice. This chapter should be read in conjunction with appendix B and C. Appendix B gives a summary of the other "off-shoots" of the project: early plans for "scientific" investigations of practice; action research; chaos and circular epistemology; interviewing psychologists; and reflection-in-action.

Chapter 8 describes a mini-project, "making sense". This outlines my approach to "analysis" but also provides an opportunity to explore the unfolding method further.

#[p5] Making sense is seen as a reciprocal process involving "data", "writing", "exploration" and "ideas". All these terms are seen as problematic. The process involves angst and unlearning and raises questions about claims to knowledge.

Chapter 9, another mini-project, on identity, creates an additional occasion to further examine this evolving method, especially the theory dependence of data. Undefined curiosity is replaced by a "proto-question" as the starting point. This, however, raises difficulties of premature closure. I also focus on the role of counselling in research and the implications of this for managing subjectivity.

In chapter 10 I lay claim to a number of identities. The identities themselves may, however, be contradictory internally and between each other. Some identities were re-discovered, some newly created by the research. I argue that tensions between identities helped shape the project. The chapter concludes with some discussion of issues raised by such an assertion, for example over the definition of and consistency or otherwise of identity; aspects of transformation; the nature and site of tensions between identities; and knowledge claims thrown up by the discussion.

Chapter 11 "Method after the paper ‘Notes from a Method" gives my latest understanding of the research method, synthesising ideas from the article "Notes from a Method" and ideas arising from the two projects on identity and making sense. In this chapter I consider notions of research strength, in place of validity. I argue that an "honesty trail" adds to research strength. Relatability and communication are seen as useful concepts but the size of any relevant community is problematic.

I describe how the research process involves a constant interplay with many sources. Finally, I offer questions which other practitioner researchers my wish to take into consideration when evaluating this project.

PART 4 "Concluding thoughts" As chapter 11 fills most of the role of summarising the research method, this section provides an opportunity for a more reflective view of the project.

In chapter 12 I offer some critique of the study, arguing that such opening up of shortcomings adds to the strength of research. Future inquiry might focus back on issues of practice.

#[p6] I draw out what appear to be, for me, three main principles in this version of practitioner research: an emphasis on coping with the messiness of practice and research; a concern for values; and a concern for communication.

A post script returns briefly to an issue raised in my autobiographical account, the identity project and at other points in the inquiry: my changing view of myself as scientist.

2. A description of the arguments of the thesis.

My background is very strongly in "scientific methods", however, I decided quite deliberately near the outset of this study to seek, for me, a new form of inquiry. "Data" (reflections in my diary) were collected from the start of this period, before any clear idea of the method of research crystallised.

The project evolved, it was not planned and executed in a precise manner. For much of the period I was trying to understand what it was I was trying to understand. The central argument of the study is, in essence: this is how I research and this is how I research my research. Embedded in this account is a description of the process of "making sense" of the data that I employed (my approach to "analysis").

I argue for the need to deal with emotional issues arising from research and offer a way of achieving this, through counselling. I also maintain that tensions between identities help to create a unique research path. In addition, I present a subsidiary argument, tied up with my attempts to explore the "validity" of the method: that this method is a description of how some other researchers may, in part, research, some of the time. Establishing such agreement, however, I contend is beyond the bounds of the present project. I offer the argument that an important criterion is that the material should be readable, and my concern with communication underlines the two-way nature of the process.

The research path had many twists and turns as I explored diversions, I have included these "off-shoots" in appendix B. A further subsidiary argument I present is that what I

 #[p7] have called an "honesty trail", an account of these off-shoots, enhances the believability of the report.

3. A pictorial overview.

Given the non-linear nature of the inquiry, the following diagram (figure 1) provides a schematic summary to aid understanding of the course of the study, although it gives a false picture of the lived experience of the research. I have chosen in the write-up, however, not to attempt to engender a vicarious experience of my confusions in the reader’s mind. My aim has been "to write as openly and clearly as possible about the very perplexing path of the inquiry" (Mellor 1998 b p. 458), to communicate my understandings, not my puzzlement. In keeping with the emergent nature of the project, however, the account reproduces the gradual process of the simultaneous uncovering and creating of the research method, thus its form and content are closely linked. The verbal description below moves across the diagram from left to right and down the page within each section:

Left hand side: The research is located over one period of about six years in my life. There was a "me" before the project and I argue my identities help shape the inquiry. At one point, identities themselves become a mini project. The research is also a stage in the evolution of my practice and my practitioner concerns will continue after the project, with further professional inquiry and intended publications, and, hopefully, feedback.

Central portion: The nebulous area labelled "practice" contains many aspects which could have been investigated. I focus on one aspect I am curious about: the Eric Harvey method in family case work. An unsteady path of research develops, with a number of off-shoots that are not pursued. After about two years, research questions are established, although, in the mean time, some kind of "research" has been under way, without a guiding question or established method. The wavy lines connecting the various steps represent the twisting course of the inquiry.

After a further two years, a preliminary understanding of the research method is established. Four publications arise, three associated with practice, one with research.
 
   

#[p8] Figure 1: A pictorial overview.

#[p9] This method is then further refined by application to two minor projects, one on identity, one on "analysis" or "making sense". The publications are then incorporated into the written account of the project as a whole together with an enhanced understanding of the research method.

Right hand side: Throughout the project support is sought from many quarters (friends, colleagues, counsellor, publication). At the same time, the evolving ideas are subject to increasing external criticism: a process I later envisage as "testing while protecting". A final evaluation of the project, I argue, may only be seen much later, when others have had the opportunity to indicate whether or not it "has resonance" for them and they are willing to follow such a method.

4. Additional notes.

A. The case work interventions of part 1 are illustrated in the accompanying tape of a parent interview (placed in appendix A). Discussion of emotional issues connected with such tapes is included in part 3.

The tape is to form the centre-piece of a forthcoming training pack for psychologists. Attention seeking is examined, from the teacher’s point of view, in the book "Attention Seeking: a practical solution for the classroom" ( placed in appendix A). These two publications, for psychologists and teachers, together with a third book for parents, currently in draft, are planned to form a trilogy dealing with the subject of attention seeking. Their arguments do not, however, form part of the arguments of this thesis.

B. I refer in the thesis to terms such as "the research", "the study", "the project", "the inquiry" and "the investigation". These are simply stylistic variations deployed to improve the readability of the material. Terms such as "the account", "the story", "the narrative" and "the text" are used in a similar manner.

C. At points I employ the phrase "messy method" to capture the challenging nature of the project; this shorthand description may, however, have negative connotations. To clarify,

#[p10] I am using "messy" here as in "difficult to deal with, full of awkward complications" (Concise Oxford Dictionary) and would want to distinguish this from "sloppy": "unsystematic, careless, not thorough" (C.O.D.).

D. The terms "science" and "scientific method" occur throughout the account, their definition is potentially troublesome. The postscript to chapter 12 offers an extremely limited attempt at a very personal resolution of the matter.

E. In view of the organic nature of the study and the incorporation of previously published material, some repetition is inevitable in the account.
  

#[p11]

PART 1
 
  

Concerning myself and my practice.

#[p12] CHAPTER 1. A story of myself.

Recounted below is my autobiography, dated 17 December 1995, written long before the final shape of the thesis began to develop. I present it in its original form with only very minor editing[1].At the time of first writing, I had some (perhaps simplistic) notion that an account of me and my biases would act as a kind of corrective to the distorting lens of my personal mode of research. At one point, the sub-title for this section was "calibrating myself as research instrument". I was still heavily influenced by "scientific" thinking and had not appreciated the "self-inventing" (MacLure 1993a p.376) nature of such narratives.

Some critical comments on autobiography in general, and this one in particular, complete the chapter. The purpose of this account is to introduce me and my concerns to the reader. It lays some of the groundwork for a later discussion of a personal form of inquiry I intend to explore, and also a consideration of identity and a perspective on one of its roles in research.

1. My story (17.12.95).

I begin this writing with some trepidation. My concerns over exploring personal information and the role of emotions in academic work are explored in chapter 9.

In blanket terms I am a white, middle-aged heterosexual man, with a semi and two children, in a secure profession. However.....

I was brought up on a large council estate on the outskirts of Newcastle in the 1950s. Fields began at the end of my street. As far as I was aware they continued unbroken to Scotland. This was a very English environment, but in my mind's eye I was on the Blue Mountain Railway and could see the Himalayas from the toilet window of a married quarters' bungalow. My parents spent their happiest years in India and talked endlessly about it. We ate curry.

#[p13] Pa loved the regular army. It gave him a home. He left school at fourteen and went down the pit. He was, however, the most well-read man I knew for many years. He joined up, became an officer and lived for the Raj but held Ghandi to be one of the century's greatest leaders. He also admired Tony Benn. He "would not have a word said against the Queen" but hated "Royal hangers-on". His army life was one of travel and sport, he "never fired his rifle in anger" except to shoot the colonel's dog during a rabies outbreak. He was immensely strong and had been a boxer, but never hit me.

He returned home after the war to be a very low grade civil servant and dig his garden. Much later I held his hand all night as he was dying and squirted water into his mouth from a plastic syringe. It is one of my most treasured memories.

I love Ma and she loves me. Simple as that. My childhood was very secure. George Orwell catches this beautifully in "Coming up For Air" as he describes life before he first world war:

Orwell describes how natural home life felt (Orwell, 1939 p.50).

I was the youngest of four and probably indulged. I was well-behaved (or at least, never got caught). Orwell again:

Orwell describes the cruelty of small boys . (ibid p. 68)

Although I was never cruel to toads and perhaps not a typical boy, I do seem to remember, with some shame, pulling the wings off a particularly beautiful insect. I hope the memory is a reconstruction.

Recently I found out that I actually failed the 11-plus, but somehow went to Grammar school anyway. My birthday is August 31st, I was not only the youngest in my year group but probably the slowest developer. Perhaps the school made allowances. I was bright and bookish with a terrible stammer, but popular. I wrote a great deal but in a very illegible script. I had a lot to say but could not communicate it easily in speech or writing. I loved

#[p14] science - I still do. Relaxation on holiday for me is to read New Scientist. Carl Rogers expresses this well:

I love the precision and the elegance of science ... I can lose myself in the contemplation of this elegance...I have, deep within me, a feeling for science (Rogers 1968 cited in Kirschenbaum and Henderson, 1990, p.265).

Many children at school came from "well-to-do homes". I envied their clothes and their confidence. Although middle class now, I can still feel inferior to a "good accent". As a psychologist working with many professionals this caused me great anxiety. I learned to cope.

University was physics and parties. It was the sixties. I was naive (I had literally never been inside a restaurant, as opposed to a cafe, and never used a phone, no-one had one at home, there was nobody to ring) but surrounded with friends. I developed a deep regard for the physics of the nineteenth century, the last science I truly understood. James Clerk Maxwell was my hero. To be able to take the equations describing the fields around such humdrum objects as a charged-up plastic comb and a coil of wire attached to an Ever Ready battery and, several pages of sophisticated maths later, to produce the formula for light, seemed to me to be a thing of almost religious beauty.[2]

The second year was somehow missing. Friends clubbed together to buy a house. The grant was relatively generous, you could manage if you lived on beans for a year. The experience did little for the digestion and even less for academia. I still have nightmares about sitting finals without one third of the coursework. I scraped through, thanks, I believe, partly to one reasonable answer on Maxwell's wave equation. I needed a job but had no ideas, so drifted into teaching.

My training college taught the History, Sociology, Philosophy and Psychology of teaching but never taught teaching. I was a disaster. They had to provide me with separate lessons on how to teach, it wasn't on the syllabus and I couldn't figure out how. Strangely, though, my stammer stopped as soon as I set foot inside a classroom, despite all the stress.

#[p15] I was an idealistic teacher. I wanted to teach Nuffield Physics and interest the children. I did not want to use corporal punishment. Unfortunately, the school where I began my career, in Salford, had different ideas and I was an abject failure. Only another teacher who has lost control of a class knows the pain and humiliation involved. The rest of the world can't imagine it. I will draw a veil over that episode. Suffice it to say I began to use corporal punishment, badly. The more stressed I became the less it worked and the more I used it. To a good liberal-minded socialist this was torture indeed. One year I finally began to use the slipper effectively. I chose the quietest boy at the start of term and "beat him soundly". The rest were terrified: if that was what you got for doing nothing ...! I gained control and began to teach. I think the boy forgave me.

I moved back to the North East and at my next school was quite effective, taught well and even helped the poor devils pass O-levels and A-levels. One year I decided to give up all types of corporal punishment (from the formal cane to the informal "thump"), and to begin to value my worst pupils and give them my best work. I began to think about classroom management. It worked. My teaching improved. My self esteem rose several notches and my results didn't suffer. I counted myself a successful teacher, then had the courage to leave. Reading "Dibs" by Virginia Axline and finding a Chinese boy crying at the back of the class because he could not understand a word of what was said, turned me towards psychology. The reality of psychology, however, was not psychotherapy, I learned to give tests. After a psychology degree and an educational psychology Masters I was still a scientist.

About this time my two children were born. I loved them from the start. I loved their smell and the feel of their bodies. I woke if they made the slightest cry. But they also drove us crazy[*added for publishing: they were wonderful as kids; we weren’t as parents!] Both my partner (who was a constant support, emotionally and academically, before and during this research) and I were under great pressure. We had to take turns going on courses just to get a break; I can sympathise with the parents I meet in my job. Anyway, I gradually became more domesticated and less of a male sexist. We survived.

#[p16] Eric Harvey, ex-senior social worker in Sunderland psychology service was the best thing that happened to me as a new psychologist in 1979. My training had been pathetically inadequate in the area of working with families and in Eric I felt as though I'd discovered the answer.

Those of us who believed in the "Eric Harvey method"[3](and at times it did seem to take on the characteristics of a religion - with devotees, a sense of belonging, shared knowledge and miracle cures) each had an "Eric day" which we jealously guarded. The day was split into four appointment slots and we worked Eric non-stop. We (the psychologists) would generally see the child while Eric saw the parents. He liked them to come to the office so that they were on his territory. Home provided too many distractions and "bolt-holes" and Eric had little time for what he saw as the standard social work approach. His interview was very directive and under his control: he sat behind a big desk. Parents answered his questions. The advice on handling at the end of the session was generally similar (a basic behavioural approach with attention seeking as a key concept).

Described like that, the method sounds dull, authoritarian, rigid and lifeless. Quite the contrary. Each case was unique and the detail of the interview reflected that. Eric also knew how to handle people. I can remember countless times, sitting cowering in the big armchair, while a parent ranted and raved and Eric sat impassively. This puzzled me, he never seemed upset. Eventually I asked him about this. He saw anger as a very positive force, it meant the parents were committed. If you let them "blow off steam" they would usually calm down and feel a bit embarrassed. Eric would then suggest that we all wanted the same thing - what was best for the child. Once the parents were on his side he would "flip it round" and that anger would become a driving force for change.

Eric did not like "middle class parents who stayed on the intellectual level". He never felt successful with them. He wanted to penetrate people's defences and get to gut feelings - hence his stories. These, although superficially simple and at times almost patronising, were a key to his approach. Experiences from the parents' own lives were used to give them insights into the child's position in a very effective but "homely" manner.

#[p17] The flow of the interview was carefully honed, to move from less to more threatening areas. Because the questions about the child's behaviour were based on years of experience Eric often seemed a mind reader ("you must have been at our house" is a comment parents often made). By the time the "selling" part of the approach came in, at the end of a very lengthy session, the parents were already convinced: Eric must know the answers because he had been asking the right questions.

He took chances. He called one very burly dad a coward. He would swear a lot[4]("and you two daft buggers end up fighting", quote from a video-tape interview circa 1985). Parents relaxed and laughed (usually). Some times he got it wrong, usually with the more intellectual clients who wanted, in his words "to hear the great Freud", or with the very religious, who did not like references to "the average child would drive Jesus Christ mad". Some parents could not take it, as one couple said: "We brought the child but we got the beating", but most were won round.

Eric was very human, he made mistakes. He was a product of his time and place: a local lad, trained as an engineer, saw active service in Italy in world war II, re-trained as a social worker and ended up in child guidance. I make no apologies for him. His method speaks for itself in literally hundreds of families. He divorced, became very lonely and lived for work, his flat was just across the road from the office. He retired several years ago and died of lung cancer quite soon after. When I came to take on my own "Eric Harvey" work I began to realise just how much I owed him and how much I missed him. I cried as I wrote this short piece about him.

There is a small band of us who carry on the method. From time to time we try to teach it to students; it is difficult however to capture that sense of a valued technique, shared by a community of professionals who supported each other, and the long "apprenticeship" we served, watching Eric at work. One original purpose of this research was to act as a kind of tribute to his approach, the Eric Harvey method.

#[p18] During a forties mid-life crisis I discovered co-counselling (see chapter 9). Joyce, my counselling teacher, who later taught me to teach and became my counsellor, introduced me to the world inside, a world I had only dimly and fleetingly perceived until then (by coincidence, partly through observing the way parents responded to Eric Harvey). My understanding of a universe which seemed to obey different rules began. Emotions, which to me, the scientist, were distractions, took centre stage and became powerful forces for change. I experienced this myself and saw it with others. It became a different kind of knowledge - a kind I could not "prove".

Joyce died, but I continued counselling with my good friend Mike. After many hundreds of hours of struggle in realms of great challenge, perhaps by now I should be perfect. I'm not. That's not the aim of co-counselling. I simply get by in a better way.

When Eric died and I had moved to my present post, I had to learn how to use the Eric Harvey method myself. It was tremendously difficult, but exhilarating work. Again, I began to "know" in a personal way about change. Perhaps, however, some of the magic of sharing with others was lost. I began to slip into a rut:

as a practice becomes more repetitive and routine, and as knowing-in-practice becomes increasingly tacit and spontaneous, the practitioner may miss important opportunities to think about what he (sic) is doing...if he learns, as often happens, to be selectively inattentive to phenomena that do not fit the categories of his knowing-in-action, then he may suffer from boredom or "burn-out" and afflict his clients with the consequences of his narrowness and rigidity (Schön, 1983 p.61).

Schön 's words were a sharp knife of guilt, although his book (initially) became the cornerstone of this research. I would like to say Schön 's brilliant account of the "Reflective Practitioner" triggered the project. The truth is rather messier and more mundane: a combination of vague disquiet about "life and work"; a long standing feeling that I should have gone on to research in the sixties; the children growing up and leaving some emotional space; the approaching reality of retirement; my memory of Eric; my partner's example of successful writing and her willing support; a Reader's Digest article in the chiropodist's waiting room on "How to rescue yourself from those mid-career blues".

#[p19] These, then, are some of the factors which could influence my research. Much is not written. Some I am not aware of. As a postscript, on a recent trip to Carlisle, "to get away from it all", having finished my PhD transfer document, I settled down on the train to relax, to read New Scientist and forget about academic life. To my horror, the pages began to come alive .

I had been struggling for some time with Kuhn, feminist critique of science, Polanyi's personal knowledge and the like. Arguments about ancient scientific battles were interesting, but somehow, finally unmoving and unconvincing as examples of world changing events. Now, with our complacent hindsight, we just "know" one side was "wrong": the sun does not go round the earth. The heat has left the debate. Suddenly, however, in one issue of New Scientist, the whole science agenda was laid out, as a living, breathing subject: personalities, politics and paradigm wars[5]. I could no longer read as a scientist. I had become a social scientist.

2. Comments on autobiography.

Employing autobiographical accounts raise a range of issues. Events are reconstructed "[e]ven the most careful of ethnographic descriptions ... are actually ... combinations of selectivity and interpretation" (Stanley 1993 p. 49). Recent controversy over the life story of Nobel prize winner, Rigoberta Menchu, serves to reinforce this argument (see Ellison 1998 on the supposed inaccuracies of her account). My story is constructed. The events I describe took place, but many took place which I do not describe. This selectivity became highlighted later in considering aspects of my identity, several of which I initially overlooked (see chapter 10). Memory is, in addition, at times notoriously unreliable. My "memories" of India are vivid although I have never been there. The more I try to recall the episode with the insect, the more it re-shapes itself and shades into other incidents until I am unsure what, if anything, happened 45 years ago. I accept, then, that this record will be at best a limited one and one that sides away from less worthy aspects of character, as Converey (1996) argues, it presents a "preferred identity" (p.207).

#[p20] This reconstruction may extend to the whole research narrative. Commenting on her thesis, Aldridge (1993) states "a case can be made that the entire account of the research ... was in many respects an artifice or construction" (p.57). She points, for instance, to the reshuffling of time in her report[6].   A conventional ordering helps to "[cut] away the researcher from the process of carrying out the research" (ibid p.62). Including the personal in research, however, replaces the "value free objectivity" of traditional research with "conscious subjectivity" (Cotterill and Letherby 1993 p.72). Such aspects are developed later as I explore my method of inquiry and notions of validity.

The autobiography I present is written in a particular style. It tells about me, but with a "literary voice". That is how I first wrote it. My intention was not to dissemble, but to render at least readable, what could be viewed as an exercise in self-indulgence. I return to the issue of writing later in examining my identities.

Emotions may be central to the autobiography, although as Wilkins (1993) describes in her search of standard methodological texts, she was " astonished at the intellectual cover-up of emotion, intuition, and human relationships in the name of expert or academic knowledge" (p.94). She viewed her own emotions as a positive resource (in researching childbirth). I consider the role of emotions in the current research mainly in chapter 9.

My account is not a "critical autobiography" (Griffiths 1994 p.76), with attention to "politically situated perspectives" (ibid p.76). I will be making a plea for a focus on a particular kind of personal investigation of the self, not, for instance, on an action research which recognises "broader, global repercussions" (ibid p.71).

The idea that I might have a mass of potentially conflicting identities was not part of my reasoning at the time of writing (that came much later, around autumn 1998). I was concerned, even then, however, about locating myself crudely as "white, male, heterosexual, middle class" etc. Life just seems much more complex than those bald statements imply. As Griffiths (1994) points out "[b]lanket statements about my own social class, race and gender are probably not helpful... why should... researchers [fall into neat categories]?" (p.80). In a largely un-theorised and uncertain way, I believe that I

 #[p21] was beginning to see and value the many apparent contradictions of my life. Tension between these, I maintain, help forge my own, personal research path. I see these as assets, not impediments to inquiry, as later sections will explain.

That then is some of me. I touch only a little on my job. To understand this research we need to look more closely at the world of educational psychology and my position in this, the subject of the next chapter.

3. Key points emerging from the chapter.

I provide one version of an autobiography, a snapshot produced at a certain time, to introduce me and my concerns to the reader at the opening of what is to be a very personal form of research. It is not a "critical autobiography" in the way Griffiths (1994) uses the expression.

In drawing on any autobiographical material I recognise that this is a potentially problematic process. Autobiographies can be seen as reconstructions, relying on unreliable memory. Indeed, the whole research text can be seen as a reconstruction in some sense. Together with highlighting the personal in research, and for instance the role of emotions, this brief discussion is a prelude to later exploration of the method of this inquiry and, for instance, notions of validity.

One role of the material is to open up consideration of the complexity of identity. Later chapters will consider the way in which tensions between its different aspects might influence the course of research.

Notes

[1] I have left this account as I first wrote it. I feel it stands "as a whole". Some repetition is, however, thus inevitable, as I, for instance, introduce my colleague, Eric Harvey, here then explore his work more fully in chapter 3.[BACK]

#[p22] [2] Physicists will forgive this rather poetic rendering of the derivation of the electromagnetic wave equation. I am explaining here my memory of the feeling, rather than my even more shaky memory of the physics. [BACK]

[3] The method is not described in the literature. I provide a brief introduction here and further details in chapter 3.[BACK]

[4] In the context, Eric’s intervention worked. He was a master of rapport. As Barker (1986) describes:

[w]hen rapport is well developed the therapist can say almost anything, even quite outrageous things, to the client without their becoming upset; even though the remarks could be construed as insulting, the clients will take them to have been meant jokingly. (p.92)

[BACK]

[5] I have no reason to believe this particular issue of New Scientist (Dec 2 1995), was unusual. I recognise that this is of course a popular journal and thus not necessarily typical of science writing. The topics I noted, under the rough headings which I used at the time, were:

Politics.

Disagreements over safe levels of radiation (p.3, p.10 and p.56).

Public health officials sensationalising infectious diseases to lobby for increased funding (p.29).

The politics of the making of the atom bomb (p.47).

"Dubious political agendas" in modern Darwinism (p.50).

Personalities.

Hawking's latest arguments concerning mini-black holes described as "wild and provocative" (p.20).

Paradigm wars.

Arguments for spontaneous generation of order from complexity as a contrast to natural selection (p.48).

Complementary medicine making inroads into the medical establishment (p.51).

Unfair distributions of scientific papers (p.53).

There were, in addition, articles demonstrating uncertainty (p.37) and alternative epistemology (p.41).

#[p23] [6] Others also comment on the constructed nature of accounts e.g. Knorr-Cetina 1981 and Medawar 1963 on "scientific" reports.
 
  

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

*December 2001 Not in original thesis

Now that I am making the thesis more publically available I have made a small change to page 15 to clarify that I am in no way critical of my children - we just were under pressure through being very busy, and less than average parents!

#[p24] CHAPTER 2. On practice.

The history of educational psychology which follows is a brief account. It is offered partly in order to put some of my current concerns into context, for instance over the recent pace of change in education and associated teacher stress, and over the "scientific" views of psychology colleagues. It sets the scene for the opening of the project.

1. A history of educational psychology.

Throughout England, Wales and Northern Ireland there are about 2300 educational psychologists (EPs), the vast majority (95%) belonging to the Association of Educational Psychologists (AEP) and employed by local education authorities (LEAs). We cover all the state schools in the country. Qualification for this job includes a first degree in psychology (or equivalent), a teaching qualification and experience, and postgraduate training in educational psychology[1] Thus from the outset we have a number of potential identity tensions, Fox (1992), for instance, notes an identity paradox - are we educators or psychologists[2]. My own route into the profession was a little round about as my autobiography indicates.

Although no clear divide exists, for convenience I will split the history in two, using the publication of "Reconstructing Educational Psychology" (Gilham 1978) as a convenient break. The account is not intended as an exhaustive survey of the area.

A. Until the late 1970s

The educational needs of blind and deaf children[3] were provided for in the Elementary Education (Blind and Deaf Children) Act of 1893 (Curtis 1967). In 1899 the Elementary Education (Defective and Epileptic Children) Act created the new category of "defective children" :

...who by reason of mental or physical defect are incapable of receiving proper benefit from the instruction in the ordinary public or elementary schools, but are not incapable of receiving by reason of such defect of receiving benefit from instruction in special classes or schools (Dessent 1978 p.25)

#[p25] Voluntary schools prior to the 1870 Education Act "had been able to reject the duller and more troublesome children if they wished" (ibid p.25). From 1870, compulsory attendance required the teaching profession to deal with "difficult children, urchins who could not be taught, ruffians who could not be controlled." (Williams 1974 p.3). There is some indication that interest in this group may have arisen partly "because they interfered with the ‘payment by results’ method of determining teachers’ salaries" (Dessent 1978 p.25).

Initially "[t]he job of selecting the so-called ‘defectives’ for transfer to special schools fell, not surprisingly, to the medical profession" (ibid p.25). However, assessments were not always reliable "the certifying doctors ... tended to pass on every backward youngster" (ibid p.26). The costs of special education were nearly three times that of normal schooling and "...the Education Committee complained of the expense, the parents complained of the stigma and the teachers complained of the faulty diagnosis." (ibid p.26). The demand for more "objective" methods of selection formed "the historical origins of educational psychology [drawing on ]the work of ...Galton, Binet, Pearson and Burt" (ibid p. 27)

In 1913 the London County Council appointed the first psychologist, Cyril Burt with a broad brief but a priority given to the problem of "how to ascertain educationally subnormal pupils using psychological tests and other scientific procedures" (Burt 1957 cited in Dessent 1978 p.27). School psychological services then slowly spread throughout the country (the next appointment being in Leicester in 1931).

At the turn of the century a multidisciplinary team approach evolved in Italy and the USA. This led to the development of LEA Child Guidance Clinics, the first being established in 1932 and comprising psychologists, psychiatrists and psychiatric social workers. These expanded quite rapidly.

The teams we work in have historically been termed either "school psychological service" or "child guidance service" or some variation on these themes, reflecting the two traditions. However, my first job was with a school psychology service, which in many

#[p26] ways had remnants of a "child guidance" past with three social workers in employment, a culture of family case work and, until shortly before I began, regular sessions with the child psychiatrist. My next position was in what was called a Child Guidance Centre but which had had only weak links with child psychiatry, no social workers and soon lost its two attached educational welfare officers (EWO).

In recent years teams appear to have become known more routinely as educational psychology services, but located in a range of local authority pigeon holes, perhaps reflecting the break up of once massive education departments. Since the 1970s

Dessent points out that the early "medical domination of services" ( Dessent 1978 p.29) constrained the development of psychological approaches in intervention and limited the psychologist’s role "largely to that of tester" (ibid p.29). The Summerfield report (D.E.S. 1968) surveyed psychologists’ work and discovered a continuing strong emphasis on "assessment" and "treatment" of children but a small range of other functions including research and "counselling parents" (ranked 12 out of 14) (Williams 1974 p.10).

B. Since the late 1970s

Dissatisfaction with this restricted role, the apparent failures of individual psychotherapy and intelligence testing, the growth of behavioural approaches to problem behaviour and the insights into "deviance" drawn from sociology (Dessent 1978), amongst other influences, culminated in the publication of "Reconstructing Educational Psychology" (Gilham 1978). This became one of the "landmarks" (Wolfendale 1992 p.1) in the profession’s view of itself, emphasising, as it did, the great variety of approaches available and the rejection of the old image of psychologist as tester.

This shift in emphasis appears to have continued so that Sigston, writing in 1992 can claim "contemporary psychologists might see themselves as humanistic, behaviouristic, social, analytical, phenomenological, cognitive or systemic, to name but a few" (p.20). A glance at any issue of the profession’s journal "Educational Psychology in Practice" will reveal the wide range of interests psychologists currently pursue, from pre-school to F.E., from individual to group work, from child to school to LEA wide interventions, from

#[p27] training to counselling to consultation; on top of individual assessment and special research projects. The role of the EP appears very much dictated by a mixture of personal choice and custom and practice in each LEA (see Fox 1992). Some services and EPs have been more traditional and test-orientated, some have emphasised consultation and avoided individual assessment:

Some educational psychologists seem personally antagonistic towards the use of tests explicitly on the grounds of their limited validity, although one suspects the positive desire to be rid of the image of "tester" is allied to the antagonism (Maliphant 1974 p.443).

However, statutory duties connected with formal assessments of special educational needs (the statementing process), may soak up most of a psychologist’s time : " ‘statementing’ has virtually excluded all other types of psychologist’s work" (Gregory 1993 p.68).

The rise in appeals to Special Educational Need Tribunals and the consequent need to defend decision-making with "hard data" may be pushing the profession back towards psychometrics and a more traditional scientific stance (Lokke et al 1997).

Of interest to the present project, however, Sigston (1992) goes on to argue that:

a consensus has emerged that educational psychologists can best assist in meeting the needs of individual children by indirect work, most usually through parents and teachers (p.20)

Whatever the truth of this assertion (and Dessent 1992 in the same edited volume points out the enormous difficulties of maintaining such casework), my work with parents, the starting point of this research, sits firmly within this model.

C. "Reconstructing" revisited.

A recent special issue of the journal Educational Psychology in Practice (1999 vol 14(4)), devoted to a number of reflective, personal views of the profession on the 21st anniversary of "Reconstructing Educational Psychology", records much that has changed; but much that has stayed the same. A common thread in three articles by original contributors to the book ( Gilham, B., Leyden, G. and Burden, B.), as well as pointing up the range of imaginative initiatives undertaken across the country, is the need for an emphasis on indirect means of working, particularly systemic intervention at the school

 #[p28] and LEA level. Burden (1999), however, cautions that "educational psychology never moved forward much beyond the good ideas expressed in Reconstructing" (p.230) and "Research and practice in psychology has been bedevilled by the positivist process-product approach which is set in the X files mentality that the truth is out there waiting to be discovered" (p.230). He wonders whether educational psychology "has been or ever can be helped by allying itself to the ‘scientific practitioner’ model or whether it would be better served by looking to more hermeneutic or critical theory based models" (p.230). My present explorations take this move away from positivism even further; whether EP colleagues will accept this remains to be seen.

2. Some current concerns.

To better appreciate some of the forces which have helped shape this project, I will recount my concerns over the stress levels of the teachers I work with and some of the tensions within educational psychology, particularly around emotional and behavioural difficulties.

A. Changes in teaching and teacher stress.

Education has never been free of change and its accompanying stresses, Dunham (1992), for example, describes the effects of the reorganisation into comprehensive schools during the 1970s. However, recently the most powerful impact has been through the Education Reform Act of 1988, seen by some as "the biggest single change in education this century" (Wragg 1990 cited in Dunham 1992 p.21) with its national curriculum, arrangements for regular prescribed testing of children, open enrolment, local management of schools with "formula funding" and the recent "league tables" and developing market culture. By 1990 the number of teachers retiring through ill health had nearly trebled compared to 1979, the biggest increase being in 1988 (Dunham 1992 p. xii).

Whatever the cause of these reactions, and whatever the reality of the situation (there may be opportunities as well as threats within current events) my belief is that many

 #[p29] teachers may be under exceptional stress. I feel that I need to take this into account in my dealings with them. My efforts to do so resulted in the publication of a book (Mellor 1997a). I also continued to subject my practice to scrutiny in the light of assumptions about the extent of this stress and how it might impact on casework (see chapter 4).

B. Identities and tensions in psychology.

We educational psychologists often tend to value our teaching background (Fredrickson and Collins 1997), which may give us credibility with schools, although Maliphant (1994) for one questions this link and recent moves towards doctoral qualification are raising question marks over this aspect of training (see for example Gersch 1997). But are we simply guests in the house of education? Are we psychologists or educators? As one psychologist comments "I recognise that I am divorced from the classroom" (Armstrong et al 1991 p.86).

The LEA generally pays our salaries, but who is our client - the child, the school or the LEA? (see Fox 1992 on the "client paradox"). This issue has been brought more sharply into focus in recent years particularly through a growing number of appeals concerning special educational needs (SEN) assessment procedures - the "statementing" process. How far, for instance, can our professional advice reflect the full needs of the child, when the LEA has a limited budget and limited facilities? Cases of pressure on EPs to amend reports are not unknown in AEP circles (Faupel and Norgate 1993). There is of course the more insidious pressure of self-censorship: the temptation to slant reports towards recommending what provision is readily available within the LEA (Faupel and Norgate 1993). At the same time "there is a real danger that psychological knowledge and skills are being lost" (Thompson 1996 p.99), (or perhaps not developed) as a result of the commitment to formal assessment procedures.

We are psychologists, but may draw less on academic psychology than "craft knowledge" in our day to day work (Thomas 1992 p.52). A long standing bone of contention is psychometrics, although the description of assessment in my present service leaflet reflects a more complex stance on its multi-faceted nature (an appreciation of "the child

#[p30] in context", see Burden 1999) than the traditional call for "IQ and reading please" implies. The last three decades have seen a growth in consultation, training, systems intervention and other indirect means of service delivery. Current M.Sc. training courses may be very reflective and self-questioning; a recently qualified (and clearly very competent) colleague commented that her course had given her the confidence to say she "had no answers" (Diary notes 1.9.98).

My own training, however, was heavily psychometric and aimed mainly at thorough assessment of special needs. Work with families, under the influence of Eric Harvey (see chapter 3), felt like a breath of fresh air, along with the training and consultation I gradually developed in two special schools, two assessment units and two residential units for children with severe learning difficulties between 1979 to 1986. At that time I wanted to specialise in severe learning difficulties; it was only later, when I moved to my current post and began to carry out my own "Eric Harvey" work that my commitment to this aspect became so prominent.

In my present service we have a pronounced role as "officers of the authority" in that we administer the statementing process and spend (perhaps a disproportionate amount of) time delivering and explaining the associated paperwork and procedures to parents. Although in some ways an unwanted bureaucratic burden, the service tradition is that this keeps a close bond with the families with whom we had been intimately involved prior to formal assessment. We have generally had few appeals. On reflection, this arrangement may not always have worked to the best advantage of the children. In any case, appeals against formal procedures, and parents with independent support, are now a constant part of the scene.

Another especially powerful source of tension crosses several aspects of our work: problems surrounding children for whom the future of mainstream schooling is in doubt. A particularly site of controversy concerns children displaying emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD). There may, for instance, be strong support for maintaining a mainstream placement from the child and parents, yet school may have "come to the end of the line" and may be pressing for either formal assessment or exclusion. A recent

#[p31] National Children’s Bureau paper highlights for instance the ever increasing rise in permanent exclusions from school: from 2,900 in 1990 to 12,700 in 1997 (N.C.B. 1998), and the "high level of social advantage that most [of the children] have experienced" (ibid p.1). There has been a parallel rise in the number of children formally assessed (DfEE 1997).

The psychologist, with knowledge of both the potential benefits and disadvantages of specialised provision, and intimate knowledge of the strains faced by the class teacher (and parents and pupils); driven also perhaps by their own desire to promote inclusion and bring about change in the classroom and the school; under the pressures of waiting lists and formal assessment deadlines; juggling the (often conflicting) needs of the school, the parent and the child (with half an eye on LEA policy and how this may influence and, in turn, be influenced by, the EP’s actions) is caught in a mess of conflicting demands.

I will not pursue issues around formal assessment and EBD provision, the topics are constantly aired in the journal Educational Psychology in Practice. The short discussion above is intended only as a curtain raiser on some of the triggers which formed the starting point of this research. My strongest commitment as a psychologist was (and still is) to one approach to helping children displaying emotional and behavioural difficulties: what I have called the Eric Harvey method. I valued this. It seemed to work. It had potential to prevent exclusion and the need for statements and seemed to lead to happier children and families. I felt good about it, but I did not understand it. Or at least, I did not understand it enough.

Why this particular aspect of my work became the initial focus of inquiry at such and such a time is, unfortunately, lost to history. My autobiography in chapter 1 gives the flavour of my feelings at the outset of the project, but recorded some time later. Let us just say for now, I had an itch and needed to scratch. And the first style of "scratching" I wanted to use was very much in the quantitative tradition I was familiar with, as a later chapter on methods illustrates. My views were, however, to undergo a radical shift. Before turning to questions of research methods, however, I will present some further exploration of aspects of my current practice in chapter 3.

#[p32] 3. Key points emerging from the chapter.

Gilham (1999) describes the roots of educational psychology as "a faded form of psycho-analytic therapy, or the kind of psychometrics that had stopped developing in the 30’s" (p.221). By the 1970s discontent with old roles led to the taking stock and looking forward represented by "Reconstructing Educational Psychology". Since then, a great variety of changes can be discerned in the profession’s work, together with a parallel tendency to revert to old ways of working, partly under the pressure of special needs assessment demands.

My current concerns centre on the possibility of teachers experiencing increasing stress (and what that might imply for work around children displaying EBD- an issue to be explored in later chapters) and tensions within the job (particularly the pressures on casework and how our scientific background has a pervasive influence on work and research). I identify some "identity tensions". The issue of identity, in research, is taken up in chapters 9 and 10.

The particular difficulties concerning casework for children displaying emotional and behavioural difficulties, and my work in this area, the Eric Harvey method (see next chapter) provided the initial focus for the present inquiry. The focus later shifted, however, both away from the Eric Harvey approach and from the quantitative methods of inquiry that I associated with my colleagues, and that I initially embraced. It shifted towards the topic of method itself.

Notes.

[1] The position in Scotland is different with regard to qualifications and role expectations, see Thompson (1996).

[2] To further complicate the issue, many EPs originally qualified in other areas then took a psychology degree or BPS recognised conversion to enter the profession. One of my colleagues whose work I most admire, has a first degree in English. She explained

#[p33] recently that she had learned more about human nature from fiction than she ever learned from running rats through mazes.

[3] Further details of the development of educational psychology services and the education of children with special needs can be found in Maliphant (1997).

#[p34] Chapter 3. The Eric Harvey approach and attention seeking.

My interest in areas of practice, in particular the Eric Harvey approach, introduced in chapter 1, was the trigger for the project. Beginning with a description of this approach to working with parents (further illustrated in the accompanying tape), the current chapter goes on to a brief exploration of attention seeking, using the article "Attention Seeking" (Mellor 1997b). The concept forms, for me, a key idea in the understanding of the needs of some children displaying emotional and behavioural difficulties. The book "Attention Seeking" (Mellor 1997a), placed in appendix A, written for teachers during the course of the project, provides a fuller description of the concept.

The chapter also explains how this book met some practical needs in day to day work, for instance, in getting across possibly threatening ideas to teachers who may be stressed, in a sensitive manner. The final section introduces some criticism of the book from my own perspective. However, arguments contained in the publications around attention seeking and my description of the Eric Harvey method are not offered as part of the arguments of this thesis; the ideas are introduced (briefly) in this chapter to continue the explanation of how this research, and certain of my concerns about practice, came about. I hope EP colleagues will engage in debate with me about such topics in other settings.

1. The Eric Harvey approach.

There are potentially a great number of ways of tackling issues arising from "children displaying emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD)"[1].  There might be no direct intervention at all with the children or their families (seeing the "problem" as no problem at all, simply part of "normal" development). It is also quite possible to take a perspective that any "challenge" the behaviour presents, can be a jumping off point for the school or the LEA to examine its systems. The psychologist’s role might then be more as consultant.

In those instances when direct intervention is the chosen vehicle (and that choice may be influenced by a variety of personal, social and political factors) the site of intervention

 #[p35] might be the child, the teacher, the family or any combination, with input from a variety of other agencies (social services, learning support, speech therapy, school medical service and so on). These interventions might range from little more than some brief, sympathetic listening to full-blown programmes carried over many months, within a broad choice of perspectives: cognitive therapy, behaviour therapy, family therapy, counselling (of various persuasions), social skills training etc. In some cases medication may be recommended; in some cases, formal assessment and special provision.

Psychologists may work at all these levels depending, in part, on skill and interest, custom and practice, and negotiation with the school (one current colleague for instance carries out no casework in one of her 13-18 high schools, she just provides in-service training). Although I try to maintain some expertise in a mixture of styles of working, my preference is for a variety of individual casework that I call the Eric Harvey approach. It is a way of working that I am at home with:

Each model [of family therapy] possess an internal logic to guide the therapist’s actions. This logic serves as a beacon through the strong winds and seas of therapy sessions... consistency on the therapist’s part projects to the family a confidence of belief, a sense of ‘knowing what I am doing’. The therapist acts with a confidence that is crucial to engaging the family. (Worden 1999 p.48)

"The Eric Harvey method " is no recognised label which will be found in the literature. It is broadly a form of "family therapy". Family therapy can be classified in many ways. Barker (1986) describes a number of "schools", some of them "based very much on the work of a particular therapist" (p.55), such as psychodynamic, behavioural, group therapy, extended family systems therapy, communications theory approaches, structural approaches, strategic therapy. At a loose level, almost any kind of work with the family may be described as some form of "family therapy" but the term is most commonly used for a variety of systems[2] based approaches where the family and not the individual is the focus.

In teaching Eric’s approach I stress the extent of the systems which the concept of attention seeking (see below) may lead us to address: the child in the family; the child in the classroom; the child in the school (and the LEA). Each of these presents unique opportunities for change, particularly when we can see causation as circular[3].

#[p36] encouraging us to tackle any and all parts of interlocking interactions, seeking "the difference which makes a difference" (Keeney 1983 p.153). Unfortunately, those embroiled in such circular interactions, often find it extremely difficult to see their own need to behave differently. It can be painful to accept the need to alter when we feel hurt ourselves. Eric concentrated on the parents. In my recent practice I have tried to work with the child, the parents, the teacher and the school. The parent work is at the heart of Eric’s approach, however.

Eric was a social worker, but one who rejected what he saw as the conventional, often long-term, social work style interventions of his training in the early 1970s. He drew strongly on behavioural influences (but also the Adlerian school - see Mellor 1997a for an Adlerian perspective). His cases could be described as "behavioural family therapy", this would, however, miss the point. In my understanding of Eric’s work it was the style, as much as the content, which worked. He was human. He told jokes. He told stories. He swore. He had great empathy with the parents. Parents (or at least the mothers) often cried. He had honed his technique to perfection; he gave them confidence, he "knew what he was doing". He was an excellent communicator (a point I return to in chapter 12). There is much to examine in his interviews beyond the advice for handling children. They fit no simple label - I will just refer to "the Eric Harvey approach".

The interviews were carefully structured, leading from less threatening to more threatening material, in cycles. Emphasis was very much on the practical, the here-and-now, rather than searching for past causes. The questions asked were "on the ball", they often elicited a comment such as "you must have been to our house". By the time the advice-giving stage was reached, parents were already won over. They seemed to "believe in" Eric and were motivated to try. Which may all sound terribly manipulative. I have no real defence against that charge, some justification, however, is offered below.

Parents often seemed to bring to sessions a confusion of cognitions and emotions[4].   One mother exemplified this mixture of attempts at understanding:

He can be good but has 'radgie' days. I wonder if it was the food. With his weight and glasses, they're skitting him all the time. Last year his grandma died . He just likes being the centre of attention . Can't we hypnotise him? (Mellor 1997a p.13)

#[p37] In many cases there seemed to be a relatively unformed, but nevertheless powerful, medical model in the background: the problem was somehow part of the child’s make up, with current popularity of notions such as ADHD, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder and its associated drug treatments[5].  Broadly speaking this label refers to :

... children with problems of paying attention (to their work) not problems of demanding attention (from their teachers), together with associated difficulties in being overactive and impulsive. These are children who cannot concentrate and who may be constantly restless. (Mellor 1997a p.19, emphasis in original)

Given case load demands, given the need to bring about a radical change of attitude in a very short time, my defence would be the very pragmatic one, does it work? I hope to explore issue around such an attitude in due course, arising from comments on the training pack for psychologists now in preparation (Mellor forthcoming a). For now, the enclosed tape [6] (placed at appendix A) may give the reader some more understanding of the approach; perhaps some appreciation of my commitment to it (and consequent ambivalence about change, see later); and evidence of the resolution of my emotional struggle over making such material public (see chapter 9).

2. Attention seeking.

The key concept in the Eric Harvey approach is that of attention seeking. One of its strengths, I would argue, lies in the shift of emphasis it entails, from a within-child explanation of behaviour difficulties to an interactional model, although this shift may be one that the adults find difficult to accept, for reasons outlined below. The definition, even the existence of "attention seeking", is not, however, without controversy. This short account will attempt only to introduce some of the issues, not resolve them. Further details are to be found in Mellor (1997a).

Attention seeking is a slippery phrase which appears intermittently throughout the educational and psychological literature yet rarely has any prominence. It appears little in the relevant psychiatric literature for example (the phrase does not rate an index entry in Rutter et al's 1994 mammoth and apparently highly regarded text on child and adolescent psychiatry and is not conspicuous in the body of the work). There appears to have been no publication specifically devoted to attention seeking. While researching for

 #[p38] the book "Attention seeking", much of the material (mainly non-medical) was found by laborious means: simply reading endless books and articles on behaviour problems. A computer search of electronic databases, for instance threw up only six items and not all of these were relevant to children.

The phrase, however, constantly crops up in discussion in schools and with parents and others. I found it to be part of a very powerful vehicle for bringing about change in families where children had been referred for emotional and behavioural difficulties, yet it had very little status academically and practical applications were, to say the least, diffuse.

The article below (published in the journal Young Minds, 1997) illustrates some of the nature of the concept and the work in this area, with regard to school-based interventions, for those unfamiliar with the topic. It highlights the behavioural roots of the approach. As mentioned above, however, the work with the parents in particular is far from traditional behaviourism.

3. Attention Seeking (Mellor 1997b, published in Young Minds, 31 (October), 1997 p.16)

Crawls under desk. Flicks ruler. Makes pig noises. Mixes up coats on pegs. Picks nose and puts into dinners. Bites hands. Tells ‘whoppers’. Paints hair purple. Steals. Cries. Refuses to work ...

What do all these have in common? The answer is, they bring massive amounts of attention: counselling, threats, punishments, advice, shouting, arguing, reasoning... And that’s what the attention seeking child thrives on.

Although used in conversation a great deal and by some accounts a very common problem, attention seeking has been little researched. It can be mistaken for almost any other difficulty (ADHD, attendance problems, stealing, self injury etc.). There is no check list of "symptoms". The best guide is simply the adult’s own feeling, in this case, intense irritation. As one teacher commented about a very attention seeking 10 year old "I veer between wanting to strangle her and give her a cuddle. She irritates me beyond words, then I get irritated because of that" (Mellor 1997a p.10).

Attention seeking - the problem.

#[p39] Children behaving like this are almost impossible to ignore and the most caring teachers and parents are those most vulnerable to the tactics. What causes the greatest strain is that normal solutions don’t work: "Some children ... seek punishment, because it is at least one way of gaining attention" (Laslett and Smith 1987 p.221)

Adults may be used to a medical model: that problems reside "within" the child. When embroiled, we can all find it difficult to see our part in the circular interactions at the heart of attention seeking. This is particularly so when feeling stressed. And the children make it very personal! They learn very quickly which buttons to press. As one teacher exclaimed: "He blocks me from all the other children ... He drains all the compassion out of me ... I feel like it’s my fault. I’m just drained at the end of it" (Mellor 1997a p.6)

Staying in the present.

The parents we see also feel very upset and confused. They may be looking to events in the past for an explanation. But searching history is usually a recipe for piling up guilt. Occasionally one clear trigger can be identified: the arrival of a new baby for instance. The first child, used to total attention, suddenly becomes "dethroned" and acts out in order to regain this lost attention. This simple chain is rare. The crucial point, however, is not what began the spiral ten years ago but what to do about it now. As with the teachers we talk to, the approach must be positive and practical and, above all, sensitive. There is no "magic pill" solution, just careful strategies applied consistently. Some of these are familiar: ignoring, praising, punishing. Some may already be in use. The trick is both to get the balance right and to make them all effective, at school and at home: "Many teachers who believe they are "ignoring" behaviour may, in fact, be inadvertently reinforcing [it]" (O’Leary and O’Leary 1977 p.57).

Making techniques effective in class.

Ignoring, for example, sounds such a very obvious and simple procedure. But it’s not. It is a skill which requires close analysis and practice. Many teachers worry about the effect on the rest of the class of ignoring one child (this is not usually such an issue for parents at home). Special planning is needed to overcome this difficulty. In addition, matters tend to become worse before they improve and all adults have to be prepared for this.

Rewarding and punishing are also full of pitfalls : "The other children felt that it was not really fair that he should be rewarded whilst he was behaving so badly" (Merrett 1993 p. 102) "Punishments don’t seem to bother him ... He wants my reaction" (Mellor 1997a p.10). Positive attention must be given, but appropriately. Punishment must be carefully chosen...

These topics need to be handled in a very non-threatening way. Given the limited time professionals have with teachers in school, a practical text is one solution...
 
 
 
   

#[p40] 4. Attention seeking: interactional "problem" or "having a laff"?

To begin I would like to stress that, although the concept of attention seeking generally enters discourse around distressing issues, it is clear that the "problem" is not necessarily a barrier to later success, taking Mark Twain as one example:

By the time he was five, he had become exceedingly mischievous and had a passion for practical jokes...he began another practice - the telling of stories...real whoppers that often threw his mother and neighbours into an uproar ... he ran away frequently, often to go play near the dangerous and forbidden creek... He would have rated highly on ... attention seeking... as an adult Sam was almost invariably the center of attention ... and he is recorded as having openly sulked when he could not keep the stage ... he demanded constant attention and was annoyed when he failed to get it (Sears 1961 p.11/12/30 writing about the life of Sam Clemens/Mark Twain )

It is, however, impossible to say what might have happened to any child, in terms of "having a successful career", had his or her attention seeking been, or not been, dealt with. I saw my job as practitioner very much to do with relieving present distress, for the adults but most importantly, for the children. The children, as I discuss in the book, seemed unhappy and often isolated and friendless.

The teacher stated, "I couldn't say [Debbie’s] got a friend. Nobody wants to let her into the line. She winds everyone up." (quoted in Mellor 1997a p.9)

At school [Elizabeth] was spiteful and aggressive towards other children. She would also run off from school or have tantrums... There had been instances of her urinating in various containers around the classroom (Wade and Moore 1984 p.27).

Samantha had unpleasant habits such as "licking her nose" (Montgomery 1989 p.152). Samantha "alienated herself from her peers. She delighted in making them feel sick" (ibid p.152)

In the following, much abbreviated discussion, I rehearse one of the arguments of Mellor (1997a) that attention seeking can be distinguished from other difficulties, although the outward signs of the behaviours may appear very similar.

A child displaying attention seeking in my experience is often, as the above quotations illustrate, not popular. I would argue that such a child is not generally "one of the lads" "having a laff" with his mates, as in Willis (1977). Although superficially much of their

#[p41] behaviour may appear equivalent to Willis’ "lads" (and, of course, many "lasses") the motivations appear different: much more personal, tied up with their own pattern of interacting with adults, rather than arising from any "counter-culture" (although at times the two might overlap). It is instructive to compare two similar descriptions of behaviour, by Hargreaves et al and Willis, in making this claim. In Hargreaves et al’s account, the boy is described by his teachers as attention seeking and "different"; in Willis, he is just "one of the lads", fitting into a sub-culture. This is not simply a change of labels. The overt behaviours are very similar, the messages they give are radically divergent. In one case I would argue it seems reasonable to tackle the individual’s problems, in the other it is perhaps the culture clash which needs to be addressed. The descriptions of the obvious behaviours give only part of the information needed to interpret the problems.

He's different in many ways from the rest of his peers...He will interfere with someone else's activities. He'll either pinch them, push them, have a kick at their legs as he walks past... At the back of the class he can be making various noises... All kinds of minor disruptive behaviours that you can think of, Fritz has done them... all the little classroom annoyances (Hargreaves et al 1975 p.178)

...the kid still marooned from his mates crawls along the backs of the chairs or behind a curtain down the side of the hall, kicking other kids, or trying to dismantle a chair with somebody on it as he passes (Willis 1977 p.12)

At this stage there is much more research to be done in clarifying the issues around making such a distinction. The book is, in one way, simply a starting point from which to generate discussion, future publications will consider this in more detail in the light of Todd’s (1998) review of the book.

While attention seeking could be a result of abuse, emotional deprivation or rejection at home, the parents we saw seemed to be extremely involved with the children, committed and often desperate for a better relationship, not abusive or neglectful. The difficulty seemed to occur in otherwise quite "normal"[7] families, as evidenced by their later return to "normality" after intervention. and appeared to be no particular respecter of class, educational background, age, sex or marital or financial status. Apart from published sources referred to in the book, the children mentioned as case examples were all white, reflecting the ethnic make up of the areas in which I worked. Most referrals were boys (see Mellor 1997a p.72 for further discussion of these topics).

#[p42] Dawson (1985 p.2) identifies five causes for attention seeking which appears in school:

*Developmental delay or faulty training - the child who is very dependent .

*As part of hyperactive or inconsequential behaviour - "the pupil is uninhibited in seeking attention from the teacher" (p.2).

*Anxiety - particularly for new pupils .

*Rejection by parents.

*Rejection by peers.

It is obviously vital that these conditions are recognised and addressed. Part of the job of the educational psychologist is to try to see the whole perspective (see for instance Mellor 1997a p.19-22 on teasing out some of the distinctions). Even our much maligned psychometrics may have a part to play, for instance in uncovering an unrecognised learning difficulty behind the surface behaviour difficulties. In many cases, however, it seems that the attention seeking is (or has become) the problem:

...the bizarre behaviour was the problem; his 'disturbance' was no more nor no less than the bizarre behaviour, and was not some separate underlying entity that we should assume existed as well ( Morgan 1984 p.3 emphasis in original)

And that problem can be extremely difficult to resolve. Hence my felt need to write a book.

4. Writing the book.

Apart from an initial wish to record Eric’s work in some way, the motivation for writing a book (which was later to turn into the first part of a trilogy) was very practical. As I explain below, creating the time and conditions necessary to talk to teachers is a difficulty which constantly beset me. A book which teachers could read at their own time of choosing was one solution.

I was pleased with the content of the book. It said what I wanted it to say, in the way I wanted it to. In the discussion which follows my intention is not to criticise the publishers, they were, in fact, extremely keen and helpful. They have my gratitude, and the publication has been a success [8].  The comments which follow arise from my own idiosyncrasies: I was not so pleased with the layout of the book*. To an extent, it offended my writer’s sensibilities[9].  I had not realised it would be a "book", the publisher had until then produced spiral bound work-book type material. I had not thought in terms of

#[p43] "chapters"; it was not well broken up. I felt the cartoons were dull. There were many mistakes in the first print run. To save time and money the publisher had not sent me a proof copy. He intimatedthat authors tended to "mess around with the text too much" and, as a small firm they could not afford many type-setting alterations; they would do the proof reading themselves (final corrections were made in the second print run). I take responsibility for this situation, however, and at the time, did not complain. My point in any case is not one of complaint, but one which arises later in the thesis, of identity: identity as a writer, taking pride in my work.

The publishers wanted me to use the phrase "attention needing", rather than "attention seeking", which they saw as derogatory. I was torn. I agreed with their sentiment, but my instinct was to seek effective change in behaviour. Attention seeking is part of the common discourse in school, I felt I could harness it. It presents, possibly, a greater challenge to the adult than some alternative labels: "maladjusted", "emotional and behavioural difficulties", "ADHD" , "disruptive". However, this challenge may be in a disguised form. First, attention seeking is seen not as a "within-child" problem, but part of an interaction, where causation is circular:

Western philosophy has been heavily influenced by notions of linear causation (Dell 1980). Circular causation is much more difficult to grasp, particularly when we are part of the circle. While we seek a "cause" or try to figure out the deep seated reason behind some unusual behaviour, while we think in terms of a problem "within" the child, we overlook the dance we have become unwitting partners in (Keeney and Sprenkle 1982). This book is tribute to that multitude of teachers (and parents) who have been able, without feeling criticised, to see their part in the cycle and lead the child out of the dance. (Mellor 1997a p. 92)

Second, and most importantly, although superficially labelling the child, the implication of using the label attention seeking is that, in effect, the adult has to change. The adult has to be engaged as the major agent in disrupting the cycle (although, of course, from a systems perspective, change can arise from any part, and my current practice is to work with child, parents, school and, where possible, wider systems).

There could be, however, many barriers to overcome in harnessing the adult’s work. The very personal nature of attention seeking interactions, for instance, often lead to teachers feeling very upset:

#[p44] He blocks me from all the other children. I've tried all sorts of ways of dealing with him and I get nowhere. He absorbs my energy, my attention. I give him so much and he gives nothing back. I start off feeling compassionate, I'd like to spend more time with him, then frustrated, then angry. He drains all the compassion from me. I feel like screaming. I feel like its my fault. I'm just drained at the end of it (art teacher discussing Michael Platt age 13 in high school, quoted in Mellor 1997a p.6).

Ros [the teacher] described [Debbie] as irritating: "She's got me just about tearing my hair out, I can't think of one redeeming feature. I go home and I think I should be nice to her and I will try really hard with her...

She irritates everyone, she is late to lessons, she is always late to first lesson and hasn't got her things. You could forgive her if it was out of the blue but it's every morning"...
Ros said, "I veer between wanting to strangle her and give her a cuddle. She irritates me beyond words, then I get irritated because of that". (quoted in ibid p. 10)

While under stress suggestions that the adult should change are fraught with difficulty. Caricaturing the setting to emphasise the dangers: a hurried discussion over a cup of coffee at break time is just the right situation to bring about the wrong result - a resentful and hurt teacher who feels threatened and criticised; one who has trusted you as colleague to observe her class, and then has seen that trust apparently betrayed in a hopelessly brief conversation which seems to identify her as the problem. The book, hopefully teacher-friendly, sympathetic and practical, to be read at leisure, I saw as one solution to this difficulty. There are others (see chapter 4 on other efforts to change practice) although the simplest solution of all, finding more time for the teachers to be released from class for undisturbed discussion, has, unfortunately, rarely occurred.

The order of materials in the book was unconventional but carefully chosen to appeal to practitioners: practice first, theory last. As one teacher noted:

The case studies catch your interest [then] what to do about it. You’re hooked by the case studies, you want to know what to do about [the problem] then you look at the theory ... If you haven’t got a lot of time - teachers want to get straight [to the practical]. (diary note 27.11. 97)

Reviews of the book have been very positive. The most useful, critical comments have come from Todd (1998) and these will be addressed in Mellor (forthcoming a).

5. Attention seeking and research.

#[p45] Unearthing material for the book on attention seeking was slow but, as "research", the process was relatively straightforward: I seemed to be simply "giving voice" to what, at one level, I already knew. I could speak with the "authority of experience" (Russell 1998 p.6). Had the collection of material from the self-study group been available (Hamilton 1998) I might well have followed their path, studying practice using a "methodology in which researchers and practitioners use whatever methods will provide the needed evidence and context for understanding their practice" (Hamilton and Pinnegar 1998 p.240). Doubtless my practice would have been all the better for this. And at the completion of the current project it is to practice that I will return in a more direct manner, with two further works in preparation, hopefully informed by criticism arising from material recently produced (although, in one way, casework issues, for instance to do with ethics, continued to flavour the research which did eventually develop. This is the subject of the remaining chapters).

However, using for now a journey metaphor, although practice was the "launch pad", my travels took me into regions remote: a study of how to study. At a barely conscious level I seemed to have nagging questions I could not quite grasp. I eventually stepped off from the secure world of "science" with little more than a wing and a prayer, with a curiosity, a determination to explore whatever came up, and an unformed appreciation that the tools of exploration would need to be fashioned as I went along. Most importantly, I determined to make a faithful record of the passage, to be honest. I was done with the tidy fabrications of my previous studies. The next chapter begins this record.

6. Key points emerging from the chapter.

My preference for tackling many emotional and behavioural difficulties is what I call the Eric Harvey method. This is not described in the literature. Eric’s style of working was very idiosyncratic, based around a behavioural approach but carefully tailored to the parents’ understanding and emotional needs. He was an excellent communicator.

#[p46] The approach employs the concept of attention seeking, which is not adequately addressed in the literature. I use the idea, while acknowledging its potential disadvantages. It embodies a notion of circular causation. Adults may have many, often confused, explanations for the children’s behaviour, in particular they may subscribe to within-child factors. Attention seeking interactions may lead the adults to experience very personal feelings of upset and these create potential pitfalls for the psychologist. Writing an accessible book (for teachers) was one way round these.

The book, I felt, carried the message well but I had misgivings about its form. I return to this issue later in discussing identities (chapter 10). The arguments of the book are not the arguments of the thesis and criticisms of the book, arising from a review, will be addressed elsewhere.

Researching for the book was relatively straightforward. Researching researching, which the book and the practice surrounding it formed the entry point to, turned out to be anything but. The following chapters explore this.

Notes.

[1] I use the term emotional and behavioural difficulties, EBD, as a convenient shorthand, while acknowledging its problematic nature. I do not intend to explore these problems here. I will, however, refer not to "EBD children", but to "children displaying EBD", emphasising that first and foremost, these are children.

[2] Unfortunately the label "systems work" has itself been used in a variety of ways, as Fredrickson says "to describe anything and everything which a psychologist might do ... other than interacting with children" (Fredrickson 1990 cited in Osborne 1994 p. 31).

[3] See for instance Barker (1986) or Dowling (1994) for a longer description of this concept. See also related discussions in appendix B.

[4] This topic, parents’ (and professionals’) beliefs about the "causes" of behaviour and how it should be tackled, offers a rich area for research. My growing feeling is that a tangle of partially digested ideas is as difficult to alter as one clear, fixed belief such as "it’s in the blood". The nebulous nature of such tangles seems to render them immune to change, and, paradoxically, all the more powerful for being unclear. As an interesting

#[p47] parallel, I found the tangle of ideas surrounding "science" a particularly difficult one for me to disrupt. Hydra-headed yet fuzzy it seemed to spring back from unexpected quarters just when I seemed to have tied it down. See later chapters.

[5] Prior (1997) provides a summary of views on ADHD. For further information see, for example, Taylor 1994, Green and Chee 1995 or O'Brien 1996. Prior cites statistics of up to 1 in 25 children being medicated for behavioural reasons in parts of the USA. Others dispute such figures, nevertheless, I am concerned about the medicalisation of behaviour difficulties and the resulting recourse to drug regimes (see Slee 1995).

[6] The parents have given permission for the tape to be published, I would, however, ask the reader to "listen with respect" and to value the parents for their courage in releasing this.

[7] I will not pursue what we might mean by such a term as "normal". The point I am making is that after intervention the families, and of course, particularly the children, seemed to "settle down", to be more positive about each other, to raise less concerns in the eyes of professionals, and themselves; in all respects, no longer to stand out. What negative impact quite "normal" families may have on children is not a topic I intend to explore.

[8] I understand that over 1,300 copies were sold from mid 1997 to the end of 1998.

[9] A few years previously I had been closely involved in the production of a collection of poetry, from the choice of the paper and the type face to the page lay out and the cover design. I was working with printers and graphic artists who trained me not to try to tell them how to do it, but to say what I wanted - a subtle but vital distinction. I was very conscious of the need for the form of the book to reflect its content and, as a writer, I felt the eventual product was right, in both form and content. It delivered its message to my satisfaction. It was not, however, much of a commercial success.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Added December 2001, not in the original thesis

* I want to stress here that I am not criticising the publishers, who have served me very well. My latest book with them is excellent. I am just trying to be honest about some of my own feelings to explain this sense of writer identity. I apologise unreservedly for any offence which may be caused.

** These comments are to the best of my recall and may not be a full and accurate account of the publishers views either then or now.

#[p48] PART 2

Evolving a method

#[p49] Chapter 4. Method before the paper "Notes from a Method"

Part I : the beginnings

In this chapter, and chapter 5 which follows, I describe some of the activities and thinking which eventually led to the paper "Notes from a Method" (Mellor 1998b reproduced as chapter 6). That paper explained my "platform [ ] of conditional understanding" (Hampton 1993 p.269) of a method of research up to early 1998. How this research method eventually came to alter will be described in chapter 11.

As this preliminary stage is relatively long, I have made a division into two chapters to render the material more digestible. Chapters 4 and 5, however, are a continuing tale and the summary for both chapters is placed at the end of chapter 5. They describe a process of researching while learning how to research. Alongside this there is a limited account of practice development, the two aspects were partly interrelated. Some issues of practice (for example anxieties over change to the Eric Harvey method and certain ethical questions, see below) influenced the unfurling research design. Although the study began without a clear focus on practice development, change seemed inevitable as I questioned both my casework and the method of researching it.

Two diaries evolved during the study. A research diary at home, of reflections on the project, and a practice diary at work, of reflections on my job. The data quoted in this chapter consist mainly of extracts from the research diary. Dates of these are given and, where noted, the time and place, as this information illustrates what I have called serendipity and incubation in the process of research. The diary extracts are reproduced verbatim, as if they were interview material: they are the "data" of the research (see later discussion in chapter 8).

My work diary covered some 90 "cases". I draw on this to a limited extent, mainly in section 6 below, as most of the research eventually focused on problems of how to research, not problems of practice. Feedback from the work diary helped shape the publications on attention seeking, completed and underway, as well as leading to on-going changes to practice and discussion with colleagues. Entries in this diary ranged from,

#[p50] initially, very brief comments on isolated aspects, to much longer, structured reflections with which I explored nine cases from September 1995 (I make no distinction between diary/journal/log and use the term diary for all the records). Appendix C provides an example of those longer reflections, chosen for illustration purposes for an article published in our professional journal, partly because of the difficulties it highlights.

Eleven sets of parent interviews were audio taped. The tape in appendix A is one example of these, selected to be a relatively good demonstration of practice so that it can be incorporated into an anticipated training pack. It is included here, partly to give a flavour of the work.

Many people enter these diary records. I regarded their contributions to my project as vital, a list of them and their backgrounds is included. Names are changed apart from those of my supervisors, Colin Biott and Sandy Wolfson and my partner, Mary - they would be impossible to disguise.

Some of the diary extracts are recounted at length. This is not indulgence, the seeds of my later ideas, I now see, were sown a long time ago. Given the eventual nature of the inquiry, which began to centre on how I understood my own research, it seems important to trace these influences and halting beginnings and establish them in some way as legitimate elements in the overall process; in the first instance, simply by acknowledging their existence. The clearer picture of a "messy method" which developed much later, is built upon these confused elements, collected from the earliest days, before any idea of a personal method coalesced. The final outcome was a kind of hybrid approach (see chapter 5 and later discussions in chapter 11).

1. Making a start.

The time to begin an inquiry may be influenced by any number of factors. I can imagine simply the fact of starting a year or two earlier or later could have created a totally different project, because of my state of knowledge and attitudes to research at the time. I was, for instance, very dependant on a model of "scientific psychology" (as my thinking

#[p51] around a particular design, comparing outcomes of therapy with parents’ attributions, will illustrate). A little earlier and this might have taken over the study. The relatively lengthy diary extract below sets out my reflections on the complex of influences, some major, some trivial, which seemed to have led up to my decision to start a serious piece of research. There may have been others.

... jotted down the influences on me which led up to the project e.g. knowing a mixture of scientists and artists and several people who had done PhDs years ago ... also Mary’s book [my partner] and her PhD. I was very much influenced by Tony Buzan’s "Use you head" and I also think I was able to come up with some original ideas during the psychology degree. ...I am at the stage now when I have done the band, I’ve done the poetry and I’ve done the travel book and I know I can write 30,000 words and I am a bit lost about what to do...

I remember some time ago Heather E. had asked me whether "The Good, the Bad and the Irritating" [my book for parents, put together at work] was to do with a PhD ... also some time ago I was trying to submit a GEST bid about working with parents... Also Niall [a relative by marriage] had done a PhD... Eric dying made me think I want to do something. Life seemed a bit aimless having come to the end of the band and the poetry and I seemed a bit browned off in the job and the kids are growing up more.

Sometime ago I had read a read a Reader’s Digest article about if you are browned off in your job take on a student and I did, then I got a library card [via the EP training course] which was very useful.

There was... the counselling course, particularly the stuff about being creative and not being worried about yourself but true to the material. There was also the book "Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway".

I remember... thinking about the Bristol D. of Ed. course and being glad I hadn’t done it, but that was an influence in starting me on this one.

Having a computer meant I could write the way I want to write which is to chop and change stuff and make drafts and change it a million times without effort ... having access to a dictaphone ... meant I could gabble on quite fluently... [making diary notes].

I feel I had fairly independent ideas in my job as a psychologist, contributing to Mary’s research and for instance, chatting to Vic. [PhD engineer]

Currently there is a bit of a gap in things to do, as politics seem to have come to an end with the Labour party being fairly derelict. (9.4.94)

I was possibly ripe for change in my ideas on research. The extracts below illustrate some of my feelings about psychology at the time:

Had a look at book on attributions. Although this was supposed to be clinical applications it looked equally dull and irrelevant as all the other work on attributions. (11.11.93)

About lunch time began to think that the articles I had been reading in psychology were deadly dry and boring and had nothing to do with the real world and real

#[p52] people and seemed very artificial and laboratory based. I felt that I really didn't want to do that kind of work. (18. 11 93)

However, one event seemed to crystallise my movement away from quantitative methods. It had to do with a reading test we had been relying on at work for some time - a well known, long standing test which had recently been re-standardised. Unfortunately, there had been some serious misprints in the tables of norms which we were unaware of. Our test results often showed the children could read reasonably well for their age and did not need statements; the teachers hotly protested that they could not read. It was easy to dismiss this as the teachers just wanting to build up their case for extra help, our "numbers" showed the "objective" truth of the matter:

Discussed with Ann F. the problems we had had with the [reading test] how we got so carried away with reading the numbers we hadn't "seen" the children and had ignored what the teachers were saying about them not being able to read when the [test] said they could. This seemed to me to be an example of relying on quantitative methods rather than just chatting to the child and feeling what was going on. This is rather a faith shaking event in psychology from my point of view.

Discussed this a little bit at the [M.Ed] evening course. Didn't really develop the idea however. Remembered that there were various other aspects of the job where we relied on numbers and they were a bit shocked when they didn't work out very well. For instance Burt's work on inheritability of intelligence where he had just fiddled the numbers. Other examples popped into my mind like the recent [story] about ... radiation doses in ... various clinic where somebody had been setting the machines wrongly. So relying on the numbers actually damaged the patients.

Another interesting sidelight was some early work from the psychology course about people not knowing the ECT machine was not [actually] switched on and assuming the patients were getting better [as a result of the ECT rather than the TLC -Tender Loving Care - which followed it]. (4.11.93 and 5.11.93)

Although the project started long before the project actually started, in the sense of the particular influences I had experienced and how they could all have some bearing on the future course of the inquiry[1] there does some to have been a point of actual commitment "to do some research" :

Caught a Radio 4 programme on Travellers. Heard a woman say that she was on the road "because of the children" she felt they were [better] "looked after", they had friends and it wasn't so lonely for the parent. At this stage I was just thinking about different kinds of families and their influences on children [this version of parental concern was a new insight for me]

Had a couple of discussion with Mary about doing some research and she said to speak to Colin Biott. Didn't actually do that until I spoke to Sheila and Kevin M. and they [also] said to see Colin Biott. (l6.9.93)

#[p53] Ideas to begin with were very much focused on the job and that part, in particular, connected with attention seeking. At this point my preliminary reading as a "scientist", unfortunately not recorded, had left me sceptical of qualitative approaches, some of these, however, I was later to adopt:

Saw Colin and Jed S. [two potential supervisors] at the Poly. [Northumbria University], 23rd September. Explained what I was trying to do in terms of looking at parents attributions... [particularly attention seeking as an attribution].

About this time had an outline of what I thought the project [was] e.g. history of behaviour modification and history of behaviour problems. Literature research on attribution, children and parents ... also outcomes of psychotherapy. Possibly processes of parent interviews generally and then behaviour modification with parents. Then methodology. It would be interesting to do a critique of qualitative methods.

I also thought it would be interesting to look at the nature of the family e.g. the traveller's children mentioned above and how that affected behaviour. Also possibly work on de-schooling and also Educational Psychologist as Soft Policeman. (23 .9.93)

From the very start of the project proper, elements of serendipity entered the arena: a chance radio programme, an initial uncertainty over choice of supervisor (who was later to have such a benign influence). I will return to serendipity later.

I enrolled on the methodology part of an M.Ed. course on Colin’s advice, I imagine he could see I was hardly at first base in qualitative methods, and began keeping a diary of my efforts. A summary in November captures my tentative start. The extracts below are purposely presented at some length, as explained earlier.

[I’m] [l]ooking back on work up to about 28th October when I decided to keep a diary, so this is very much reconstructing what I think was going on. Several things seemed to be happening:

l. I was collecting a lot of articles which seemed possibly to be relevant: psychiatric definitions and terminology, family therapy attributions, child behaviour and measures thereof, and odds and ends like a nice little article on thesis writing.

2. I was also searching relatively unsystematically through journals such as British Journal of Sociology, Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry, Journal of Family Therapy, Journal of Educational Psychology or "anything" which might be relevant. I was also collecting books from my own stock at work and from Mary and from anyone else like Shirley [another psychologist with a PhD] and from libraries on families behaviour, psychiatry, psychology, general methodology, attributions.

3. During this period also I was talking to lots of different people from Colin Biott to Shirley to people at work like Ann F. [EP], to Mary to Fay G. [EP],

#[p54] to people on the Bristol course to other psychologists like Rupert A. ... and also picking up odds and ends such as things on the radio, little snippets about families.

4. To begin with, in talking to people, I was a little tentative in saying what I was talking about but now I'm feeling much more confident about it.

5. I had also been dipping into a lot of articles and getting confused and also setting up box files of articles which I wasn't going to read there and then. I just wanted to have them, like setting up a library.

I was using what I called "scavenging" and "squirreling", and looking to chance combinations of ideas to break into the field (I was a great fan of de Bono who described many techniques to facilitate this process). I began to acknowledge my new identity as researcher.

Reflecting on this right now, some of what I was doing was "squirreling", i.e. collecting stuff as a kind of security blanket of having lots of bits of paper and books; also "scavenging" i.e. talking to people, getting lots of ideas (which was also partly "comfort seeking" and looking for support). Lately that turned [to] getting [into] theories and "coming out" [as] "someone doing research" and an element at times of ego-tripping although that was, to be fair, fairly rare as most of the time I was trying to play down the facts so as not to upset people. Also during this time, what I was doing a lot of, was getting random ideas, i.e. what sounds trendy if you call it "brain storming" (the name actually escaped me for about 5 minutes!). Felt much more like "mind-dipping" and "clutching at straws".

What I think I'm going onto next is fiddle about with a few cases just trying to find out what on earth I am doing and hoping these cases will never be looked at seriously because of the shockingly poor methods I'm using i.e. just trying out odds and ends of ideas. I suppose that is "dipping a toe in the water" or more likely "chancing my arm".

Some of the other things I was doing maybe were also "setting up shop" like getting the computer together and the files etc. Some of that is "playing at being a student" and some "displacement activity". Noted that squirreling was not original (it was in the article by Ted Wragg in THES). Several things weren't original. (28.10.93)

Many of these, what I thought of as "starting up" behaviours, however, were more than that, they continued throughout the project. The "tone" of my research (what I later came to call "messy method") was, in fact, there in embryo from the earliest days:

Later that evening I got talking to Adam S. who was staying with us. He trained as a solicitor and then a social worker and then I think did a PhD in something or other, so he is amazingly qualified but as far as I can make out hasn't worked for donkey's years. He always has good ideas although some of them may not be what I want to hear, but generally they turn out relevant in the end, as discussions two or three years ago about doing my poetry book had shown.

Adam was talking about some books he had read 20 years ago about doing this kind of research; one called "Feminist Research Methods" which talked about

#[p55] all the messy stuff leading up to writing a thesis which was all hidden, the stuff about getting it wrong, getting confused, changing your mind, getting a load of data you were embarrassed about and junking it etc. All the stuff you don't talk about it. When it is written up it looks like a sort of neat clear line from A to Z but the real world is nothing like that. (28.10.93)

I began to think more about my own learning style:

Writing this up now reminds me of my ideas about "thinking" anyway: that we don't think in a linear fashion from A to Z ... we go all over the place and ideas come to us in the middle of the night totally randomly; but we tend to present thinking as "logical", which possibly fits into a "male" scientific model of how the world works. And [this] is the kind of stuff that can be experimented with... To describe the other way of thinking is really messy and very difficult to catch onto and explain and describe, although I know that is how I think: ideas pop in from quite irrelevant sources at peculiar times in a totally illogical way. (28.10.93)

...this [working up an application for the Bristol taught doctorate and then not applying] was a nice example of my liking to choose an option and then change my mind once I'd chosen it. I often thought this as a bad thing to do that - I "should" just have a very clear ... choice. But what seems to work for me is to like to have a choice, take an option, find out by doing it is not what I want and then change. This seems to me, on reflection, totally rational because how can you know if you like something until you've done it.? (6.1.93)

2. Getting to grips with the enormity of it all.

Actually making a start on a PhD required a great leap of confidence:

Beginning of September l993 - read a couple of sections out of the little book 'How to get a PhD' realised that to get a PhD you had to want to do research to PhD standard which means something rather different to just wanting to end up with the qualification.

When I originally read this it rather put me off because I felt that's not what I wanted to do. At that point I was toying with the idea of doing the Bristol [taught doctorate] course which was in modules which seemed nice and easy. I didn't like the idea of having to go into something in depth. This was a bit scary. Writing this 6.ll.93. it occurs to me that actually doing something in depth is probably the right thing to do, and although a big challenge, at least when I'd done it I would feel that I knew the area and could stand my ground and argue it. If I recall correctly that was the main message of getting to PhD standard: that you were the expert and you could do that.

One of the other things that came out of that little book was that you had to be self-organising and find out things for yourself and decide what you needed and whom to ask. I feel I am pretty good at doing that. (6.11.93 )

#[p56] One of the most off-putting aspects at the beginning was my early brush with post-modernism[2] and my attempts at (mis)-understanding the field :

Spoke to Mary. She talked about structuralism and post-modernism, something about medicine as social control and psychiatry to do with the "disciplinary society"... I think post-modernism had something to say about [attention seeking]: we were just a mess of interactions; also there is not a problem if parents say it has gone away.

These discussions about post-modernism made me want to run away and not do research at all. I felt I didn't understand a thing. (26.11.93)

3. Early plans and the beginnings of "mess".

My tentative ideas on developing an "unusual" method are evident at this early stage (as in plans for an "anti-methodology" chapter, see below), although for a long time they existed alongside, and were dominated by, much more "mainstream" approaches such as designs comparing groups of children or parents, and action research. In this account and later, the developing ideas do not follow a simple time sequence. I recycle through them several times on different occasions.

As I went to bed I had the sudden thought that when writing a thesis up, as well as having a methodology chapter you should have an "anti-methodology" chapter i.e. talking about all the crap you got involved in and all the struggle, the mess, the change of plans, all the worry etc. etc. and how you learned to go about it, because although not particularly relevant to the outcome of the research it is very relevant to the process of research, and is just kind of hidden away. This might make the work longer but possibly of more use and interest to further researchers; [or] possibly not.

Woke up at 6 o'clock with a totally different plan of doing the research from what I had originally thought, i.e. junk all the stuff about "before and after" [designs] and these kinds of parents change ... because of their attributions [using a conventional comparison of groups] and simply look at some kind of action research where I improve my techniques. (28.10.93)

Made a note that some of [my] previous work and thinking had all been 'playing' at being a student. Also felt about then, that I had been in the process of shifting paradigms. This was a painful shift from having a very clear experimental idea of before and after groups and statistics, to a much more woolly and fluid model as influenced by the M Ed course.(About 28.l0.93.)

Preliminary ideas on research had been around for some time, largely, I think, aimed at simply demonstrating the value of the Eric Harvey approach:

About 8 o'clock remembered that I had worked out a preliminary project (something along the lines of interviews and work with family) for a GEST fund

#[p57] some time ago about 2 yrs ago. This would have psychologist and possibly welfare officer working with families [to] show a model of how to work for the rest of the department. Must look those notes up. (6.11.93)

My original idea for the project was a piece of fairly classic psychology experimental design. I had a notion that parents’ attributions for the causes of their children’s behaviour could be used in some predictive way. One rough hypothesis initially was that those with single "rigid" attributions ("its in the blood") would change less in their views and consequently be less successful in changing their children’s behaviours, compared to those with more flexible, diffuse attributions ( perhaps, for example, showing self-doubt "is it me?", or a mixture of "explanations"). Before and after measures of the children’s behaviour could readily be taken as I worked with the families. But even the earliest days of the project, however, saw me turning away from this "scientific model", it was beginning to feel "like another world":

...[following my conversation with Adam S.] This totally changes the focus... and seems to junk all the ideas of the classic experiment I had in mind ... I could do this with control groups, before and after and quite a clear hypothesis...but hadn’t been happy with that. Had been trying to get away from it but wasn’t quite sure where to go, but I keep getting stuck back in that way of thinking because that was all I could think about from my sort of background ... Perhaps all that stuff will come in at some point though it seems like another world (emphasis added). (28.10.93)

I began to conceptualise the research in different ways:

About 9.0 a.m. had an idea that research I was looking at now was in sort of concentric circles:

l. Doing the research

2. Reflecting on the research methods as we had been learning on the course.

3. Reflecting on the personal problems and involvement in working out the research methods and doing the research. (6.11.93)

I was learning to be more flexible in my thinking about research:

... [On the M.Ed. course Colin] talked about "progressive focusing"... I could describe it as doing these interviews and then doing those interviews. It could also be focused on different types, e.g. boys and girls, or those with concepts about lessons one way [compared] with those [with] concepts about behaviour another way, or perhaps relationships or attitudes to friends etc.

[Colin] gave a good example from the article by Rowland in "Children in their Primary Schools" by Pollard, of telling a story [about research]: "First I did this and then I did that, later I felt I was analysing this way then I changed to this" etc (18.11.93)
 
  

#[p58] Some time later, I note my reactions to some casework, as I compare a full transcript of one recorded interview with a parent (included in my practice diary) to my routine case notes of the same interview. There is obviously a very legitimate case for research into what literary texts can tell us, at the time, however, I was recording my shift towards a different style of inquiry from the (perhaps parody of) the statistics-focused, scientific norm of my training. My feeling was that Pinkerton’s racist and sexist comments added to the poignancy of Puccini’s music, but not when reduced to statistics.

These [transcript] words are beautiful. [It is] really absorbing just to read them. My [formal case] notes of the interview are boring snippets. Sort of dry bits, no life... How could I [for instance] reduce this interview to statistics. It would be like looking at the script of Madam Butterfly and counting the times Pinkerton makes racist or sexist remarks [and ignoring the music]. Makes me think most psychological research is really dreary. (28.1.95 emphasis in original).

I was casting round for research methods. My first contact with grounded theory, as I then understood it, however, immediately raised for me a pressing issue: the potential theory-dependence of observations (although I did not use quite those words at that time). As I explain later, I was picking up and discarding ideas on research, often on the flimsiest of grounds, yet at the same time, carrying out what I was later to see as a form of research:

[on the course we] talked about doing grounded theory where you go in and ask "quality" interviews and see what comes out of it. I was worried that you still have to come in with some sort of perspective. (18.11.93)

The "messy" method which eventually became predominant seemed to grow out of my belief in "messy" thinking: that what we presented as a rational, linear process, after the event, was in reality far from that. Claxton (1997) captures this for me well in his "Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind" . A brief quote exemplifies the position:

I just never felt comfortable with the overt, sequential struggles that characterised so much of standard learning ... I found that what seemed to me to be the most satisfactory of ‘learnings’ were those that took place through what we used to call ‘osmosis’, that is, one simply steeped oneself in the material, often in an uncontrolled fashion, and allowed understanding to emerge magically over time (Reber 1993 cited in Claxton 1997 p.26)

Claxton goes on to examine some of this "magic". The present project, however, focuses more on the actual practical course of my studies, rather than on the psychological processes underlying them.

#[p59] Other "snippets" reinforced my groping towards a "messy method". Trying to research while working, and deciding to research researching, meant there had never been a separate, distanced, dispassionate "planning stage". The project started on day one. As soon as I decided to start, I was in the middle, collecting data, but with no clear purpose. I felt I could not "shut up shop" for a few months - the world would not go away. It seemed important to me to capture this first, incoherent, unformed stage of the process, although I was not totally sure why, other than having a faint idea that it was generally overlooked: "this time of uncertainty could have been the most important part of [the] story" (Mellor 1998b p.1).

About this point remembered Mary's comments about doing research is like being "in a fog in a forest". She said this meant going round in circles, not finding your way and often passing the same tree twenty times. Also remembered the programme about Feynman [a physicist] who said [when] doing research you always felt totally stupid because you didn't know the answers. I believe he has a Nobel prize. (12.11.93)

...walking on the beach talking to Mary I realised that I was anxious I hadn't got the perfect questionnaire [for parents or children] as I was waiting for books on Adler and reading other stuff to help me think about useful questions. In the meantime the cases keep coming in and the job carries on and cases just don't go away, they have to be dealt with. It occurred to me then that really I was saying "the world won't go away". Unlike the classic research design where you spend a year or so thinking about the project before starting it, the job has to be done and there is no time off to plan it and not do it. Mary thought the methodology chapter could be called "the world doesn't go away".

It occurred to me that like Schön I could look at a "messy design" as he has messy management and messy research. Mary suggested "emergent design". (9.1.94 3 p.m. emphasis added)

And I could see "resonances" in my ways of working in other areas (see also discussion of attitudes to "mistakes" from Fine and Deegan 1996, covered in chapter 5):

My research so far looks like my general approach to ... preparation of [in-service] courses i.e. being very fuzzy to begin with which always feels stressful...Had the idea that my approach to research could be analysed like my approach to any kind of course preparation or problem solving in that they followed much the same course of messiness; and trying it out and getting it wrong before getting it right. (25.9.94 3.30 p.m. - out for a walk)

"mistakes are your best friends" is one of my philosophies. (21.1.95 12.00 Saturday)

#[p60] 4. Multiple inputs.

Although the research is ‘mine’, I did not work in a vacuum. Far from it. Particularly in the early stages, but continuing right through, I was voracious in my appetite for others’ ideas. Some of these came through attending conventional courses and workshops and conferences, many, however, were simply the result of personal contact:

Rang Birmingham today and yesterday to speak to Peter F., Jim B. and Rachel H. about their research on changes of expressed emotion in systemic family therapy. Didn't get very far with Rachel but she said Jim wasn't available Wed. and Thurs. Peter rang me back on Thursday to say that he would send me a copy of the article which he thought Alan C. was referring to. He himself did not recall writing anything about attributions. I wonder if Alan has just deduced this from their work. I had left a message on Thursday to go down the following Friday when I went to Birmingham in any case to talk to them about their research. Later over the weekend decided that the best person to talk to in any case was Alan C. so I left a message on Monday lst November to cancel my proposed meeting with Jim B. Peter sent the article which arrived on Saturday morning. (29.10.93)

The range of contacts I made is illustrated below. Some of the contacts had little impact; some were one-off, but had long-lasting influence. Others carried on throughout the lifetime of the project. The list below, the is only a partial record[3] the members are part of the "invisible college" of the study (Crane 1972 p.54).

Invisible college.

Teachers/ Head teachers

Jill A. Niall B. Heather E. Jake H. Lou H. Bob L. Jan M. Martin Mc. Wanda W.

Northumbria University (sociology, psychology, social work, education, nursing)

Colin Biott Mary Mellor Sandy Wolfson plus Jim B. John B. Richard H. Margo H. Alice J. Margaret M. Arthur M. Alan R. Jed S.

Clinical psychology / Psychological medicine / Other university (family therapy depts, psychology, other researchers)

Paul B. Bill C. Alan C. Peter F. Jessica H. Tim K. Rose L. Cindy S. Peter S.

Educational psychologists

Rupert A. Terry B. Bob B. Shirley C. Anne C. Ann F. Martha F. Fay G. Jeniffer G. Jed L. Lisa M. Sheila (and Kevin) M. Phil S. Adrian T. Lois T. Lauren U.

Counsellors

#[p61] Mike B. Joyce H. Jack S. Hazel T.

Industry (chemicals, oil, rubber, fire-fighting)

Paul R. Vic H. Celia K. Seth M.

Others

Kath A. (play therapist) Alice D. (social worker) Adam S. (social worker/solicitor) Sid F. and Sarah W. (doctors) Brian J. (homeopath)

I note at one point that one spin-off of research was that it gave me new openings such as an excuse to talk to all these people:

Apart from all the pressures [the research] creates it also seems to create a lot of opportunities - like reasons to chat to people, go places and do things I wouldn't previously have done like buying a new computer, go on a course etc. (6.11.93)

It would at this stage be an impossible job to untangle who or what triggered particular ideas although at times my diary does give some fleeting instances:

All [this new approach] seems to fit in with last nights course on the intensive fieldwork project which had this concept of the "development aspect" i.e. developing yourself and your work. Perhaps that is what has triggered it all off. (28.10.93)

Spoke to Mary about my ideas i.e. about having an anti-methodology chapter. She said that that was already being done these days for instance Bell and Roberts "Social Research" where they write about all the mistakes and so on and keeping a research diary now is part of the methodology chapter.

... Initially I felt a bit upset about this, that my idea wasn't original and then felt better because it was a recognised or accepted thing to do. (29.10.93)

5. Action research and counselling.

Action research initially provided an attractive alternative model of inquiry from my methods course. "Now I am junking all that [psychology experiment idea] and simply looking at how to change what I am doing to make it better" (29.10.93). My contradictory position over the issue of change is outlined below. Action research as I then understood it, seemed, however, potentially threatening. I envisaged one element might include collecting the views of others on my work. If I made myself very open to these views this could be stressful, some kind of support would be necessary:

If people tell you what you are doing isn’t very helpful and you have to change, then that sets up all kinds of stresses and worries and anxieties and stuff which is very hard to take on board. But perhaps my co-counselling sessions give me opportunity to deal with that and perhaps (emphasis in original) make me more

#[p62] open to listening to people’s comments and criticisms so they all say more when I talk to them (if I don’t look too hurt, threatened, upset and generally pissed off) (28.10.93).

I also remembered Ann F.'s [EP] comments from the day before that, when she was a counsellor with the University at one point, she had looked too busy to counsel. Therefore she had to work at not looking busy otherwise she would not put herself in a position that people would want to counsel.

It occurred to me then that this confirmed what I have thought about any form of action research which received critical feedback: you have to be in a position to be able to receive criticism or if you look too upset you won't get it or will perhaps put some people off in any case. Therefore a counselling / personal growth etc. background is quite vital.(29.10.93)

Other issues [in research] would be to do with interviews with teachers and getting their views not only on the child but on what psychologists, or me in particular, are doing or not doing or how helpful we are or how helpful we aren't. This could be terribly threatening as I am conscious that I don't always have time or the inclination to give feedback to teachers as I'm too busy moving on to the next [family] , and just hoping that things will improve from the work we've done with [these] parents. This is exactly what we criticise the Meadows Unit for [a health authority unit for children with EBD], i.e. getting involved and not telling anybody and just assuming that somehow the world will get better. (28.10.93)

My counselling experience then led me to a most important decision: keeping a diary:

I decided at that point really what I had to do was to keep a diary - because if action research was about personal change, which had all kinds of counselling and emotional issues, then I would need to look at my thoughts around this as I was going on. Which in itself might be a useful piece of information and also might contribute towards my totally wacky idea of an anti-methodology chapter. (28.10.93)

About 8.0 am. realised that what I was doing with my diary was not so much a diary as a scrap book. This seemed a much more attractive proposition. (6.ll.93).

Decided that diary should be done regularly, possibly daily, i.e. some kind of commitment to doing a diary.(1.11.93)

Although I almost decided not to:

Wondered if keeping research diary was just a displacement activity and actually a total waste of time. What on earth use would I make of it? They don't give you a PhD just for writing a diary. Still not sure what keeping a diary is all about and what on earth use it is. (11.11.93)

Arthur M. rang for Mary, asked him [by the way] what the hell a diary is for and it seems he keeps one [as a researcher]. He says that later on he can't recall how

#[p63] an idea came about or why he changed a particular direction and the diary does that. (12.11.93)

A wide range of emotional aspects arose during the project. For me, dealing with these, often through counselling sessions, was to become one of the key components in my approach, as I explain in chapter 9. I was, however, unsure about what, if anything, I wanted to change:

... reading Altrichter, Posch and Somekh (1993). Their book is about action research which implies change - I wonder about a zero level of action research or reflection "just to understand" the process i.e. not necessarily to change it. (13.10.94)

During these deliberations on method, particularly action research, I was, however, also concerned about the potential negative effects on practice of any change, I was "a bit reluctant to fiddle about with" a tried and tested "therapy":

[I could ]simply look at some kind of action research where I improve my techniques i.e. have an initial chat to parents about getting the background, establishing a relationship and getting some of the views and attributions possibly. [T]hen having the later more detailed Eric Harvey type interview. [T]hen at some later stage, at the end of the intervention, asking them what they thought about the whole damn thing and what they thought about me etc.

This would split up a normal interview structure, which is very intense [the way] Eric Harvey used to do it. The advantage of Eric's method is that (a) it's quick and (b) its organised in such a way that the parents go through a process from less threatening to more threatening material and it is all quite intense and happens all within an hour or so. I am a bit reluctant to fiddle about [emphasis added] with that procedure because I am quite happy with it.

But perhaps splitting the interview up wouldn't be such a bad thing and I could do a preliminary home visit perhaps to chat about all the background stuff. It couldn't just be chatting about my research ideas about attributions; it would have to be something relevant to the parents i.e. about the child, to keep some credibility, as the practice has always been around the belief that if you don't get parents hooked straight away they won't come back. (28.10.93)

For me, at that time, the topic of action research was confused with the issue of how far, if at all, I wanted to change my practice.

6. To change or not to change?

This issue of how much I wanted change in my Eric Harvey work was a theme that stayed with me:

#[p64] ...woke up having had a bad night dreaming about finals ... but feeling more flexible about the project, and my cold had gone. Children, teachers, psychologist and first parent interview are non Eric [Harvey] approaches, it’s only the second parent interview where they "get the works" [which I will leave unchanged] therefore that’s okay - I can be very flexible in these other interviews. (22.9.94 7.00 a.m.)

Chatting to Colin 11.30 a.m. - explained how with my approach I couldn’t really change it, so he said in that case it’s more like doing a case study. That sort of crystallised things for me.

Later on this left me still even more confused however as parts of my stuff are not a case study e.g. looking at the concept of attention seeking. [Thus] the methodology of the research may have different bits for different bits. (26.9 94)

About that same time ... I asked myself what questions is it possible to ask my practice rather than what questions do I want to ask it. In other words, the practice maybe limits what can be done. (11.10. 94)

Action research, from my early reading, appeared at first sight to meet the needs of the project ... But then I began to have doubts about what I was trying to research and what, if anything, I wanted to change. (Extract from Progress Report 31.5.95)

A question to resolve, therefore, is how, and to what extent, it is necessary to determine "what is" before addressing "what should be" i.e. before changing (Schön, 1983, for instance describes the difficulties of isolating "problems" from the "swampy lowlands" of everyday practice). (Extract from PhD Transfer Document 17.11.95)

In fact, I made many modifications to my approach during the project. Several of the changes to practice were a long time coming : the book for teachers (Mellor 1997a), which I wrote to get over the problem of when to find time to talk to them; and my tape and hand book (including materials to support the parent and child interviews), collected into a training pack for psychologists (Mellor forthcoming a); but the concerns began to surface very quickly. These are broken down below into concerns around the children, teacher and parent interviews and some general points, they are presented as illustration that, despite my worries, change was on the agenda.

In the early stages I was exploring with the idea of, but still unsure about, action research as a model and that is reflected in my diaries. A larger number of extracts concerning children is included below as this was an area where I felt a great deal more work needed

 #[p65] (and still needs) to be done. Changes in the teacher and parent aspects progressed relatively well, I give only limited examples of these.

Re: the children.

Perhaps curiously, from the implications of the job title educational psychologist, I discovered many weaknesses in my work with the children, and came to ponder questions such as What do the child interviews actually tell you that is useful?

[during discussion on methods course] Realised at this point that I needed some references for interviews with children and classroom observations etc. as I felt I was out of my depth with this kind of questioning as my own work tends to be very much bound by getting a little bit of information to help with the parent interview and not really listening to what the children have to say. (28.10.93)

[Following discussion on course about action research]It occurred to me that in my case it was better for me to know the children better so I can help them more and this might be the focus of my study. (28.10.93)

Found already that I was changing my interview style. With J. we just had a nice long discussion about what he was getting up to and he seemed to lead the discussion. It took no effort at all for him to talk about his "naughty dares". He actually enjoyed the discussion and is quite a lively pleasant lad anyway. He is a sort of small appealing rogue. I found, however, when I was asking him 'why' questions (which we had just been told not to do at the previous evening’s course) he just could not explain.

If I want to pursue that I may have to do it along the line of stories which I had thought of earlier. Later found that the tape recording was pretty pathetic in terms of quality. However the positive outcome was to have a different style of interviewing with the child. It was much more of a friendly conversation but I need to have a set of questions or leads to follow up as I was a bit in the dark and grasping at straws when I was trying to direct the conversation. (4.11.93)

It occurred to me then that I would tell stories about children misbehaving in class and [then ask the interviewed] children why they might misbehave, rather like the psychiatric projective stuff. (28.10.93)

Out walking worrying about what does a child interview tell you (a) how to help the adults and help the child (b) about the child generally i.e. background stuff and (c) how to help the children help themselves (d) research stuff like about attention seeking i.e. whether the child sees it ... (e) something about the child's view of .. parents' management, things getting better etc. (Thursday 15.12.94 8 p.m.)

Some of the results of this reflecting, in ideas for better practice, are to appear in the training manual mentioned above

#[p66] Re: the teachers.

I had been in the habit of giving over little time to working directly with the teachers and had tended to concentrate my efforts on the parents. There were many practical problems simply in getting hold of staff which I had avoided by not trying, beyond brief, unsatisfactory encounters.

Discussed with Jan M. [head of a] middle school, looking at a research project and involving her school. I explained that the purpose of the research was to improve our practice.

Some of the problems are that the teachers are not always available and it would be better to work with the younger children who are in more a class teaching situation. But this would depend on referrals coming through. I explained that this would only be with teachers permission and when it was convenient for them...I also talked to Jan about the problem of talking to teachers is that if they aren't informed that's annoying for them and if they have to be brought out of class or seen at lunch times or break times or after school that was annoying so it was a no-win situation.

It occurred to me then that this would be a kind of action research to improve my practice in schools. I deliberately left things vague and said I would discuss it with Jan further. At that stage I was still not clear exactly what the research was all about but the idea of improving my practice seemed like a good idea, consonant with the job, consonant with what schools would want and consonant with the reflective practitioner idea. (3.11.93)

The book on attention seeking was one solution to the difficulties of taking up teacher time. Some other aspects of change in work with teachers are considered below.

Re: the parents.

Although I was anxious not to interfere with what seemed to be an effective way of working, I began to notice changes occurring, such as not deluging the parents with ideas but parcelling then up more, having more of a dialogue.

Had a good interview with Mrs B. in the afternoon. This was a good "Eric Harvey" interview and Mrs B. was a very willing interviewee. Realised later that I tended to dash through the interview a little bit and had not got "side-tracked" into dealing with Mrs B.'s emotions which would probably have been a "good thing" to have done, but I was focusing too much on getting the damn thing down on tape. Found that I was conscious of the tape, worrying about it running out.

Also found that I broke my interview up a lot more instead of just giving a long spiel which I normally do, tried a bit more to talk about the Eric Harvey idea of attention seeking and then get Mum's comments and then talk about ignoring then get Mum's comments, then talk about praise and punishments and get Mum's comments. This seems a much healthier way to do it although it extends the interview a bit. ( 4.11.93)

#[p67] Interview with Mr and Mrs W. about T.. Dipped my toe in the water again, asked them what they thought of what we had been talking about previously, i.e. the Eric Harvey method. Interestingly, comments from them seemed to show that not a great deal had sunk in. Interestingly, T. doesn't seem to have improved a vast

amount either and I wonder if there is a connection. (3.11.93)

The enlosed tape demonstrates the latest version of these interviews which I am continuing to seek comments on.

Re: general points about the approach.

I return to an issue raised here later, several times: how to decide when to intervene.

Realised that the talk I was doing at University [about the work] although a bit of a pain in terms of being a distraction, was probably relevant because it was winding up quite a lot of ideas already, for instance, who not [emphasis added] to apply the Eric Harvey approach to. This is the kind of question the students might ask.

It occurred to me that in terms of describing behaviour there probably wasn't a great deal to say who the target [clients] would be or not be but there were some criteria which had come out from when I had been thinking about my previous GEST project. For instance, children probably under about l4. Children not from chaotic families who need a lot of social service involvement. Children who are not very heavily delinquent and who had 'run off' in a sense or had become 'semi-detached' from home. Not children who were psychiatrically disturbed (hearing voices, taking overdoses, anorexic etc.) (6.11.93)

Certain of the changes I identified might have occurred anyway: "stability is ... an illusion based on a memory of an instant" (Berg 1993 p.10). In the first extract below, for example, I noted bad practice in not listening carefully to a teacher and I show how I learned from two episodes only broadly connected to the original focus of the study. In the second extract, some general anxieties about my casework surfaced simply as a result of glancing through files. Without a "before and after" record, it is difficult to assess, however, how many changes or would have happened in the absence of this research project:

Noted when I had been talking to C.A.'s teacher (at River First school) that I hadn't listened to her saying she had to take action to prevent things escalating [rather than ignoring the behaviour first, to gauge its seriousness]. And this came up in the review of S.K. today at Four Ways [residential] school, where they said that very thing was one of the most important things to do. For me a good learning experience. (19.1.94)

Realised I hadn’t been thinking seriously about action research till I began to look through files in the last few days as I was collecting them and realised what crap work I’d been doing, particularly with regard to child and class teacher interviews

#[p68] i.e. the focus of my interest broadened away from just the Eric Harvey part of it, to all the other bits that could or should be surrounding it. (16.11.94 7 a.m.)

Some reflections covered wider considerations. The two examples following concern aspects of practice. The first, the role of social groups and the high incidence of boys in our referrals is partly addressed in the book "Attention Seeking". I am not sure the second issue was ever satisfactorily resolved and I return to it several times (e.g. in the section on ethics below, my worries that results of research into changing families could be used as a political stick to beat the parents with) :

Woke up having read some of the deviance journals that came in the post some time ago. Realised that what was going on here [attention seeking] was not social learning as the [attention seeking] children we're talking about aren't part of the gang and other children often feel sorry for him or her and they're not friends etc. Mary was awake also and she muttered on about Durkheim and "anomie"...I also wondered about why most of our clients were boys and Mary muttered on about object relations theory. (6.12.94 3 a.m.)

In the Guardian a social worker had got £200,000 for a stress breakdown. The newspaper commentators ... were talking about the need for stress management courses. I felt very critical of them because I felt the main issue was to do with not enough staff, and simply providing stress management courses was maybe just hiding the issue.

About 1.30 p.m. driving up to a review I suddenly thought that our job is often to do with deprived children and families in distress etc. yet we offer an individual solution i.e. behaviour modification, rather than "social change" i.e. providing them with more money, better houses etc. Thus having felt smug in the morning about the newspaper commentators I found myself doing the same thing, when I thought about it, in the afternoon. (17.11.94 8 a.m.)

As with many aspects of the project, ideas came about in unpredictable ways. This aspect is explored in more depth later in the section on serendipity.

In the restaurant with Martha, Jeniffer and Rupert [EP s] after the language group [meeting]... Jeniffer ... [talked] about, as a student... they had been given the task of just observing the teachers’ strategies and feeding back positive [comments] to the teachers. Jennifer said this worked very well for her teacher because she was using a lot of positive strategies, and I felt that was a good thing to do.

...This was a nice eye-opener for me about the perennial problem about how to talk to teachers about what they are doing in class without being threatening. She also then, however, went on to say that some students had had teachers who were very negative and there was not a great deal of positive to feed back. However, this acted as a nice idea for myself. (26.1.94. About 8.00 p.m.)

I later incorporated this into my approach with teachers:

#[p69] Made a point of noting positive comments about the teacher’s behaviour [during my observation of D.R.] and when we were talking later I fed some of these back to her in a non-patronising manner and sympathised with her that the children were fussy but she was getting round [them], giving then lots of time and being low key etc. (16.3.94)

... [following observation of I.L.] I was at pains to be supportive and positive to [the teacher] by saying I.L. must be driving her crazy etc. i.e. there was time to build up a relationship even in that short time as we were leaving the classroom and walking over to the dining hall (10.10.94)

However, I continually tripped up over this aspect of being positive with teachers, a stance I valued highly but which in the busy world of practice often went by default:

[talking to C.A.’s teacher] She seemed very resistant to suggestions. This raises the age old problem of when to talk to teachers about behaviour problems, when the suggestion is that they should be doing something different.

If the behaviour is very bad and they are under stress they don’t want to hear suggestions which sound like criticism. If things are going well, as they were here, it still doesn’t seem to work. I thought the teacher would be more receptive [because of the reduced stress].

What I should have just said was "I don’t know what you’re doing but put it in a bottle and we’ll sell it" and left it until a problem arose i.e. store up a good relationship for later ; and also on the principle of "if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it". (19.1.94)

Sometimes I got it right, but the habit was hard to establish:

[Chatting to another teacher about S. who had been very difficult] told her whatever she was doing she was doing very well and she should put it in a bottle and we’d sell it. She was pleased with that. (25.1.94)

[reviewing collected work diary notes] Some [problems] like [not remembering to be] positive to teachers [when discussing a child] are a habit that is hard to break, even when I’m quite explicit about the "solution" [i.e. simply be positive to them first](emphasis in original). (17.4.96)

I note bringing this concern up in a more public forum also: "This issue still exercised me and colleagues when I brought it up at the therapy interest group in May 1996". By the end of the research, however, I finally felt the habit of being positive had become engrained. My diary records, for instance, that I was pleased that I was automatically (and quite un-patronisingly) positive with a teacher after an observation in school on October 20, 1998. Some changes were thus a long time coming.

#[p70] The diary of my reflections on practice (initially fairly brief, later more structured and in depth) now stretches to scores of incidents as I reflected on, and made alterations to, those aspects of my work connected with children displaying EBD. Reflections covered not only the face- to- face casework but associated issues such as informal discussions with staff, review meetings and in-service training courses. However, I continued to experience tension over change: "My constant worry - I’m basically happy with [the Eric Harvey] interview (although I can see my faults) and don’t want to bugger it up" (12.4.96). Thus my explanation of issues around change was perhaps not too clear cut:

My starting point was not a desire to change my approach (it seemed to "work" and there was no guarantee that change would be for the better) but simply to understand it. I was curious...

Certain areas of practice I was curious about. I did not set out to change, simply to understand, to achieve a kind of resolution....

[however] [d]uring the inquiry I uncovered [some] areas of practice which I was not comfortable with. As a professional, I acted to change these, to my own professional satisfaction. (Mellor 1998b p. 456-7, reproduced in chapter 6 )

At the end of the day change seeped in to everything, including the basic Eric Harvey interviews. I taped a number of these. Part of my worry over examining them in the end turned out to be not so much anxieties about spoiling the method, as anxieties about listening to me, to my voice. As described in chapter 9, that aspect was finally resolved through counselling. These interviews eventually changed in many ways (e.g. becoming more broken up, less of a monologue). But were all the changes for the best? I will return to this point in the conclusion. Meanwhile, the description of the developing method continues in the following chapter. A summary is provided at the end of chapter 5.

Notes.

[1] Oja and Smulyan (1989), for example, consider how research fits into life/age cycles. 

[2] Much later I settled on MacLure’s (1995) description of post-modernism. Although there are many difficulties in definition, as there are many modernisms and many post-modernisms, she selects the key idea of "a kind of undoing of all the habits of mind of so-called Western thought that have prevailed for the last two centuries - the decidability of truth, the triumph of reason ... the objectivity of science [etc.] ..." (p.106).

#[p71] [3] I have selected to show the range of contacts. Some mentioned in the diary extracts may not appear as their impact was relatively small. Some who gave vital support in many different ways, tangential to the research, do not appear. I extend the use of Crane’s term invisible college here to cover all those, from many backgrounds, who influenced my thinking. 

#[p72] Chapter 5. Method before the paper "Notes from a method"

Part II: additional issues.

In this chapter I consider some concerns beyond those to do with the immediately practical and problems of getting started. One which I had great worries about and thought would be very prominent, the impact of the project on my family, in the end turned out to be of minor concern. Ethical issues, however, did become quite central and they are examined here and followed up in the final chapter.

A number of techniques became important to me, serendipity and incubation in particular; because of their rather unusual nature I spend some time exploring these. Throughout the research I was, however, dogged by the feeling that I "should" have a clear, ready made method. My gradual coming to terms with the evolving method of the present study is described partly in the fourth section. Chapter 6 also illustrates this concern.
 
  

1. Family concerns.

Initially I thought these would loom large. I saw myself as a committed parent and felt guilt about putting the research before the children. Although this issue did surface from time to time, it seemed to fizzle out. Perhaps we reached an understanding. In any case, my daughter Kate went off to university Sept 1996 and had been quite settled with her A level course from Sept 1994. My son Joe seemed more interested in his friends than his father. To begin with, however, there were some family concerns.

Got really heavy with my kids saying they must not touch any of my tapes or my paper in my room as I was panicking about them going off and singing duets into the tape recorder and using the paper for scrap. This is all part of anxieties to do with losing material and keeping endless copies of everything on disks all over the place. I had heard horror stories about disks being wiped, disks being left on trains. Computers getting viruses in. Whole theses being left on tubes. Also neurosis about burglars coming in, getting annoyed and burning the place down or smashing up all the material just for the hell of it. (5.ll.93.)

#[p73] Spent the evening tidying up notes from the course. Went into a bit of a panic because I couldn't find the bits I wanted. Got rather ratty with Kate about coming into my room. Poor soul had actually been quite well behaved all evening. Felt guilty that I hadn't gone out to the bonfire night celebrations. Joe had gone with his cousin D. but Kate had originally said she didn't want to go. When the evening came, however, she wanted to go but I didn't push the matter but felt bad about it, putting silly research in the way of a bit of time with the kids. Realised that I hadn't been keeping a record of how family events impinged on the research particularly. Obviously not a very good feminist. (5.ll.93.)

Rather distracted this morning as the kids seem ratty and bad tempered. Managed to settle down to some dictation however, about 9.3O am.

Didn't feel too guilty about neglecting the kids when I remembered that Mary was going to spend all this weekend writing a paper and she had been off to Chesterfield a couple of weeks ago, and had nipped down to London for a meal to discuss important matters and was planning a great programme of reading, writing and research and political activity for the next 3 or 4 years. Lots of dishes were not going to get washed by anybody. (6.ll.93.)

One issue which did, however, turn out to be much more significant than I at first imagined, was that of ethics.

2. Ethical issues in research.

Dessent (1992) raises some of the stresses in casework around children displaying emotional and behavioural difficulties:

effective individual casework is often the most stressful and difficult part of the [EP’s] role... [psychologists need] to engage with complex personal, ethical, economic and sometimes political issues ... often ...strong emotions and feelings [lurk] somewhere in the background. The strong emotions rarely belong to the pupil. More often they belong to the head teacher, the teacher, the parent, the social worker etc. (p.41).

I was prepared for many of these pressures but I had not expected ethical issues to be quite so prominent, either in practice areas or research areas.

A number of ethical issues concerning research arose early on in the project. Some of these were anticipated and had been addressed, such as obtaining consent. Following guidelines of the B.P.S. a letter was drawn up similar to Robson (1993) p.299 to obtain

#[p74] "informed consent". For each case, general permission from the head teacher was obtained, then specific permission from the parents and teacher(s) involved. The form explained the project and the participants right to withdraw at any time.

A further area concerned use of professional time and the LEA's resources. The research was planned to fit round normal daily activities and to have existing practice as its focus, rather than to examine, for instance, some (artificial) experimental arrangement. No permission was sought to take extra "research time" within the working week. This was a useful discipline. I had, for instance, to be very careful in the use of time. I could justify informal discussions with colleagues for instance (these are accepted "custom and practice") and reflections on casework (which although not a routine part of the job, seemed particularly healthy additions). However, I felt I could not justify a session in the office analysing these. Some weeks I felt I had over-strayed the boundaries and given undue attention to the project. I generally made a rough "conscience easing" calculation and worked over-time to balance up.

Phone calls and photocopying were recorded and paid for. Occasional letters to head teachers relating to the project and other very minor administrative matters were completed at work. Secretarial time relevant to typing case notes is part of normal work. Typing of reflections on case work, although not common practice traditionally, I included in normal office time on the grounds that such comments could and should form part of normal good practice. Secretarial time for the reflective diary and interview transcription was paid for separately, outside work.

I noted, however, at the time of writing my M.Phil/PhD transfer document, November 1995, a tension between the role of practitioner and researcher: "My feeling is that I should not carry out lines of investigation which I cannot claim are benefiting the clients, simply because they are of academic interest" (extract from transfer document). Several examples arose at that point (see below). The first may appear relatively minor and my thinking around it somewhat tortuous, I have included it here, however, to illustrate the

#[p75] sometimes subtle (and unclear) nature of the issues which B.P. S. guidelines did not seem to cover.

The decisions could be contested (and some may seem rather trivial), the point is, that I felt it necessary to face them. For me they felt like ethical issues, but with the lack of detailed guidance I was thrown back on my own judgement, my own "moral values"[1].  As Homan (1991) points out, in any case, "[ethical] [c]odes may have the effect of closing the discussion of ethical principles rather than of stimulating it" (p.179) and "[a] variety of methods approved as ethical involves the off-loading of moral responsibility from the researcher to the researched" (ibid p.179). He goes on to argue that "professionals are encouraged to believe that they are behaving in a morally responsible way if they observe the letter of the law ... text book counsel on field methods is often ethical without being moral" (p.181) and in exploring this "dichotomy of ethics and morality" (p.182) there is "little talk of morality in the literature treating the ethics of social research" (p.182). I do not claim to have solved the problem, only to have "kept it alive", as the following examples illustrate.

Examples of concerns over tensions between researcher and practitioner interests.

(A) Eliciting children’s views on matters which may be only of "academic" interest.

I found while examining interviews with the children that this was a prime area where I felt my work was generally weak. While searching for "better" approaches I experimented with some Adlerian notions. I produced some "vignettes" of behaviour for the children to comment on. These were designed to obtain children's views on Adler's ideas of the "mistaken goals" of behaviour (see for instance Balson 1982). I was delighted to find that some of these elicited descriptions of attention seeking. This seemed potentially very relevant to my research on attention seeking, however, I felt at the time that these comments, although interesting, were of little practical use to the parents or

#[p76] teachers. What were they to do with this knowledge? My practitioner and researcher interests were at odds.

I dropped these vignettes from the research but three years later, after a further period of trying to develop my practice with children, restored a (different) set of stories with the same purpose. I had by then, in any case, published a book on attention seeking without using the original information, consequently I felt that my continuing focus on better ways to elicit knowledge about the children was not "contaminated" in any way by desires to pursue what I saw as a self-serving "academic" research interest around the concept of attention seeking.

(B) Distributing "research" materials to teachers.

A difficulty arose with the written back-up materials I had produced for the teachers I was working with. At one point, colleagues wanted to use these to help train the special needs co-ordinators across the authority. I initially wanted to keep them "pristine" to use with each new case, to "show the effectiveness" of my casework. I was at that point still influenced by some idea of an experimental design. Eventually I overcame this reluctance, which had posed a moral dilemma for me, to the extent of publishing a book, for which the authority held the copyright and received the royalties. I was able to distribute this at reduced rate.

Interestingly, as the project evolved, I began to notice a shift away from wanting to collect "good cases" (which made me feel successful and confirmed the value of my approach) towards wanting to explore more the "bad cases" (i.e. to find ways of understanding my work more and possibly improving).

(C) Questioning parents about past causes.

#[p77] A third area concerned interviews with parents. These were designed very carefully, following the Eric Harvey tradition. There appeared to be several vital elements to these interviews; two, particularly relevant to the present discussion, were placing emphasis on guilt reduction and dealing with the present. The effect of these constraints was to place little weight, when questioning parents, on possible past causes of the children's difficulties (at least as seen through the parent's eyes). Work was very much directed at the here and now (although information about the children's general development was obtained throughout a lengthy interview which deliberately ebbed and flowed in emotional content to achieve rapport).

One of my early "research" interests was around a nature/ nurture debate on the "causes" of emotional and behavioural difficulties, thus, parents' views on early "triggers", seemed potentially quite relevant. Unfortunately, to pursue these meant dwelling on history and, by implication, stressing the importance of "triggers". Such emphasis on the past would run the risk of giving rise to an "It’s all our fault" guilty reaction from the parents. These could have undermined the positive, forward-looking tone of the interviews. I did not follow this line of inquiry.

(D) Overall research design.

My account of how the research focus shifted around during the project is partly related to questions of values. To begin with I was intimidated by methodology. I wanted "to get it right" - to find some conventional formula which would easily withstand external scrutiny, some accepted way of "doing research". "Scientific" validity dominated my early thinking, but this became increasingly interlaced with injections of more flexible ideas from qualitative methods.

The final resolution of the issue, partly influenced by considerations of personal moral values, was to try to develop a from of inquiry which allowed the demands of practice to dominate. The research became a hybrid: a kind of case study of my casework, but

#[p78] casework which changed as I saw fit. A kind of action research, in that I felt the duty to improve practice, but where understanding rather than change was the driving force behind at least part of the study. A piece of research carried out in (almost) zero extra work time. An inquiry into practice which became an inquiry into inquiry but where the effects on practice were the ultimate constraint.

(E) Attention seeking and its related dilemmas.

A separate area of concerns centred on my anxieties over attention seeking and the child who may have been abused. My practice diary records several instances of uncertainty over whether the Eric Harvey approach, which potentially presents a powerful tool to change behaviour, could simply be "covering up" symptoms of abuse (of course a range of other potential interventions could fall into the same trap). There were, in fact, very few cases where these doubts surfaced, however, I had long discussions with colleagues inside and outside the profession on the subject. My final position was to proceed as normal, with consultation with colleagues over suspect cases (as is usual good practice). To be constantly alert to the danger, but not to see demons that were not there. To refer on to others where doubts were significant.

Related to this was the question of, whether or not we can change a particular child's behaviour, is it right to do so. Stainback and Stainback (1980), pose the question : Do we as a society in the end "need" the children who are different? Also, in a very practical sense, does attaching the label "emotional and behavioural difficulties" to a child simply disguise the need for the adults to change? And what of the wider political implications of relying in particular on the parents’ need to change? My diary records my concerns for this as a question for society:

Because some parents can be helped to change their behaviour towards the children, and [thus] help the children's behaviour, then results of my research could be used to show that this was all that was needed for all parents i.e. just change your management of the children. [This] neglects all the other pressures parents are under like unemployment, bad housing, separation, abuse, alcoholism, poverty etc. etc. There are a vast number of other difficulties which people experience

#[p79] which make changing their management of children's behaviour either impossible or rather irrelevant given all the other pressures they are under...

It occurred to me also that I don't want the Eric Harvey stuff to be used as a stick to beat parents with and say that all the ills of society can be cured if you just get parents to look after their kids properly. This is an issue that I have been worrying about for some time, as at one point I had thought about trying to get a Home Office grant or some such thing; but if I got one then the research would not be under my control and [given the political climate] it would definitely be used to say it is all the parents’ fault. (l3.ll.93)

Although I continue to worry over the topic, the one consolation for me of the attention seeking model (particularly in my latest understanding, see chapter 3) is that it embodies a broad systems approach: I am looking for alterations in any and all parts of several systems (at least in those parts I can have some influence over) involving the child, the teacher, the parents and the school (through in-service training). Although the child may become "labelled" at first, the ensuing work requires all parties to change. Perhaps adults may come to accept their own need to change by adopting a label which initially seems to make the child the focus of concerns. I hope to continue to keep this concern alive through discussions with colleagues and in the light of reactions to the book "Attention Seeking" (see for instance Todd 1998 and earlier limited consideration in chapter 3).

(F) General practice related concerns.

Some dilemmas seemed clearly more related to practice than research (the project gradually evolved into studying research). I note for example in Mellor (1998a), in my reflections around a piece of casework with a boy who had anxieties about attending: was using "counselling", partly employed simply to keep him in school, justifiable? :

It feels better to "engage" with the child rather than have the usual quick one-off conversation, but am I being deceitful by deliberately organising this at school and using activities and interviews as a "reward" i.e. a fun time to encourage him to be at school...

I wonder if it is right to use one reasonably ethical procedure (counselling, playing counselling games, working on life story etc.) for another equally but different ethical goal (getting him into school). Does the end justify the means? (p.172)

#[p80] The form of reflection on casework I adopted was able to address such topics. I will return to the issue of moral values later when considering practitioner research (see chapter 12).

3. Serendipity, incubation and other techniques used to support research.

The research relied on a range of techniques to take me through the confused space I found myself in. Most of the techniques were taken-for-granted parts of any study, such as reading scholarly works (although I have some comments about this reading aspect later in chapter 8), attending lectures and conferences, analysing data, keeping a systematic diary, searching for references and so on. I will focus here on a number of areas which may seem a little more unusual, particularly serendipity and incubation. I explore these in brief but conclude by simply accepting their enigmatic nature and settling for using them as "black boxes".

(A) Serendipity.

Fine and Deegan (1996) trace the term to the eighteenth century novelist Horace Walpole who used it to refer to "the combination of accident and sagacity in recognising the significance of a discovery" (p.434). They emphasise the role of chance in science:

Probably the majority of discoveries in biology and medicine have been come upon unexpectedly, or at least had an element of chance in them, especially the most important and revolutionary ones. It is scarcely possible to foresee a discovery that breaks really new ground, because it is often not in accord with current beliefs. (Beveridge 1957 cited in Fine and Deegan 1996 p.435).

The authors (and Roberts 1989) provide a collection of instances drawn from many scientific fields. As they point out, however, "chance only favours the prepared mind" (Pasteur cited in Beveridge/Fine and Deegan 1996 p.435).

Fine and Deegan go on to explain that "[t]his view of discovery underlines the recognition that scientific work is a "messy" process" (ibid p. 435) and offer an interpretation: "It is

 #[p81] not that they accidentally stumble on the truth, but that they can find accounts that others find useful in making sense of the world" (ibid p.435 my emphasis). Rejecting a positivist position they explain: "serendipitous insight provides the opportunity for constructing a plausible story" (p.438). Taking examples from sociological fieldwork, they explain, however, that "traditionally ethnographers were reluctant to discuss their errors and chance occurrences ... perhaps fearing that it would confirm the belief that ethnography was truly dilettantism" (ibid p.437) but that now, frequently arising from "confessionals", the process is an accepted part of accounts. They then seek to explore this part of the those "‘disorderly’ ‘messy’ features of the research process" (ibid p.437) and explain that "insight is not a treasure at the end of the road ...it is one that unfolds with every twist and turn in the road" (ibid p.438).

Many of these unplanned happenings "stem from one’s own hands" (ibid p.444) and Fine and Deegan underline "the powerful role of mistakes leading to insight: a messiness that stems from the investigator" (ibid p.444). For them "[l]earning how to learn from mistakes" (ibid p.444 emphasis in original) is vital and they explain how the researcher needs to "[expose] oneself to the unplanned" (ibid p.445). However, there is an emotional cost to this, an "angst": "[w]hen a researcher prepares to enter a field setting, the worry exists that nothing interesting will be discovered" (ibid p.445 emphasis in original).

Building on Merton’s (1968) account of events which are "unanticipated, anomalous and strategic ( i.e. with implications for the development of theory)" (Fine and Deegan p.438) they offer an alternative breakdown: temporal serendipity, serendipity relations and analytic serendipity. Temporal serendipity they describe as "happening upon a dramatic instance" (ibid p.438) which throws up crucial insights. The researcher, however, is not just casting about in the dark but has a shrewd idea of "where the action[is]" (ibid p.439).

Serendipity relations "the unplanned building of social networks" (ibid p. 438) arise when the researcher "us[es] her wits to build rapport" (ibid p.441) with potential "key

#[p82] informants" using the opportunity provided by, often unplanned and potentially threatening, events.

Fine and Deegan offer four features of analytic serendipity "discovering concepts or theories that produce compelling claims" (ibid p. 438) :

(i) The researcher is embedded in an academic culture - "theory never develops out of thin air, but is responsive to those intellectual currents that are in circulation" (ibid p. 442) , and this culture may include fiction as well as academic works. Often the most powerful impact comes from those chance readings during, rather than prior to, the project.

(ii) "[T]he data themselves [may] speak to the researcher ... an unexpected similarity or dissimilarity may provoke an ‘ah-ha’ response" (ibid p.442). Anomalous data suddenly "fit" by relating to other data or the literature - "[o]ne example shines a light upon another" (ibid p.442)

(iii) Arguing that we rely on metaphorical and other devices in conceptualising problems in a new light, Fine and Deegan highlight the chance discovery of, for instance, dramatic metaphors which then have a "power... to generate insights" (p.443)

(iv) Finally, the researcher is part of a social world of other scholars and non-scholars - "an invisible college" (ibid p.443) who all have impact on the course of the study, such that "the final product would be a very different piece of work without these contacts" (ibid p.443). These relations provide us with a system which "provide[s] us with ideas, emotional support, and material pleasures" (ibid p.443)

For me, Fine and Deegan’s account in large part rings true "who we are is related to how we do in qualitative fieldwork" (ibid p.444). Some elements remain obscure - what, for example, leads to data "suddenly fitting"? My current feeling, however, is that what I do in research is, to some extent, to consciously and actively harness these various processes, to "embrace" serendipity, to deliberately seek the unexpected, to wish for the unforeseen. I have, for instance, purposely drawn on a vast network of others, inside and outside the academic field, and a constant input of material from many sources: fiction, newspapers, magazines, TV, radio and so on. Some reading was triggered by current articles or contacts. Some times "reading" was simply "dipping" into likely books, reading which ever page opened.

Dipped into Social Researching by Bell and Roberts. Nice article by Nikki James about problems of planning a Phd project. (13.11.93)

#[p83] Chased up [the journal] Child Development, a couple of articles which I thought were going to be good, the one about the supermarket and the one about the coercive parents [which in the end weren’t useful]. However, flicking through some later issues found two articles on parents’ beliefs although this was mainly on IQ it seemed to touch a little bit on to behaviour...

This made me think flicking at random was often more productive than chasing what sounded like good articles which in the end turned out to be rubbish. However, flicking is demanding (just reading straight through a book is less high energy and less stressful) and also prone to [the problem of] finding material and then losing it, as you don’t keep notes i.e. frustrating. (11.10.94)

There is much potentially to research in the serendipity process which I did not pursue:

It occurred to me maybe flicking through articles "fires up" the thought processes but they come to fruit the next day "in the bath" [or "on a walk"]. Here’s a mini experiment - today I flicked through Adler’s work on the inferiority complex and Fine on maladjusted children and up to September 14 flicked through Stott on delinquency in human nature (nuisance attention), Baldamus on serendipity and annual reviews of psychopathology on maintenance factors. Need to see if any of this crops up in the future. (12.10 98)

The topic of serendipity continued to arise in the project. The others topics I deliberately set up above did not. This (very limited and very poor) experiment raised more questions than answers. Was serendipity a process which could not be "controlled"? Was the sample too small? Did my interests simply turn to other matters, was this an "artificial" set-up? Was the experiment simply badly conceived: is bias at work, do I normally only perceive positive instances? I did not investigate further (Garratt 1998 for example considers whether serendipity can always be considered a helpful process : "it can be blinding and constraining" p.234). I decided simply to use the process, whatever it was, as a "black box". There is much more research to be done here.

(B) Incubation.

"Creativity defies precise definition" claims Torrance (1988 p.43) although "if we are to study it scientifically, we must have some approximate definition". In reviewing attempts to define creativity, Torrance explores, amongst others issues, that of "process", in

#[p84] particular the four steps identified by Wallas (1926) : "preparation, incubation, illumination and revision" (ibid p. 45):

First, there is a sensing of a need or deficiency, random exploration, and a clarification or "pinning down" of the problem. Then ensues a period of preparation accompanied by reading, discussing, exploring, and formulating many possible solutions ...[then] a flash of insight, illumination. Finally there is experimentation to evaluate [the outcomes]. (ibid p.45)

Hadamard (1945) identifies similar stages "which seem to occur in every documented case of scientific insight" (Langley and Jones 1988 p 180). The preparation stage may solve the problem, if not, "one eventually ‘gives up’" (ibid p.180) and turns to other issues, at which point the unconscious mind takes over. This later "incubation stage" may last "anywhere from seconds to years, but eventually the solution ‘proposes itself’" (ibid p.180). There may of course be "false insights" (ibid p.198).

There are other models of the process of gaining insight (e.g. based on gestalt-like re-structuring or information processing and "chunking" or memory triggered by analogy- see Langley and Jones 1988). My aim here is not to subject these to critique, but rather to illustrate that, even such an, at first sight, apparently ineffable process, can be given some "scientific" scrutiny (Langley and Jones describe a number of different predictions which can be explored). The point is, for me, not that I could give a clear model of what happened, but that I could use the process, what I came to understand as an "incubation" period. Ideas came during the night (I kept paper and pencil to hand); first thing in the morning; in the bath; in the pub; and most frequently, in the park. Almost never "at work" in my job. Evidence of this is littered throughout the diary and appears in some of the extracts, although these extracts are not presented in any manner to be representative of this distribution. I have made no attempt to collect the instances together- the numbers would be large and the events very repetitious "2.30 in park, 3.00 in park, 4.00 in park" and so on.

I divided up my study days so that "conventional academic" activities fell in the morning : "reading", "writing", "analysing" (the quotation marks arise from my views on the

#[p85] complexities of these common-place actions, see chapter 8). In the afternoons, my habit came to be walking through the park, initially simply to let the morning’s efforts "settle" and my mind to clear. I gradually came to realise, however, that these (and other similar "inattentive" moments) were the key periods when intuitions came. It required no effort. In fact, the process seemed to need an absence of effort. If I tried to "think" about an issue, insight seemed to evade me. As Phillips (1992) describes, in emphasising the distinction between the contexts of discovery and justification in science: "[p]rocesses involved in... the making of discoveries ... may not be involved - and might be counterproductive if allowed to intrude - when the discoveries are ... critically evaluated" (p.77)[2].  Unfortunately, the outcomes of these meditative strolls, although usually, were not always, productive: "not one idea" (22.6.98 8.30 in park).

(C) Other techniques and resources.

On occasions I used a random word from a dictionary to break a conceptual log jam, borrowing from de Bono (1987 p.151-2 ). I drew on a wide range of resources, published and personal contact. One of my favourite metaphors for research, the banyan tree, came from a work of fiction (see chapter 6). Strong support for my growing confidence in the "messiness" of the process came from a PhD chemist now in senior management in industry. What Fine and Deegan flag up but do not explore, however, is the emotional side to all this, the angst, the uncertainty that anything is there to be discovered; coupled with the worry that this will all seem "dilettantism", in an arena where some notion of "the scientific method" may be deemed the acme of inquiry. My constant contact with a counselling community (see chapter 9), was, I believe, a vital element in "keeping my nerve" in employing and honestly acknowledging, such methods, methods which may often be "hidden from history".

4. The Holy Grail of method.

#[p86] From starting out with a relatively clear plan for the project, centring on parents and attribution theory, matters quickly became muddied:

Round about this point the project has become much more diffuse. I seem to be envisaging talking to lots of different people e.g. teachers, parents, children, welfare officers, other psychologists about "behaviour" with no great clear idea about what would come out of this or what the purpose of this conversation would be. (1.11.93)

Much of the study (and most of my anxieties) centred on my search for a method and how I came to understand that there was no Holy Grail of a ready-made method out there that I could take "off the shelf". It only gradually dawned on me that the process of searching for a method was, in fact, the method I had been looking for all along. To see that, however, I had to unlearn a great deal, although at the time I am not sure that I appreciated the nature of that process that I was "inside". One of my early habits to unlearn arose from the belief that methods should be in place at the start of a study. I gradually began to free myself from this constraint and accept that my wanting to be more flexible was a valid position:

Had an idea that what I really wanted to do was to follow a methodology that allowed me to read and think of ideas and methods as I went along (as I couldn't stop to take a year off) and I didn't want to get stuck with a specific methodology such as grounded theory which (a) looked very technical and (b) might not be the best one. (3.4.94)

This developing flexibility, however, was much influenced by my general reading. In the extract below, I am hovering between a reflection-in-action model (building on Schön 1983, see appendix B) and an action research stance. The glimmerings of an understanding of developing an individualised approach are evident:

An important part of research is dealing with anxiety and uncertainty. I’m in the dark with regard to the subject matter, the methodology i.e. who’s [method] to copy and also the aims of the research: "where I’m trying to get to". [But] in a strange way I feel as though I know where I’m trying to get and what I’m looking for with regard to the methodology especially for the reflective practice bit. If I could write it down it would look something like this:

(a) Muddle through in the dark, read bits, talk to people, analyse bits, go on courses, think about bits, with an initial idea of aims and methodology.

(b) Come up with a clear idea of methodology and aims and purposes etc.

#[p87] (c) Write a bit -in my case I did do that with the RDCO2 document [an early thesis outline].

(d) Carry on as in (a) a bit clearer, a bit different.

(e) Come up with a better idea of methodology... and write a bit more about it (that would be the PhD transfer document).

(f) Recycle through this procedure several times until (i) time runs out (ii) methodology [and its name] are "what I like" i.e. as Schön [describes in reflection-in-action].

At the end of the day if I never come up with the "perfect" methodology then that’s okay as I’m a practitioner therefore I can only do what I can do. Thus the results I get will be consonant with my position as a practitioner researcher. The whole purpose of which is to get better as a practitioner and as a researcher, and this idea of developing you skills as a researcher doesn’t seem to occur particularly in the action research [literature]. (21.11.94. 6 p.m. in the bath)

My views changed almost daily:

Received article this morning on attention seeking which I had sent away for. Felt "it's been done" therefore I can't "have a scoop" so I felt pretty disappointed. Therefore I needed to play down attention seeking. Perhaps that changes the focus of research. Perhaps I should look at action research or something to look at practice.

Part of doing this is looking at research generally, so part of action research is developing knowledge of concepts and theories as well. So I worked out a diagram with (a) practice [in the centre] (b) a cycle around that to do with an action research focus on practical aspects and associated theories and concepts, (c) with cycles round that to do with reflection or something and the theories and concepts interacting with practice, and then (d) a big cycle round the whole damn lot, which is action research or reflection cycles or naturalistic inquiry etc. on the process and methodology of practitioner research. (29.11.94)

Got totally confused about what I'm trying to do in terms of methodology, aims of the research and focus of research i.e. pretty basic stuff. I find that the bloody thing keeps shifting just when I've tied it down. I thought I had it earlier this weeks when I decided I was doing action research and then I made the mistake of actually reading some action research stuff in Robson's (1993) book and got put off. (Saturday 3.12.94 - 12 o'clock)

The following chapter (a copy of a paper to appear in the journal Educational Action Research) gives an account of my "platform of conditional understanding" (Hampton 1993 p.269) of the research process at the time its writing, early spring 1998. I present it now to help along the developing story of the inquiry and because, for me, it was a landmark in

#[p88] my understanding of myself. As we shall see later, however, my position moved on somewhat.

5. Key points emerging from the chapters 4 and 5.

A host of factors came into play in triggering the start of the project and throughout I drew on a wide range of sources (academic and popular) and personal contacts.

From the earliest days, although struggling with a "scientific" model of research, there are embryonic signs of what I was later to describe as a "messy" method, which seemed to have parallels with my views of aspects of my own, everyday "thinking processes". Early plans constantly shifted between "conventional" and emergent ideas on methods but there was no separate stage of working out a research design: the inquiry began before any clear method was in place.

Many emotional issues came into play, from making the decision to begin, to anxieties around examining practice and developing an unconventional mode of inquiry. I relied on counselling and my counselling experience reinforced the value of keeping a diary. Diaries eventually became the core of the research.

Ethical issues pervaded the project.

I struggled with existing models of inquiry, such as action research, but found myself with an ambivalence towards change (because of commitment to an aspect of practice), although change seemed unavoidable. I reflect on one impact of these changes in chapter 12. Some changes that I desired seemed to take an inordinately long time to establish.

As well as more routine research procedures, I came to rely in part on less commonly acknowledged activities such as serendipity and incubation (along with other techniques). While searching for a method I gradually came to accept that there was no off-the shelf

 #[p89] approach ready and waiting. My searching became the method. And this searching involved unlearning as well as learning[3].

Notes.

[1] I do not intend to explore in greater depth any distinctions between ethics and morals, and philosphers may not accept the breakdown used. Following Homan (1991) I use the term moral to refer to those areas of judgement not clearly covered by professional ethical codes, deliberately to highlight the uncertainties of the issues. Thus, following this definition, an action may be judged by some to be ethical but immoral (vivisection for example) while another may be judged to be moral but unethical (reporting the criminal behaviour of interviewees). See discussions in Homan (1991) and Robson (1993).

[2] Feyerabend (1975), of course, denies this distinction, between discovery and justification, the distinction which proposes that "Discovery may be irrational and need not follow any recognised method. Justification, on the other hand... proceeds in an orderly way" (p.165 emphasis in original). He (along with others such as Chalmers) points out that "a determined application of the methods of criticism and proof... would wipe out science as we know it" (ibid p.166). Chalmers (1982) for instance illustrates how "[e]arly work on a research programme takes place without heed of or in spite of apparent falsifications" (p.83). My purpose, however, is not to engage with this debate over the nature of science (see short forays in chapters 8 and 11), but to explore my own process of "discovery". I return finally, and very briefly, to science in the postscript to chapter 12. 

[3] In polishing up these two chapters in 1998/1999 I identify certain elements which in practice did not become fully apparent at the time of first "analysis" of the "data" such as unlearning and the label invisible college. I introduce them here, however, somewhat anachronistically, to aid later understanding. 

#[p90] Chapter 6. Notes from a method.

Placing the paper reproduced below at this point in the thesis may give a rather false picture of the chronology of the project - it can be seen to imply that the "data" of chapters 4 and 5 somehow led directly, and only, to this account. In reality a much more circuitous route was involved.

My first attempts to explain the method to myself and to others (and thereby help "create" it) began with largely incoherent discussions with a widening circle of professional and research colleagues, particularly Ann F., an eminently patient counsellor, with whom I shared an office at work; and a lunch time discussion group at Northumbria University. Members of this group came almost exclusively from postgraduate nursing students and their influence can be seen in the reflection protocol of appendix C. They were a wonderfully supportive and tolerant band, despite the differences in our perspectives on research. I plagued them (and Ann) over several years with my ruminations and anxieties.

In September 1995 I presented a paper at the Collaborative Action Research Network conference in Nottingham, summarising my views at that time and calling for the help of those who came to listen. In emotional terms the paper was almost a disaster (see the discussion in chapter 11) but some strong support was forthcoming. At that time, speaking to an action research community, I was in part trying to explain why I thought I was not doing action research. I felt that action research was not applicable to my "mess" (the "swamp" I was in - see Schön’s quotation below) but I was unsure what was. My first attempt at explaining an alternative was simply to describe my method as reflection.

Reflection, and Schön’s reflection-in-action, were the focus of the inquiry for some time. In the end, however, along with a number of other "diversions" (what I call here "dead-ends" and also later call "off-shoots") these were left behind. These off-shoots enter the record in chapter 7 but their presence was distributed over a considerable period, before and after the paper, as I worked towards the publication below. Their contribution to the inquiry is outlined later as I explain my view that including such diversions adds to the believability of the research story.

#[p91] Anticipating later parts of the research narrative, I decided not to freeze the inquiry at this time and, for instance, go on to polish my "analysis" of the existing "data", but to move on and apply this method that I was beginning to become comfortable with, to see how it stood up in two new mini-projects. The tale of that work is relayed in chapters 8 and 9. Unfortunately not recorded in my diary, my memory is that I had glimmerings in 1995 that what I would see in the data was in some way dependent on what I would get out of the data: the "lens" I was creating would help me view the material in a new light. But it was the evolving lens I became most concerned with, not further exploration of old data with an existing lens.

While writing chapter 11, my final (although still provisional) account of the lens, the "messy method", I revisited the data collected in the early part of the project, such as illustrated in chapters 4 and 5. The results of this revisiting helped form the description found in chapter 11, the revised method, as I built on the ideas in the current chapter, and the "old" data and the two new projects (this rather winding path will become clearer later). Thus the link between chapter 4/5, this chapter and the rest of the project is not a simple one.

In October 1996 I presented a revised version of the 1995 paper to a C.A.R.N. conference in Morpeth, then submitted that version to the journal Educational Action Research. The referees comments were generally supportive but criticised that draft (not included in the thesis), amongst other issues, for being too impersonal. I had been trying hard to be "academic". This feedback, I believe, gave me the confidence to begin to write more in the manner I wanted to write. The paper below (with minor editing) is the outcome.

The paper repeats some of my autobiography. I decided to leave this in even though there is a lengthy autobiographical account earlier, as the article would read rather strangely without it, emphasising, as it does, my journey from a "naive" scientist position. Those reading in a linear fashion, who have already covered chapter 1, may profitably skip that part of the paper. The paper was actually written before chapters 4 and 5 were finalised,

 #[p92] so there are slight discrepancies between those two and this chapter, for instance in a fuller treatment of serendipity and incubation, ambivalence about change, ethical issues and the invisible college in chapters 4 and 5.

Notes from a method [1] (appears in Educational Action Research, 65 (3) p.453-470, 1998)

ABSTRACT This paper stems from attempts to investigate practice from the position of a novice researcher but experienced professional. The approach which developed stemmed from a genuine desire to deal with a real life "messy" situation - a simple curiosity about current work and a wish to study it. There was no specific research question initially and a "method" evolved only gradually as I researched my researching. Systematic recording of my activities and reflections in a research diary enabled me to recognise an emerging form which I then felt able to communicate. I offer as a metaphor for this inquiry, the banyan tree.

As a scene setting quote, Eliot explains how you must begin with ignorance

(T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets: East Coker 1944 p.25)

Preamble 1

I spoke recently to a senior, experienced researcher who had moved to a new area and wanted to set up a project. Unfortunately, the local contacts were not very helpful. He spent a great deal of time dealing with this situation, working out, I guess, how to gain entry, develop trust and so on. Then his project began.

I asked about this period, how he had dealt with what, to him, was a novel and challenging situation. Strangely, he expressed little interest. His research began when the project began. To me, however, this time of uncertainty could have been the most important part of his story. Here was a fellow soul in confusion. But was he simply flailing about in the dark or was there a "method to his madness"?

#[p93] The following paper is a provisional account of my efforts to discover a "method", as I tackled the problem of researching while working, while learning how to research. I was researching researching.

Preamble 2

The essence of my concerns is illustrated in a recent discussion about starting a project with a research colleague (T) from a focus group of practitioner researchers at the University of Northumbria[2]:

N. I had no research skills to bring to the thing, to the actual project. I went on a course but it did not seem to help very much [but] I have been thinking over the weekend, I did not start the project with no skills, I may have started with no formal skills in the sense of research methods, but I started with skills that I have, which I use all day, every day.

T. Observational type skills, those kind of skills?

N. No, those woolly, muddling-through skills that you use if you were trying to buy a new light for the bathroom, or a new car, or a new something where you don't know what it is you are looking for. You have a vague idea you want a something and you don't know what the possibilities are out there and you don't know where to find out the possibilities and you have limited time. So you get stuck in, you have a poke round, you don't know what you are looking for. You pick up ideas from here and there, you talk to somebody, you read a magazine and you get another idea. You blunder about through a maze of half understood concepts and practicalities, not knowing what you want but knowing you want a something.... [a further, lengthy example of the process of trying to buy a mixer desk for a teenager follows]

...I don't think the research process is that dissimilar. I know I have a goal, which is that I want to look into my job but I don't know what the questions are to ask but I will know when I get there. It is this idea that I will understand it eventually. In the meantime the only way to go forward is to wallow about in it and get stuck in. It is only by getting stuck in and trying a bit and being confused and asking questions :What on earth am I doing? Why am I doing it? that it becomes clear what it is I am doing. If I knew the questions at the start I could have just rushed off and done an action research project or something like that.

T. So confusion is part of the process?

N. Yes. Well not so much confusion - [yes] it is confusion because for a real problem you have got to be confused in the sense of being in the dark because a real problem is something that you do not know the answers to... I think a genuine project starts off with "I've got a mess and I don't know what to do with it, I don't know how to deal with it", and that is what real life work is about...

#[p94] The context of the research

My first training was as a physicist. I loved science. James Clerk Maxwell was my hero. His work was beautiful : taking the equations describing the fields around such humdrum objects as a charged-up plastic comb and a coil of wire attached to an Ever Ready battery and, several pages of sophisticated maths later, producing the formula for light[3]. Carl Rogers expresses this well:

I love the precision and the elegance of science ... I can lose myself in the contemplation of this elegance...I have, deep within me, a feeling for science. (Rogers 1968 quoted in Kirschenbaum & Henderson 1990 p.265).

I began to teach. Badly. After years of stress I began to count myself successful, then had the courage to leave. Reading "Dibs" by Virginia Axline (1964) and finding a Chinese speaking boy crying at the back of the class because he couldn't understand a word of what was said, turned me towards psychology. The reality of psychology, however, was not psychotherapy; I learned to give tests. After a psychology degree and an educational psychology M.Sc. I was still a scientist.

My first interest was in the behavioural approach which, at that time in the 70s, appeared to have potential to revolutionise the teaching of children with severe and profound learning difficulties. Although a technique of great power and precision, with concrete, achievable steps to clearly defined targets, I recall never quite coming to terms with the early stages of choosing and defining the targets. I gradually introduced into my in-service training with teachers a zeroth stage of "getting a rough idea". I recall this not as an example of good practice (it most probably was not) but as my earliest record of what was to become a major theme of my later research: the fuzziness and disorder of the real world and my attempts to find a way to explore it.

However, Eric Harvey, ex-senior social worker in the Sunderland psychology service where I began, was the best thing that happened to me as a new psychologist. My training had been pathetically inadequate in the area of working with families, and in Eric I felt as though I'd discovered the answer : a particularly effective, down to earth

#[p95] approach. This centred on attention seeking as a key explanation and used everyday stories to give insight (Harvey 1983; see also Beaver 1996).

Those of us who believed in the "Eric Harvey method" (and at times it did seem to take on the characteristics of a religion - with devotees, a sense of belonging, shared knowledge and miracle cures) each had an "Eric day" for joint working which we jealously guarded. It was not till he died and I tried to carry on this work myself that I realised how much I owed him and how much I missed him. One of the initial driving forces behind this research was a kind of tribute to Eric - a study of attention seeking (the focus moved, however, during the study).

I gradually became curious about this work, which I had simply absorbed in an apprentice-like way. Having had mid-life crises, fallen into a rut and even read a Reader's Digest article on "spicing up your working life" I eventually decided, in Summer 1993, to try some research in the area of this curiosity. Here was a part of my life I was still very committed to. This was not some post graduate project dreamed up to get a qualification. This was Eric's memorial. But I wanted a different kind of research to the quantitative inquiry I was trained in - I felt strongly "been there, done that". I can also recall, leading up to this period, a long-standing, but gradual, movement away from my love affair with science (partly as a result of ecological concerns. Ravetz (1996) captures this period accurately). This shift of research perspective was, however, neither quick nor easy. My diary records in embarrassingly purple prose, my feelings as I realised later I had "left the safe shores of positivism [to be] buffeted about by fickle winds".

On a journey "to get away from it all", two years into the project, having finished a report to transfer from M.Phil to Ph.D, I settled down on the train to relax, to read New Scientist and forget about academic life. To my horror, the pages began to come alive .

I had been struggling for some time with Kuhn, feminist critiques of science, Polanyi's personal knowledge and the like. Arguments about ancient scientific battles were interesting, but somehow, finally unmoving and unconvincing as examples of world changing events . Now, with our complacent hindsight, we just "know" one side was

#[p96] "wrong": the sun does not go round the earth. The heat has left the debate. Suddenly, however, in one (quite routine) issue of New Scientist, the whole science agenda appeared as a living, breathing subject - personalities, politics and paradigm wars. I could no longer read simply as a scientist. I had become a social scientist. But was what I was attempting really research?

My struggles with the concept of research.

From the outset my aim was to investigate my existing practice. I did not seek permission, for instance, to set up an experimental comparison of the Eric Harvey approach with some other method. I also did not seek permission to take any separate research time; the research had to fit into my normal week's work with clients. The research was my normal week's work.

My starting point was not a desire to change my approach (it seemed to "work" and there was no guarantee that change would be for the better) but simply to understand it. I was curious. At the same time, to support the painful process of self examination (Converey, 1993) thrown up by the study, I decided that part of my reflection would involve celebration of, not simply criticism of, practice.

These conditions placed limitations on what I could and could not attempt; in the end, I believe, to great advantage. My feeling was that the research had to be practice driven, with the needs of the clients as priority; thus casework and the data arising from it had to be as "untidy" as the client's problems dictated.

Apart from my prime concern to be sensitive to professional and client constraints, I also had to be aware of my own needs as a developing researcher. Stenhouse (1975) describes similar problems for the teacher-researcher. Any "design" would need to accommodate my changing knowledge and skills, as Frost (1995) describes "the practice comes first and the research has to catch up as best it can" (p.308). As well as reflecting on my practice I reflected on my method (a confusing process which took two years to

#[p97] disentangle). As Frost recounts, I was "reflecting honestly and systematically on my own action research" (ibid p.320)

I kept a research diary, initially simply because I was used to keeping a counselling diary and I felt that the research would generate a deal of emotion. It was only later that I realised that the diary was my research tool, not just a companion. It became a systematic way of managing the confused space I had entered. Again, only much later did I realise that keeping a diary also mirrored my daily case work: keeping file notes on all aspects of an intervention as I tried to make sense of the, sometimes conflicting, evidence from many sources - "professionals are usually confronted with complex, ambiguous, or incomplete data" (Parlett 1991 p.219).
 
  

Although convinced that a qualitative approach was most appropriate for my project, at the outset, with regard to research methods, I was a novice, "learning and doing" at the same time. I was "working without rules in order to find out the rules of what you've done" (Appignanesi & Garrett 1995 p.50). I considered, but ultimately rejected, a number of research methods (as I then understood them) yet, during this period, I had to carry out my normal work and attempt some kind of research. The world would not go away.

To explain the methods actually employed, I will first briefly consider some aspects of action research, a label which I subsequently found inappropriate.

Carr (1995), in asking "Whatever happened to action research?" argues that positivism has denied "reflectively acquired self-knowledge as a valid epistemological category" (p.104) and seeks, amongst other aspects, a method that does not "pay lip service to the importance of the concept of self-reflection" (ibid p.106). These comments are particularly relevant to the current study where my reflection has become the central feature.

Many of the issues concerning the methods of this project are explored in McNiff (1988). In particular, she describes her need to be able to address many different problems at one

#[p98] time, without losing sight of the main research aim. This approach is developed in her spirals of "generative action research".

Atkinson (1994), however, commenting on McNiff's work, highlights the pressure of dealing with complex, real life situations where, instead of the "observe, plan, act, reflect cycle.... I could be doing all four of these things [at once]" (p.397). She goes on to explain that:

The models of the spirals of action research look neat and orderly but the actual experience in the field is often messy and fraught... [and]... New plans must be made in the light of scant evidence ...(p.399)

Atkinson's and Schön's (below) points about "mess" and uncertainty are well highlighted in the reflective diaries accompanying the current project. Part of my training in professional report writing, however, was to be clear about uncertainty. My research contained very much more uncertainty than my casework, but I felt able, with support, to handle the ensuing insecurity. In the end, I felt that it was more honest to abandon attempts to hide my methodological struggles under the label of action research and simply to aim to write as openly and clearly as possible about the very perplexing path of the inquiry.

What led me to the swampy lowlands of research

In my early reading Schön (1983), was a powerful influence. He spoke my language:

... there is a high, hard ground where practitioners can make effective use of research-based theory and technique, and there is a swampy lowland where situations are confusing "messes" incapable of technical solution ... in the swamp are the problems of greatest human concern. (p.42)

He emphasises the key issue of the starting point of research

In real-world practice, problems do not present themselves to the practitioner as givens. They must be constructed from the materials of problematic situations which are puzzling, troubling and uncertain. In order to convert a problematic situation to a problem, a practitioner must do a certain kind of work. (ibid p.40)

Both my practice and my research were part of that "swamp". Schön describes how practitioners deal with the swamp using the process he labels reflection-in-action. I was an experienced professional and could recognise Schön's analysis in my daily professional

 #[p99] work. However, I was a novice researcher. I had no bank of exemplars to call upon for what appears to be an essential, beginning element of the specialised, expert routine of reflection-in-action : I could not "see-as and do-as" (ibid p.140). I could not identify in the swamp a situation which would lend itself to a familiar research routine. I needed a different framework to investigate the process of learning how to investigate that "certain kind of work" I was carrying out in the (research) swamp, that "messy and error-strewn reality" (Minkin 1997 p.16).

As I worked, and reflected about my work and how to study the interwoven processes involved, and discussed with colleagues and critical friends, and dipped into reading, welcoming serendipity, grasping at ideas, the feeling that "something" was useful in all this effort gradually took shape. My conviction grew that this jumble had a form. I then felt able to begin to communicate about it. Sparks of agreement in conversation led me to believe that others could also recognise this process in their own research - possibly in that nebulous, pre setting-up stage not usually written about. As Mandelbrot recounts in his early work on fractals:

I started looking in the trash cans of science ... because I suspected that what I was observing was ... perhaps very widespread. I attended lectures and looked in unfashionable periodicals ... once in a while finding some interesting things. In a way it was a naturalist's approach, not a theoretician's approach. But my gamble paid off. (cited in Gleick 1987 p.110)

This period perhaps represents what would normally be seen as a kind of initial exploratory process or reconnaissance but which in fact covers the bulk of my project:

... in the early stages ... routine craft operations are less significant than imagination and judgement; and so this phase of the work will be strongly influenced by the personal style of the scientist. (Ravetz 1971 p.138)

And my style appears to have arisen from a mixture of present time confusions, partly with qualitative methods in research, and pre-existing techniques for dealing with uncertainty in other areas. As with Eliot, I began to embrace the creative potential of confusion, of not knowing, of "ignorance" : that state where  xxx you are unsure of  everything  xxx  (Eliot 1944 p.25). In the next section I recount my explorations in this stage in some detail.

Finding a method suitable for the swampy lowlands

#[p100] (A) The research question.

To begin at the beginning, I did not know how to carry out this research. I was new to study of this kind and, perhaps because of my lengthy quantitative training, endlessly yearning for some tried and trusted manual. Methods courses and books did not seem to help and all the while I was in the thick of practice and thinking about practice. It is only now, revisiting texts with the benefit of my current understanding, that I can fully appreciate my position, close to that set out by Bannister (1981):

One of the most notable omissions from papers and books on research methodology is any indication of how the researcher is supposed to think... The central issue of how questions are formulated, how we choose, fantasize about, create, uncover and personally explore ... is almost totally neglected.... the ratio of thinking time to experimental time is often ludicrously short ...(p.192 emphasis as original)

Citing Kelly he goes on to describe the "circumspection phase" of a creativity cycle where:

... we are bound by no rules and where our minds may and should wander happily ... it is the time when we fantasize, erect preposterous questions, and propose nonsensical answers ...[using] humour, poetry, daydreaming and the wildest kind of speculative argument ...[until we] begin to see the kind of question we want to ask. (ibid p.192-3)

Beyond this exhortation, however, there is little guidance on how to proceed.

I continued to read my way into the research - methods, attention seeking, Adler, family therapy, reflective practice, emotional and behavioural difficulties, epistemology, the sociology of science, fiction, the Times Higher Educational Supplement.... I was swimming in ideas. Concerning the specific issue of finding research questions, the methodology texts I consulted gave what I can now see were vital clues but which, at the time, passed me by. I will give only a brief sample.

Lincoln & Guba (1985), for instance, in discussing "emergent design" assert "Initial research problem statements may be found to be inadequate or inappropriate." (p.228). Interaction in the field they argue may then lead to a shift of focus and questions. The authors do not, however, seem adequately to cover my predicament: initially I did not

 #[p101] have a research question, just a curiosity, but the process of reflecting and collecting data and immersing myself in my work and the research, continued.

The history of any inquiry begins with something that is less than a problem ... It may be considered as an awareness that there is a question to be asked, without anyone being able to frame the question successfully (Ravetz 1971 p.135)

Altrichter et al (1993), another early resource I referred to, note that "The ease and speed with which a meaningful question is likely to be found is frequently miscalculated" (p.37). They go on to suggest varying time scales "in some cases ... over a term" (p.38). In my case the period was over two years. The author's suggestions (brainstorming, incomplete sentences, reading diaries, activating tacit knowledge) do not begin to match up to the struggle I encountered: "for really deep problems, the bringing of the problem itself into existence can be a long, arduous, and hazardous operation." (Ravetz 1971 p.136).

In a guide to the application of grounded theory which I looked at, Strauss and Corbin (1990) describe how the original research question

... gets the researcher started and helps him or her to stay focused ...Whenever he or she begins to flounder ... the original question can always be returned to. Then, through analysis of the data ... the process of refining and specifying the question will begin.( p.39-40)

Unfortunately this guiding light of an original question was not available to me. The authors point out what to me now seems a great understatement : "Choosing a research problem through the professional or personal experience route may seem ... hazardous" (ibid p.35)

Heuristic research (Moustakas 1990) - a typical example being his subjective investigation of his own loneliness - is an approach I discovered quite late on in the project. It most closely captures the " feel" of the present study: "heuristic research involves self-search, self dialogue, and self-discovery: the research question and the methodology flow out of inner awareness" (p.11). Moustakas explains how:

I begin the heuristic journey with something that has called to me from within my life experience, something to which I have association and fleeting awareness but whose nature is largely unknown. (ibid p.13)

He goes on to the problem of tying down a question, citing Feild (1976), who after some three years of searching returns to his teacher:

#[p102] ... it had never occurred to me that the majority of so-called questions I had asked before were merely spontaneous pleadings... Now after years of training, I could, as it were, feel the question within me, but for the life of me I could not get it into the right words (ibid p.18)

Moustakas insists, however "Discovering a significant problem or question ... is the essential opening of the heuristic process" (ibid p.40 ) He describes how:

Once the question is discovered and its terms defined and clarified, the researcher lives the question in waking, sleeping, and even dream states. Everything in his or her life becomes crystallised around the question. (ibid p.28)

He later explains how to employ the heuristic process to continue the inquiry. However, in my case the process of most interest did not apply to the period after formulating the question, but to that period before.

After two years of struggle my questions in the end may seem in some senses trivial, but they were immensely challenging : What do I actually do? (as opposed to some positivist inquiry like how effective is my work compared to such and such a technique) and How do I research what concerns me? (when I'm in the middle of researching and doing).The former led to greater clarity in understanding of, and also changes to, practice. The latter became a fruitful site for continued investigation, the subject of the current paper. My contention is that I could not have arrived at either of these questions without that effort. It was not, however, till a further two years or so had passed (September 1997) that I finally accepted the processes I had been working through, what I called my "method to find the question".

(B) My "method to find the question"

The finding of the questions was itself more important than the questions themselves. To a large extent, the processes of finding also became an answer to the second of my questions "How do I research?". I eventually came to accept that my struggle in the swamp was the method, not a path to find a better method. Given my position, I could, perhaps, in all honesty have done little else - casework and my reflections on it would not recede while I calmly chose an approach. I was "struggling to find a methodolgy ...

#[p103] which I could 'own' - which did not fragment the complex whole of my own lived experience and my values" (Salmon 1992 p.77).

However, it was only very gradually that I developed the confidence to acknowledge that what I was wrestling with, in methodological terms, was important to me:

Our final results appear almost self-evident ... but the years of searching in the dark for a truth that one feels but cannot express; the intense desire, and the alternations of confidence and misgiving, until one breaks through to clarity and understanding ... (Einstein 1933 p.21) [4]

McGrath et al (1981) describe research as a "knowledge accrual process" (p.211). They argue:

Many forms of intellectual endeavor can contribute to the knowledge accrual process. Among them are such activities as : thinking; talking to colleagues; reading past research literature; sometimes, reading past nonresearch literature, including novels and poetry; becoming knowledgeable in a related area (from which vantage point ideas, analogies, discrepancies, may be noted); reanalysing the data. (p.215 emphasis in original)

Certainly, interrogating my diaries, I can identify all of these activities and more. I harnessed, for example, serendipity, incubation and writing. Serendipity (Fine & Deegan 1996), or broadly, chance findings of articles and people ready to discuss, was not a wholly passive process. I also actively sought opportunities in reading round and in a wide range of encounters. Incubation (Hadamard 1945), leaving problems and reading to gel, was a regular feature. Most ideas occurred one or two hours before normal waking time or walking in the park, almost never when at work or when "studying". Writing itself, which was more than simply transcribing thoughts, was a vital component: "writing involved not the recording of a creative outcome but participation in a further creative process" (Minkin 1997 p.178). I wrote and re-wrote progress reports, papers and letters.

Analysis has so far elicited the following as a description of the methods I used (with apologies to Whitehead 1989):

i. I experienced a curiosity about an aspect of my work.

ii. I decided to investigate that aspect.

iii. I began that investigation without a clear concept of method or research questions. I learnt by doing.

iv. As practice is eclectic, so I drew upon many approaches in research. Some of these are outlined above in discussing the "knowledge accrual process" and other activities.

#[p104] v. Where conflict arose, the ethics of professional practice established priorities for research practice.

vi. I kept a reflective diary of my work and my research. I researched both.

vii. During the inquiry I uncovered areas of practice which I was not comfortable with. As a professional, I acted to change these, to my own professional satisfaction.

viii. Certain areas of practice I was curious about. I did not set out to change, simply to understand, to achieve a kind of resolution.

ix. I needed continual support to pursue this project, from partner, friends, colleagues and counsellor. Publication (Mellor 1997 a and b and 1998 a) gave encouragement, acting partly as a kind of "cheering on" (George et al 1990 p.14). Reflection on practice involved not just criticism but celebration. This provided another source of support. The research thus also served to reinforce certain facets of practice rather than alter them.

x. This was a far from solitary activity. I engaged in continuous dialogue -with friends, colleagues, partner, complete strangers, critical friends, critical correspondent, research interest groups, a focus group and conferences.

xi. My diary records my feelings about my prior experience of learning and how I came to value the PhD process:

I remembered a history of courses and being examined and being concerned about failure right through the educational system which was biased towards a fear of getting it wrong ... it doesn't have to be like that. I felt very emotional ... it brought up a sense of lost opportunities and totally unnecessary miseries.

A crucial element in maintaining the research was the empowering form of supervision I experienced. Colin Biott expresses this as "A key concern of mine is to avoid imposing my own limitations and placing boundaries around projects" (Biott 1996 p.182)

xii. Understanding of this process (of researching practice while researching the research) emerged only slowly, during its course.

This structure was, however, far from clear for a long period and I had great anxieties about its validity as a "method". While there are qualitative researchers who emphasise, for example, the need at the outset for "a sound grasp of the research method one has chosen" (Ely et al 1991 p.30) this position is not universal:

The root of the difficulty in any discussion of method is that it involves an attempt to render explicit that which is largely tacit. For the achievement of significant new scientific knowledge ... [involves] work that is both bold and subtle. (Ravetz 1971 p.147)

Some, such as Feyerabend (1975) reject the need for a conventional "method" as such "The only principle that does not inhibit progress is: anything goes" (p.23 emphasis in original). Medawar (1968 p.78) claims, "If the purpose of scientific methodology is to

 #[p105] prescribe or expound a system of enquiry or even a code of practice ...scientists seem to be able to get on well without it". Atkinson et al (1991) sum up the position well:

... there is simply no compelling evidence to support the idea that the quality of an insight is related to the process by which the insight was generated. Good ideas should be evaluated in terms of their elegance, effectiveness and coherence, not in terms of the nature of the process by which they are generated. (p.162)

They go on to assert:

Researchers should be given the freedom to immerse themselves in unique experience, follow their instincts and hunches, allow insights to arise, and then illustrate these insights vividly enough so that their colleagues and community members can understand them, try them out, and evaluate them for themselves. (ibid p.163)

Hence "Research could be thought of primarily as a process that facilitates conditions ripe for a flash of insight" (ibid p.163). However, they feel, there is a duty laid on researchers:

There is nothing that exempts researchers from the social obligation to be reasonable in their claims, present the best possible evidence to support their insights, be responsive to challenges, and be open and honest with others. (p.162)

Thus in describing my approach to the swampy lowlands I wish to write in the final thesis as openly as possible about the twists and turns of research[5]. I want the reader to know what I actually did. My concern with frankness outweighs my concerns with engendering a superficial "validity" :

... all researchers make mistakes, these are often the most valuable learning opportunities ... To present research as a smooth unblemished process of conception, exploration analysis and discussion is not only unconvincing it is fraudulent and dishonest (Wilson 1997 p.vi)

Wilson goes on to argue a position which strikes a chord with me:

Research is a process of "principled compromise", informed by professional knowledge of the techniques and limitations of research methods, driven by personal interest and energy, and presented with whatever honesty and objectivity that can be mustered (ibid p.vi)

These issues of writing openly about process, however, raise the problem of the credibility of imperfect, "unhygienic" reports.

(C) Dealing with the notion of unhygienic research.

#[p106] My story will eventually be told, warts and all, in what I sincerely trust, is an account which, by its very imperfections, will help to establish credibility[6]. I do not want to write "hygienic research" (Stanley & Wise 1993 p.153). As Medawar (1963) suggests "the scientific paper is a fraud" (p.233). I want to capture in research what Byng-Hall describes in family therapy "The faltering reality of everyday therapy with all its hiccups and mistakes" ( Byng-Hall 1988 p.175). As Stanley & Wise (1993) describe it "'confusions' and 'mistakes' are... at the heart of the research process" (p.150 emphasis in original).

It may be that in my report, rigour may need to be (partly) sacrificed:

... the focus on practitioner knowledge brings psychology out into a postmodern world characterised by complexity, uncertainty and situational particularity; a world where knowledge (the knowledge in and of practice) is itself socially constructed, fragmentary, foundationless and validated by its usefulness rather than its scientific rigour. (Usher & Edwards 1994 p.54)

In constructing the present paper I have become very conscious of my practitioner identity (an issue to be taken up elsewhere). I am drawn to the position that one aspect of "validity" may be how far others read and adopt ideas: "legitimization has taken place primarily as practitioners have taken the insights and 'tested' them out on their own" (Atkinson et al 1991 p.163). In which case then, arguably, a story should at least be interesting, relevant and readable. A dry, academic tale which simply gathered dust, would then be less valid (certainly for practitioners) no matter how rigorous. A thesis unread is a thesis unused:

If students are going to earn degrees, they've got to come up with dissertation topics. And since dissertations can be written about everything under the sun, the number of topics is infinite. Sheets of paper covered with words pile up in archives sadder than cemeteries, because no one ever visits them, not even on All Souls Day. (Kundera 1984 p.103)

Afterthoughts: towards a metaphor for research

Many metaphors for the research enterprise exist. A current example is research as "bricolage" (Denzin & Lincoln 1994 p.2), i.e. adapting whatever comes to hand. Certainly, I have needed to be very catholic in my study. As my practice is eclectic, so has my research been.

#[p107] There are of course much more systematic methods for research. They did not, however, seem to offer much to the situation which I found myself in for the first two years or so of this study. Whyte (1955) in the methodological appendix to his, immensely appealing and convincing account of "Street Corner Society", captures what I feel may be the essence of the process I encountered:

Often we have the experience of being immersed in a mass of confusing data. We study the data carefully, bringing all our powers of logical analysis to bear ... but still the data do not fall in any coherent pattern. Then we go on living with the data ... until perhaps some chance occurrence casts a totally different light ... I am convinced that the actual evolution of research ideas does not take place in accord with the formal statements we read ... Since so much of this of analysis proceeds on the unconscious level, I am sure we can never present a full account of it. (p.279-80)

Staw (1981) also describes research as a far from smooth process: "research is like other complex and messy problems, comprising multiple and conflicting criteria and frequently changing states of nature" (p.226). He suggests that one approach to the "complex and messy" business of research is simply to begin. In my case, this was my only option.

When the parameters of a problem cannot be anticipated and when states of nature change, it is often preferable to charge into a problem rather than try to outflank it. (Staw 1981 p.227)

He likens this to "insulating an attic...where you should [simply] buy a lot and start unrolling since calculations will always be in error" (ibid p.227). Later, he compares research to the first, crude stages of the architectural planning process, so that "The investigator may have a rough vision or purpose ... but is not wedded to a particular methodology" (ibid p.228).

The current project displays facets of all these descriptions and, for instance, Rebok's (1989) description of the process of solving "everyday problems" by the inexperienced planner. This is "carried out on a pragmatic, plan-as-you-go basis which we have termed planning-in-action" (p.104). In the end the research may acquire its own analogy. I have toyed with the metaphors of a journey, a garden, "buying the thingamygig" and "hunting the snark" but that which must closely embodies the development of this undertaking, with its dead ends, confusions, shifts in focus and occasional fruits of publication, is the

 #[p108] unusual but nonetheless extremely successful growth of the banyan tree, as captured so vibrantly in Vikram Seth's "A Suitable Boy":

He describes the banyan tree with its strange sprouting  growth and all its life forms  (Seth 1993 p.524)

Key points emerging from the chapter (this section was not included in the original article).

Diary data as illustrated in chapter 4/5 did not feed directly into this account of the evolving method. There were, for instance, many diversions (outlined in the next chapter) and many attempts at refining the paper, with support, but also critique, from colleagues.

I will not repeat the outline of the twelve points about the method listed above as they act as a partial summary within the article; chapter 11 refines and extends them. In addition to underlining these points, however, honesty (about off-shoots and other diversions); some concept such as "validity through use"; ethics; and communication need to be separately emphasised. They are dealt with more fully later (see chapters 11 and 12).

The research method as understood at this point was not further polished by reviewing the existing data, but by applying it to other situations, as later chapters will demonstrate.

At the time of writing I had not settled on a label other than "the method to find the method". It was quite some time before I had the understanding, and the confidence, to adopt the term "messy method", which has at first glance such negative, "un-academic" associations.

Notes

[1] This paper is based on "Notes from a method" presented at the Collaborative Action Research Network International Conference Interprofessional Learning through Action

#[p109] ResearchOctober 18-20, 1996 Morpeth, Northumberland. Thanks for comments on earlier drafts are particularly due to Colin Biott and Sandy Wolfson my PhD supervisors at the University of Northumbria, and the journal's referees.

[2] The focus group was part of the project "Management for Organisational and Human Development" funded by the European Union Human Capital and Mobility Fund.

[3] Physicists will forgive this rather poetic rendering. I am trying to capture here my feelings around, not the physics behind, the derivation of the electromagnetic wave equation.

[4] We can perhaps all identify with the emotion while making no claim to match the intellect.

[5] My twists and turns of focus covered, amongst others, the topics of attention seeking, reflection, reflection-in-action (Schön, 1983) and "double fitting" as a form of analysis (Baldamus 1972, 1976) . One "dead end" of research (Kulka 1981 p.156) was trying to use the idea of circular epistemology (see Gurman et al 1986 p.567 for a discussion of the concept) as a convenient link between these disparate subjects. The final thesis will explain in more detail how this and other topics came to be abandoned. Their intricacies do not concern the present paper save as reminders of the unsteady path of inquiry.

[6] I hope later to explore how far the notion that honesty, in the sense of exposing confusions, side-tracks etc. may add to the credibility of a report, following Atkinson et al 1991. Walford (1991) has collected many "backstage" (p.3) descriptions of qualitative research (see also, for instance, Bell and Roberts 1984; Burgess 1984; Minkin 1997). The question is, does research suffer or benefit from bringing these front stage? Measor and Woods (1991) argue that such accounts are important in that they offer the reader "more material through which to interpret the study" (p.79).

#[p110] PART 3 

Refining the method.

#[p111] Chapter 7. Off-shoots.

Given the nature of this project, an exploration which evolved as my ideas on what and how to study evolved, it is perhaps no surprise that the course of inquiry was far from linear. I pursued many side issues, some of which stayed just that, side issues. Some fizzled out, collapsed under their own weight, strayed too far from the main path or otherwise came to be abandoned. One became the main path: "how to research". My problem then was, what to do with these "flowers" which never properly bloomed? I could have simply buried them, as irrelevant to the study, a kind of distraction; like other glitches, just noise in the system. My commitment to honesty, however, made me uneasy about this.

As confidence in the method developed I began to see these excursions as hallmarks of this kind of work: "Research is the process of going up blind alleys to see if they are blind" (Bates 1967 cited in Green 1982 p.217). Knorr-Cetina (1981) argues that theories of innovation must also include a theory of "failure and mistakes" (p. 6, emphasis in original). By a loose analogy, my description of methods could (should?) incorporate accounts of "failures". At the very least, the tale of the research would be lop-sided without them. But were they of any use?

I gradually conceived two ideas: (a) the abandoned themes might still act as triggers for other researchers and so, perhaps deserved at least a mention and (b), more importantly, they could add to the believability of the account. This latter aspect is explored in chapter 11. In addition, consideration of two of the side issues, chaos and "circular epistemology" (see appendix B) , led to some clearer thinking on when to abandon such lines of inquiry. Although fascinating in their own right, both of these topics seemed to depart too far from the path, without becoming the path:

...a warning sign of the imminent failure of a problem is when the difficulties begin to ‘diverge’; when the subsidiary problems called into being by new difficulties become larger and more fundamental ... [a]n important part of the craft skill of a scientist ... is to detect signs of incipient divergence ... and decide when to abandon a doomed venture (Ravetz 1971 p. 131).

#[p112] They began to collapse about me. I decided to cut my losses and spend no further time trying to rescue them. They seemed to be moving far outside my field of competence.

Initially I described such abandoned topics as "blind alleys" then began to look for more positive sounding labels as I started to value them. "Probes" had an immediate attraction, with its aura of scientific respectability. I finally settled on off-shoots, in keeping with the banyan tree metaphor of chapter 6.

For the further development of the project, the off-shoot concerning reflection is most relevant. This raises the issue of honesty which becomes very important for me. The other off-shoots I have collected together in appendix B and these need to be read in conjunction with this chapter.

1. Off-shoot : reflection.

As with reflection-in-action (see appendix B), I initially thought reflection could be the major focus of the study. Although it came to be part of my working practices, and, in a broad sense, "reflection" was the means by which my data - my research and practice diaries - were brought into being, in the end my project coalesced around a much less tidy theme: mess. The study of reflection, however, had some lessons to give to the rest of the research, especially on the topic of identity, and in particular, on my concern over honesty. I will recount my experiences of writing the article "On reflection" (Mellor 1998a reproduced in appendix C) to illustrate these concerns.

As I recall I had a number of reasons for publishing this article. One was simply to draw a line under a lengthy investigation which I felt was reasonably well done but which I had, by the time of its completion, passed by. I also wanted to build up my academic confidence. I refer in Mellor 1998b to the idea of "cheering on". I had quite happily completed some writing in the field of practice (Mellor 1997 a and b) but my main research interest was by now becoming well entrenched in an area, methodology, where the ground constantly shifted and I had grave doubts about the viability of the study in practical terms, let alone its academic respectability. I needed a boost. I needed "cheering

#[p113] on". I needed a publication. I did not expect an easy ride from colleagues (I submitted the article to the refereed journal, Educational Psychology in Practice) but the opposition, when it came, was from a most unexpected quarter. I will explain.

The article has as its centrepiece one fragment of casework. I reflected on this fragment, using a rather cumbersome protocol which, nevertheless, raised, for me, challenging issues, for instance over ethics. I felt, and still feel, that reflection should be a valued and recognised part of good practice (not necessarily following the procedure I used), and took some steps to raise this with the membership and qualification board of the BPS, hoping this could perhaps be included as one element in the professional doctorates being developed currently[1].  Apart from this long term consideration, however, my main worry, embedded in the content of the article, centred on the question of knowledge, an area where I felt vulnerable.

My feeling is that psychologists generally regard themselves as scientists; educational psychologists I believe, on the whole, do not differ. Although a range of positions is apparent in recent arguments in "The Psychologist", the BPS bulletin, (see volume 11 issue10 on the qualitative v. quantitative debate), Thomas, writing recently in the book "The Profession and Practice of Educational Psychology - future directions" , can state quite boldly "[e]ducational psychologists are steeped in the view of themselves as applied scientists" (Thomas 1992 p.52). Whatever the truth of the matter, my belief is that that is the reality.

The protocol for reflection I adopted pointed to four "ways of knowing" (Carper 1978) : personal, ethical, empirics and aesthetics. I have concerns over these as the most appropriate breakdown(see comments in appendix C) and hope other colleagues will take the matter forward, perhaps by examining the day-to-day work of psychologists, but my main worry was the inclusion of forms of knowledge other than scientific. I reasoned that psychologists might regard these as unacceptable diversions from the path of "true knowledge", with phrases ringing in my ear such as : "it is potentially misleading ... to invest these [qualitative] methods with the authority of objective science" (Morgan 1998 p.488). Maybe my worries were unfounded. Maybe educational psychologists can readily

#[p114] accommodate a broad range of perspectives, I have no way of knowing; what was surprising, however, was the reaction to one aspect of the article I thought quite reasonable: honest recounting of errors. The issue of honesty later became a major theme for me.

2. Errors and honesty.

The original article was sent to two referees, and then to a meeting of the full editorial board of the journal. I was sent all their comments, some five pages worth. Many of the comments were helpful - on length; use of bullet points; certain issues to clarify; an inaccurate reference; confusion over the overall nature of the project this article was drawn from; grammar; the place of reflection in normal supervision; style of writing and so on. I trust the final version benefited greatly from these. My surprise was the repeated concern over what apparently could be seen as a lack of "professionalism" especially in admitting errors.

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[I have removed a number of comments here, now that the thesis is becoming more public. I have no wish to cause any distress to any colleagues. Their comments were not particularly controversial but I have no way of knowing how representative the comments were that I received, or whether the comments would have been made in quite the same way if they had been intended for publication. I have no way of knowing who said what or how accurate the record of their comments was.

As I point out in the original thesis, I stress that I am not criticising the editors. I know them personally or by reputation, to be of high standing, committed to furthering psychology, and in the end, their decision to publish, despite concerns over the possible negative impact on the profession, was courageous. The point at issue is my reactions, not their’s].

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#[p115] I felt vulnerable. I also felt even more committed. I had no wish to harm clients or the profession but honesty was very important to me. Some of the comments I thought missed the point. Yes, I had omitted some thinking and reading, but that was the nub of the article: it was not meant to be an example of good practice but an example of, I trust, good reflection. In the re-write I repeated this at several places.

I discussed the new version with colleagues again. One commented that if we found it difficult to be honest when reflecting, then that was a problem for a whole service. In the first version of the paper I had taken a rather critical stance towards senior staff for not promoting reflection, in the light of this comment I re-wrote this part and aimed for a tone which would not risk alienating those (the senior practitioners) who could have influence. I wanted everyone "on board". More importantly I submitted my revised version to our service manager. In this revised version I decided not to duck the issue of professional errors but to highlight it with Eraut’s opening quote: "Too many theories of professional expertise tend to treat experts as infallible, in spite of much evidence to the contrary..." (Eraut 1994 p.155). I carried on, towards the end of the article, with his observation: "As [professionals] are confronted with ... loaded in-trays ... plans get ‘cobbled together’ ... decisions are made ‘on the hoof’ " (Eraut 1994 p.149) and an underlining of my aim "to demonstrate one model of reflecting openly on practice, warts and all" (Mellor 1998a p.173). My final, emotional but, I hoped, uplifting, plea was for honesty:

We can all go through the motions of reflection: the point is, to make it work. And that requires a deep level of trust if our genuine problems are to be opened up to others (ibid p.174)

I worried about the issue of "professionalism", at least in undermining a "storybook" image of EPs by my writing, and have still not resolved how far I can be open with clients about "errors" . Simply being open with ourselves may be problematic enough, and Eraut underscores the guilt-ridden burn-out which may arise when we fail to measure up to our ideal types. Eraut also emphasises, however, a counter position in dealing with errors, for

#[p116] instance, how readily medical students acquire a vocabulary "which virtually annihilates the concept of ‘making a mistake’" (Eraut 1994 p.227). While calling for honest self-examination, he asks whether "professionals, their employers and the public [can] find a proper balance between the guilt-ridden and the callous" (ibid p.227)[2].  Such dilemmas are, for me, still current.

A revised version of the paper was eventually sent off. The editor’s response to the re-submitted article, following updates from the two original referees (one positive, one still negative), rehearsed some of the earlier concerns:

On balance, I think we should publish your article, although I too have some reservations about the image it portrays of practice at a time when there is hard questioning of the need for EPs ... and there are a number of non-EP readers [of the journal] who are influential. The ‘on balance’ bit is that some may find it provocative, some infuriating, some refreshingly honest, some maybe too close to home ... I think you are making an important point about reflection as ‘theory in use’ versus ‘espoused theory’ and the culture of the profession that either facilitates or inhibits a reflective approach. (letter from editor 11.11.97)

At the time of writing (November 1998) I have abandoned reflection itself as a topic for continued research, and relegated it to the status of an off-shoot: an (important) diversion from the main path, but not the main path. The subject of honesty which it threw up, fed into a later line of inquiry, around identity. Given the nature of that inquiry into identity, employing quite consciously the "messy method" I had by then established, I have labelled it a "mini-project" rather than an off-shoot (see chapters 9 and 10).

The complete article "On reflection" is included later (see appendix C) not so much to illustrate my thoughts on reflection, as to provide a background for my concern for honesty. Although the protocol for reflection illustrated in the paper has potential for unlocking the assumptions and theories of practice "[t]he practice of any teacher is the result of some theory or other, whether acknowledged or not" (Griffiths and Tann 1992 p.77), and my practice diary records some of these, there is, I feel, still a long way to go in this regard. The remainder of the thesis turns, however, to matters of research rather than matters of practice.

#[p117] 3. Key points emerging from the chapter.

The kind of research I undertook involved many side issues. I argue later that a record of these adds to the believability of the account as a whole. In pursuing these I became aware of the need, underlined by Ravetz (1971), to judge when to abandon such ventures.

Reflection raised questions about the nature of our professional knowledge base. These have not been resolved. Writing about reflection raised problems of honesty in reporting casework difficulties in a public forum. Honesty is later seen as a vital element in inquiry. It is explored further when considering identity in chapters 10 and 12.

Notes.

[1] Communication from the membership and qualification board of the BPS in October 1998 indicated that this would be taken up as a result of a copy of the article I had sent earlier. A paper in the November issue of "Link", the Continuing Professional Development group’s newsletter from the BPS (Elliott 1998), now proposes reflection as one of the accepted elements of CPD for doctoral training.

[2] My comfort is taken from a dimly remembered comment from a celebrated mathematician. He claimed he made as many mistakes as his students, the crucial difference was, he was able to spot them in time. Perhaps this is the hallmark of the professional: not an error-free paragon, but someone with the ability to work on limited information, under pressure, and to get it right the vast majority of the time; coupled with the ability to detect and correct errors quickly and, where necessary, seek further guidance; and all this embedded in an over-riding commitment to the well-being of the client. The (dedicated) G.P.’s five minute consultation might illustrate this model. This is, however, perhaps, the subject of another study.

#[p118] Chapter 8. A mini-project: making sense.

For reasons explained earlier (see chapter 4) I felt unhappy with the idea of adopting an "off the shelf" method of inquiry and thus began to research while learning how to research.

The research method (what I have called "messy method") which developed is reflexive, it can look at itself. I can use the method to look at the whole process or any part of it. During the final write up phase of the thesis (Autumn 1998) I become intrigued by, what for want of a better phrase, I will call "making sense", what in a more traditional project might be termed "analysis". This chapter then is a report of an off-shoot from the main study. It is an attempt to come to terms with the concept of making sense, whilst making sense. As I consciously employ the "messy method" here I have distinguished this from earlier off-shoots and labelled it a mini-project. This mini-project on analysis/ making sense then forms part of my understanding of the research method as a whole, and feeds back into the reflexive process of researching research, together with a later project on identity. Thus the "messy method" is being used to explore itself. The final shape of this method will be explained in chapter 11.

This chapter considers the evolution of research questions; a recursive type of "analysis" similar to "double fitting"; some issues around the nature of my "data"; the two apparently common place activities of reading and writing; and an overall view of the interactive process "making sense". I end with some questions raised by this work.

1. A starting point.

The "data" which I need to "analyse" (the reason for the quotation marks will become apparent later; to save repetition they are omitted below) are the notes contained in several hundred pages of reflective diaries collected throughout the project. My first attempt at exploring these led to unearthing the elements of the method I had used. The initial analysis, which mainly consisted of reading the diaries to extract some notion of the procedures employed, while reading other material and constantly discussing the matter

#[p119] with colleagues, eventually led to the article "Notes from a method" (chapter 6). This article was a place to gather my thoughts on the journey.

With more material to analyse and a wish to comprehend the process of analysis in greater depth I began to re-examine the diaries, but with an extra perspective: what exactly was I doing? Again I did not feel comfortable with adopting a ready made solution ( "No study conforms exactly to a standard methodology" Miles and Huberman 1994 p.4) such as the techniques outlined in various versions of grounded theory to analyse my analysis. Quite apart from acknowledging disagreements over what exactly those techniques comprised (as explored in for instance Melia 1996) the research settings of grounded theory advocates appeared in many ways quite different to mine. They seemed often to involve strangers exploring other people’s territories or practitioners with the relatively "objective" facts of their practice to examine. In my case, although I began with practice, I quickly became bound up with a moving target: my own thoughts about methods of inquiry. Which "theory" of "research" would I be "grounding" as my ideas on "method" shifted and developed over several years?

Parts of some methods of analysis I came across seemed attractive but unclear, for example in heuristic research "the researcher enters into the material in timeless immersion until it is understood" (Moustakas 1990 p.51) - although he does describe a number of other, less vague, steps. In the end I decided to "work without rules" again, to find out my own "rules" of analysis. This ran the risk of re-inventing the wheel (although my hunch was I might in fact end up with a different type of wheel) or simply doing a bad job (although I hoped to be very diligent in my considerations). In any case, the important part of the process for me was not the wheel which appeared at the end (conventional or otherwise) but the inventing which went in at the start.

One view of research I believe I carried at the start of the project embodied a linear process:

Collect data ------> Analyse data ------> Write up.

#[p120] My appreciation of the reality of the procedure gradually came to incorporate a much more complex set of relationships influenced by Baldamus’ (1972/1976) concept of "double fitting"; Hampton’s (1993) account of "platforms of understanding"; Minkin’s (1997) description of the place of writing in research; McGrath et al’s (1981) "knowledge accrual process"; St. Pierre’s (1997) description of learning to "live in the middle of things ... making do with the messiness" (p.176) and a range of other sources. I will begin my exploration of analysis with my evolving ideas on the research question.

2. The research question.

Initially I saw the research question as little more than an itch, a vague desire to know more about my practice. Throughout the early years of the project I managed with just a vague, unfocused "questioning", a curiosity. I came recently to view this curiosity, this vague questioning stance, as a potential seed bed for a kind of clearer, but still largely unformed, "proto-question" as a result of the projects on identity and analysis. In the case of the mini-project on analysis, this proto-question took the form:

{?} {"ANALYSIS"} {?}

The first variation of this question which bubbled up was something fairly simple, to the

effect of:

{how should I} {analyse} {my data} (1.10.98)

My diary records my concerns about this:

Note the "should" and the implications that there is a correct method; and the implications that analysis and data are unproblematic concepts. I suppressed this question. (1.10.98)

Possibly my anxiety at starting a whole new area of thorny problems, while trying to write up the whole project, led to throw-back memories of insecurities in student days and a wish for the comfort of knowing "the correct approach" - hence the "should". There is also, however, apparently alongside this a deeper angst (Cornett 1995 p.123), a fear that

#[p121] there is no way out, no answer, let alone a right answer. I have come to recognise this as part of the normal starting-up terror, the leap into the unknown :

This bit is practically impossible to capture. I’ll have a stab at analysing my analysis as I’m trying to work out how to analyse. (26.10.98)

I can feel the old scariness coming on again- will there be an answer at the end of this? (1.10.98 4.00 p.m. in park)

The original question "how should I ..." felt too restricting, too "undergraduate". I left the proto-question to "cook" for a while further, suppressing my anxiety, and a little later it transformed into a rather more flexible:

{what is the appropriate way to conceptualise} {"analysis"} {in this kind of research}

That question led to the current discussion, where the concept of analysis itself is interrogated.

While considering identity and research (see chapter 9) I again had a proto-question:
 
  

{?} {identity} {?} {with respect to my research}

This resolved into:
 
  

{How does my understanding of the concept of} {identity} {illuminate my understanding of the research process} (5.4.98)

That question eventually led to the paper "Identity and Research" (Mellor 1998c) presented to the British Education Research Association (BERA) in Belfast and later submitted to the British Education Research Journal (BERJ). The journal’s referees offered useful but trenchant criticism of the article. Of relevance to this section, some of the criticism focused on how I had confused identity, desires, identifications and self-descriptions in the writing (see briefly in chapter 10). For the moment my interest is in what these comments told me about my own research procedures, and, in particular, the research question: had I been asking the wrong question?

#[p122] Although my diary does not unfortunately record this aspect, my memory of the beginning of the identity project (Autumn 1997) was that I was anxious "to get on with" the research. I was near completion of the thesis. The whole new area I had entered needed to be dealt with speedily. I recall that I took up the concept of identity and ran with it, not really stopping to think whether it was the "right" concept or not, simply anxious to explore the link between identity and research. The proto-question crystallised too soon. I did not feel I had the time to spend two or three years working out the question. Looking back now, with the benefit of hindsight, I can see that a possibly more productive question, making the very use of the concept of "identity" itself problematic, might have been of the form:

{How does my understanding of the concepts of} {"things to do with the personal", such as "identity"} {illuminate my understanding of the research process} (5.4.98)

Thus my current position on developing the research question is to leave it unformed as long as possible and, if beginning to formulate it, such as through firming up a proto-question, to be extremely careful to examine the concepts employed within.

Along with a developing question, however, I also had a evolving notion of making sense of the data using the concept of "double fitting", which I turn to next.

3. Double fitting.

Baldamus (1976) describes "double fitting" as:

the unarticulated trial-and-error technique that occurs when an investigator ‘simultaneously manipulates the thing he (sic) wants to explain as well as his explanatory framework’. (p. 40)

He explores the "unofficial techniques" (Baldamus 1972 p.282) employed by sociologists in their research, those "inarticulated techniques, devices, and practices which are customarily employed during the preparatory stages in the production of formal theories" (ibid p.295). In these he identifies a process of "double fitting", to explain the "continuous

#[p123] restructuring of conceptual frameworks" (ibid p.295) which takes place as the researchers work on the interplay between data and emerging theory:

imagine a carpenter alternately altering the shape of a door and the shape of the door-frame to obtain a better fit, or a locksmith adjusting successively both the keyhole and the key. (ibid p.295 emphasis in original)

During this process, if I read Baldamus correctly, the data help build a theory while at the same time the theory helps the researcher see the data in a new light. This of course could look suspiciously like "deliberate falsification... cooking the facts" (ibid p.295) - which of course it would be if the investigator began with a fixed mind and simply set out to prove his or her case. In practice, however,

At the beginning there is only a vague notion of some ... puzzling phenomenon ... it is gradually articulated by trying to ‘fit’ it into ... generally known ... concepts...[whose] combination may nevertheless produce new meanings that might eventually illuminate the original unfamiliar phenomenon [or we begin with] a hunch ... a means ... to discover the existence of some regularity ... among certain data. (ibid p. 296-7)

Baldamus sees "double fitting" as progressive. The current project, however, involved a more discontinuous process, reaching "platforms of understanding". The inquiry also explored elements Baldamus does not consider. For instance I began to see writing as a form of research itself and to re-configure my views of data and analysis, or what I came to regard as "making sense" (a phrase borrowed loosely from Miles and Huberman 1994 p.245, although they separate out stages such as data reduction, display, analysis and sense making). This double fitting, as I work on "data" and "making sense" is illustrated later.

4. My developing view of some of the elements of making sense.

The research diary extract below, records some recent attempts to re-understand my diaries and the process by which I explore them. My thinking at this point is still employing concepts such as analysis. Rather than a "breaking down", the process which eventually developed was much more holistic, more of a "building up" or synthesis, using many elements at the same time in a cyclical fashion:

Here’s how the analysis has worked so far. The [messy] method paper [Mellor 1998b] gave me a provisional platform of understanding [of] what was in my data. Now (October 1998) I’m going back to this data to see how far my ideas [on #[p124] method] need to alter, if at all, in the light of a closer look at the data (e.g. my concern over the issue of "change" [in my practice]).

At the same time, the framework of concepts I developed in the article is helping me to "see" the data more clearly so that I can identify themes (some old, some just coming into focus) such as: how it all started, beginnings of mess, multiple inputs, action research and counselling, serendipity, to change or not to change, Holy Grail of method. I am, however, well aware that these are provisional and have been changing as I write this morning. (26.10.98)

Trying to understand and accept this recursive process I reflected on some of my own beliefs about living with mess and "errors":

Anyway the analysis is a trial and error process, a bit like that quote [from Staw 1981] about "diving in" when insulating the loft, because its going to be wrong anyway - but that’s OK because the thing will self -correct.

Where with some jobs it may be vital to be totally methodical and planned (laying out the bits in the correct order when you strip a gear box), with others, "errors" are just part of the nature of things. (28.10.98)

As I reflected, my view of working practices reinforced my beliefs: "error" elimination is not efficient, it is better to aim to repeat some items than aim for 100% accuracy the first time. In a rough parallel, analysis or making sense could go through cycles of approximating:

In a recent conversation at work I remember arguing that having no errors is actually inefficient. It means you’re spending too long checking things, the work will never get done so clients who have to wait suffer that way. Of course, I do my best not to cause harm to the clients I am currently involved with, but part of the trick over the years is learning what you really need to look out for, and how to put right the mistakes you do make, if they are big enough to worry about.

Not that this is an excuse for "sloppy" work (or sloppy analysis) - I am committed to trying to do my best - I just happen to think I work best in this way. In the analysis, I am still in some senses a novice. Like the research itself all along, I am feeling my way, working out how to do it by doing it. There may be a "better" way but my hope is that at the end I will be able to look back, as with the messy method, and say - Yes, that’s it, that’s how it goes. (28.10 98)

The topic of "errors", at least with respect to the various off-shoots of the inquiry, I return to in chapter 11 in discussing their somewhat paradoxical contribution to validity.

In trying to penetrate my own techniques more clearly I turned again to Miles and Huberman (1994). They describe part of the process as "data reduction": to see what’s on the page I first have to get rid of as much as I can (in psychologist’s terms "chunk it"),

#[p125] so that the material left can stand out. But how did I get the categories (to chunk it) in the first place?

My recall is simply reading the data in the library over a number of sessions, after a period of reading other sources; and thinking and recalling what was in the data in a broad sense. Standard psychology [texts] confirm our efficiency at detecting patterns ... - whether or not the process is fully understood it seems as natural as generating sentences. There may be laboured and technical ways to do this but it seems to happen anyway. (28.10.98)

Problems of "selective perception" came to the fore. Patterns which came readily to mind could hide others:

Of course the problem is one of bias. I see the patterns I learn to see. I may miss the significance of others and just not perceive some. Time of day became relevant [for example]: thoughts appeared during the night, or early morning or when walking in the park in the afternoons on weekends , almost never during hours at work. The season of the year, the political climate, my state of health did not. (28.10.98)

Which brings me to my concern over the nature of the data I am relying on: my diaries, and the theory-dependence of what I recorded in them:

But how did I get the data in the first place? Some were obvious - reading a book, talking to people about the research. Some were not so obvious - walking in the park, sleeping, flicking [through books] at random, counselling. The problem was [in all the mass I collected]- what to attend to? (29.10.98)

Chalmers (1982) raises the issue that what we take as relevant data depends on our theories about what is going on (see also brief discussion in chapter 9). For instance in early experiments on radio waves, he asks, should the scientist have attended to:

... the readings on various meters, the presence or absence of sparks ... the dimensions of the circuits... the colour of the meters, the dimension of the laboratory, the state of the weather, the size of his shoes. (p.33)

Chalmers has set, to my mind, a rather neat trap here, which, however, does not ultimately detract from the strength of his point. He eventually discloses how even apparently trivial or seemingly irrelevant circumstances may, with hindsight, be vital - like the size of the room. It spoiled Hertz’s early work on measuring the speed of radio waves as he was, in fact, often measuring waves reflected from the walls. His theories at that time did not anticipate such events, so the room itself was ignored.

There were many activities I did not record:

#[p126] ... I did not record for instance listening to music - although I now recall from my earlier more relaxed days of writing poetry that playing guitar (badly) often triggered a poem (perhaps some right brain-left brain interaction if you believe that sort of analysis - reminds me of Sherlock Holmes playing his violin). (28.10.98)

Thus my data collection was "theory dependent" in the sense of what I thought the relevance of some activity could possibly be, determined whether or not I recorded it, and over time my theories changed. So for instance, counselling which at first seemed more of a general support mechanism came to be seen as a vital research tool in clearing thinking (see chapter 9) and I began to record this as part of the project rather than as part of my on-going separate counselling development. Writing eventually became seen as an important phase of research in its own right, not just a means of recording (see below); and an old, partly forgotten identity aspect of "being a writer" also achieved a new importance. My previous writing, of fiction, itself became a kind of data.

The topic of identity and its relationship with research entered the scene towards the end of the project, September 1997, but it was not till October 1998 that I came to appreciate the relevance of another "missing" data set, to do with identity: my explorations as an "amateur scientist" in areas unconnected with the project (recorded in a scrap book). These, I began to realise, might help me to integrate some of my perceptions of my own identities (see later). Initially they had not been seen as relevant data. They had not even been seen.

For the moment I will turn to the issue of writing, via a digression; the other topics are addressed later. The digression concerns, for me, some vital questions on the nature of research.

5. Some questions on the nature of a research project.

Reading Foucault’s "Archaeology of Knowledge" (Foucault 1989), one part of the process he appears to have employed seemed to me most striking: " there is negative work to be carried out first: we must rid ourselves of a whole mass of notions" (ibid p.21). He spends a certain amount of ink exploring what, initially, appeared a rather obscure topic: the definition of a work, an oeuvre: "...at first sight, what could be more

#[p127] simple? A collection of texts that can be designated by the sign of a proper name." (Foucault 1989 p.23). He goes on to ask:

... is it enough to add to the texts published by the author those that he (sic) intended for publication but which remained unfinished by the fact of his death? Should one also include all his sketches and first drafts?... and what status should be given to letters, notes reported conversations ... the vast mass of verbal traces left by an individual, and which speak in an endless confusion (ibid p.24)

Foucault raises, for example, the status of Nietzche’s youthful autobiographies, his dissertations, postcards, note books and even his laundry bills, and questions the operation by which we come to view an oeuvre as a unity

[which] emerges in all its fragments, even the smallest, most inessential ones, as the expression of the thought, the experience, the imagination, or the unconscious of the author, or indeed, of the historical determinations that operated upon him (sic) (ibid p.24)

He argues "What we must do, in fact, is to tear away from their virtual self-evidence [terms such as book, oeuvre, science, literature] ... we must recognise that they may not, in the last resort, be what they seem at first sight" (ibid p.24).

What I take from this exercise [1] is one question which I will address on a very personal level: tearing myself away from the superficial self-evidence of such a term, what, for me, is research? Looking back over my diaries, some of the most obvious features of what I think of as "research" were mentioned only occasionally: reading, going to the library, searching computer databases, listening to learned papers. I have mentioned some of the more unusual features earlier, such as incubation and serendipity. For now, following Foucault, I would like to turn to two of the more "commonplace" aspects.

6. Research and "commonplace" processes such as writing and reading.

(A) Writing.

Writing could perhaps be seen as a simple "transcription" of ideas worked out elsewhere as Bell implies in her book "Doing your research project": "When all the hard work of gathering and analysing evidence is complete, you will need to write a final report" (Bell 1987 p. 151). Minkin, however, identifies what he terms a "holistic style" of writing:

 #[p128] "seeking an outline of the totality then moving back and forth between the parts and the whole" (Minkin 1997 p 172).

This is not just a change of the order of writing, however. He describes a much more fundamental shift in perception of the process : "writing involved not the recording of a creative outcome but participation in a further creative process" (Minkin 1997 p.178). He explains how there is a "two-way interaction between continuously developed knowledge and continuously developed text" (ibid p.178). In Minkin’s experience "there was no clear break in process between the composing of thinking and the composing of writing" (ibid p.175). As well as discovering ambiguities, however, writing "could develop a momentum of [its] own ... even small changes ... could take the argument in unanticipated and significantly new directions" (ibid p.176-7) and "even sentences, occasionally took on new content, involved new arguments and moved in unplanned directions" (ibid p.177). Thus the act of writing became itself part of the creative process.

I became very aware of Minkin’s ideas while writing various papers towards the end of the project, but could not stop to examine the process, engaged as I was in reading, writing, analysing and trying to understand many other aspects of the method as it developed.

A diversion: I know I can’t look at how my writing changes as I write, how this sentence has appeared from nowhere and is forming itself and changing as I create it. I recall trying to do this a year or two ago. After a short while I told myself "that way lies madness". I have made a conscious decision to leave this as a "black box" - and simply flag it: further research is needed. (26.10.98)

Haraway describes the vagaries of the writing process "I think I know what I am going to say, but by the time I get to the end of the sentence, it has committed me to half a dozen positions I don’t hold" (quoted in Vines 1997).

Thus, as with other poorly understood procedures (such as serendipity), I am employing the creative aspect of writing as part of the sense making process rather like a scientist quite happily employs a "black box" : I know that certain inputs will (generally) lead to certain outputs without fully understanding the bit in between. The creative aspects of the writing process could be researched further[2] but not in the current study.

#[p129] Richardson (1994) encourages the creative use of different writing styles as a form of inquiry. To explore some of the more subtle aspects of research, authors have employed for instance poetry. From the outset, the current project was one which caused me great confusion as I worked on different levels, reflecting on practice and reflecting on the processes of reflecting and research. I had a choice to make. I could bring home to the reader the reality of this fog through use of an allusive and elusive writing manner; let the reader experience the confusion first hand as it were. Or I could write as clearly as possible about the confusion, to make plain that which was far from plain. I decided on the latter. I aimed "to write as openly and clearly as possible about the very perplexing path of the inquiry" (Mellor 1998b p. 458).

Some have criticised the use of straightforward prose, such as Lather (1996) [3]  my earnest desire, however, was to communicate effectively, although not as in a dry, terse scientific report. I wanted to attract and energise the reader. As I argue later, my view is that part of the "validity" of the study arises from the way other practitioner-researchers can "relate" to the material. To "relate", "to have resonance" I felt the account needed to be clear and at the same time engaging. As Geertz (1988) implies (discussing anthropologists), I needed as much to be a better writer as a better researcher: " ‘[b]eing there’ authorially, palpably on the page, is in any case as difficult a trick to bring off as ‘being there’ personally" (p.23).

(B) Reading.

Some books I read cover to cover. Some books I read with great pleasure. Schön’s (1983) "Reflective Practitioner" was one of these. Despite its many critics, this work "spoke to me", I cannot explain why. The reading seemed to take on a character different from other situations where I religiously and mechanically turned page after page, reading out of duty, looking for useful quotes. I noted one other piece which particularly "spoke to me" (in fact I scribbled on the page "this speaks practitioner research it does not speak about. It spoke to me!" 20.11.97). This was Hampton’s (1993) account in the journal Educational Action Research. Reading these works was like reading a good novel.

#[p130] But reading was not a passive process, equivalent to copying material from one floppy disc to another. I was actively involved. I made it mine. As an example, whatever Schön’s actual intentions, his account of reflection-in-action became, for me, an explanation of my job. It became (in part) an account of how I, and I believe other professionals, to perform efficiently, mould a situation to their own ways of working. Not blindly, not rigidly, but nevertheless, to best suit their own strengths (see appendix B).

I tried to read most of the current volumes of one or two journals. Many books (and journals) I dipped into, selecting the relevant chapters or articles; the further through the project, the more efficient and selective I became. Some books I bought as "security blankets" and barely looked at. One book I bought twice. Certain erudite texts I am not sure I fully understood. Some books I picked at random off library and book shop shelves and let them fall open where they would. Regularly a phrase would "leap out of the page". Often I "flicked" through a book, gaining an impression, to reinforce my delicate sense of where I was going (then cursing weeks after when I could not recall which work held what later seemed a vital point).

In many cases, the most fascinating parts of the book for me were those which I suspect are generally little read - the preface, introduction, footnotes, appendices - those items where the author’s guard is down or where he or she appears to take chances, exposing some of the uncertainties around the work[4]. As Mandlebrot explains, in searching out these obscurer writings, "I started looking in the trash cans" (cited in Gleick 1987 p.110).

I read in, and far outside, what initially seemed the "relevant" fields (I began to turn to politics, history, law, chaos and all manner of scientific areas). Some reading material came on computer screens as I (am sure, inefficiently) searched electronic sources. At times these were, inexplicably, maddeningly difficult to re-discover, having found them once. In one notable case, simply the book title was sufficient to make a point[5]. But it was not just learned books and articles which gave me insight. As noted above, I kept a mass of cuttings from the Guardian and Times Higher Educational supplement. These resolved themselves into various heaps, some mouldering and yellow and barely touched.

##[p131] Occasionally a gem would appear (such as Wilson’s 1997 comments on honesty). Novels provided a regular supply of insights. I quote Seth’s "Suitable Boy" and his image of the banyan tree. This enormously long book I might not have persisted with had it not been for my parents’ transmitted love of India.

A book is not an island. It only really makes sense in the context of a culture, which includes other books. In fact, academic works constantly refer to many more "[t]he frontiers of a book are never clear cut" (Foucault 1989 p.23) Thus to read any one book, I must read a large number of others, and my "reading" of the author’s intention will vary, however subtly, with the nature of this range; as will my understanding of this wider range, in the light of this one book - a kind of "hermeneutic circle" (Mueller-Vollmer 1986 p.35). If I read a book more than once, each reading will be a different reading, as I become a different person with different knowledge and attitudes (see for instance similar comments in the preface to Bateson’s (1987) "Steps to an Ecology of Mind"). I can no longer read the type of thrillers, detective novels, horror stories and adventures which kept me entranced decades ago, not least because of their sexism and racism.

A book has an author and an author has an aura. As I come to know, however superficially, the authors as people, my view of their work alters. I may be more favourably inclined after a drink in the bar or dancing ‘strip the willow’ with them. I may, for instance, become less favourably inclined when a once revered figure delivers a clearly one sided, poor argument or shows his or her personality quirks. It should not be so, but even the natural sciences are not free of this problem of the interaction of the evaluation of the work and the person. I am, perhaps, at times, only human and this is one of many failings I need to guard against. Collins (1992) in his study of the working practices of physical scientists illustrates this problem. He provides a list of "the ‘non-scientific’ reasons that the scientists offered for their belief or disbelief in [the work of others]" (p87). These included:

Faith in experimental capabilities and honesty, based on a previous working partnership. Personality and intelligence of experimenters. Reputation... Work[ing] in industry or academia. Previous history of failures. ‘Inside information’. Style and presentation of results. Psychological approach to experiment... etc. (p.87)

#[p132] His all too human data include comments such as:

I think the group at [a particular establishment] are just out of their minds... I am not really impressed with his experimental capabilities so I would question anything he has done more than I would question other people’s... That experiment is a bunch of shit! (p.85).

Thus many books, articles and snippets; some fiction, some non-fiction; some undoubtedly learned and some very popular, picked up in surgeries and take-aways; read with varying levels of diligence and interest; interacted with a host of other influences and written and non-written inputs : TV, radio; chats to friends and total strangers in the pub, at conferences, on trains; lectures; feedback from colleagues; correspondence; my own drafts and so on. In the midst of all this, helping form my views, there was a cast of characters, (my invisible college, who perhaps in one sense could legitimately be regarded as my co-researchers) which runs into dozens (see chapter 4).

And what did I do with this reading when I had read it? Some apparently disappeared into my mind as a kind of background. Some was patiently noted and referenced. Some I "carried around" as I regularly walked in the park, or slept on it, and it "bubbled up" later, often with other connections. Some I imagine I simply forgot. Some I could not see the relevance of until I began to write; some I thought I understood until I came to write.

Towards the end of the write up, I noticed a shift in my perception of reading, a "curious inversion", as the thesis began to fall into place. This is captured in the following diary note:

Just noticed a curious inversion. Most of the time I have been "under the subject", looking up. Reading blindly at times, trying to create a structure to make sense of it all. Now, half way through the final draft, I’ve finally got a structure to slot the material into. I can read confidently and efficiently, I know what I’m looking for. I’m "on top of the subject", looking down. I’m in charge of the reading, it’s not in charge of me (20.12.98. in bath)

Thus "reading" becomes for me a far from unproblematic part of research, even before contemplating addressing the role of more mysterious processes such as "sleeping on", "walking in the park", "counselling", "talking about", "serendipity" and so on.

#[p133] So, without starting to consider all the potential confusions around the vast range of activities involved in my self study, I am already aware, just from considering two elements, reading and writing, that I can give no simple answer to the question: for me, what is research? And my attempts at understanding and explaining inquiry are likely to change with time as I "analyse" and "re-analyse" my "data" with an ever changing lens. As Foucault explains, concerning his various twists and turns and oversights, covering a long period of work:

It is mortifying that I was unable to avoid these dangers: I console myself with the thought that they were intrinsic to the enterprise itself, since, in order to carry out its task, it had first to free itself from ... various methods [hence] the cautious stumbling manner of this text...

[you may ask] Aren’t you sure of what you’re saying? Are you going to change yet again, shift your position ... and spring up somewhere else... laughing at [us]?...

[I would answer] [D]o you think I would take so much trouble ... if I were not preparing - with a rather shaky hand - a labyrinth into which I can venture, in which I can move my discourse, opening up underground passages ... in which I can lose myself [?] (Foucault 1989 p.17)

7. My latest understanding of the process of making sense.

Baldamus explains how his "double fitting" is a progressive process, leading to "a gradual ... stability" (Baldamus 1972 p.299). My own view, outlined earlier, is of a much more discontinuous procedure, with "platforms of understanding" being created, after a period of activity, which may then become a "base" from which to explore further, at some, undefined, later date: "the data is set aside for a while, encouraging an interval of rest and return ... which facilitate[s] the awakening of fresh energy and perspective" (Moustakas 1990 p.51).

Each of the elements of the process, however, interact as I work towards a platform. St. Pierre (1997) describes how she rejected a "clear, linear process of research" (p.180) and how all the activities "data collection, analysis and interpretation happened simultaneously" (p.180). Hart (1995) explains how, for her:

... conventional notions of data collection and analysis give way to a research process in which observations, fieldnotes, samples of work and so on, are merely the occasion for the thinking that provides the starting point for the research. Our preliminary interpretations ... are our data. Through them, we are able to experience ... the limits of our existing thinking. Analysis involves going to work

#[p134] on these problems, drawing on our existing resources plus the new experiences provided by the research process. (p.227)

She draws on not just conventional academic knowledge but "the whole of my prior teaching experience, like a vast data base available to be scanned" (p.226).

As a picture, the process I evolved would look like the following: (see figure 2)
 
  

Figure 2: Making sense 

I will expand some of these links and the terms involved.

Data <------> exploration.

The data were mainly my diary notes, my own reflections. A small number of reflections, even on subsequent readings, did not seem readily to fit any of the evolving categories as I tried to understand my own processes, they were left to one side:

Also jotted down some incomprehensible notes with lots of question marks about I need to find out ?????? something about ?????? about "framework" ??????. Also began to wonder if there was another "level" ???????( 1.10.94)

#[p135] Many notes were simply a log of activities rather than thoughts about these as the extracts below illustrate:

Walking to the library about 7.30 to pick up the book I’d ordered by Altrichter and Posch but first borrowed the book ... Schooling the Smash Street Kids. This was not what Richard, who I met in Durham, had suggested i.e. a book that described a methodology of doing something that you don’t know what you’re doing (although this may be in his PhD). However, there were good questions on discipline. (11.10.94)

Round about Friday 15 October had taken most of my books back to the library ...and more or less cleared the decks by Sunday the same weekend, to focus on data.(15.10.94)

Most entries were more illuminating and I took those as the data.

It seems fairly uncontroversial to regard the diaries of others as legitimate data for one’s own research; Biott (1996) for instance draws partly on my diaries in illustrating his explorations of practitioner and researcher identities. Using my own diaries as data in my own research is perhaps problematic, highlighting as it does, even more, issues of validity arising from questions such as "for what purpose were the diaries written ?" Relying on journals/ diaries in research appears quite common, in feminist and action research to name just two fields; nevertheless the "legitimacy" of using such material as data may still be a point worth exploring.

I had begun collecting these diary entries with no clear end in sight; a research diary just seemed "a good thing" to have. They were recorded immediately, as the thoughts came to me, in the middle of the night, in the middle of the park, on scraps of paper, on the back of my hand. I had no conception of the central role the notes would play in the project. To an extent then, they were "unwitting testimony" to my methods, not moulded to suit some distant purpose, particularly since the project, its aims and its methods, were unclear to me throughout most of the period.

As Stanley (1993) points out diaries, in the general meaning of the word, are constructed texts[6].  Many of the earlier comments on issues around autobiography are relevant here (see chapter 1). I can conceive of circumstances where, knowing the use I was going to

#[p136] put the records to, might have encouraged me to reflect differently, or at the very least, to record the reflections differently, perhaps to show myself in a better light (see Evans 1993 on de Beauvoir’s heavily fictionalised autobiography). Whether I would have succumbed (did succumb) or not I am unsure. My feeling, however, is that the reflections were honest, "warts and all"[7] As I explain in Mellor (1998a), concerning reflections on practice, "[w]e can all go through the motions of reflection; the point is, to make it work" (p.174). As St. Pierre (1997) argues in her moving account "[i]n the end, you must take me at my word" (p.181). Which re-introduces the topic of validity. The "painful search for validity" (ibid p. 181) is further explored in chapter 11.

St. Pierre (1997) also draws on her own material and, in challenging the received understanding of "data", includes emotional data, dream data, sensual data (to do with attachment to place) and response data (the reactions of others to her writings). In the current project I have used my own diary notes about the project. If any dreams might have led to thoughts about research, it was the thoughts I collected, not the dreams. Emotional issues and the reactions of others were included, but I can see little evidence of sensual data in the way St. Pierre uses the term.

I continued to find it difficult, however, to justify my own diary notes as legitimate data for me to study. In January 1998 this problem was underlined in reading Biott’s (1996) article about practitioner research where he draws partly on some diary entries of mine. I will take a short detour here as the event was something of an epiphany, before returning to the main threads of the chapter.

A detour.

I reflect in my research diary of January, on what I thought of as a kind of "knowledge trick" which Colin Biott and others could perform with my "data" (previous research diary entries) but which, at that stage, I felt I could not:

I am amazed to find my notes suddenly becoming "knowledge". Colin [Biott] could do that, I could not. I remember Tina [Cook] making a point with a rather nice quote [in our focus group]. I asked her who said that and she said that I had. I hadn’t noticed its significance and couldn’t recall saying it!

#[p137]Reading this article [of Colin’s] for the first time there is a kind of unembarrassed "authority" [in my diary notes that Colin quotes] - [me] writing my diary is "telling it how it is". Somehow [me] writing an article about my diary feels different. There is an invisible barrier. I believe others can assert the "validity" of my "knowledge". It is a giant, terrifying leap for me to do that.

Do my jottings have any status? It seems ... arrogant to assert this and at the same time it trivialises the research process - if all that is needed is to put down "whatever comes into my head" (I am deliberately emphasising the negative here, there is of course a lot more than that going on in the background) then research is just poetry (although poetry for me is in fact a tremendously important form of expression which at its best captures a truth "by telling lies" [Burgess 1981 p.45]. I initially needed the seal of approval of publication to re-assure myself that what I wrote was "poetry". Now, I simply assert it. It is for the reader to judge whether in their view it is "good" or "bad", [it is poetry] ).

Am I wrong ... is the research monster that dizzying height [of academic authority] I can never aspire to, or just a "Wizard of Oz" with much smoke and loud bangs and little substance?

The Wizard of Oz is one of my favourite films. I regularly cry over it. Even writing these notes I can feel tears welling up. It touches so many deep themes [which are echoed in this project] "struggle", "true friendship", "overcoming fears", "self-doubt and self-belief", "loss and recovery", "superficiality and reality", "honesty", "finding that home was where you wanted to be all along and all that was needed was a click of the heels".

Like the straw man, do I need the certificate of "pluribus unum" [or whatever] from some fictitious university, to prove I have a brain? I guess this is a struggle with my "researcher identity". If I cannot show p < 0.001, is it "true"? I am still torn apart by this. I realise I am still trapped in my positivist, scientific frame! Perhaps "it" becomes "valid" when I fit it I to a theoretical framework. But the "it" is [still] my notes!

Serendipity! Just flipped over to [an article by] Pauline James [James 1996] on the transformative effect of story telling. Somehow, writing my thoughts makes them real - the word become flesh ["stories appear immensely powerful ... in ... developing knowledge" James 1996 p.215]. (Diary note 7.1.98 emphasis in original)

This battle with "validity", the pull of "science" and the belief in my own ability to create "knowledge" were not, however, resolved (at least to a partial level of satisfaction) for quite some time. Dadds (1998) explains how "examined personal experience may be the greatest resource available" (p.43) but "the practitioner researcher’s voice can be easily silenced against the deafening chorus of established expertise" (p.43) which leads to "feelings of disempowerment" (p.47). Winter (1998a) explains how action research is about "seeking one’s own voice" (p.54), however, as Hollingsworth (1997) describes in working with a group of teacher researchers, confidence in "knowledge bearing" is not easily come by: "[t]heir own questions, imaginings and ways of knowing were never good

 #[p138] enough [in their own eyes]" (p.493). In part this thesis can be seen to be about exploring the struggle to claim such personal knowledge.

Leaving the detour.

Returning to the main account of this chapter, exploration of the data I viewed as a collection of procedures similar to McGrath et al’s (1981) "knowledge accrual" but including other aspects such as serendipity (see chapter 5). These procedures led from data to "ideas". Broadly this "exploration" might cover the more formulaic-sounding term "analysis". However, ways of exploring the data, such as using incubation (a walk in the park), often led to the creation of new data (new diary notes as I mused unconsciously). And part of the "exploring" was the writing. I will examine the various links in the process in more detail, as illustrated in figure 2.

Data <-----> ideas.

At an early stage of the project my views about data had begun to dissolve, but in a rather different manner to St. Pierre (above). With my "scientist" hat on I had been used to concrete images of research: "building" theories from "solid" data . Richardson (1990) describes how "metaphor is the backbone of social science writing ... [b]ut ... we often do not recognise [its] role" (p.18) and "in standard social science writing, the metaphor for theory is a ‘building’" ( Richardson 1994 p.524). My view of data had been as incontrovertible "givens", not constructs; "brute data" (Manicas and Secord 1983 p.410) the raw material of the building; data as foundation stones.

I gradually came to a softer, more fluid view: data as stepping stones, not facts, unchanging in themselves, on which and from which to erect an edifice, but, shifting and unsure, elements to rest briefly and lightly upon, clues to mark the path. Switching metaphors to try to capture the essence of my position another way, data were the river, but not the water (as, for instance, we might choose to see the social, spiritual, economic and so on effects of a river, rather than the chemistry of its constituents). In a sense I "skimmed" over the data, not dwelling on any particular item at length. Changing

#[p139] metaphors for the final time, I was more interested in the route I was taking (and creating) than the earth I was walking on.

These data, however, were not simply "analysed" and the results of this analysis recorded in some matter-of-fact way. The "recording", or more properly, the creative act of writing, was itself part of the researching, as described earlier.

Data, however, at times led seemingly directly to ideas, apparently by-passing the complex "exploration" stage. I will take a recent example. When looking into the topic of identity, the mini-project carried out during 1997-8, I was concerned over the nature of my "scientist" identity. Presenting a paper on identity to BERA in Belfast in August 1998, the convenor (Rose L. in the invisible college list) made a vital point. She suggested that I needed somehow to come back to the scientist identity which I had left behind in embracing qualitative research. I had been carrying, however, a rather negative view of myself as scientist, summed up in a recent diary note:

I always was a bad scientist in one sense - the practising kind (in any case my experiments rarely worked) - although I was a good scientist in understanding and loving the field. I never really worked as a scientific researcher. (1.10.98)

It is perhaps significant that most of my "science", in the 1960s, had been routine experimentation, mainly confirming the text book results of others and the "rigid certainty" (Collins 1985 p. 161) of the physical universe. My later psychology was little different. Collins explains how the student who goes on to become a research scientist "is traumatized by the first experience of real research" (p.161). My trauma were not to occur for many years, not until I began the current study and began to ask questions such as "what is research?"

A little while after the events in Belfast, having read an article in the Guardian on developments in digital video, I woke up in the middle of the night with thoughts about improving storage capacity on digital video discs. That "data", a cryptic note in my bedside diary[8],  led almost directly to a different view of myself as scientist: I had at the very least always been creative. In the extract below I am recalling how with an old engineering friend, Vic, we liked to discuss "inventions" over a drink, usually scribbled on beer mats.

#[p140] The point is, I always liked to play with new ideas e.g. [with] Vic H. in [the] pub plus table mats, so perhaps I always was some kind of scientist. (2.10.98 4.00 a.m.)

Perhaps an (unconscious) exploration phase had occurred already, before the data arrived, sensitising me to the topic, and the data simply crystallised the issue. Whatever the nature of this process, the data did not need a lengthy period of overt exploration to lead onto ideas. Thus the arrow on the "making sense" diagram earlier, linking data to ideas directly.

Ideas <------> data.

I use the term "ideas" here rather than "theories" to capture the varied and fluid nature of the output of the studies[9] (see below also). My data were "theory-dependent" in the sense that ideas influenced what I collected as data. Thus, for example, with my new found "lens" or "idea", of myself as creative "amateur scientist", I began to see the need to include in the data, material I had overlooked, my science scrap book. As mentioned above, changing ideas on the nature of research also led to the re-valuing of counselling and the act of writing as data themselves.

The "ideas" generated formed a collection of notions at different levels of complexity - from an overall view of the research process to discrete aspects such as understanding how my own data were theory dependent.

Data <------>writing.

I transcribed my jottings but also wrote notes, summaries, progress reports and papers. These writings at times then became more data. This new written data could then be explored in evolving my understanding of the research, such as in the current discussion, where the original brief description I had of how I went about "analysis" for the article "Notes from a method" became new data to enter the cycle of evolving a better understanding of analysis or, more broadly, sense making.

#[p141] The writing itself was a far from linear process. I noted in my diary, for instance, on October 10 1998, a few weeks into writing up the thesis, that I was involved simultaneously in chapters concerning background, practice, methods and analysis, a mini-project on identity, about to start on conclusions and had, in embryo, other pieces such as ethics, science and off-shoots. The only area I was avoiding writing was the introduction.

Exploration <------> writing , exploration <------> ideas and writing <------> ideas.

These other elements also interacted. Exploration and writing, for instance, although separable in some respects (talking to colleagues was part of exploration but not part of writing) were closely linked at other times. Thus trying to write up my explorations was in itself another kind of exploration. As Minkin describes, the writing created as well as recorded and as outlined earlier, writing and ideas interacted in a complex way.

Exploration led to "ideas" about research and analysis, but ideas in their turn led to different ways of exploring (e.g. viewing research as a "messy" process allowed me to break out of the constraints of using set techniques). At other times ideas simply highlighted the importance of techniques I had used, but whose value I had not fully appreciated (such as counselling, writing, serendipity, incubation and following blind alleys).

Thus, my making sense of the data was tied up with making sense of the research. How "valid" all this "making sense" exercise is, was a question which haunted me throughout and which I turn to in chapter 11. The following chapter, however, describes another stage in the refinement of the method as I tackle a mini-project on identity.

8. Some questions arising from this discussion.

A number of important issues are not addressed in the discussions above; they may also have relevance to the project as a whole. Some I touch on later, others are, however, left as matters "for further research".

#[p142] 1. I offer this chapter as an account of what I actually did in "making sense", rather than a description of perhaps a personal variation of some accepted method, such as found in grounded theory approaches, for example, or some other previously worked out technique. But does the simple fact of my having done it thereby give it any particular standing? I could have been simply acting out of ignorance.

To illustrate, I could, in other imagined projects, have given accounts of my attempts at, say, historical research, or literary criticism, or aeroplane building. Would it be sensible to offer them for serious consideration, simply because I had carried them out? The overall study is vulnerable to this criticism. Can I assert "I did it, therefore it deserves recognition"? Part of the answer seems to be tied up with the notion of validity, which I address in chapter 11.

2. I do not pursue epistemological issues except to note that I depart from what Griffiths (1995 a) calls "traditional epistemology" i.e. springing from "Descartes, Locke, Hume and Kant ... and their fascination with the possibility of certainty and objectivity" (p.56).

Part of my aim was simply to discover how I worked, not, for instance, to build up a method from a reasoned philosophical position. As Hart (1995) explains "I lacked an explicit epistemology to account for the learning which undoubtedly occurred" (p.213). She goes on to argue, however, that this new learning did not depend on anything other than her experience as a teacher; my position was, however, more complex: I needed to learn to assert my own knowledge claim, and to un-learn old habits of thought (see chapter 12).

The picture which emerges, however, is one of a contingent and ever-changing form of knowledge (see Griffiths 1995a chapter 4 for a roughly similar account in part) which is more like the result of the kind of "bricolage" described by (Maclure 1995) "making do with the best that is at hand, in a world whose shape and boundaries are never finally knowable" (p.110).

#[p143] Scott (1996) comments "[t]here is some doubt about what constitutes the natural science model. For example, the hypothetico-deductive approach is increasingly being seen as ... inadequate ... because it ignores ... serendipitous and intuitive forms of discovery" (p.84 n.1). Given these ever-changing and serendipitous aspects, how legitimate is my claim to have knowledge? (see also discussion of knowledge in chapter 9).

3. I write as one, relatively privileged, white, middle class male, struggling, nevertheless for self understanding. Where would structures of power fit into my account? How would more marginal groups react to the ideas? How would establishment groups respond to what could be read as an attack on received notions of knowledge? I do not address these questions.

4. This is an account of cognitive processes. Where do emotions enter the arena? Some partial examination of the role of emotions in research is offered in chapters 9 and 10.

Key points emerging from the chapter.

In this chapter I use the messy method to look at itself. Diary notes initially led to the article "Notes from a method". I re-examined the data and also the process of examining itself, to discover my own "rules". The "angst" generated by this, the worry that there will be no answer, came to be seen as a normal part of the process.

I originally viewed the research question as a site of undefined curiosity but later developed the notion of a proto-question. These run the risk, however, of prematurely crystallising the focus of the inquiry.

"Analysis" I saw more as a process of synthesis involving a kind of "double fitting, with an acknowledgement of the "theory dependence" of the data.

Unlearning, for instance coming to appreciate a more complex view of superficially straightforward procedures such as reading and writing, was integral to the process of

 #[p144] gaining a new understanding of the process of "making sense". This making sense involved a complex interaction between data, exploration, writing and ideas.

Using my diaries as data appeared problematic. I assert the legitimacy of this, however, from my past experience of honesty in diary keeping and my view of these diaries as unwitting testimony. In any case, I treated the data more as stepping stones than foundation stones - they were used to indicate the general route, not the fine details of the path.

Some data were "explored", some led directly to "ideas" at different levels of complexity. My views on what constituted data changed throughout the project, for example, new writing became new data. The writing was a cyclical process and itself part of the creative act.

"Ideas" produced by the "exploration" served to modify the nature of that exploration. Asserting claims to know, however, involved intrapersonal struggle. A number of important questions about the overall exercise remain unanswered.

Notes.

[1] In the "Archaeology of Knowledge", if I read him correctly, part of Foucault’s aim is to examine how "discourses" evolve and are maintained across many levels of society. My interest is more personal. Rather than to attempt to tackle, for instance, the broad "discourse" around research, I want to try to understand my own understanding of research.

Others make similar points about the relative status of, for instance, research diaries, rough drafts, conference papers, published articles and the final consignment of ideas to depersonalised text book summaries (see Knorr-Cetina 1981, Ravetz 1971 and Rowan- Robinson 1995 for example). I am drawing on Foucault here because of the power of the extracts quoted, not to develop a Foucauldian position generally.

[2] Citing C.Day Lewis, Bereiter and Scardamalia (1987) describe how "[w]e do not write to be understood; we write in order to understand" (p.22). The authors provide an

#[p145] exploration of the "knowledge telling" and "knowledge transforming" (p.10) functions of writing. They view writing as "a form of very complex, ill-defined problem solving" (p.343) which, nevertheless, is open to some inspection.

[3] Lather (1996) argues that at times "plain prose would be a sort of cheat" (p.528). She seems to be implying the danger of a kind of "dumb down", to use a current phrase. She rejects an "untroubled realism" (p.539) (see also Usher and Edwards 1994 on Derrida p.121-4). My aim was, however, very much to bring home to readers the troubled nature of the project in a way which might awaken them to the confusion I saw out there, and in here. I wanted to capture this confusion, not to tame it but to turn it loose, transformed but hopefully more effective in its impact. I did not want them to be confused, I wanted them to see confusion.

Usher and Edwards (1994) use the term "resonance" to refer to "understanding where one is unsure of the exact meaning" (p.123). I use it later in this section to refer more to gaining a clearer appreciation that an unsure (and perhaps initially unattractive) situation such as "mess" is relevant to one’s research.

[4] For instance the later added methodological appendix to "Street Corner Society", Whyte (1955), was very illuminating for Whyte’s honesty about the "messiness" of his procedures.

[5] I had been collecting a scrapbook of cuttings on "science", with a vague idea of writing something on the way "scientific" knowledge grew from a contested arena. Not that it made sense to question knowledge such as the density of copper, but other areas were not so clear cut, and we had to await a consensus.

Phillips (1992) criticises a consensual view of "truth", arguing that a consensus might form round a view such as the world is flat (see p.115). In this, however, he has the benefit of knowing the "truth". He has a "god’s eye" view. What are we to make of a situation where the "truth" is unknown and whatever emerges may only do so after a long period of struggle and may, or may not, correspond to some "god’s eye" truth. Appreciating this point for me, experiencing the real uncertainty of "not knowing", meant living within a contested arena where the positions, even the nature of the question, were unclear, to get a "gut" feeling. It did not mean standing outside some old, dead argument from history, to gain an intellectual handle on the issue, but engaging with "hot" science (Latour quoted in Patel 1995).

#[p146] As illustration, an evolving "hot" topic during 1998 was that of the safety of genetically engineered crops. Previous issues, AIDS and BSE, which had once been the centre of controversy seemed to have settled down into more "normal" science. Claims and counter claims, evidence and its criticism were put forward concerning these crops (see for instance THES July 17 p.16, the Guardian August 7 p5, August 11 p.9, October 9 p.10. New Scientist Oct 31 1998). Adverts for safe crops were funded by Monsanto, and later criticised by the Advertising Standards Authority (see the Guardian, March 1 1999 p.5). The Ecologist had one print run, which apparently criticised Monsanto, pulped (Guardian Sept 28 1998 p.5). To muddy the waters even more during early 1999, an apparently well respected scientist, Pusztai, had his work undermined by his institute, then re-instated by other international colleagues and Lord Sainsbury, science minister, was seen to hold a patent for a key gene (the Guardian Feb 16 1999 p.1). The Clinton administration was seen to have close connections with Monsanto (the Guardian Feb 20 1999 p. 4).

Catching this topic "on the wing", it seemed clear that whatever "science" was involved, powerful interests were going to be at loggerheads (each one employing their own sources of "scientific knowledge") and the "truth" of such a complex issue (how safe is "safe", for which crops and which populations over what time scale) might never be known for decades, if at all.

In the midst of all this I happened upon Hammersley’s (1995) "The Politics of Social Research" . Just reading the title itself was enough to bring home for me the notion that the creation of (some) knowledge may be part of a power struggle, a question of politics as much as a question of "pure" science, an idea I had been toying with previously (see chapter 6). Hammersley explores a rather more substantial account of what constitutes "politics", in social research, in his chapter 6. I will not address his arguments here, my rather laboured point is to do with the nature of reading, not politics or science. I will not pursue the notion of science as politics.

[6] See also Knorr-Cetina (1981) and Medawar (1963) on the constructed nature of scientific accounts.

[7] Since writing "Notes from a method" when matters clarified somewhat, there is increasing risk that the entries could become self-serving to some extent, written more consciously as "material to be researched". My longer experience in keeping a counselling

 #[p147] diary, where I have been able to maintain a frank record of my work, leads me to believe that I have avoided this trap, however.

[8] The cryptic note was : "DVD base 3 = invention". I had an idea about enhancing the storage capacity of DVD discs by a mathematical process. Whatever the value of this fevered fancy, the important point for me was it was another "invention". I suddenly remembered this was what I had always done, a precious part of me was my (possibly totally useless) "inventions" as an amateur scientist.

[9] I use the word theory earlier in the chapter in a loose sense. Winter (1998b) for example provides a definition of theory appropriate to action research. In an earlier article (Winter 1998a), however, his description of "being theoretical" (p.67) in one’s approach to data analysis covers more of what I am trying to capture. He describes a process of "using data from one’s own inquiry as a starting point for questioning, for challenging" (p.67). And "theoretical resources" can include:

the whole range of ideas which are available to us, through our education and professional culture, our general cultural experience (including novels, films, drama, religious texts) and the ideas of friends, colleagues, students, clients etc., as well as ‘the academic literature’ (p.67).

As "theory" in academic writing generally, however, often seems such a theory-laden concept, I am using what I hope is the more neutral term, "ideas", simply to advance the discussion of my own particular understanding of a form of research which draws on a wide range of theoretical resources in Winter’s (1998a) sense. I will not pursue the definition of theory.

#[p148] Chapter 9. A mini-project around identity.

Introduction

The article "Notes from a method" gave me a somewhat rough and ready "tool" with which to understand my research processes. I borrow the concept of a tool[1] from Ravetz (1971), who underlines the craft-like nature of science. In the category tools he includes physical apparatus, means of analysis, surrounding information and language. He explains how using any particular tool involves "shaping the work around its distinctive strengths and limitations" (p.93) My business, however, was not only to research, but to research my researching. I wanted to explore the technique I was developing, to refine this research tool. I went about this by trying to apply the method to two new areas.

Initially the developing method had been grounded in my practice. I trust my allegiance to this work is evident. I was "fired up" with enthusiasm throughout the project by this on-going commitment. However, there was also an area which was developing in parallel, the fascinating but tremendously challenging subject of self-investigation. The method was thus born in rather unusual circumstances. Could it have currency elsewhere, or was it a curious "one-off"? The opportunity came to test this out in studying the topics of identity and the process of "making sense". I have entitled these "mini-projects" and distinguish them from "off shoots". These projects were quite central to the main study and were conscious "test beds" for the developing method as well as inquiries into the topics of identity and making sense in their own right. The off-shoots became less central (or were simply abandoned) and did not have their research methods as a conscious focus.

This new, mini-project of identity is described below. In a later chapter I extract the key issues about the method employed in this and the mini-project of "making sense" (see chapter 8), and, building on the platform of understanding afforded by the article "Notes from a method" i.e. chapter 6, present a final synthesis. This further refined understanding is outlined in chapter 11 "Method after the paper ‘Notes from a method’ ".

#[p149] The current chapter illustrates an application of the "messy method" to the topic of identity, with a "proto-question" rather than a curiosity as the starting point. Concerns over this have already been explored in chapter 8. The mini-project below carries an expanded view of the role of counselling and relates this to research through discussion of "managed subjectivity" rather than through counselling literature as such. This mini- project provides evidence of three additional identities: scientist (briefly), counsellor and writer. These are considered along with other identities in chapter 11 regarding their influence on research. During the present discussion I begin again to question the notion of validity.

1. A mini-project on "identity and research": introduction to the project.

In September 1997 I had discussions with my supervisor, Colin Biott, about the fourth version of the article I was trying to finish for Educational Action Research (EAR4 as it is called below, which eventually became "Notes from a method" Mellor 1998b), outlining my understanding of the study so far. Colin raised the topic of identity (which he had mentioned before, but I had not been able to listen to at the time, struggling as I was). I agreed to see whether identity had anything to offer to my developing understanding and tried to shoe-horn the topic into the article on method in a few weeks, after some sketchy reading. It did not work. Using a favourite metaphor of his from Seamus Heaney about digging potatoes, the ideas were just not ready:

Gave [Colin] EAR4 a couple of weeks later with ID [identity] in, then on 9.10.97 said I couldn’t [really] fit it into the EAR4 article - [it was] just a sop! So agreed to take it out and do it over the next 12 months - not yet ready to dig [my] potatoes - [I] had not [even] planted [them] yet. (9.10.97).

I decided to continue, but with a longer time scale. However, I recall beginning this mini-project to look at identity with a heavy heart. Here I was, some four years into the PhD and starting a totally new area to which I had only limited loyalty. It did not enthuse me in the way my original interest in attention seeking and the Eric Harvey approach had. This felt more like I imagined contract research would be: I had a job to do. But, in that sense, it possibly offered some measure of "testing" the "messy method". Whether or not this method was at the end of the day a "valid" approach (and that was still to be

#[p150] decided), any "results" of my initial studies could have in some way been a function of my enthusiasm at the time and a unique combination of me and the subject matter. This was a chance to see if I could work in the same way, and productively, with a new topic.

Of course, whatever the standing of this "test", I could not avoid the problem that it was me carrying it out, not another. If the "test" was in any sense a "success", it could still be that the "method" was simply something to do with the way I worked, it would thus be of limited interest to anyone else:

N.B. ID research does not confirm my method! It might just be something to do with me or perhaps the topic (2.5.98 3.00 p.m. walking)

However, my hope was that reactions to the "Notes from a method" article would eventually lay my ghosts: the worries over whether its ideas were simply relevant only to me, in one place at one time, or whether they had more general application, whether others felt a resonance with them (later thinking around the issue of "validity" is covered in chapter 11). In the meantime, this mini-project on identity was one more step on the way to, at the very least, convincing myself that I had something worth recounting. It also provided an opportunity to develop the ideas further.

2. A brief account of the development of the "identity and research" project.

With the help of a couple of references from Colin, in October 1997 I began following up leads and tackling Andy Converey’s PhD thesis "Identity in the Conduct and Reporting of Teacher Research" (Converey 1996) which looked a good place to cast off. I also started talking to whoever would listen and began "dipping" into books and journals, allowing my new "lens" of identity to pick out likely papers, and relying partly on "serendipity" to provide the material. However the process seemed slow to get going and the angst mentioned earlier, the not-knowing if there was anything to know, quickly set in

Re: ID very confused and anxious this morning having read a bit and dipped (Andy’s PhD, Pahl [1995], latency [Colin’s article in Educational Action Research, Biott 1996]), because I don’t know the end point of this bit of the research, I don’t know how to get there, which direction to go in, what it will look like when I get there. [There is] this ... state of research angst. It’s still very hard to view this positively as "creative mess" as I’m not sure I’ll get through it. Mary [my partner] chuntered on about ID and feminism. I couldn’t take it on board. I have to "know it myself". (5.11.97 7.30 a.m. emphasis in original)

#[p151] Unusually, thoughts about the research, especially negative feelings about how I was going about it, intruded into work:

Depressed today at work. Don’t know anything about ID. [I’m] about [at] O-level standard. Nothing coming through. No serendipity. No one to talk to. The process isn’t working. I don’t know what I’m looking for. I can’t do it! ( 5.12.97 9.30 a.m.)

But relying on serendipity, and looking through the new "lens" of sensitivity to identity issues, gradually began to produce results:

Flicking through E.P.i P. [educational psychology’s house journal] found [an article saying that] ed. psychs have a dual professional identity [teachers and psychologists]. (5.12. 97 3.00 p.m.)

Popped into library to look for Giddens and other books on ID. Couldn’t get anything. Poked around education [shelves] for reviews of my [attention seeking] book. Picked up Cambridge journal of education - article on ID! (Friday 19.12.97 flexi half-day).

Got reference off Bob L. on history [I was looking into historical methods] ... therefore Thursday night [began] looking up "History" [but] found "Identity" (approx. 26.2.98)

Saw Jessica [at campus] popped into library. Found ID book [Head 1997] on [new books’] shelf [found]: identity [has a] confused definition (30.3. 98)

Struggling in ID article with what to call mixture of traditional and post-modern ID. Went to library for reading day on bereavement [part of staff development at work] opened [Walter 1994, on bereavement] found "neo-modern" as mixture of traditional and post-modern. (28.5.98 2.00 p.m.)

During this period I was of course following up references in a more conventional manner also. However, I became more and more aware that what I saw in articles often depended on what I was looking for, as in the comment below on tackling volumes of the journal Educational Action Research. A new "lens" seemed to highlight new material which, in its turn, modified the lens:

I am re-reading E.A.R journal through the lens of ID ... as "theory" develops a new "lens" develops thus the data are seen in a new light - which then adjusts the "lens" or "theory". (2.2.98 8.00 a.m.)

3. The research question.

#[p152] When studying practice, as I explained earlier, I came to accept my starting point as simply curiosity, not a " research question" as such. That came much later. My starting point in this mini-project, however, quickly became what I was to call a "proto-question": a relatively unformed query which simply linked, in a loose way, identity and research. I recorded this in my diary as it came to me in the rather mysterious form :

{?} {identity} {?} {with respect to my research} (21.10.97).

This eventually resolved itself into the question below (my concerns about this are recorded in chapter 8):

{How does my understanding of the concept of} {identity} {illuminate my understanding of the research process?} (5.4.98 1.00 p.m. in park).

I planned to present something to the Monday lunch time discussion group a few months later at Northumbria University as a spur to focus my thoughts, while pursuing the rough direction afforded by this question. Gradually an idea began to develop that this final phase of the project would work in two ways (1) an exploration of identity and (2) a further exploration of the method, using research into identity as the focus:

I use my method to examine ID and I use ID to examine method (6.3.98)

4. Identity and its definition.

My early concerns began to coalesce around the subject of definition (see chapter 10 for the working definition adopted in this study). Having read a number of articles linking research and identity my initial impression was that they tended to limit discussion to one or two "identities" such as "researcher" or "practitioner". As my diary notes, this seemed unnecessarily restrictive (the extracts below also illustrate the on-going serendipity process with ideas coming first thing in the morning, in the bath, from the radio):

Is it a problem of "sloppy definition" ? i.e. if we define ID to include love, sense of humour, parenting/children, taste in music, honesty, courage etc., then researchers would not leave it to work and research. (21. 11 97 7.30 a.m. emphasis in original)

#[p153] When I’m worried about Joe and Kate [my children], I’m a dad. (2.1.98 8.30 p.m. in bath)

On "Pick of the week" Radio 4 3.30 [they played] extracts from interviews with grandson of Verwoerd, [who was] involved in running the South African truth commission, [he was] talking about the current position of white people in South Africa : "African is not a noun, its a verb. It means actively working to identify with Africa". (25.1.98)

Apart from this desire to expand the definition I also began to need to address the confusion I felt over the bewildering number of terms which could be associated with or substitute for identity such as a self, subjectivity, individuality etc. This took me into a massive literature bridging psychology, psychiatry and sociology. My feeling was that, although possibly of great academic interest in some quarters, most practitioner researchers, unless particularly concentrating on such points, would be mightily put off by a survey of this enormous material. Although important, it could easily consume much of the present thesis. I decided that this particular off-shoot of an off-shoot would best be abandoned on purely practical grounds. In retrospect, struggling with the detail of this literature meant that I missed the important question: was "identity" the right focus? (see chapter 8).

The eventual resolution of these concerns, following efforts to write and present a paper, was to restrict my main investigation to what seemed to be the more important task of examining the link between the complex and conflicting identities I uncovered, and research. One of these identities centred on me as counsellor. As counselling may be seen as a rather unusual aspect of research, I will expand this area before returning to the topic of identity. Exploring the definition of identity, however, I will leave to chapter 10.

5. Counselling.

In this section, I will explore the ways in which counselling made a strong contribution to the project, and to my identity (further comments on the role of emotions in research are in chapters 4 and 10). Some background is provided first on co-counselling and the formative influences of my teacher.

#[p154] Co-counselling developed in the 1950s under the influence of Harvey Jackins and John Heron (see Springer 1998 for a history). Following disagreements between them the movement split. Jackins continued with Re-evaluation Counselling (RC) and Heron with Co-Counselling International (CCI). The description of counselling which follows refers mainly to RC although in many respects the two differ very little. I do not offer a critique of the approach or attempt to relate it to other counselling styles, but simply provide a very brief description so that the reader can understand the later discussion.

The basic premise of RC is that emotions may cloud ones thinking[2].  We experience "hurts" throughout our lives. Those hurts cause unpleasant emotions ("distress") such as fear, shame, anger. At the time we may not be able to express these. They then may become tucked away as "recordings". At some later date, a similar event can trigger these distress recordings and provoke a reaction, often out of scale to the event (as in the over-reaction to one’s partner leaving the top of the toothpaste). Thus present time activities dredge up these old, un-resolved emotions and they prevent us reacting more appropriately to the situation. In the counselling session, the old distress recordings are deliberately triggered, in a safe, accepting setting, so that once released ("discharged") the client is left free to decide how to respond without the confusing influence of, often very powerful, emotions.

The client is encouraged to cry, become angry, shout, feel fear, celebrate and so on and the counsellor employs a number of special techniques to facilitate this, such as going back to early childhood memories or using role play. In a typical one hour session a pair will take turns as "counsellor" then "client" (hence the common description of the method, co-counselling). Because of the nature of the process, both members of the pair will be trained co-counsellors, working with each other. This is different to the more normal set up of experienced counsellor working with naive client, although, with care, co-counselling techniques and training can be brought in to conventional counselling settings. Co-counselling does not seek to suppress or reject or decry emotions but simply to provide a mechanism for dealing with their influence, when and if the "client" experiences this influence as a "problem" (for further description see for instance Jackins 1965 or the more readily available Ernst and Goodison, 1981).

#[p155] In chapter 1 I mentioned my counselling teacher, Joyce. She provided a powerful model of counselling practice. Co-counselling, particularly her example, became very important to me during the last 12 years. Observing Joyce closely over a great many sessions I gradually began to appreciate part of the secret of her work: it was to do with listening. Intense listening, "active" listening, is presumably a strong component of most counselling schools. But Joyce seemed to go a step further. She listened with her body. I can explain it in no other way. She seemed to "melt" towards the client, to shape herself. She listened with total acceptance and her posture, her expression, all the myriad non-verbal signals reinforced this. Yet this was not a "becoming one" with the client. Enough distance has to be maintained to see behind the distress, to think creatively and seek ways to discharge this, while maintaining trust.

Such work may be found in the counselling literature, I will, however, turn to other sources in drawing out some lessons for the research setting rather than the counselling session. While there may be a multitude of mid-way positions and alternative routes to handling subjectivity I will concentrate on two articles. These brought into sharp focus the need to clarify my thinking in this field and chimed with developing ideas around counselling and research. The two are selected as illustration of two contradictory positions: one refers to managing subjectivity in inquiry, the other, in opposition, refers to embracing participatory consciousness. The first seeks to control subjectivity, the second to harness it[3].

6. Managed subjectivity and participatory consciousness.

In considering research, Peshkin (1988) asserts that "subjectivity operates during the entire research process" (p.17). Rather than seeing this as a disadvantage, however, he regards it as a virtue "[subjectivity] is the basis of researchers making a distinctive contribution, one that results from the unique configuration of their personal qualities joined to the data they have collected" (p.18). He explains how he decided to "actively seek out" his subjectivity in research (ibid p.18) by noting "[w]hen I felt my feelings were aroused" (p.18). As a result of such monitoring, he discovers six "I"s in one particular

#[p156] project and advocates the "enhanced awareness that should result from a formal, systematic monitoring of self" (ibid p.20). However, he describes this as "a tuning up of my subjectivity ...[and] a warning ... so that I may avoid the trap of perceiving just that which my own untamed sentiments have sought out and served up as data" (ibid p.20). He seeks to control his subjectivity "I do not thereby exorcise my subjectivity. I do, rather, enable myself to manage it - to preclude it from being unwittingly burdensome" (ibid p.20).

Heshusius (1994) provides a criticism of this "procedural subjectivity": "how to be in charge of one’s subjectivity, how to handle it, restrain it, account for it" (p.15). She sees "management of both subjectivity and objectivity ... as sharing the same alienated mode of consciousness" (ibid p.15) and relates this to attempts to model research on science "[i]n borrowing methodology from the natural sciences, we borrowed the idea of distance, the idea that the knower is separate from the known" (ibid p.16). This distance was regulated first by an "objective methodology" and now by "a methodology of [controlling] subjectivity" (ibid p.16). In view of the failure of this more "objective" stance to get to the heart of matters (she cites in example a particular researcher’s misunderstanding of an alien culture) she advocates, instead, "participatory consciousness ... the awareness of a deeper level of kinship between the knower and the known" (ibid p.16).

This participatory consciousness "requires an attitude of profound openness and receptivity" (ibid p.16). It involves "a temporary eclipse of all the perceiver’s egocentric thoughts and strivings, of all preoccupations with self and self-esteem. One is turned toward other ... ‘without being in need of it’ " (ibid p.16 emphasis in original).

Heshusius describes the deep passion and identification "that does not want anything, but ... in the total turning of the attention while releasing all egocentric thought, opens up access" (ibid p. 17 emphasis in original). She points up the danger in trying to manage subjectivity "[i]n resisting the undue influence of values and emotions ... one can cut oneself off from the real ‘feeling/ knowing’" (ibid p.18) and end up with "fragmented knowledge" (ibid p.18). She talks of "dwelling and indwelling, of extending oneself non-verbally, of letting go of self and attending a larger reality" (ibid p.18) and the need for science to become "enchanted" again (ibid p.18), to "heal the split between rational and

#[p157] somatic knowing" (ibid p.19). Peshkin’s call to manage subjectivity she sees as arising from "a fear to merge" (ibid p.19) and as a result of such anxiety "we create the idea of distinctly separate "I’s" within one person: the "I" that is doing the restraining and the "I’s" that need the restraining" (ibid p.19). However, in employing participatory consciousness researchers "did not get ‘lost’ in some symbiotic participation that robbed them of their ability to engage in reasoning, conceptualisation, categorisation and so forth" (ibid p. 20).

How do these two papers bear on the current project? Heshusius describes what I feel is an account of the kind of listening which can be employed in counselling: an embracing of the other without becoming lost, a deep knowing. I could see that in Joyce. After much training, I can experience something of this myself when counselling. If my study were a study of others I would like to think I could explore in the way Heshusius describes, in interacting with these "others". But my project is a study of myself. The constant challenge is to do just what Heshusisus deplores in conventional research: to achieve some distance. To observe myself "dispassionately". To "wander around in my mind" (Hampton 1993 p. 264). This is not fear driven, certainly not fear of the other as Heshusisus describes. It is more a realistic need to exercise some control over what could easily become a morass, an infinite regress. In this context, some concept similar to Peshkin’s managed subjectivity seems essential, although we are still left with the conundrum of who is the "I" who does this managing. For now I will return, however, to the subject of counselling as it occurs in the current project.

7. Counselling and research.

Many authors point to the emotional stresses of research (e.g. Dadds 1993, Rowland 1993), few describe counselling experiences as part of the way of dealing with these. Heron (1996), exploring co-operative inquiry, explains how researchers "will need to take time out ... to monitor for the distorting effect of their own fear and hidden distress" (p.151). He describes, for example, one inquiry which included "three in-depth sessions of

#[p158] emotional house cleaning, involving regression, catharsis and insight" (p.153). His work is, perhaps untypical, established as he is in a counselling background.

I counselled regularly before the project, there was no special effort needed to bring this into the research arena. Most of my early counselling around the project had been to do with worries of the type "Where am I going", "I can’t do it" etc. and these continued in various guises throughout. One rather mysterious diary note summed up some of my thinking after one session with Mike, my current counsellor, and provides an entry into the way counselling worked for me in research:

Research =Poetry. I don’t count. It does! (31.3.98 9.15 p.m. at Mike’s)

This referred to memories of struggles around the first public performance of my poetry a few years previously. It was in a large venue. I was very worried the audience would reject the poems, and thus reject me. My own self esteem was tied up in the success or failure of the venture. Counselling allowed me to dissociate my identity concerns from the material. I tried to imagine myself as just the "poor vehicle" for the "great work"[4]; I was just a "conduit" to bring them out. What counted was presenting the material as well as I could. I had a duty as an "artist" to give the poems life, they could (to employ a metaphor) then "run around on their own without me". I did not count, they did.

In the same way, I overcame my fears around presenting a paper on identity. The ideas were what counted, not my personal kudos (or lack of), thus, as far as the research is concerned, I got to a stage of feeling, "I" don’t count, the ideas do.

Two further notable sessions illustrate the counselling style and how it related to the study. One concerned the paper "Notes From a Method" I had just posted to the Educational Action Research journal (EARJ), the other concerned the training tape I was trying to develop.

8. Counselling about the paper.

#[p159] In some ways the issue here might be seen by an outsider as trivial: worries over how some distantly connected academic might react to my paper. Counselling may, however, be more to do with the force of our perceptions rather than any "objective" measure of the size of the problem. In any case, this first example provides an introduction to the "feel" of the counselling method, although resolution of problems through counselling is not always as immediate as this example implies.

In the EARJ paper I was making the argument that truthful accounts should include all the side-tracks and confusions of research. I had a sudden horror that the journal’s (prestigious) editors would take this to mean I was saying all their past work was an academic fiction. What was I to do? Ask the post office to rescue the envelope? I was in something of a panic and unsure how to proceed. Emotions were clouding my judgement and decision making. The notes of the counselling session show how, using a suggestion offered by my counsellor of role-playing an imaginary confrontation, I bring out the problematic emotions ("discharge") and then begin to think more clearly.

The facilitating process:

I imagine myself in a room full of high-powered academics. I read my paper to them and repeat several times the offending phrase [about tidy research being fraudulent and dishonest] from Wilson (1997). Keith B. [a particularly renowned and, on first contact, fearsome researcher; name changed] barks at me "You’re calling me a liar?".

The discharge:

I feel real fear and shake.

My subsequent thinking [when the emotion evaporates]:

(a) I don’t want to say "all your past work was lies" rather, this is a "new paradigm" lets move on....

(b) I’ll re-read some EARJ [articles] because I suspect they do put [this kind of] mess in [more than I think]. (20.10.97)

My claim for discovery of a "new paradigm" here may seem more than a little foolish, perhaps a new method would be nearer the mark, and "re-reading some articles" may sound a rather mundane outcome, the point is, however, I was able to help the thinking along and leave the worry behind. The details of the foolish or trivial thoughts involved in the process are less relevant than the subsequent result of clearing out the emotional block.

#[p160] 9. Problems with the tapes.

My first counselling session with Mike in the last phase of the research, raised a basic question around the definitions of identity and self which I recorded as "Where does ID = self?" (29.9.97). That question of definition was to be addressed in preparing the later article. The most challenging issue at that time, however, concerned my tapes.

In an early phase of the project I had a tentative fancy around analysing my parent interviews in some very detailed way which would require transcripts (I had been reading studies which used grounded theory). I recorded a number of interviews with this in mind but in the end decided that such an approach was not going to be the focus of the inquiry. However, for a long period I had avoided listening to these tapes as I concentrated on trying to untangle the methodological quandaries arising from the project as a whole. At the beginning of the identity research this omission suddenly came to the fore. The notes below are presented in some length as they set out most of the agenda for my concerns over the following year.

To begin, I started to realise the tapes actually presented a powerful emotional issue for me, tied up with not liking the sound of my own voice[5].  As I hoped to produce a commercial training package with these as the centre piece, this was more than a little local difficulty.

Why not listen to the tapes? Its like the two parts of the project are separate - "practitioner" and "researcher". Also:

- Don’t like the sound of my voice. Old hidden hurts of class, and stammer. THIS FEELS EMOTIONALLY CHARGED. Need a counselling session.

- Don’t know quite what to do with [the tapes] (if anything). But N.B. [I’m] going to make a "book and tape" [training package] so will need to listen! (30.9.97 6.00 a.m. emphasis in original)
 
  

Simply reflecting on the concerns did not resolve the matter:

Perhaps [I’m] not listening to tapes because its the accent I don’t like because it [implies I’m] "thick", which is odd when [I’m] doing a PhD. Except part of the motivation may be to "prove" I’m not "thick" (If someone says I like your accent that doesn’t help, like Cyrano’s nose - it just emphasises it). Although note [for the] last few months [I’ve been ] thinking [it] doesn’t matter whether I actually "pass" the damn thing or not!

#[p161] Oh dearie me, its like the old horror movies "Just when you thought you were safe..." i.e. [I had] a nice tidy thesis with [a nice simple bit of research into] "ID" as the last bit. So "ID research" needs a health warning. (30.9.97 6.00 a.m.)

Below are the notes of counselling sessions in November 1997 and February 1998 when I took tapes along to listen to and deal with the emotions arising from. In the first session I listened to a tape for about fifteen minutes and counselled for about fifteen minutes. The second (briefer) session shows my much more positive attitude well established.

10. Counselling about the tapes.

1st session 10.11.97.

The diary notes below are a re-construction of the counselling session, written down later at home. In the session I return to an early memory, in this case of a speech therapy session (one of the co-counselling techniques is to work on the first memory of a particular problem). I then switch roles, talking to myself as adult then child; again, part of the techniques used to trigger the emotion.

One of my concerns had been that the tape might demonstrate a poor interview style. This "professional" concern, however, had been drowned in the sea of "personal" concerns about my accent. The clear thinking at the end is where I start to see the tape in a different light, free from the emotional "noise" I can begin to appreciate some of its strengths.

The facilitating process.

Re: [my] accent : [it sounds] stupid, thick, ignorant. [I] recall a speech therapy session about age 12 [when I had to listen to a tape of myself]. [The] speech therapist didn’t notice my reaction to [hearing] my voice.

The discharge.

What sort of world is it where you have to think about that. What have they done to you?

[Speaking as adult to my younger self:] You’re all right son, its OK. You shouldn’t have to think about it at your age.

[my younger self talking] Look I’m only twelve, for ****’s sake. What have I done to deserve this? I’m just slobbing about like the average twelve year old, I’ve

#[p162] done nothing wrong. Bastards! it shouldn’t have to be like this! Its not right. I’m only twelve.

Lots of tears and sharp pain between eyebrows.

Subsequent thinking.

Tape is nicely broken up!!! [I had been concerned about monopolising the interviews]. (10.11.97 extract from notes of session, emphasis in original)

Second session 2.2.98.

These are again my notes recalled at home in my diary. The actual counselling involved listening to a different tape for about fifteen minutes. I had not listened to any of the tapes in the meanwhile. An unexpected period of "celebration" followed, rather than any "discharge" of negative emotions. The earlier session appears to have helped clear out the emotional baggage. I record below just this celebration.

I liked the interview! I liked me interviewing. That was good work! I can see what’s going on - the quality of communication, the skill involved. I was mirroring mum’s speech (quite naturally), "counselling" [her], making jokes - putting her at her ease, building trust. There’s a lot going on there. Anyone who can’t see that, who just hears "the accent", rather than the quality of the interaction, is not in a position to criticise.

I could perhaps have a different accent - BBC posh? It might work better. But it might not! I might like it more, but my priority is the parents (and the child) and if what I do now is effective, I’m not going to change it. Anyway, listening to me now, I’m comfortable with me. I can relate to me. And I’m doing a good job. I can sell this tape! (2.2.98 extract from notes of session, emphasis in original)

During August 1998 I began to make up a training package for psychologists based round one of the interviews (see appendix A for a copy of the relevant part of this tape, the main parent interview). During the pilot phase I asked colleagues to comment on the taped material, without feeling any anxieties around my accent, just (quite appropriate) concerns around whether the material would be effective or not. The unhelpful emotions around listening to myself seemed to have been overcome and I could concentrate on more practical matters. But worries about method persisted.

11. Continuing concerns over identity and method.

#[p163] Much of my identity thinking had been around practitioner and researcher aspects. Gradually, other identities came to prominence, although not always through counselling. For instance, at one point, just in the course of my routine reflections, I discovered a re-confirmation of an older identity, that of scientist:

I now realise (although this may be an older self’s meanderings) that at one point, through the discipline of maths, my younger self had some insight into how one tiny corner of the universe works. And I count that realisation as more precious than all the philosophy and psychology I have ever read. (25.2.98 9.00 p.m. in bath).

I return to this identity in the concluding chapter, and carry on below with concerns over method.

Despite having had an encouraging response to my article on method from EARJ in July 1997, I was still not sure that it would finally be accepted, that confirmation did not come till May 1998. My confidence in the approach (and whether I could complete the research) remained somewhat shaky, being so different from my scientific training:

Been scared all week. Its like training for the Olympics in running a mile on your hands. Can I do it? [and] Will some judge accept it as a valid race? (6.7.98)

However, at the same time, during the year, I gradually began to feel my own "acceptance" of my own approach. This roller-coaster of accepting and doubting the method appears throughout the project.

I am more confident embracing "uncertainty" [in my approach to] identity, (29.6 98 3.30 p.m. at work)

I am confident to call this study "research" like I became confident to call my style of writing poems "poetry". It may not be good research (or poetry) but it is research. (12.9.98 4.30 p.m. in bath, emphasis in original)

So, during the identity project I continued to experience worries about, and to shape my understanding of, the approach I was taking. I allowed this new lens of identity to develop, while aiming for another stage of understanding to consolidate.

I went for a first attempt at writing an article [on identity] based on one or two articles I’d read and Andy [Converey]’s thesis and chats to Colin [Biott]. This gave me a "platform of understanding" (and possibly many naive/wrong ideas e.g. trying to criticise narrative research). (18.2.98 1.30 p.m. after lunch)

#[p164] Later in the same extract I also recall an example of an experience of "not seeing" material on another topic, "ill-defined problems", as I did not have the lens with which to see :

How am I going about this business [identity research]? I could have (should have) looked at my data in a kind of "grounded theory" way and saw what emerged. But I didn’t feel I can do this until I have some clearer concepts - what is ID/self/ role etc. (remember I didn’t "see" something in Eraut [1994 p.45] about "ill defined" problems, till I began much later to develop a concept of "ill defined problems" through [other] reading). (18.2.98)

The draft article led on to another platform:

I then sought a higher platform of understanding from the questions and confusions raised in the first draft through further reading. I abandoned further reading when feeling overwhelmed with material (and becoming aware of the potential of becoming engrossed in side-issues which may not be vital to the main direction e.g. stuff on ID and culture). I felt the need to distil another draft - another platform of understanding (always intending to interrogate the "data" when I felt sufficiently sufficiently confident of the concepts I was employing - in particular what is "identity"). (19.2.98)

The inquiry had potential to take many shapes. I started to realise this more clearly, and my approach to the concept of validity (see chapter 11) also began to be more flexible. Here, in the following extract, I am referring to the different ways I could have used my casework material in the early part of the project, as a parallel for the many ways the research as a whole could have panned out:

I could have taken many paths through the reading. To a large extent the path I took was chance. Another path would (may) have given a different handle on the topic, perhaps radically different. Which of these paths is the correct one?

In the same way, I could have approached my "cases" in many different ways (discourse analysis etc.) and the thesis would have been a very different animal.

But remember even I could not "replicate" the research, never mind another researcher - as in T.S. Eliot

xx “I am no longer the same person" [an approximation to p. 35 line 139 of Eliot 1959]. Perhaps the notion of what is the most "valid" interpretation of the "data" is superfluous. Many interpretations could be made, each one "valid " in a sense: coherent [in itself] and resonating [with other people] - there is no "correct" path through the forest, just a variety of different walks, each "true to itself". (18.2.98 1.30 p.m. after lunch)

This note fairly neatly summarises several aspects of the method and my changing understanding of it. Baldamus further illustrates this chance/contingent nature of research

#[p165] in quoting other researchers’ confessions (see also Hart 1995 p.219 on the number of different "stories" data could generate):

There are so many questions which might be asked, so many correlations which could be run, so many ways in which the findings can be organised ... that a thousand different studies could come out of the same data. (Davis quoted in Baldamus 1972 p. 292)

During this period I continued to rehearse to myself some of the arguments of chapter 8 where I came to view the "data" as theory laden. Chalmers (1982) argues that even the most mundane of observations "Here is a piece of chalk" is theory laden and fallible (p.30). Whatever the truth of this more general proposition, it seems clear that I could not separate the "analysis" of the data from my attempts to discover concepts in the data (and my reading) with which later "to see" the data. For instance, until I had come across the concept of "ill-defined" problems in other material, it did not register in my first reading of Eraut. Although I only pursued this idea of ill-defined problems in a limited way the instance was quite salutary for me.

In addition to this "learning to see"[6]  there was again a large element of "serendipity", exemplified in the many paths I could have taken, depending on, for instance, the influence of my reading around the topic. Some of the time was taken in exploratory "probes" or off-shoots, such as beginning to examine culture and its link to identity ("Why and how do contemporary questions of culture so readily become highly charged questions of identity" taken from Hall and du Gay 1996, jacket blurb). When these began to become "bogged-down" in endless side issues, or began to move too far from the main path, without themselves becoming the main path, they were abandoned.

12. The production of the article.

I delivered the paper on identity at the BERA annual conference in Belfast at the end of August 1998. The audience asked several questions, mainly to clarify points. The questioning was not hostile, in fact a number of those attending, including the chair of the session, seemed enthusiastic and all twenty copies of the article were taken away. I had crossed one hurdle in making the knowledge public. One comment I took on board

 #[p166] concerned my rather dismissive tone about research being used as therapy (from Somekh’s 1995 paper). I later modified this.

The article was not, however, the article I wanted to write; it was the one I felt impelled to write. It was defensive writing, seeking academic credibility with a wall of references (not that they were irrelevant or in some way simply padding). Rather than being woven in as part of the paper, they broke it in two. Much of the writing felt heavy. It was not me. As my diary records a little later, I felt the content of the research could not be separated from its form. It had to be authentic for me, then it might speak to others: "... on the plane back from Belfast on Sunday I was almost in tears. There is a way I want to write, that has wings" (diary note 3.9.98 emphasis in original). The text did not please me, although it was not until November, following discussion with Colin, that I fully realised this problem: it was associated with another "recovered" identity which the research had thrown up, that of writer (see also chapter 10).

This writer identity underlined a tension in the project: how was I finally to present the material (the thesis and later articles arising from it) - in formal "scientific" style, or in my own voice[7]? Both courses appeared risky. The first might achieve "academic" respectability but lose a more "authentic" voice. It might gain in validity in one sense, and at the same time, lose it in another. The second would create a better tale: the form and the content of the thesis would be one, the nature of the text, its readability, would add to its validity in the way I conceived validity, but would that be acceptable to the academy? The resolution of this tension, the choice of writing style, should now be evident; questions of validity I will postpone till later.

Feedback from BERJ, the journal I eventually submitted the article to, left me with a quandary: how to incorporate their comments in the time scale I had left. I decided to follow the advice of one of the referees and to set aside for now further attempts to develop a theoretical position on identity. In addition, the original article had given only a brief description of the various identities I described and the referees criticised me for not giving sufficient material from the rest of the project to illustrate claims about possessing these identities. I decided to incorporate a very modified version of the paper into the

 #[p167] thesis so that the more extensive "evidence" for the various identities would not be divorced from the discussion of their influence on research. This heavily amended revision of part of the paper, and the outstanding questions it raises, appear as chapter 10 rather than as a separate article.

13. Key points emerging from the chapter.

The messy method was applied in this mini-project. I began with a proto-question which in this case crystallised too quickly.

The example of careful listening of my counselling teacher led me to a consideration of the place of subjectivity in this research.

To highlight the need to maintain "distance" in self-study (although not in the study of others) I was attracted to Peshkin’s "managed subjectivity" rather than Heshusius’ "participatory consciousness"

While not rejecting the positive value of emotions, I used counselling to deal with some of the emotional stresses arising from the research.

In addition to practitioner, researcher and counsellor identities I rediscovered a scientist identity and a writer identity. The next chapter considers multiple identities.

During this mini-project, while still doubting the "messy method" I note a parallel increasing of my acceptance of the overall approach, which went through several platforms of understanding.

I noted how easily the research could have followed many different paths and appreciated again how my observations were theory dependent.

#[p168] Feedback from a draft article on identity and research led me to focus on displaying the evidence for claiming multiple identities.

Notes.

[1] MacLure (1995) criticises the use of the term tool as an engineering metaphor, in her exploration of post-modern thinking about research. I use the term here acknowledging the potentially misleading image it may conjure up.

[2] I am not rejecting the value of emotions here. Emotions may be a positive force. Dadds (1995) and Polanyi (1958 e.g. ch.4), for instance, support the idea of "passion" in inquiry. For simplicity I also make no distinction between emotions and feelings in the discussions.

[3] My attention was drawn to these particular papers by an un-named referee of my paper on Identity and Research and I am indebted to the person for this. Further discussion of subjectivity is continued in debates which I do not explore, see for example, Barone 1992, Clark 1994, Heshusius 1989, Lenzo, 1995.

[4] I would like to stress that I am not claiming the work was, in fact, brilliant. The point is to do with how I got round my anxieties: by taking responsibility as an artist for the material and putting my "self" concerns to one side.

[5] In addition, I had worries that looking too closely would somehow spoil the "magic" of the Eric Harvey method. There was also a lingering desire to carry out some gigantic statistical analysis of the transcripts. I focus here on what seemed the biggest "block" at the time.

Blocks may not be uncommon. Dadds (1993), for example, describes how one teacher was unable to examine her video tapes as she "had been unable to detach her feelings about the wider professional context from her feelings .... about the video images" (p.292). Maisch et al (1997) describe one researcher being "blocked by her feelings of pain" (p.53). My counselling solution to such problems is just one that researchers may wish to consider.

[6] Chalmers (1982) describes in some detail the theory-dependence of observation, borrowing from Polanyi (which is quoted at length here as it captures for me the feeling of "learning to see" so well):

Think of a medical student attending a course in the X-ray diagnosis of pulmonary diseases. He (sic) watches, in a darkened room, shadowy traces on a fluorescent

#[p169] screen placed against a patient’s chest, and hears the radiologist commenting to his assistants, in technical language, on the significant features of these shadows. At first, the student is completely puzzled. For he can see in the X-ray pictures only the shadows of the heart and ribs, with a few spidery blotches between them. The experts seems to be romancing about figments of their imagination; he can see nothing that they are talking about. Then, as he goes on listening for a few weeks, looking carefully at ever-new pictures of different cases, a tentative understanding will dawn on him; he will gradually forget about the ribs and begin to see the lungs. And eventually, if he perseveres intelligently, a rich panorama of significant details will revealed to him: of physiological variations and pathological changes, of scars, of chronic infections and signs of acute disease. He has entered a new world. He sees only a fraction of what the experts can see, but the pictures are definitely making sense now. (Polanyi 1958 p.101)

In my study (as in other research), of course, there was no "expert" to show the way, to mould the developing perceptions. It was a "boot strapping" affair of creating the concepts and learning how to see with them, both at the same time.

[7] Griffiths (1998) examines several meanings of voice, compares it with empowerment and relates the two to working for social justice. I am employing voice here loosely to mean using "my own style of writing". In chapter 11, however, I refer to "giving myself voice", again loosely, as a type of self-empowerment i.e. overcoming my lack of confidence in asserting my own knowledge. Confusingly, this may involve using my own style of writing i.e. voice in the earlier meaning.

In chapter 3 I refer to "giving voice" as describing an area I am familiar with (the Eric Harvey method and attention seeking). In chapter 9 my "voice" is simply my speech. I will not pursue these variations in meaning of voice any further.

#[p170] Chapter 10. Identity and research.

Chapter 9 outlined my efforts around carrying out a mini-project to investigate identity and its relationship with research. In this chapter I extract certain aspects of the results of that inquiry: I lay claim to, and illustrate, a number of identities. I also argue that the tensions between these identities helped shape the project. However, a wide range of questions is raised by these apparently simple assertions and some exploration of these questions concludes the discussion.

The first four sections below describe the tensions apparently arising from different sub-groupings of the collection of eight identities claimed. A number of these have their roots in the autobiographical account earlier, such as "unconfident middle class with working class origins", others are of more recent origin, such as "researcher", again others have been, in a way, re-discovered, such as "scientist". Section five covers some more minor aspects. Section six turns to the problematic issues which this work raises.

I adapt as a working definition of identity, Hogg & Abrams’ (1988) description. Their approach is seated in a particular theoretical position of the psychological development of individuals within groups, however, I feel their offering is succinct enough, yet appears broad enough in application, to meet most needs as a starting point (issues around definition are discussed later)

people’s [many and very varied] concepts of who they are, of what sort of people they are, and how they relate to others (ibid p.2, phrase added to emphasise the multiplicity of identities).

In the sections below, I spend some time establishing my claim to various identities, partly in response to criticism mentioned in chapter 9.

1. The tensions between identities of "believer in the Eric Harvey method", "professional" and "researcher".

A. Eric Harvey identity.

From the start I was a very committed "believer in the Eric Harvey method" and the parent interviews which formed its heart. For me, this was not simply a belief of the kind

#[p171] where I might believe a particular piece of information to be true. This was a vital aspect of my work, an aspect which gave me purpose. This was where I felt that I, by my own efforts, could achieve something. I recall, only half jokingly, discussing with one colleague that psychologists could be split in to two camps: those who supported the Eric Harvey approach and those who did not. As a crude distinction, I valued most, as people and as professionals, those who fell into the former camp. I had a powerful feeling of "being" an Eric Harvey worker. It was not just a belief, it was a part of "me", a long-standing and highly valued part of me; something which "coloured my outlook" / "gave me a perspective"; but more than that, it was part of how I viewed myself: a "Harveyian". It was part of how I would account for myself to others. It was an identity.

A major emphasis in the Eric Harvey method was on the parent-child interactions, and a great deal of time was put aside in case work to tackle these. Changing the parents’ beliefs was a key to this work and this required a carefully thought out strategy. I will not in this paper address the validity or otherwise of these interventions, hopefully teacher and psychologist colleagues will engage in that debate at some point. However, as well as working with parents, part of the job involved working with teachers. I was "a believer in attention seeking" (the concept at the heart of Eric’s approach) but found others (often the teachers) were not. In addition, many of the teachers seemed greatly stressed by the behaviour of the referred child "I feel like screaming. I feel like it’s my fault. I’m just drained at the end of it" (Art teacher, quoted in Mellor 1997a, p.6).

Through the habit of focusing on the parents I generally allocated time for only a brief discussion with these stressed teachers. Yet in addition to their emotional state they were also potentially holding very different views about the causes of the child’s behaviour. I was continually frustrated in my efforts to bring about change within the conceptual framework I was offering. Again, the rightness or otherwise of such attempts is not an issue I can consider here, what is important, however, in the present context is that I found my practice wanting.

These short sessions with the teachers were totally inadequate to the task and ran the risk in any case of appearing to blame them for the children’s problems. Reflections on

 #[p172] casework consistently highlighted this issue. One solution seemed to be to find another way of putting across the ideas, in a more teacher-friendly way. Thus my research into practice was sidelined as I began to put together material on attention seeking for teachers (Mellor 1997a) (similar books for parents and psychologists are in preparation). Teachers could then examine my ideas in depth and at leisure, when and if they chose to.

Through this writing I also wanted to create an agenda to counterbalance a powerful medical model which often seemed to lurk in the background, currently much reinforced by discussion of attention deficit-hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) - a confusingly similar label with radically different implications. Consideration of ADHD and other, at times, conflicting explanations for emotional and behaviour difficulties is covered in Mellor (1997a), I will not explore the arguments here. My point is to do with identity. Commitment to an Eric Harvey identity inevitably led to employing attention seeking as a key concept in the method of working with many clients. The resulting desire to do this effectively, led to writing the book having priority over the research project as a whole.

B. Professional identity.

During the project I began to want an inquiry which allowed me to look at this method of working, but not necessarily change it. As Schön (1983) explains, this was a technique I was "good at undertaking" (p. 318). I was worried (perhaps unnecessarily) that, opening up the interviews to close scrutiny would lead to my becoming self conscious about the process. The interviews involved telling stories to create a therapeutic relationship and give insight; becoming self-critical about these I felt might somehow undermine the "magic" of the technique. I could lose the confidence which in chapter 3 I argue is vital to the therapeutic process. Any changes I worried could be for the worse: "[t]o believe that reflection and inquiry are always good is another common fallacy" (Hammersley 1993 p.443 n.20)[1].

However, at the same time, I was conscious of being a serious practitioner, a professional with a responsibility to the clients. As I looked, with my professional eye, I found things to alter. I began, for instance, to break the interviews up much more, to give more room

 #[p173] for the parents. I also produced written materials for teachers and enlisted the children more directly as agents of change. There were many other alterations in practices with the parents, teachers and children (see chapter 4). Thus my Eric Harvey identity was not rigid, not fundamentalist, fixed in stone, I had an over-riding commitment to the well being of my clients. I would have been shocked to have caught myself acting consistently otherwise; it would have caused, I believe, a kind of crisis of identity. Not that I can claim that each minute action I ever took could be ethically sound in this respect, that would be inhuman, but I would not expect to discover a consistent gap between my espoused values and my values in use.

My surprise at finding myself, even in my informal, private diary notes, dismissing a client as a "no-hoper"[2] (see appendix B) led me to an ongoing examination. It was not just the demeaning label (which I could try to rationalise away, successfully or not, as a unique, momentary slip amongst hundreds of pages of notes), important though that label might be, but the much larger issue of the basis on which I make decisions over time allocation in the often frenzied and uncertain world of everyday professional practice.

However defined, being a "professional" felt like having an "identity". It was not simply an abstract notion, a qualification, a handy title, a bargaining chip for better wages; it was central to the lived experience of working life.

C. Researcher identity.

As the project evolved, I gradually began to think of myself as a researcher. Given the subject matter, me, and the unusual method of inquiry which developed, confidence in asserting this as an "identity" was very slow in coming, however, from the beginning I wanted to be true to the path I had embarked on in spite of constant doubts. Despite these anxieties, in the course of the study I was clear that "something" was different in the way I was viewing myself. With the level of commitment necessary to maintain this "messy" approach, the time and emotional work involved and the far reaching (and seemingly permanent) consequences for my ways of thinking, it came to seem reasonable to apply the label identity to this facet of myself. What kind of researcher (I have tried to forge an

#[p174] understanding of what it means to me to be a practitioner researcher) and how good a researcher are just two of the questions which render this label, like the others, problematic, not concrete or easily explained (see also chapter 11).

The research was shaped in part by tensions between these three identities. Having an itch to understand, without a great urge to change, met some of my "researcher" and "Eric Harvey" identity needs, but in practice I could not avoid change, arising from commitment to my "professional" identity. These changes in fact occurred from the very beginning of the project.

My identity as a "believer in the Eric Harvey method" and my desire to explore and promote the concept of attention seeking meant that my identity as "researcher" (with a commitment to wider exploration of issues around practice and its study) took second place for a while. Somewhat ironically, in order to improve one aspect of practice (working with teachers) I felt the need to reinforce another, possibly more contentious aspect (by publicising attention seeking). This is not to say that I have a "blind faith" in attention seeking and the Eric Harvey model. I am continuing to change and critique my practice (Mellor 1998a) and striving to obtain critical reviews of my thoughts on attention seeking. I hope others will investigate the field and very much welcome dialogue.

2. Identities of " unconfident middle class with working class origins", "counsellor", "researcher" and "believer in the Eric Harvey method ".

A. Unconfident middle class with working class origins identity.

One aspect of the research I found most difficult to deal with, as explained in chapter 9, was simply listening to tapes of my parent interviews. I found I had a long-standing problem with hearing my own voice. I was very conscious of my accent and at times not proud of my working class origin, as displayed by this accent. Although in many ways solidly middle class (by income, house and profession) I lacked confidence in this position and my autobiography traces such conflicts back to early adolescent years. Oddly, they have never been the subject of counselling. At other times, however, I did value my

#[p175] working class background, for instance, with regard to my job I felt it enabled me to cross cultural barriers and relate to a range of clients. My position was contradictory, neither securely middle class nor securely working class[3] yet the experience was one of identity (albeit confused and at times stressful) which I have used the phrase "middle class with working class origins" to try to capture. Again, the reality was far beyond the mere "having of a label"; the few instances cited in this project do not capture the many ways in which this identity was experienced in day to day life.

B. Counsellor identity.

I trained in co-counselling in the mid 1980s. Part of the attraction of the approach for me was the sharing of time as counsellor and client. I feel I became a better counsellor by tackling, as client, issues which could have intruded into my counsellor role[4]. Insights as counsellor in their turn helped me to be a "better" client (in co-counselling both parties strive to tackle problems together, the client is not seen as a passive recipient and needs to become comfortable with a range of techniques). Basic training led to further training, workshops and residential courses with continuing individual counselling sessions between.

Although some of the more unusual strategies of co-counselling would be inappropriate to use in daily work or in daily life, the general counselling experience, of careful listening and being largely undisturbed by expression of emotions, I count as invaluable in a range of settings. I can explain much behaviour, at least to myself, in counselling terms. It is not a question of overtly "going about being a counsellor" - that would be distasteful, it is more an embracing of a certain way of being, but one to be drawn on when the occasion requires it, not in the shops or on the allotment or at the theatre; much of life just "goes on" with little need of therapy or intrusion. "Counsellor" has, however, for me the feel of an identity[5].
  

Throughout my project I constantly relied on counselling to support me in times of uncertainty and to guide my decisions. I strongly valued my counsellor identity as a constant touchstone and resource. Being "true" to this identity I realised this concern

 #[p176] with accent and class, highlighted by listening to the tapes, was not an issue I could sweep under the carpet. I could not hide the problem away by pretending that listening to tapes was only a minor part of my project which could be safely overlooked, particularly as I wanted to use the tapes in another publication around the Eric Harvey/ attention seeking ideas and potentially this could cause me much embarrassment.

Thus anxieties arising from my class identity led to conflict with desires arising from both my researcher identity and my Eric Harvey identity, and these conflicts raised issues which, as counsellor, I could not ignore. Following counselling sessions, I now feel able to examine the tapes without dragging up emotional "noise". In fact, I now quite like the person I hear on the tapes.

Unlike Converey (1996) then (see later), I did not rely on trading off one identity for another when difficulties arose, I could address directly the anxieties that different identities threw up, by counselling. In fact, counselling throughout the project enabled me to explore areas which deeply troubled me (with, I trust, a fruitful outcome) such as developing a model of research very different from that of my scientific training. And that model, as illustrated, allowed for identity tensions to mould the project.

3. Identities of "honest man" "scientist" and "messy methodologist".

A. Honest man identity.

I reflected on my practice but during the project continued to reflect on the research process itself. I kept very extensive diaries as I struggled to find a method. However, from the beginning I decided to be honest about my confusions. To some extent these arose from the nature of the enterprise I had undertaken "working without rules" (Appignanesi & Garret, 1995, p.50). Some of the confusion arose from a predilection for "messy methods" in my everyday life (see Mellor 1998b).

It was also important to me to maintain my account of errors in writing the article "On reflection", but this frankness was not some artefact of the research, some temporary

#[p177] expedient rustled up to complete a degree. Without sounding priggish, I regard myself as honest, in more than this one sphere of research. Honesty is important to me, in the small change of life and in the more weighty matters (although I confess I often fall from grace in this respect). Still, I regard it as more than a Reader’s Digest recipe for a happy life, or a vague ideal to be followed only when needed. It is an identity, not lightly to be discarded, not easily to be maintained.

B. Scientist identity.

As the current study demonstrates, this aspect of myself permeated the project from its inception. My youth and early adulthood strongly reinforced a scientific stance. I still take great pleasure in matters "scientific", but I came to have doubts. The identity became blurred, partly as I worried about the side effects of modern science. I deliberately opted for a "non-scientific" approach to this inquiry, where by non-scientific I refer to my original, perhaps limited, view of what constituted scientific inquiry. Some of the pleasure of this study has been the recovering of this identity, although in a rather different, more questioning, form.

C. Messy methodologist identity.

Partly from my science background, and partly to reduce my anxiety around the uncertain procedures I had developed, I endlessly yearned for a nice, clear-cut "scientific method", a kind of "storybook" science (Mitroff 1983 p.8). It was four years before I had the confidence to accept the "messy" path I had followed as legitimate form of inquiry and to identify myself as a "messy researcher". The phrase refers to more than a research method for one time-limited project, however. I can work in a systematic, logical way, others may do so constantly, but in many separate areas of life I find that I have a manner of approach to problems which I can only describe with terms such as "messy", "muddling through", "feeling my way"[6] etc. The current project has tried to give some substance to these ideas, to what could be so easily dismissed as lying outside the domain of "real" research. The approach is by no means easy, but it feels a natural part of me. I claim

 #[p178] "messy methodologist" as an identity, although one that may or may not be triggered or experienced each day - much of existence can be quite routine.

My identity as "scientist" (perhaps innocently, a believer in a rational and ordered approach) conflicted with my identity as "honest man" as I tried to decide how to write about my project. Could I be honest and risk rejection? It was a long time before I began to unearth "confessionals" and the "true" stories of research and began to reconcile my image of research with the "chaotic and creative procedure" ( Kupferberg 1996 p.236) and acquire the confidence to air my views. I gradually began, however, to feel I could describe a kind of research relevant to me as an experienced practitioner/ naive researcher and judged, perhaps, by practitioner researcher standards (see chapter 11).

An important aspect of such a work for me would be honesty: honesty about "mistakes", diversions, dead-ends etc. As Devereux (1967) describes "it took me more than three decades to fight my way through the tangle of my own preconceptions, anxieties and blind spots, to whatever truths this book may contain" (p. xiv). He discusses these blind spots openly and has the courage to celebrate them "the admission of one’s human limitations is not only not self-degrading but actually useful" (p.42).

My approach to research encourages diversity and fluidity rather than focus. I have, for example, explored attention seeking, reflection, reflection-in-action and methodology as well as diversions into circular epistemology, chaos theory, attribution theory and others. I want to be open about these. My position is that a frank description of these twists and turns adds to the credibility of the account rather than detracts from it.

Thus once more a (different) set of identity tensions seemed to influence the course of the project. As "scientist" (my understanding of the term went through many variations) I wanted a logical, methodical path. As messy methodologist I wanted to work with mess and confusion and "off-shoots" (which I came to value - see chapter 11). As honest man I wanted to be open about this error-laden business but feared the rejection of other "scientists" if I was.

#[p179] 4. Other identities.

The above discussion covers the major identity conflicts I noted, others appeared less prominent such as the impact of being a parent on restrictions on when and how much to research. During the final stage of the project I also began to see more clearly the influence of another identity: that of writer (touched on in chapter 9).

I had always enjoyed writing, and in a variety of genres. One of my developing positions was that the current text should achieve a balance between academic rigour and readability. It was important to my developing sense of being a practitioner researcher to be able to speak to those outside the academy as well as to satisfy those within. Lincoln and Guba (1985) for instance, as mentioned in chapter 9, suggest that the writer (of case studies - we could view the project as a case study of one researcher’s work) should be able to write like the author of a good novel:

...he or she should possess above-average writing skills ... the plot line should be exciting and should unfold in skilful ways ... someone who does not have considerable skill in creative writing will not make a good case study reporter. (Lincoln and Guba 1985 p.364)

To tell a good story, although of a "muddled", messy, incomplete idea was my ambition. I felt a need to adopt the conventions of referencing, footnoting, and partly of voice, all of which influenced the tone of the work. However, some of the fiction writer’s tricks I wanted to use conflicted with the needs of academic presentation. Two examples will suffice.

First, rather than sticking to one fixed term which I had carefully defined, such as "research", throughout the text, to relieve the tedium of repetition I would want to switch between, research, project, investigation, study and inquiry, leaving them all slightly unclear. Second, as rough rule of thumb, in fiction writing I would want to "keep ’em guessing", not give too much away, too early; to not be predictable, although not inconsistent either; to preserve some element of tension, of the possibility of the unknown. In academic writing, on the other hand, I would want to "tell them what I’m going to say; say it; then tell them what I’ve said". Thus I am in some conflict with Linclon and Guba.

#[p180] This tension came to the fore in some of the responses to my first draft of the thesis. I had been writing partly as a writer of fiction, keeping some of the best bits for surprises; letting the work flow and develop, with few intermediate summaries or recapitulations. I eventually adopted a style nearer the academic, following advice to be kinder to the reader. Some final writing issues appear in chapter 11.

The identity tensions I have selected above, however, in making the main case for one type of influence on research direction: inter-identity tensions, seem to raise as many questions as they answer. I turn to these next.

5. Some questions[7] raised by the above discussion of identity.

A. It is not at all clear even when the label identity can be applied. At a simplistic level (ignoring for now the potential fluidity of each identity outlined below) I drive, garden, cook, make music, get depressed, enjoy languages yet I do not think of myself as driver, gardener, cook, musician, depressive or linguist. Others may of course allocate me certain identities from their own standpoint, but what about me? For those aspects of myself I feel strong affinity with, is it sufficient for me to assert an identity, with suitable emphasis, for it to be so? And if I cannot make that judgement, who can?

B. How unified must an identity be to be considered as such? How much contradiction and shifting around can be tolerated before the label becomes meaningless? Kehily (1995) argues that "identity can be seen as fluid and fragmented" (p.30) and Grossberg (1996) describes how "identities are ... always contradictory, made up out of partial fragments" (p.91). Griffiths (1995a) explains how "[i]t is not unusual for a self to be surprised by itself" (p.181). Many writers subscribe to this complex view of identity. Hall (1996), for instance, emphasises not only the multiple and fluid nature of identity but also its potential for internal contradiction:

Identities are never unified [but] ... increasingly fragmented and fractured; never singular but multiply constructed across different, often intersecting and antagonistic, discourses, practices and positions. (p.4)

While this complexity may appear to open up the doorway to confusion as "Western conceptions of the self have been grounded in notions of coherence" (Haywood & Mac

#[p181] an Ghaill 1997) it seems that we can readily function without a single, coherent identity : "people can live happily with multiple identities" (Featherstone 1995 p.9).

C. Is there any limit on the number of identities? Converey (1996) and Biott (1996) place an emphasis on two or three aspects of identity such as on teacher and researcher or on researcher, occupational and social identities. Harry (1996) considers four aspects (Afro-Latino, Third world mother, inclusion standard bearer and advocate)[8].  However, an enormous number of candidates offer themselves as potential members of the class of things we call identity : sexually active woman, parent, teacher, working-class parent (Kehily 1995 p.29). Thomashow (1996) describes an ecological identity. Emmison & Western (1990 ) in their Australian study uncover sources of identity formation which may include reference to: being a family group member or being ‘Australian’ or to gender, occupation, ethnic background, state/town/district, religion, supporter of sports club, race, age, member of professional association, supporter of political party, social class, member of a trade union.

Does the term begin to become meaningless? "Smart" chemicals may have a unique identity[9].  The BBC shipping forecast refers to weather systems "losing their identity". There are examples of identity defined by handicap (Bunn 1987), by travel (Neumann 1992) by what you buy (Warde 1994), what you eat (Woodward 1997), what you wear (Giddens 1991) or even by the Christmas cards you send (Longrigg 1997) together with the host of variations discussed earlier.

Within each of these "sub-categories" of identity there may, however, be little agreement between those who nominally subscribe to them. MacLure (1993a) for instance, discussing teachers, points out "There is ... a lot more variability in the identities that people fashion for themselves, than we are always willing to recognise for research purposes" (p.382). and "people may even characterise themselves in different and inconsistent ways on a single occasion" (p.382). Other writers echo this in areas of race, creed, gender, class etc. e.g. Chaudhry (1997) exploring her multiple identities during her research describes how

#[p182] ... my Muslim identity is both a site of rebellion and resistance. There is no such thing as a pure uncontaminated brand of unmediated Islam. Your California Islam is different than mine" (p. 444).

The present study reveals fairly "worthy" identities. There may be other more disreputable identities lurking; my feeling is, however, in terms of the argument I am presenting, these would only add to its strength - presumably these identities would themselves cause other tensions in the research. The question remains, however, how many identities is it sensible to claim?

D. Questions which arise from this very brief literature, and my own study, run right to the heart of what we mean by identity. Discussion of identity spans extensive psychological and sociological works. I will not attempt to summarise these. According to Maslow (1968) "[i]t means something different for various therapists, for sociologists, for self-psychologists, for child psychologists" (p.275). Hall (1996) describes it as a concept that is no longer usable in its original form but "without which certain key questions cannot be thought at all" (p.2).

Many authors writing in the field do not attempt a definition, sometimes explicitly so. Strauss (1959) is happy to work with an "admittedly vague" term (p.9) and Michael (1996) refuses to give "a simple overarching definition of ‘identity’" (p.7). Part of the difficulty in definition may be the thick crusts of meaning accreted over the long history of (Western) ideas about the self. Donald (1996), Hall (1992) and Taylor (1989) for example trace how the notion of self /identity has developed from ancient times : "we come to think that we ‘have’ selves as we have heads. But the very idea that we have or are ‘a self’ ... is a linguistic reflection of our modern understanding ... it was not always so" (Taylor 1989 p. 177).

Having an exact definition may not always be vital; that adopted at the beginning of the chapter may not be ideal, however, my feeling is that the implicit, default definition carried by some authors may revolve around notions of a unitary identity or at most, a collection of one or two elements. As a result, in considering say, the impact of identity on research, the possibility of multiple impacts from multiple identities may be

#[p183] overlooked. Despite all these provisos, however, we are still left with the problem: how do we define identity?[10]

E. What is the most helpful view of, or metaphor for, identity? Griffiths (1995a) conceives of identity as a web "marked by competing constraints and influences" (p.93) and constructed under conditions not of our choosing. She later likens the making of the self to the making of a patchwork. Somekh & Thaler (1997) describe how the "constructed self ...is... caught in overlapping group identities whose constraints are built by systems of symbols of which language represents one form" (p.144). Following the language theme, MacLure (1993a) views identity as an argument "to claim an identity is to engage in a kind of argument, which brings together all sorts of disparate concerns into a single structure of oppositions" (p. 381) and "identity claims can be seen as a form of argument - as devices for justifying, explaining and making sense of one’s conduct, career, values and circumstances" (MacLure 1993b p.316 emphasis in original).

Somers & Gibson (1994), reviewing many studies across a wide variety of disciplines, see identity as a kind of narrative (I will not pursue how far argument and narrative overlap). They conclude:

...stories guide action; that people construct identities (however multiple and changing) by locating themselves or being located within a repertoire of emplotted stories; that ‘experience’ is constituted through narratives; that people make sense of what has happened ... by attempting to assemble ... these happenings in one or more narratives; and that people are guided to act in certain ways ...on the basis of ... cultural narratives." (p.38)

Does the metaphor depend on the purpose of the study, and is that a problem?

F. Is it possible, or indeed necessary, to reconcile identities "in strife like cats in a bag" (Somekh 1995 p. 348)? Bem (1973) asserts "[m]y own suspicion is that inconsistency is probably our most enduring cognitive commonplace" (p.334).

G. Turning to emotional issues, Devereux (1967) presents a detailed account of the way in which the behavioural sciences (he mainly explores anthropology and psychoanalysis) throw up material which troubles the investigator. He criticises the researcher who avoids such sensitive topics and "seeks to protect himself (sic) against anxiety by the

#[p184] omission, soft-pedalling, non-exploitation, misunderstanding, ambiguous description, over-exploitation or rearrangement" (p.44) of anxiety provoking material. Devereux argues that, rather than burying them, such anxieties can become a rich source of further material. Thus he advocates the use of anxieties as further data to study and urges researchers not to pretend to be more "objective" by simply avoiding such areas.

If we choose to, we can make our feelings an integral part of the study and there is strong support for this in some feminist approaches as I understand them: "emotion ... is equally as capable of yielding knowledge as conventionally ‘rational’ intellectual behaviour" (Stanley &Wise 1993 p. 202). There may well be a legitimate place for research as a kind of "therapy" (a role which Somekh 1995 criticises, although I am not sure of the frequency with which it occurs). My inclination, however, is to take my feelings to my counsellor. Research may draw strongly on feelings, but need not become the vehicle to deal with them.

All research has the potential to cause anxiety as we wallow in data, lose time and struggle for theories. We could celebrate other emotional knowledge and the use of "feelings and experience as the basis for explicating the personal and everyday" (Stanley & Wise 1993 p.175). Personal research may make emotional work almost unavoidable as we begin to confront our selves. We then have to face the choice between avoiding and addressing the very real personal worries that such research is likely to throw up once we enter these murky waters. The researcher may find counselling supports and even liberates the research exercise and facilitates the link between "rigor and reason ...[and]... emotion and intuition" (Roseneau 1992 p.181) although this area requires much further investigation. My interest is in co-counselling. Like so many movements, co-counselling groups can become a tad messianic and other approaches can do the same trick. What I do know, however, is the value of tears in moving stuck thinking on.

There is thus, potentially, a mid-way course, neither using the anxieties for further research nor ignoring them nor attempting to resolve them through "research as therapy". As illustrated earlier, in the discussion of listening to tapes, I could attempt to approach anxieties "head-on", through counselling, to resolve underlying concerns and leave myself

#[p185] more free to make decisions without the potentially distorting effects of my emotions coming in to play. I am not proposing here some holistic search for harmony (MacLure & Stronach 1989) nor a supplanting of the role of critical friend by professional therapists. We still need critical friends and insights from others. We can also draw upon other identities (as for instance a head teacher might use skills from her management self to circumvent troubles in research).

Nor am I suggesting a move towards some "scientific" "dispassionate" inquiry, which has been freed of feelings. My decision was to deal with such issues, in a sense, "outside" research (in counselling sessions) and re-introduce them at my time of choosing, as material "dealt with" rather than material which I was "driven by".

While recognising the turmoil of emotions which may be stirred up by this, or indeed any research, how far may researchers be encouraged to draw on counselling to deal with these?

H. Should we, as with Foucault (1977) seek not "the roots of our identity ... but ... its dissipation" (p.162)? Simons (1995) proposes transgressive work using guidelines from Foucault such as "do not be more true to what you are now ... but detach yourself from your identity [note the use of the singular] and become someone other" (p.124, comment added). Lenzo (1995) also explores the transgressive self through examining the efforts of another researcher’s "experimental representation of researcher-as-selves" (p.23). These works, in their different ways, take us into the arena of transformation. Griffiths (1995a) considers the role of the individual in their own change, but also the importance of the political and social context. If change is the focus, how far can I change myself without the help of others?

I. When exploring one’s own identities, "who" is doing the exploring? How far can one self/ one identity observe another (see Griffiths 1995a chapter 10)? And what does it mean, in this context of multiple identities having multiple views, to have (possibly conflicting) knowledge? Is there some central arbiter?

#[p186] J. Peshkin (1988), discussing subjectivity rather than identity, although the argument seems apt, describes how it leads to a more individualised study as "personal qualities" (p.18) interact with the data (see discussion in chapter 9). Focusing on identity, certain personal qualities, in the widest sense, may not be in harmony. I believe, however, we can creatively use, and even celebrate, those "fruitful tensions [which arise] as we cross lines between ... selves" (Biott 1996 p.182). By allowing identities to come into conflict during research I argue that we may generate additional fertile forces that help to mould our inquiry in novel ways.

In exploring opposing elements in her own study, Atkinson (1998), building on McNiff’s (1993) description of a dialectical model of knowledge production and Whitehead’s (1989) "living contradictions", explains "there seems to be a particular energy which arises from the existence of the contradiction itself" (p.14). The nature of this "energy" and its production remain, however, obscure and deserve investigation which cannot be undertaken here. Apart from use as a convenient metaphor, however, what does it mean to say identities "cause" tensions and that these tensions help shape the research? Which of the many identities experiences these tensions?

As I explained earlier, I decided to curtail the investigation of identity for reasons of time. The questions raised above deserve a much fuller treatment than I can provide. To feed some of my thinking of these last two chapters back into the overall project, I will include, (in addition to comments on the proto-question and enthusiasm for research, or its lack), as a gross simplification, in my final description of the "messy method" the phrase "tensions between identities helped form a unique research path" (see chapter 11).

Key points emerging from the chapter.

1. I claim a number of identities and propose that tensions between these help shape the project. Certain identities, such as parent and writer, seemed to play a more minor role.

#[p187] 2. As an example of why I might use the term identity, these are some of the associations around considering myself a "believer in the Eric Harvey method": This was a vital aspect of myself; it gave me purpose. I felt I could achieve something useful in this work. I valued others who thought this way. It was a long standing part of me. I had a feeling of "being". It gave me purpose. It was part of how I viewed myself and accounted for myself to others.

3. I also viewed myself as a serious practitioner and researcher.

4. Commitment to the Eric Harvey identity led to conflict with demands arising from my researcher identity to pursue wider exploration of practice. This exploration was sidelined as I produced a book to disseminate, not interrogate, ideas on practice. Wanting simply to understand, not change, this successful work, satisfied some needs arising from Eric Harvey and researcher identities. This led, however, to conflict over pressure from my professional identity to change practice.

5. I noted a confused class identity, and a counsellor identity. Both of these influenced many aspects of life, work and research. As researcher and believer in Eric Harvey I wanted to explore and promote the tapes. As middle class/working class I felt uncomfortable about this. As counsellor I wanted to deal with this discomfort.

6. I saw myself strongly as an "honest man" and re-discovered an old identity of scientist, which itself was a site of conflict. I began to value the positive connotations of seeing myself as a "messy" worker. As scientist I hankered after a logical, organised approach. As messy methodologist I wanted to work with confusion and uncertainty. As honest man I wanted to be open about this error-laden messiness but feared the rejection of scientists.

7. These considerations raised many questions over, for example, the nature of identity and its definition; whether there is need to reconcile conflicts between identities or transform identities and how far counselling may have a role; which part of oneself is carrying out such explorations and what does it mean to have knowledge in this context.

#[p188] Finally, there are a number of issues associated with claims about tensions between identities.

Notes

[1] In chapter 12 I consider a different, unexpected negative side-effect of the inquiry.

[2] As I discuss elsewhere, the expression "no-hoper" possibly reflects more my own feelings of helplessness. De Shazer (1985) offers constructive approaches to such apparently "hopeless cases" (p.119).

[3] I am not implying "contradictory class location" here, as in Wright’s (1978) discussion of relationships to the means of production such as white collar workers having some control over some aspects of production. The "contradictions" I refer to are those subjective experiences which I attribute to class. Sennett and Cobb (1973) explore many similar "hidden injuries of class". Class as a useful concept has a dated feel but nevertheless may still have currency (see opposing arguments in Emmison and Western (1990) and Marshall and Rose (1990) ); it certainly has for me.

Whatever my class technically (and the definition is problematic) my feeling was strongly most of my life of being working class.

[4] As crude examples, consider how difficult it might be to counsel someone on their fears of public speaking or flying, their [feelings]towards their parents, their embarrassments over personal relationships and so on if sessions constantly trigger one’s own anxieties. Counselling training appears to vary in how much (or how little) counsellors carry on with their own clienting.

[5] I do not wish to create some image of permanent calm and wisdom here. When over-stressed, which I often am, the counsellor role is not to the fore - I need counselling.

[6] Descriptions of messy approaches in the general sense appear for instance in administration and management (Lindblom 1959, Pava 1986, Schön 1983) as well as research (e.g. Cook 1998 and Minkin 1997 amongst many others cited earlier).

[7] I am indebted here to the referees of my original article for a number of the questions raised.

[8] Other writers draw similar lists but may not refer to these as "identities". Barton and Clough (1995) for instance imply a set of identities but do not label them as such e.g.

 #[p189] researcher as change agent, critical friend, learner etc. Peshkin (1988), discussing subjectivity in research, refers to five "I’s": Ethnic-Maintenance I, Community-Maintenance I, E-Pluribus-Unum I, the Justice-Seeking I , the Pedagogical-Meliorist I, the Nonresearch Human I (p.18). Minkin (1997) describes several roles he plays in "the creative research process" (p.118) such as detective, watcher, juggler, patternmaker, chattering monkey, awkward sod etc. He appears not to regard these as identities. The problem of when to use the label identity is briefly explored later in the chapter.

[9] The Guardian April 13 1998 p.11.

[10] We may need to consider what it is that distinguishes "identity" from a host of other terms such as "individuality" (de Levita 1965) ,"personality" and the "subject" (Touraine 1995), "role" (Calhoun 1994) and "subjectivity" (Griffiths 1995a)? And what of terms such as self, self-identity, self-description and self-identification?

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[*] Added December 2001

I have made a small change here as the original wording gives the impression that I had some anger towards my parents. I had not. I had just introduced a clumsy way of making a general point about feelings.

#[p190] Chapter 11. Method after the paper "Notes from a method".

Given the nature of this project, an exploration which evolved as my ideas on what and how to study evolved, it is perhaps no surprise that the course of inquiry was far from linear. I pursued many side issues (the off-shoots described earlier), some of which stayed just that: side issues. Some fizzled out, collapsed under their own weight, strayed too far from the main path or otherwise came to be abandoned. One became the main path - "how to research". My problem then was, what to do with those "flowers" which never properly bloomed? I could have simply buried them, as irrelevant to the study, a kind of distraction - like other glitches, just noise in the system. My commitment to honesty, however, made me uneasy about this. In addition I felt they made an important contribution to providing a full picture of the research.

As confidence in the method developed I began to see these excursions as hallmarks of this kind of work: "Research is the process of going up blind alleys to see if they are blind" (Bates quoted in Green 1982 p.217). The tale of the research would be lop-sided without them. But were they of any use? I gradually conceived two ideas: (a) the abandoned themes might still act as triggers for other researchers and so, perhaps deserved at least a place in an appendix and (b) more importantly, they could add to the believability of the account (see below).

Throughout the study I was stalked by worries over "validity"; contemplating the need to provide accounts of off-shoots or blind alleys did little to dispel these. I will not recount older approaches to validity arising from psychological test construction (see Williams 1974). Miles and Huberman (1994) provide a clear account of internal and external validity in modern qualitative research. This includes discussion of ideas such as triangulation and sample selection which seem of less relevance to the present study. My approach to validity is outlined later.

#[p191] The term method seemed to me (certainly at the beginning of the project) to carry with it certain overtones such as "methodical", "standard" and "scientific". Carr (1997) traces the idea of method to ancient Greece where adhering to an agreed procedure was seen as an alternative to the difficulties of philosophising in seeking truth. Centuries later matters appear to have moved on to the stage where Gergen (1985), for instance, has needed to point out that:

the sciences have been enchanted by the myth that the assiduous application of rigorous method will yield sound fact - as if empirical methodology were some form of meat grinder from which truth could be turned out like so many sausages. (p.273)

"Methodology" also presents me with some difficulties, if we take a definition such as "the science of method" (Concise Oxford Dictionary) in the context of my doubts over what constitutes science and Gouldner’s (1982) discussion of the "background assumptions" which we import into (sociological) research, such that methodology becomes ideology:

[methodology] is commonly infused with ideological resonant assumptions about what the social world is, who the sociologist is, and what the nature of the relation between them is (p.344)

I will thus use the term method in a more general sense, i.e. simply as " a way of proceeding or doing something" (Collins English Dictionary) and methodology as "the study of how ... [researchers] go about their work" (Concise Oxford Dictionary of Sociology).

The "messy method" I describe seems far from any conventional formulation of a "scientific method" and, for me, raises pressing problems of validity. To highlight my concerns, I would like to begin with two positions which critique the whole notion of validity; look at some alternatives; then try to bring about some resolution appropriate for this inquiry, involving issues such as honesty, "testing while protecting", generalisation and communication. I conclude with some simplified suggestions for assessing research "strength", as an alternative to seeking "validity".

1. Two critiques of the notion of validity.

#[p192] The two, to me provocative, articles discussed below presented challenges which brought into sharp focus my growing uneasiness over the topic of validity. I recount them to illustrate my concerns, as a convenient, if uncomfortable, starting point. Rather than continuing to pursue the positions of these authors, and those they draw on such as Mishler and Lather, however, I later turn to practitioner research for a resolution of my difficulties.

(A) Scheurich in his article "The masks of validity: a deconstructive account" (Scheurich 1996) describes how the idea of validity became "one of the necessary truth criteria of conventional social science research: no validity no truth" (p.50) although its roots were "almost exclusively [in] testing" (Wolcott 1990 p.122). He goes on to explain how "conventional social scientists asserted that they could establish value-free, objective truth ... if the proper scientific methods were followed" (Scheurich 1996 p.50) and "if a research study had the appropriate validity, the results could be trusted" (ibid p.50). This led to a divide "one side of the map was research that passed the test of validity ... on the other side of the map was research that had not passed the test" (ibid p.50).

Although "postpositivists"[1] according to Scheurich have been "quite willing to dump conventional science, the nomological net from which validity derived its meaning " (ibid p.50), they continue to cherish validity - they will "not leave home without it" (ibid p.50). His explanation for this (which has a certain face validity) is that postpositivists "initially had to survive in conventional science-dominated settings" (ibid p.50). As Koch argues, in the field of psychology:

The ‘scientism’ that many see and decry in recent psychology was ... with it from the start ... From the earliest days of the experimental pioneers, man’s (sic) stipulation that psychology be adequate to science outweighed his commitment that it be adequate to man. (Koch 1959 p.783)

Recent, more radical re-shapings of the concept, the "successor validities" (ibid p.51) such as outlined in Mishler (1990) and Lather (1993), take a variety of lines. Mishler (1990) seeks the warrant given by a "community of scientists" (p.422) i.e. an arrived at agreement, "which may change with time" (ibid p. 420). Lather (1993) argues that "legitimation depends on a researcher’s ability to explore ... inquiry problematics" (ibid p.676). She offers several validities which can be summed up as "transgressive validity" .

#[p193] Simplifying her position extremely this represents an attempt to "work against constraints of authority" (ibid p.686) while exposing the limitations of language and promoting justice. In other words, if I read her correctly, validity arises from our attempts to free ourselves and others from established habits of thought and action.

Scheurich, however, criticises these viewpoints as both, in their own way, continuing to support a divide between the valid and the invalid. He sees this division as arising from power plays : "validity is the name of the policing practices that divide good research from bad" (p.53), these embody "ideological power alignments" (ibid p.53). He goes on to explain how qualitative methods generally were originally opposed by elements within "the academy" (ibid p.53) (as also feminist approaches were originally/ are still). Opposition, in the light of Mishler and Lather’s position, however, still remains. This is opposition to "the coarse, untheorized, polyvocal Other" (p.54), which "cannot be accepted as knowledge" (ibid p.54).

As I understand him, Scheurich sees all these alternative approaches to validity as adding to "an imperial project ... drawn from the heart of Western darkness" (ibid p.55). And this project employs (unconscious) practices which seek to dominate and subvert, or exclude, certain voices. He is "troubled by the anonymous imperial violence that slips quietly [even] into our ... best intentions [and] ... transformational yearnings" (ibid p.58) and advocates instead a "proliferation of marginalized voices" (ibid p.58) unsullied by the researcher’s agenda : a "carnival, a loud clamour" (ibid p.58) of alternative "voices of difference" (ibid p.58) which can challenge "the Western knowledge project" (ibid p.58).

(B) Wolcott (1990) begins, conventionally enough, with a well presented piece on the history and definition of validity and claims that it "serves most often as a gloss for scientific accuracyamong those who identify closely with science and for correctness or credibility among those who do not" (p.126 emphasis in original) and that "validity haunts qualitative researchers as a specter" (p.127). He outlines the measures he takes in his own fieldwork: "talk little, listen a lot", "record accurately", "begin writing early", "include primary data", "report fully", "be candid", "seek feedback", "try to achieve balance (by re-reading for ‘disciplined subjectivity’)" and "write accurately" (p.127-134).

#[p194] He then moves on to a gripping story where he poses the question "when it really matters, does validity really matter?" (ibid p.135).

The second half of the paper gives an account of his friendship with a young man, Brad, which later turns into a study of Brad, published as an article. The friendship becomes a sexual relationship. The young man disappears then returns some time later to kill Wolcott and is almost successful. At the time of writing, Wolcott is awaiting, with great fear, Brad’s release from prison and his likely further attempts to kill him. He explains "I find no counsel or direction in questions prompted by a concern for validity. There is ... nothing scientific to measure that tells us anything important" (p.144). Wolcott describes how he "felt safe only so long as Brad remained institutionalized" (ibid p.145).

Under these circumstances, concerns over validity paled into insignificance : "I do not for a minute believe that validity points the way to saving my life or soul or suggests how to come to grips intellectually with a case study that really matters" (ibid p.146) . In this context, "any understanding I may achieve will occur largely in answer to questions that are not matters of fact" (ibid p.147 emphasis in original). Emphasising "understanding" (a perspective expanded by Maxwell 1992), Wolcott goes on to explain how "we sometime learn from poorly reported studies and poorly analyzed ones, while seemingly truthful, or correct, or neatly analyzed accounts may have no impact or provoke no further thought" (Wolcott 1990 p.148) and in the light of his experience he will no longer accept "validity as a valid criterion for guiding or judging his work" (ibid p.148).

What can we take from these two positions? Scheurich I believe can readily encompass Wolcott as part of his "carnival" of voices. But can that carnival really include "shoddy" work, slip-shod or half-hearted?[2] At the very least, accepting what Wolcott says about learning from "poor" studies, it seems reasonable to claim we need to know what is in the studies. We need an account sufficiently full and careful to help us decide how to judge the work.

It is worthy of note, in addition, that Scheurich himself is not averse to writing in elegant academic-ese with appropriate references. Wolcott also provides a very well written

#[p195] account. Presumably they both have in mind some "standards" (albeit different) which colleagues might reasonably expect. Their rejection of validity does not appear to include the rejection of certain relatively commonplace criteria by which their work might be judged. I later offer a broader selection of potential criteria, in the form of a set of questions with which to interrogate a study, in leaving behind the valid/ invalid distinction.

Returning to Wolcott, he raises important issues but perhaps in a way which is unfair. Yes, if I am in the middle of war, famine, flood, earthquake or some other life-threatening situation, I am not usually going to be arguing over the validity of my current research. Validity (and the research itself) in those circumstances is an irrelevance; simple survival is paramount. However, Wolcott still wants to write, presumably to some purpose. Perhaps to challenge, to perplex, to give others some understanding. Whatever the point of his writing, the question I would raise is, apart from entertaining himself, how can he be sure he has made contact with even one other being? This aspect, the influence on others, I will also return to later.

Leaving these two accounts to one side, as galvanising triggers, I will set out the approach to handling concerns over validity which I settled upon.

2. Part of one practitioner researcher’s approach to the topic of validity.

Throughout the project I was tormented by the feeling that what I was attempting did not match up to the canon of good research. It was not "scientific". The question I felt I had to address was: in view of the nature of this investigation (a reflective self study, following its own, ever-changing method) what was the most appropriate way to deal with the concept of validity? The answer derived partly from my concerns for honesty and my role as a practitioner. I will look at the honesty issue first.

3. Honesty in research.

#[p196] In an earlier chapter I gave brief summaries of the various by-ways of the project, what I called "off-shoots". Throughout the whole of the present account I have been at pains to point out the "faltering reality" (Byng-Hall 1988 p.175), the "complex and messy" (Staw 1981 p.227) process of the enterprise. My contention is that an honest account of such "mistakes"/ "errors" / "failures" can enhance the believability of a story. The reasoning behind this is drawn from a number of disparate sources. Unfortunately there is little opportunity in the time scale of a work of this nature to seek wider confirmation of this position, thus the suggestion is more an act of faith than a fully defendable position at this juncture.

4. "Errors" and believability.

In this section I want to explore the notion that including "errors" [3] may actually render an account more believable. An interesting starting place, which, I feel, helps to make the point, is an argument which initially seems to undermine the very position I am proposing. This argument revolves around a rather Machiavellian approach: to enhance credibility in a tale of dubious merit it may be useful to deliberately insert errors. The point of raising these devious examples is to underline the powerful impact which such pieces of information can carry. A more positive view is presented later.

Robert Graves catches the Machiavelian position well, in his "Devil’s Advice to Story Tellers":

(for copyright reasons the poem is not included here)

 (Graves 1965 p.89)

Deception in warfare can employ similar devices. To hide the true invasion site in the Mediterranean during world war II, a plot was cooked up to use a dead body planted with information pointing to a different site. The story is told in "The Man Who Never

#[p197] Was" (Montagu 1996) and has been the subject of a popular film. Montagu explains how, to create a believable persona for the body of "major Martin" on which the documents were to be found, matters of his identity could not be made too tidy, that would have been suspicious:

Major Martin was a rather brilliant officer and was trusted by his superiors: his only visible lapses were the all too common ones of having lost his identity card and having recently let his pass to combined operations H.Q. run out of date. (Montagu 1996 p.66)

Informal contact with historians suggests that they also may be cautious of tales which are too consistent. Partner (1995) reveals how disagreements in accounts has been part of the historian’s lot since Herodotus:

This is how the Persians say it happened ...but about Io herself the Phoenicians disagree with the Persians. For they say...These are the stories of the Persians and the Phoenicians. (Herodotus cited in Partner 1995 p.26).

The historian must "construct a meganarrative out of hundreds of already incompatible segments ... [the] conflicting, overlapping record of memory" (ibid p.26). A present day example continues this theme. Two recent biographers of Roger Casement, the Irish patriot/traitor (depending on one’s point of view), who was hanged in 1919, disagree about the status of his pornographic diaries - were they part of a ‘dirty tricks’ campaign designed to smear him? Angus Mitchell and Roger Sawyer, the biographers, take issue with each other over the status of the errors in his diaries when compared to other sources:

Mitchell ... claims that the diaries don’t tally with Casement’s published journals. Sawyer says such errors are actual proof of the diaries’ authenticity: "A forger would have edited them out". (Jones 1998 p.6)

These hints then, from a number of perspectives[[4],  lead me to a position that an open and honest account of the "mistakes" / "blind alleys" / "by-ways" of a project does not detract from its believability; in fact it can serve to enhance it (leaving aside the faint possibility that such accounts could be Machiavellian implants, designed deliberately to foster that very impression[5]

The "deviations" outlined earlier (see chapter 7) are some of the "mistakes" and "blind alleys" of this study which I came to think of in a more constructive way as "probes" or "off-shoots". As noted in chapter 6, Measor and Woods (1991) maintain that such

#[p198] evidence helps us to judge the study and Deveruex (1967) also views admission of such "blind spots" as useful, not demeaning (see chapter 11). This additional evidence, together with the questions raised, particularly in chapters 8 onwards, is thus offered in a positive light to help towards the evaluation of the research.

A paper by Lenzo (1995), however, discusses some of the difficulties inherent in honest self-criticism. Citing Alcoff (1991) she argues:

The desire to find an absolute means to avoid making errors comes perhaps not from a desire to advance collective goals but a desire for personal mastery, to establish a privileged discursive position wherein one cannot be undermined or challenged. (Alcoff p.22 quoted in Lenzo 1995 p.18)

This fear of attack is one I can relate to. However, for me, apart from counselling on the stresses of this, and holding on to personal values such as honesty, the solution appears to lie in embracing a modification to a position which Lenzo introduces later in her paper.

At that point, further into the article, Lenzo discusses the difficulties of doctoral students wishing to challenge "traditional forms of closed narratives" (Lenzo 1995 p.19) and introduce doubts into their writing. She asks "What kind of textual authority can admit to uncertainty ...?" (ibid p.19). She goes on to explore an example of what she calls one student’s "variable self referencing" (ibid p.21) as one way of dealing with this, in replying to her own question. However, from my position, if I follow her argument correctly, Lenzo misses an important point. I would want to offer the (tentative) argument that an alternative resolution is to not accept the terms of the dilemma, but to turn the problem on its head and assert that the admission of errors and uncertainty becomes a source of authority. Errors and uncertainty I feel, in the light of the discussion above, render the text more believable, not less; insofar as believability is a measure of authority, they lend authority. I am now more suspicious of hygienic accounts[6].

This position I reached was valuable to me in developing my confidence over certain aspects of the method but left un-settled the issue of validity. I began to wonder if, in my concerns over validity, I was asking the right question.

5. Is "validity" the right question?

#[p199] Struggles with anxieties over validity coincided with a crumbling of my long-standing "scientific" stance. No single, defining moment in my questioning of science and where "knowledge" lay marked the transition, although a few fragments stand out. I recall, for instance, Phillips’ (1992) comment that:

The worry about the warrant for conclusions drawn from a qualitative inquiry will not wane, largely because the worry about the warrant for conclusions drawn from any inquiry will not wane. (p.118)

An observation from Cixous ...

[W]hen you look at the TV [news] the truth simply disappears. I see massacres on TV and I do not cry. I have to go to the theatre for that. There I can receive that subjective and poetical expression. (quoted in Jeffries 1997 p.4)

... latched on to a personal memory of the power of Shelley’s poem "Ozymandias". There, no amount of "valid", "objective" history would capture, for me, in quite the same way, that essence of human vanity that Shelley encapsulates in a few lines about lifeless stones in the desert: the truth from lies. This in its turn made connections back into the academic world through Wolcott’s (1990) gripping story and the validity/relevance dilemma he raises.

Whatever the causes, at about the same time that my understanding of what actually constituted "science", as practised by real scientists, and what constituted "scientific knowledge" both began to shift, so my stance on validity shifted. This crystallised very late, during the write-up stage. Rendering the event somewhat poetically, I found I had "stepped through":

Validity is the wrong word (11.11.98 9.00 p.m. in park)

There was something in all this still worth struggling for, but what was it? I needed another term. "Worthwhileness" (House 1980 cited in Dadds 1995 p.112) came close. None seemed quite right: valuation, judgement, good/bad. As a provisional resting place I settled on "strength" (while still hoping for something better): "validus", strength, being the Latin root of validity (Concise Oxford Dictionary).

6. Research strength and practitioner research.

#[p200] Several writers propose frameworks for the evaluation of inquiries; several apply to action research which was one of my starting points (Altrichter et al 1993, Clarke et al 1993, Dadds 1995, Lomax 1994, Norris 1997 and Tickle 1995) . Within practitioner research more generally there are recent texts such as Robson (1993), Fuller and Petch (1995) and Reed and Procter (1995). Fuller and Petch has less depth and Robson fewer case details than Reed and Procter. It is the latter book I draw on, particularly the chapter by Reed and Biott. Although the various contributors focus on health care, their views appear immediately translatable to other fields.

Reed and Biott (1995) see strength as a continuum, not as an either/or. They explore a number of factors which they feel characterise the "strong" pole of practitioner research (in the health field), while recognising that their list need not apply to all studies. They mention, for instance, that the process should be:

integral with the practice of health care

a social process...

educative for all participants

imbued with an integral development dimension

focused upon aspects of practice... the researcher can change

able to ... explore sociopolitical and historical factors

able to open up value issues...

designed to give a say to all participants

able to ... enhance the capacity of participants to interpret everyday action in the work setting

able to integrate personal and professional learning

likely to yield insights ... of interest to a wider audience (p.194)

Incorporating some of the action researchers’ views above[7], Tickle would add for instance : "clarity", "incorporation of revisions" , "a self-critical stance", "multiple perspectives", "convincing evidence", "transferability", "raising new questions and challenges", "a continuing venture" (p. 233-4). Clarke et al would add "bringing the situation to life", "a reflexive account", "a range of resources", being clear how "data were selected, collected and analysed" and how the work is to be judged (p.490-1).

7. Drawing out some of the more relevant points raised above.

The current inquiry, being a particular version of self-study, really only has one main participant : myself, although a host of others were drawn in, in one way or another. So,

 #[p201] apart from the spin-offs from (hopefully) interesting and challenging conversations and, lately, a range of publications, my impact on their development, and those of my clients, outside of the effects of case work, is unclear (though, I trust, not negative). Thus, the "participant" dimension, mentioned above, seems to me, less relevant to the present project.

Other aspects, however, do appear to apply. Reed and Biott (1995) for instance argue that strong research should be "part of the job". It "does not require that the person stops practising in order to carry out a project" (p.195). It should be "an extension of good practice ... not... alien ... to practice" (ibid p.196). In my case I went to great lengths, with an enormous amount of soul-searching, to develop a form of inquiry which allowed me to do just that: carry on with my job and make the research fit round it, "scientifically" or not.

Reed and Biott emphasise the importance of concentrating on those aspects of practice which we have power to change, as "the concern is about improving practice" (p.197). My position on this, as explained earlier, was a little more complex. Yes, as soon as I begin to explore practice, I wanted to change; but, no, I still maintain my starting point could be a desire simply to understand at least some aspect of practice. As Reed and Biott argue themselves, a starting point may be "a sense of unease... [a] question What is happening here? [rather than] questions about effectiveness" (ibid p.199). In fact I made many changes (see chapter 4) and opened up practice more to scrutiny, through my writing and for instance the enclosed tape on which I have sought critical comment while developing a publication (see appendix A).

The study concerned both practice and research. I explore my uncertainties about these areas in Mellor (1998 a and b) and this exploration engages with my "taken-for-granted and habituated customs" (Reed and Biott p.198) of both practice and research. To the extent that work on attention seeking presents a new (or at least newly consolidated) view on aspects of emotional and behavioural difficulties and reinforces an interpersonal, non-medical view of such problems, then this also helps challenge taken-for-granted thinking and adds to a "close scrutiny of key concepts and values which underpin and shape

#[p202] practice" (ibid p.198). The study overall, however, has lacked an avowedly "critical" dimension, in, for instance, not meeting Reed and Biott’s call for increasing "understanding of the sociopolitical factors" (p.198) around both. Recent writing, (Mellor forthcoming a), building in part on reviews of the book "Attention Seeking", will, however, include some examination of this aspect.

Many of the other aspects mentioned above (see also foot note 7) such as : "challenging assumptions", "ethics", "clarity", "incorporation of revisions" , "a self-critical stance", "multiple perspectives", "convincing evidence", "transferability", "raising new questions (and knowledge) and challenges", "a continuing venture", "development", "bringing the situation to life", "a reflexive account", "a range of resources", being clear how "data were selected, collected and analysed" and how the work is to be judged, I trust are demonstrated in preceding chapters (transferability aside - a topic which I address separately).

I return to a simplified and tentative position on these multiple facets later in offering a reduced set of questions to aid the assessment of research strength, while recognising that this can only be a limited and personal view. However, at this point, a short digression is necessary into another aspect of the evolving method: the including of on-going "testing". To explain my attempts to test out my developing ideas, while at the same time, protecting them from being demolished at an early stage, I turn to some ideas drawn from accounts of the work of natural scientists.

8. Testing while protecting.

Looking back over the last few years I can see little in my inquiry that fits clearly into either a simple inductivist or a simple falsificationist model of investigation. As Chalmers (1982) points out, "science" suffers from similar difficulties. Simply because at one time we induce from repeated observation that all coelacanths are fossils, there is nothing to prevent the next sighting being alive and well and living in warm tropical waters. As to falsification:

#[p203] An embarrassing historical fact for falsificationists is that if their methodology had been strictly adhered to ... those theories generally regarded as being among the best examples ... would have been rejected in their infancy...

Newton’s gravitational theory was falsified by observation of the moon’s orbit. It took almost fifty years to deflect this falsification onto [other] causes. (ibid p.66)

Chalmers gives further examples of falsification being ignored in the development of Bohr’s theory of the atom, the kinetic theory of gases and in the Copernican revolution. He goes on to explain how: "[e]arly formulations of the new theory, involving imperfectly formulated novel concepts, were persevered with and developed in spite of apparent falsifications" (ibid p. 75)[8]. Drawing from Lakatos[9], Chalmers describes how in the early stages a "research programme" must be protected: "[it] must be given a chance to realise its potential" (ibid p.83). It must not be allowed to crumble under the weight of immediate criticism, all new positions are bound to be fallible.

Without delving much further into the methodology of science (and Chalmers concludes at the end of his "What is this thing called science?" that "there is no timeless and universal conception of science or scientific method" p.169), I can see some parallels which help me to understand my own working practices, without making any claim as to their "scientific" status.

In the early stages of developing ideas, I sought encouragement as I dredged up notions from the confusing research process I had set underway. I took support where I could, in constant dialogue with an enormous range of colleagues, while at he same time, using this dialogue to refine my ideas. To begin with, I made only tentative sorties into subjecting them to the more stringent testing of the public forum of conference papers and publication, after trying them out with local research groups. I was "testing while protecting". My first attempt at serious testing was nearly my last but, interestingly, it set the seeds of what was to be an important later theme: the role of emotions in research.

9. The first test : CARN 1995.

In September 1995, just two years into the project, I presented a paper to the Collaborative Action Research Network (CARN) international conference in Nottingham.

#[p204] I had, I think, forgotten how to teach. I certainly had no clear picture of what constituted "presenting a paper". Did you just stand and talk? My current experience with adults (apart from delivering in-service training at work) was much more in the counselling world, where I felt comfortable with shared exposure of anxieties in a supportive group of like-minded people. I thus had, I imagine, an ambivalent view as to what I was about to attempt.

The material contained in the paper was challenging for me on two levels. First, it was an explanation of an embryonic model of "messy" research to academics engaged in a conventional (action research) approach. Second, it began with a personal account, of me and my "baggage", but for an audience of unknown disposition. I felt myself falling between two stools: the academic world and the counselling world. The audience was not to blame. Had I set it up as purely a counselling experience (and had they agreed to participate in that way) I would have been on surer ground. Had I stuck to an "academic" account, I might have scraped through. I did neither. My diary records later reflections:

I felt emotional. Given a bit more time I would have been in tears... So one issue is not simply how and whether to discuss emotions in an academic setting (this can be done in a dry as dust psychology book where no emotions touch either reader or writer) but how, or whether, to be emotional in an academic setting. (17.9.95 8.15 a.m. emphasis in original)

It was some time before I resolved this issue to my own satisfaction (see discussion of emotions in chapters 9 and 10) although Bill C., who I met at CARN and who was to act as critical correspondent for a while until his own PhD write-up took over his life, gave great support: "You allowed the real you to be seen in all the messiness of your work situation". He also, however, provided criticism : "I still think for what its worth ... [the] systematic approach of [action research] is useful" (brief extracts from correspondence with Bill C. 12.9.95 which carried on at some length throughout 1995/6).

One further spin-off of the CARN episode was some warm support from two researchers in Birmingham. As a side issue, "critical friends" of various hues came and went throughout the project, a perhaps lesser known aspect of the topic. I had to be a kind of "bricoleur", which in this context meant taking support from whatever came to hand,

#[p205] whenever it came to hand. Luckily, I found a steady stream of willing volunteers amongst the dozens of souls with whom I made contact.

Following another (more successful) paper to CARN on the same topic in October 1996 I felt confident enough to submit to a refereed journal, welcome the ensuing critique and amend the piece accordingly (Mellor 1998b). I had moved by now from mainly protecting my ideas to mainly testing them (while still seeking constant support). I had, in a sense, moved from the context of discovery to the context of justification.

Feyerabend (1975), denies any clear distinction in procedures here: "science ... could not exist without a frequent overruling of the context of justification" (p.167); but as my study has mainly concerned a context of discovery, I am not in a position to address this issue in any depth. What I did attempt, however, apart from seeking confirmations and disconfirmations of the ideas through informal discussions (see below) was a kind of internal test : could I apply the "messy method" to other topics? The story of these attempts, and their resulting modifications to the "model", is told in the mini-projects earlier, concerning identity and making sense. These were, in the end, apparently successful applications which led to some modifications to, and further understanding of, the method.

10. Later tests arising through discussion[*].

Initially I had an inkling that what I was describing was a universal method: if we are honest, we all work this way. Quoting from the 15th century thinker, Montaigne "this life will reveal as much as any other because ... ‘every man (sic) beareth the whole stampe of humane condition’ " (Taylor 1989 p.179). The reality was unpredictably different, however.

My main counsellor, Mike, who in may respects could have been a prime candidate for such concepts (being very, what I can loosely call "alternative", in his views generally) denied emphatically that he proceeded in a "messy" way, in one of our non-counselling discussions (see later). A relative by marriage, Celia, once a post-doctoral [scientist] from

#[p206] [a prestigious university, now ... a] manager with a giant multi-national, but still a scientist in outlook, agreed strongly that she did. A colleague Rene E., who read a draft of the thesis in early 1999, was also very positive in her support; I visit her comments in chapter 12.

There were other mini "tests" in the form of brief discussions with colleagues. I select these two because of their length and their influence on me. The extracts below have not been subjected to the kind of "analysis" or "making sense" of the diary notes as they are not the main data source. I have simply picked out what seemed to be the relevant points concerning "mess". I will begin with Celia.

Interview with Celia 20.9.96

We explored Celia’s management group’s attempts to look at the company’s financial processes, later with the aid of some management consultants (see appendix D for the full transcript). I have extracted below those comments which reinforced my view of the messiness of her process. I was careful in the interview not to "push" my own views, beyond my initial comment that I was interested in mess. Given her scientific background, I did not expect support.

Celia: I start with a vague idea ...

Nigel: So what did you do?

C: Brainstorming - we know what they [in accounts] do, how do you figure out the best things? [We got] off-the-wall ideas, wild and wacky, e.g. pay everybody once a year [then sorted out the nuggets]

We didn't really know what we were doing at the start...

... We were totally lost. [We had feelings like] Worried. What have I signed up for? Somebody knows the answer and they're not telling us. We're a smoke screen [for the leader] his hobby horse is "out-sourcing". There was lots of non-trust. What the hell are we doing here?

N. Tell me some more about how you actually did this.

C. For days we didn't have a clue what we were up to. Where do we start? How do we get into the project? Why hasn't someone defined this - it's half -baked?

...

N. Did you see a structure in this mess?

#[p207] C. Most of these conversations were in breaks, evenings and at the bar.

Interview with Mike 24.9.96.

Given Mike’s dealings with emotions in counselling I expected him to support my position and initially he seemed to: "I was doing it without a plan and working it out by doing it", however, as the discussion progressed he made it clear that he did not. I decided to throw away any attempts to elicit his general position and simply probe him on this one issue, but despite efforts to get Mike to describe a messy process he resisted, as the following short extract from the end of the interview demonstrates:

Mike: At work I try to be systematic...

Nigel: It's not muddling through?

Mike : In some ways I see the department muddling through and I'm quite critical of that. In one sense I could use it [but] they're incredibly amateur - unsystematic and lacking in theory. You could also be muddling through - be very brilliant and do a good job because you know what you needed to do through experience. When I talked about being disciplined it seems to lack warmth. I sometimes think I'm too disciplined. Perhaps it would be nice to do things well, just know things well and get on with it.

So I had both (unexpected) confirmation and disconfirmation of the existence of "messy approaches". In reconciling these I settle for the following position, between the two extremes. I do not try to claim that everyone works the way I have tried to describe. Neither do I try to claim that my own approach is only relevant to me. I contend instead that some people, some of the time, may in part adopt a "messy method" such as I have described. Which position leads to discussion on "generalisation" or "relatability".

11. Generalisation / relatability.

Much of the research time was taken up in convincing myself that the approach and the effort were worthwhile. I felt the need to give myself voice, to be my own judge. I could have left it at that, but I wanted to do more: to share these ideas with (like-minded) colleagues, indeed, to see if colleagues were like-minded. Thus the two interviews above

#[p208] highlighted a problem: what constituted sufficient grounds to say I could "generalise" my ideas (if that was what I wanted to do). To begin with I was a little down-hearted:

Initially I was disappointed [with Mike’s response]. I had a half-conscious hope that, Piaget-like, from studying one or two children (or in my case, just myself) I could have uncovered a universal, a grand narrative ( my "muddling through" method of everyday life and research). Post-modernism would of course reject such a notion. (24.9.96).

Then I began to see Mike’s response in a much more positive light. Here was some useful feedback which made me examine more closely notions around generalisability and some of its alternatives. I was drawn to Bassey’s (1981) "relatability":

an important criterion for judging the merit of a case-study is the extent to which the details are sufficient and appropriate for a teacher working in a similar situation to relate his (sic) decision making to that described in the case-study. (p.85)

However, while attractive, this seemed to disguise a problem it shared with generalisability : the question of numbers.

The positive thing which came out of this interview [with Mike] was to do with generalisability. Bassey for instance talks about "relatability", and others talk about a work having "resonance". But with how many people? Is one person feeling empathy, seeing a resonance, relating the work to their own situation, enough? Is two? What is the right number? Does getting an article published count? Would a sample survey of a cohort of academics be necessary? The literature is not clear on this point. That's the problem in using this kind of concept. (24.9.96)

Leaving to one side temporarily the question of numbers, I will address an issue which seems to be buried in the above discussion: communication.

12. Communication.

Beyond a desire for the personal development of the practitioner researcher in question, what value is there in research? Reed and Biott (1995) point to the "usefulness of research in informing practice" and the capacity in "generating debate rather than solving it" (p.200). But what use is inquiry to other practitioners unless they read about it? Practitioners appear to rely much more on tacit knowledge (Usher and Edwards 1994 refer to "subjugated knowledge" p.54) than that from the academy: "most research writing is not memorable and much of it is not easy to get hold of" (Bassey 1998a p.20).

#[p209] While we cannot be sure that anything we write will ever be read[10] there is, I feel, some duty to attempt to make what we write as accessible as possible: to tell a good story, although that, in itself, is far from sufficient a criterion on which to judge (see Miles and Huberman’s 1990 discussion of qualitative inquiry : "We need some backstage information, not just the text" p.349; see also Phillips below).

Excellent material may at times be excavated from impenetrable prose. Good ideas do not always come cheap and the committed researcher must be expected to work for his or her insights. Not all bad writing is bad research. Phillips (1992), however, criticises the notion that "good writing" is by itself a sufficient warrant for inquiry. Citing Miles and Huberman he explains that "qualitative analyses can be evocative, illuminating, masterful, and downright wrong" (p.114 emphasis in original). I have briefly examined Phillips’ "god’s eye" view of truth earlier (see footnotes to chapter 8), but the point he makes is a fair one. We need more than good prose to be assured of the value of a piece of work: "a swindler’s story is coherent and convincing" (ibid p.114). He argues "[c]redibility is a scandalously weak and inappropriate surrogate for truth ... under appropriate circumstances any nonsense at all can be judged as ‘credible’ " (p.117).

Phillips also opposes a simple consensus view, a community might well believe the earth is flat. He dismisses the search for some recognised "method" as a guarantee for research and cautions against the idea that "true belief is simply a matter of finding, and following, certain analytic procedures" (p.117 emphasis in original). The conclusion of his chapter is, for me, however, somewhat unsatisfying. He holds up "truth" as a "regulative ideal" (p.119 emphasis in original), much like Popper’s famous piece on the search for the "mountain peak [of truth] permanently, or almost permanently, wrapped in clouds" (Popper 1968 p. 226). This unfortunately gives little guidance on what one is actually supposed to do in the research setting.

Similarly, post-modernists such as Scheurich (1996), who dismiss the valid/ non-valid distinction, leave me unsatisfied. Can I write anything and it will find a place somewhere in the great garden of knowledge, in his "Bakhtinian ... carnival" of "marginalized voices" (p.58)? As pointed out earlier, the form, if not the content, of his writing, at least in this

#[p210] example, betrays Scheurich’s allegiance to a very conventional voice in the refereed world of academic publication. I am left with the feeling that there are still some (uncertain) "standards" to strive for in judging the merit of a piece of research, even if notions of validity are rejected.

My current "solution" to some of the problems raised here is explored in section 14 below, where I discuss communication and critique. First, however, I would like to consider some issues around what I will call my "writing voice".

13. Writing voice.

At the end of March 1999, reading a final version of my final chapter, Colin Biott raised a question which I had not until then considered, to do with the style of the writing of the thesis as a whole. He mentioned (not in any unkind way) my "voracious quoting of the literature" and what place that had in my view of practitioner research. That set me thinking.

I wanted to communicate to other practitioner researchers and set great store by this. My earlier concerns as a "writer" wishing to create an accessible text are presented in chapter 10. Had my referencing become a barrier? Was the writing "voice" too "academic", too intimidating for practitioners entering the field? I thought, in the end, not. But the unanswered question was, why? Why had I chosen to write this way?

In many cases researchers appear to begin with a literature survey. Some, perhaps practitioner researchers in particular, may begin with their practice (see the discussion in Rowland 1993 where he quotes one professional as saying: "[i]t was only after completing my enquiry that I went to the literature" p.121). In writing there may be an "academic game" of "quoting the authorities" (ibid p.122). What was my position?

From the outset I had an image of "scholarly" work and some of the motivation for referencing was admittedly defensive in such a challenging and unknown arena of constructing a PhD text; particularly when I felt myself to be in such a risky area, "mess".

 #[p211] I wanted as far as possible to write with certainty about uncertainty; to present the most powerful case I could, attacking my received notion of scientific knowledge, partly with evidence from the "scientists" themselves. But that was not the whole story, nor even the main one. I interacted with the literature. The literature (and all the others sources I drew upon) genuinely helped me to see. To learn, but also to unlearn. This was not an academic game.

Right from the start of the project I was caught in a "cloud of unknowing". I began with a focus on practice, but, as I explained earlier, had no settled notion of how to study this practice nor what I wanted to get out of such a study. I was in the thick of practice and researching practice from day one. The world would not go away. But I was not happy with exploring practice till I knew how to explore. And I set about finding out how to do that, by doing it. It is only now, some six years later, that I feel I could, if I so wished, return to examining my day to day work[11], but with confidence in the methods I would employ: my own style of inquiry, the "messy method".

During the construction of this "messy method", however, other author’s works were vital. Re-visiting the identities discussed in chapter 10, I would want to clarify "researcher", in this light, as a particular kind of practitioner researcher, drawing not just on practice but on a wide range of influences, academic material in particular. I will explain in which ways these authors’ works were so important to me.

My diary has an entry "Brecht and references" (26.3.99 6.00 in pub) following the discussion with Colin mentioned above. It concerns a memory of a lengthy period of poetry writing some years ago. I had developed a way of writing to which I felt very committed (bald, not rhyming, without similes, using simple words and often inconsistent, raggy rhythms). It put across the political message of the poems in what I felt was an effective way - the style echoed the tense political era of Thatcherism. But I did not "understand" it. I thought it was poetry, but it did not match any of the usual canon. I could not "see" what I was trying to do, although I was doing it. It was not until I came across a collection of poems by Brecht (who I was familiar with as a playwright not a

 #[p212] poet) that I understood what the poems were[12].  I learnt to "see" my own work only with the help of others, and a similar process occurred in the current project.

But there was also a process of unlearning. My struggles with "science" should by now be evident. I had different struggles with critiques of science arising from post-modern perspectives. The prose was often immensely off-putting. I know I am not alone in this: "post-modernism has often intimidated me ... by its concepts and the language used" (Converey 1996 p.273). I was surprised, therefore, to find some of the (to me extremely difficult) writings of Foucault an influence I could not have managed without. Parts of Foucault’s "Archaeology" helped me to see the barriers in the way of my seeing, and the need to question and un-learn the habits of thought I brought to research and my job. I might have got there without him, but he gave a powerful impetus. I am not convinced that simply reflecting on my practice, with no reading, would have taken me there.

So, for me, the literature served many roles. I interacted with a vast range of sources throughout the study, to understand, and at the same time to create, my growing understanding. The present text reflects this in its "voracious referencing". I trust the resulting "voice" is not one practitioner colleagues find intimidating, however, and that it communicates effectively.

I turn now, finally, to a tentative resolution of the difficulties with validity promised earlier, involving a blend of communication and critique.

14. Communication and critique.

The solution I have come to is, I suspect, neither new nor particularly radical. It combines communication with critique. For practitioner researchers I want to communicate my ideas in a form they may be more ready to access, to aid the search for relatability. This is not to be patronising. Practitioner researchers are not some inferior breed of researcher who need spoon-feeding, but perhaps their motivations and positioning can be seen as different. Certainly in my case, the values of practice, for instance, are pre-eminent. As Dadds (1995) explains in recounting her tale of one

#[p213] teacher’s research , she needed " her common sense and sensitivity to handle a number of methodological dilemmas ... She chose on each occasion to err on the side of human need rather than the needs of research" (p.100).

Academic rigour, for me, is not as crucial as relevance and accessibility (although they need not necessarily conflict). For casework, as opposed to research, the "messy and unpredictable" business (Kupferberg 1996 p.235) of my unique day-to-day practice will provide its own testing ground. With regard to research, I would not wish to be cavalier with the results of serious, dedicated researchers but "real situations demand [an] ... approach which may escape the categories of applied science" (Kremer-Hayton 1994 quoted in Kupferberg 1996 p. 229). In a similar way, I may wish to draw on a range of techniques and ideas in dealing with the messy reality of my research practice.

To communicate effectively to others requires, I believe, that they feel some "resonance"; the writing "speaks to them"; they can "relate" it to their situation. Full description of the "faltering reality" of research or practice, presented as part of an "honesty trail"[13]  may contribute to that sense of "resonance", although this is for me, as explained earlier more a question of faith at the present time. I do not have the evidence to support this assertion: a catalogue of "errors" might conceivably undermine the credibility of the study in some eyes, although Lenzo (1995 p.19) urges a freeing from "the censorious hold of ‘science writing’" (citing Richardson 1994).

Cornet (1995) argues that "[d]oubt and uncertainty are the fuel that drives ... research" (p.123) and that it is "[r]efreshing to find thoughtful writings ... that vividly portray the intellectual and emotional struggles that researchers face when they are truly concerned about truth value and ethical behaviour in their work" (p.123) although "it is rare that authors share their angst publicly" (p.123).

My problem as writer is, in presenting an "honest" account (indeed, any account) how do I know it resonates or relates? Bassey has unfortunately not developed his idea (Bassey 1998b). Feedback from papers and talks helps. Publication is perhaps one index, but is not reliable. True evidence of resonance requires the test of time: did people in the end, pick it

#[p214] up?[14]  However, even if I could find a supportive band, a clique of "believers", a group who felt "resonance" with the ideas (being unflattering, a kind of "flat-earth society" Phillips 1992 p.115) would that be convincing to the un-converted? How far does it need to be? Does the world need to agree in this "obsessive age of standardisation" (Dadds 1995 p.113)? Would "[l]ocalized approaches which develop from our unique contexts" (ibid p.113) be acceptable, provided they were not "corruptingly insular" (ibid p. 113). A universe of one is insular, but, in seeking support, how large a community do I need to communicate with? How un-insular is un-insular enough? At the time of writing, the difficulty remains unresolved. I will turn now to critique.

If material is offered to a community; if it includes as much honesty as I can muster and as much detail of what I did, as is consistent with being readable and interesting; and if that community, over time, subjects this work to stringent criticism (and does not accept a simple, immediate "consensus" view) and finds it useful, then it may be possible in one sense, to count the work as "valid" / "worthwhile"/ "strong". But that process may have a lifetime greater than the average PhD. I perhaps need to be content with presenting evidence of attempts to move as far down that road as possible (I continue the exploration of communication in chapter 12).

In place of the rather bewildering array of criteria outlined earlier I would offer, in a tentative way, the questions below which practitioner researchers may wish to ask of a study of this nature, to aid their evaluation.

15. A tentative simplification of questions about research strength.

In a broad manner these questions cover the concerns of others (as evidenced in the sources covered earlier such as Reed and Biott 1995 and the action researchers), and myself, over issues of "strength". Obviously, further work would need to be done if any claim were to be made that such views represented those of a community (so far one colleague Rene E. has found them quite acceptable).

#[p215] The questions avoid where possible terms taken up by others in specialised ways. Lincoln and Guba’s 1985 "credibility" for example, refers to whether the (case study) inquiry is "credible to the constructors of the original multiple realities" (p.296) and is judged by processes such as member checks, triangulation and so on. I have replaced this with the everyday term "believability".

* Is it a believable account of what I did? Is it full and honest? Does it "ring true" for you?

* Is the writing clear and readable? Is their a good balance between academic rigour and accessibility ?

* Does the account demonstrate a sufficient level of care in developing methods of research and seeking wider critique? Is there sufficient detail for you to judge?

* Does the enterprise seem worthwhile? Does it lead to new understandings?

* Is what I did of interest to you? Does it "strike a chord"? Does it stimulate you?

* Is the study in keeping with practitioner values?

* Is the research self-critical?

* And finally, all things considered, is the method described something you might be prepared to adopt, even in part and according to your own needs? Can you relate to it?

In the final section of the chapter, I want to draw together these concerns over questions of "validity", with ideas arising from recent attempts to apply the original formulation of the "messy method" in new situations, and then to arrive at my current appreciation of what I do when I research.

16. A summary of the latest platform of understanding of my research method.

Picking out the common elements in the original description of the method described in chapter 6, and its variations in the mini-projects on identity and analysis, leads to the outline below.

#[p216] To begin, much of the method remains unchanged from the original concept: finding my own rules, relying on others, drawing on many approaches, keeping a diary and so on. The main differences are in my noting less enthusiasm in beginning some projects (such as identity); the existence of "proto-questions" rather than just curiosity; more emphasis on counselling; a model of reaching platforms of understanding as ideas evolve; the role of tensions between identities; an honesty trail; a clearer conception of "analysis" / "making sense" and a clearer conception of "validity" / "strength". In summary then, the messy method (I now feel more able to remove the quotation marks) has come to be:

The beginnings.

(i) I began with a curiosity about some aspect of work or research. Enthusiasm might be high or low depending on the area under consideration.

(ii) I decided to investigate this aspect.

(iii) I started the investigations with no question or, at best, a proto-question of the type {?} {"analysis"} {?}. It is important to guard against such questions, crystallising too early, however,

(iv) I embraced uncertainty and lived with the angst of not-knowing if an outcome was possible.

(v) I questioned my assumptions about research. The process involved learning and un-learning. A constant interaction with academic literature and other sources was needed throughout.

The main part of the process.

(i) I learnt by doing.

(ii) I drew upon many approaches in research. Some of these were outlined earlier in discussing the so-called "knowledge accrual process". There were also other activities involved such as harnessing serendipity and incubation.

(iii) Where conflict arose, the values of professional practice established priorities for research practice.

(iv) I kept reflective diaries of my work and my research. I researched both. Systematic recording in these formed a backbone to the project.

(v) The research path was partly formed through the interplay of identity tensions.

Issues arising around change.

(i) Certain areas of practice I was curious about. I did not initially set out to change these, simply to understand them.

(ii) During the inquiry I uncovered areas of practice which I was not comfortable with. As a responsible practitioner, I acted to change these, to my own professional satisfaction (which included evaluation of the effects of change over a period of time).

#[p217] Issues of support.

(i) I needed continual support to pursue this project, from partner, friends, strangers, colleagues and counsellors. Counselling was of particular importance in separating my emotions from the investigation. Publication gave encouragement, acting partly as a kind of "cheering on". Reflection on practice involved not just criticism but celebration. This provided another source of support. The research thus also served to reinforce certain facets of practice rather than alter them.

(ii) This was a far from solitary activity. I engaged in continuous dialogue, with friends, colleagues, partner, complete strangers, critical friends, critical correspondent, research interest groups, a focus group and conferences.

(iii) I relied on a very empowering form of supervision.

The developing view of the method.

(i) Understanding of this process (of researching practice while researching the research) emerged only slowly, during its course.

(ii) The research reached various platforms of understanding of its own process as I went backward to reconsider the data and forward to apply the method in different circumstances.

(iii) The method itself was a tool, to be continuously refined. This involved a process of "testing while protecting" in reaching out to a critical community.

(iv) "Making sense" was a complex reciprocal process involving data, exploration, writing and ideas.

Considerations of research strength.

(i) Being for practitioner-researchers, rigour was balanced by relevance and accessibility in terms of writing style. Work unlikely to be read would be seen as weaker research, thus communication would be seen as a vital element.

(ii) "Validity" was replaced by notions of a continuum of relative "strength". One element in this was an "honesty trail". A series of questions was offered to facilitate others’ judgement of strength in this and similar work.

17. Key points emerging from the chapter.

Some attempts to provide alternative approaches to the concept of validity may still have maintained a valid/ non-valid division.

Other writers who argue for the throwing out of notions of validity may, nevertheless, display that they retain certain implicit "standards" of good writing. In addition it seems reasonable to assert that as a minimum we need sufficient information to be able to make some judgement of the work.

#[p218] Wanting to continue with a position which keeps some idea of validity, although in the modified form of an assessment of research "strength" along a continuum, I later draw on a number of accounts of practitioner research in doing so.

Inclusion of accounts of "errors", in an "honesty trail" I argue adds to research strength.

In searching for ways to develop the emerging ideas, I identified a process of "testing while protecting" and gave a number of examples of this, together with attempts to apply the messy method in two new mini-projects.

In place of "generalisation" I explored the concept of relatability. This, however, did not circumvent the problem of deciding the appropriate size of any supportive community.

Effective communication with such a community is seen as essential; it is expected, however, that the community will subject the broadcast ideas to criticism.

Research is seen as involving a constant interplay with a wide variety of sources.

The chapter concludes with a tentative set of questions with which to explore research strength and the latest understanding of the method of research.
 
  

Notes

[1] Scheurich (1996) uses postpositivism to refer to research which "avowedly opposes the unproblematic application of the scientific method to the social sciences" (p.58 n.1).

[2] Ravetz (1971) bemoans the increase in "pointless publication" (p.49) which he refers to as "shoddy science", explaining that "the majority of journals in many fields are full of papers which are never cited by an author other than their own, and which, on examination, are seen to be utterly dull or just as bad" (p.49). However, the point I am making is not about good research on "boring" topics, but about "bad" research per se.

#[p219] [3] I would prefer another more positive-sounding term than "errors", which has such negative connotations. "Probes" or "off-shoots" seem constructive way of describing the "dead ends", and this is not just linguistic trickery. I do genuinely value such excursions.

The more general, daily, small-scale, "muddles", "misunderstandings", "errors etc. can also be seen as events giving essential feedback. I recall as a science undergraduate confidently carrying out a particular complex calculation several times and getting the "right" answer each time. It was not till one day I got the "wrong" answer that I discovered a flaw in my approach which had not previously shown up. I learnt more from that one "mistake" than from all the correct instances, incorrectly done. My (only semi-serious) attempts to re-name such phenomena in less negative terms foundered on mouthfuls such as "positive environmental feedback events".

[4] There are other examples, some relatively humorous and having resonance in our childhoods of the power of "errors". Stafford (1997) for instance describes as a school boy finding a copy of the teachers answer book for his Latin homeworks. He regularly copied these out, carefully inserting random errors, to maintain a plausible picture.

Within the legal system, jurors often have to weigh inconsistent evidence from a genuinely truthful witness. The dissembler may seek to present a smooth, coherent tale, perhaps not realising the ability of the jury to read "the truth" in ordinary, everyday mess. The unsubtle false witness who is trying to deceive, may attempt to promote a very coherent picture of events: "the deliberate lie ... becomes more consistent than the description of reality" (Transkell 1972 quoted in Undeutsch 1988 p.111).

Hardy (1998), in supporting the call for an appeal over a recent case, admits that "there are discrepancies among these [witness] statements. One would expect there to be, unless the witnesses had sat down together ... to collude" (p.7). In a recent case of rape which went to the appeal court, Lord Justice Mummery ruled the defendant’s evidence "too perfect, too precise and too glib" (Carter 1999).

Vrij and Akehurst (1998), in looking at witness credibility, question whether someone would "mention details that tend to be unfavourable to him or herself if the person were fabricating an account" (Steller quoted in Virj and Akehurst p. 8). Which provides a useful parallel for the position I am offering on disclosing errors.

#[p220] [5] This, I contend, would be a rather high-risk and unlikely strategy in a thesis. Anyway, as outlined in earlier arguments, research is often such a "messy and error strewn" business there is little likelihood of having to manufacture mistakes.

[6] There are of course many good reasons why conventional reports do not include a record of "errors". I am not trying here to disparage such writing, that would be a foolish, unsuccessful and unnecessary exercise. What I am doing is offering an alternative vision, which I hold, and which may be relevant to some other researchers, some of the time.

[7] I mainly draw on Clarke et al 1993 and Tickle 1995. There are many other examples:

Altrichter et al (1993) suggest: considering alternative perspectives, testing through practical action, ethical justification and practicality (p.74-81).

Dadds (1993) proposes "valuing" (p.116) in place of validity and considers the areas of valuing knowledge and understanding, text, action, development and collaboration (ch. 8-12).

Lomax (1994) offers criteria around "ethics, rigour, logic, the ‘practical’ and the aesthetic" (p.113) including for instance: "are your claims authentic to your colleagues?" (p.123) and have you submitted the work to "critical dialogue drawing upon other sources ... with sufficient information for readers to ... check?" ? (p.125).

Norris (1997) underlines the need to voice one’s "prejudices and assumptions" (p.174) so that they can be challenged by critical friends and colleagues.

[8] Chalmers presents both "naive" and "sophisticated" versions of inductive and falsificationist approaches, my aim here, however, is to present a window on my thinking, not a detailed burrowing into such distinctions.

[9] Chalmers goes on to criticise Lakatos further, and describes his methodology as:

a memorial to happier times when it was still thought possible to run a complex and often catastrophic business like science by following a few simple and ‘rational’ rules. (Feyerabend 1974 quoted in Chalmers 1982 p.87).

Again , I do not intend to enter into such arguments.

[10] See for example Ravetz (1971) as mentioned earlier on citations; the low take up of library loans (ibid p. 49 n. 23) and the proliferation of obscure journals (ibid p.50 and n. 25). With the expansion of publication in the last 20 years, I can only imagine the situation has not improved.

[11] Some comments on future directions in research are in chapter 12.

#[p221] [12] The editors’ introduction (Willett and Manheim 1976) refers to Brecht’s "rhymeless irregular verse" (p. xvi); the "gestural" (he calls it "gestic") nature of the work; and its "flinty" effect (p.xvi); relying for example on street chants from demonstrations. I do not, however, pretend in any way to measure up to Brecht’s work, only to understand mine, through his.

[13] I am borrowing very loosely here from Lincoln and Guba’s (1985) "audit trail". They offer a detailed procedure in case study analysis. My usage is more in a broad sense of providing the fullest picture of the evolving research enterprise, warts and all.

[14] Miles and Huberman 1994 p.280 refer to "pragmatic validity" i.e. the way in which research influences the actions of others; Mishler 1990 and Carr 1995 refer to the judgement afforded by communities; Lincoln and Guba 1985 give a thorough but for me, too specialised, description of "trustworthiness" as researchers take up research reports.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

November 2001 not in original thesis

I noticed some time after submitting the thesis that the first two paragraphs of this chapter are repeated from page 111. I have left them in, so that the page lay outs remain the same as in the original, in case you wish to quote something.

[*]In this section I have made some small changes to further protect the identities of Celia and Mike.

#[p222] PART 4

Concluding thoughts

#[p223] Chapter 12. Reflections on the project.

There is a call in some quarters for new approaches to inquiry. Rowland (1997), discussing action research, calls for " ‘joyfulness’, risk and even playfulness rather than a narrow concern for systematic method" (p.252). In educational research Thomas (1998) speaks of the "tyranny of method" (p.151) which traps researchers into "sclerosis" (p.152). Within my own profession, Burden (1997) bemoans the "heavy emphasis ... upon ... methodologies rooted within a positivist paradigm" (p.13). My desire for a new method came, however, from within, not from the literature, as with Anderson’s comments below on the triggers for changes in practice:

It is interesting that the feeling that I was participating in relationships that were uncomfortable for me has stimulated changes in my work, and that it was not theories or the reading of books or journals that made me change. (Anderson 1992 p.89)

I believe that I began this study with something of a "storybook" view of research, much as Mitroff (1983) describes a storybook view of science. The untidy realities of investigation I had experienced previously, solidly in a positivist tradition but full of mistakes and uncertainties, I suspect I saw as part of my "failings": I was just a bad researcher. Stenhouse’s view of research as "systematic self critical enquiry" which is made public (Stenhouse 1981 p.8) set me thinking along more flexible lines. However, I continued for a long time to have nagging doubts partly triggered by the term "systematic": my diaries provided a systematic core to the study, but surely doing "real" research was more like the image of methodical, objective men (sic) in white coats, producing incontrovertible knowledge (the image captured in, for example, Mitroff 1983).

A summary of what I have learned about this research, my vision of a messy method, is contained in chapter 11. The main argument of the thesis is that the method I uncovered is how I believe research works for me. I am confident of this now, although its nature changes as I write. In a very real sense, I am writing it into existence as I go along, as I learn to "sail skilfully on troubled waters" (Elliott 1996 quoted in Dadds 1998 p.49). It is

 #[p224] a version of practitioner research, the hallmarks of which I extract below. These hallmarks are, I propose, associated with mess, values and communication.

A variation of the above argument is that I believe some other researchers may, in part, work the way I have described, some of the time, and my description of this approach has resonance for them. The inquiry has in its final stages been about finding ways to explore this confirmation. It remains as yet undecided. A more general statement, that all people work this way at some time, I will not offer.

In concluding the project, however, I would like in this section to take a more reflective overview, to finish with celebration but also critique: to point up the shortcomings of the inquiry and, paradoxically, to offer these as part of its strength - an exercise in self-criticism. This continues the theme introduced in chapter 11 of self-criticism being one of the criteria for assessing research strength. I will return to some reflections on research later in the light of the current study but first, some reflections on practice.

(1) Reflections on practice.

The changes made (and those I anticipate), and the questioning attitude adopted have led to a more comfortable feel for my casework, not complacent but more defensible. I was also pleased to be able to help place reflection, and the idea of honesty about practice, on the agenda for the profession in a small way. While accepting all the potential drawbacks of a concept such as attention seeking, I am also happy that this is now more clearly set out and that it offers, at least potentially, an alternative understanding of some of the very pressing problems children and their families may face.

Given my understanding of the method which has developed over the last few years, I feel I could now turn to exploring my work with an approach I owned[1] and that I was confident with. It is galling, however, looking back over the project, to see how much of the effort was, in the end, directed at problems of inquiry rather than problems of practice. This is particularly so when I have highlighted meeting practice values as a cornerstone of research method. A multitude of practice-related questions remains to be addressed:

#[p225] (A) My collected casework reflections have been of those families I became involved with. What about "the ones that got away"? Returning to my concerns about Mr. L. in appendix B, an ongoing issue for me will be decision making around involvement: how these decisions are made; whose interests they may serve; which routines of thought and practice appear to imprison me in my ways of deciding.

(B) Interviews of other EPs about their day to day work could have thrown light on my own approaches, perhaps re-assuring me in some areas, challenging me in others. The discussions in local interest groups which I mention, and which did not form part of the study, were not personally focused and detailed enough to achieve this in other than a very general way. The comments I sought on my tapes were useful, but very limited in scope. The tapes could well be examined, for example, for evidence of any number of "isms" and videotape would have been of great benefit in aiding the study of the to-and-fro of non-verbal communication in these interactions.

(C) Although the project was not a piece of action research, many changes to practice occurred during it. I judged the adequacy of these myself. A collaborative approach would have subjected these to more demanding scrutiny. My practice is the weaker for want of this.

(D) The excursion into reflection on practice, which became an issue to do with honesty, raised, but did not resolve, the problem of what kinds of knowledge we, as EPs, actually draw on. This seems to me an important area for the profession to address in its own right. It could also become a site of transformation, particularly for those with a fixed "scientific" view of our work (if such persons do in fact exist).

(E) The broader social and political aspects of work with children displaying "emotional and behavioural difficulties" is largely missing from this investigation. The structure for reflection I adopted does introduce such ideas, they are not, however, incorporated into the project proper. Todd (1998) takes me to task over this lack in reviewing my book on attention seeking. I hope to address such issues in later work.

#[p226] (F) The concept of attention seeking which is central to the Eric Harvey work is a particularly loaded term. I am aware of this, but have chosen to promote its use on the pragmatic grounds that it seems to serve as a peg around which to hang ideas of change. My impression is, it works. Situations do seem to "improve". A different kind of study would be needed to assess its benefits (and that of the Eric Harvey method as a whole); its potentially negative, stigmatising influence; and its long term impact on the children and their families; quite apart from any questions of definition, incidence, causation and the selective perception in practitioners which it may promote.

I describe these omissions in research as galling. It is even more galling to discover one side effect of this research on practice. At the commencement of the project I was deeply worried that in some way inquiry would undermine my faith in my working style, make me more self conscious and less confident and thereby less effective. In the end, my fears were unfounded. Emphasis on guarding against this, however, possibly contributed to a situation where one insidious impact went unseen. Ironically, in view of my rejection of quantitative methods at the outset, this impact was revealed through some elementary quantification.

In September 1998, beginning my write up, I spent a short time casting my eye generally over cases for the past few years and those I knew about before the project proper began, in Autumn 1993. A clear pattern emerged. In my old patch I had been working at a pretty steady rate of twelve Eric Harvey cases per year over a number of years. I moved areas and in my new patch, in the second year of the project, this rate dropped dramatically. By the end, I was down to seven cases per year. The work I so valued, I was not doing. What had happened?

Part of the problem was possibly simply to do with starting off in a new set of schools, unused to my way of working and not passing on those referrals I could tackle. Educational Psychology is a peculiar job within the world of education, with an enormous potential range of involvement: children and young people 0-19 with any combination of learning and emotional difficulties and additional disabilities. Interventions can take place

#[p227] from the individual to the school to the LEA level, with many different methods available (from varieties of casework intervention to training and consultation). We tend to develop special interests. At referral stage there is quite a large element of discretion: as illustrated earlier, one colleague described her avoidance of counselling, another her focus on in-service training; and part of my current concern above is how such decision are made, particularly in the stressed arena of school review meetings.

My recall is that I used to be "hungry" for EBD cases. When children came up at review meetings, for instance, I saw these as "my" cases, in "my" schools. I wanted to do the work, the Eric Harvey work, not some outsider from social services or child psychiatry. There was an element of territorial protection. I perhaps took on cases I should really have referred elsewhere, those with multiple problems, beyond my ability to help, those like Mr. L. Part of my surprise at catching my demeaning view of Mr. L. was to do with my habit of usually deciding in the end to try, sometimes successfully, to intervene in such instances. As the research progressed, however, I began to find reasons not to take on cases. Whether it was simply the extra pressures of research overwhelming my sense of energy, or a challenging of practice habits resulting from research or some other cause is, unfortunately, not recorded: the referral decisions were not my focus.

I am, I feel, more sensible now about referral, not so territorial, more willing to pass on to others (perhaps with a better rationale). I am more confident about the work generally - I feel I can better defend it. And, since noting the problem so starkly highlighted above, of declining involvement, I have been jolted into action. Since September 1998 I have been gradually building up my casework again. Working a three day week, with two days writing-up study leave, in the Autumn term I was up to six cases in four months.

(2) Reflections on practitioner research.

One question I would like to try to address in this final chapter, is does my understanding of "practitioner research", in the light of this study, differ in any significant way from simply "research", however defined? Does the addition of one extra term significantly affect the meaning? In chapter 11 I emphasised a "scholarly" component, however, for me

 #[p228] the distinguishing features of practitioner research have come to be associated with three issues: mess, values (in particular honesty) and communication.

A. Mess.

As much of the thesis concerns this area, I will restrict this section to a few brief rounding-up comments.

"Managers ... manage messes" (Ackoff 1979 p.99 quoted in Schön 1983 p.16). Lindblom (1959) outlines a process of policy makers "muddling through". Kupferberg (1996) claims that "[c]haos and lack of structure is the first surprise of project work" (p.237). Cook (1998) describes action researchers "bumbling, messing" (p.105). Spellman and Harper (1996) refer to the "[f]ailure, mistakes, regret and other subjugated stories in family therapy" (p.205). Pava (1986) explains how in planning there is an effective approach which displays:

A disjointed, undisciplined quality... Goals and procedures are left unclear. Leaders initiate the program with low support and little comprehension of its nature. Action precedes understanding ... [the approach eschews] initially detailed object, plans, projections, or evaluation. (p.631)

The individual analyses presented by many of these writers I will not address. My point is that some concept of mess may be necessary in exploring a wide spread set of areas[2].  There may be mess in the problems which confront us; there may be mess in the way we tackle these. I would wish, however, to rescue the term mess from its negative baggage: to see messy approaches not as "sloppy", but as difficult, requiring a high level of skill; and to extract what structure I can from such approaches (see chapter 11). As Cook (1998) quotes one member of her focus group: "Mess is skilled - [a] very highly skilled process" (p.103).

Hart (1995) whose article I found very encouraging in the early stages of the project ("the universe provides - just what I was looking for" diary note 5.9.95) explores a very flexible way of researching. She describes techniques which "made no claim to use "methods" other than the authors’ own eyes as experienced teachers" (p.213, emphasis in

#[p229] original). My realisation, however, in researching practice, then moving on to researching research, was of a need to un-learn old ways of seeing, and then to learn to see anew. The skills of practice, although helpful, did not carry me through.

Practitioner research, or at least, the only variety I can claim to have some knowledge of, seems to invite consideration of mess, both arising from the problems of practice and arising from the problems of research. (Other research stances may also benefit from some stronger appreciation of the importance of mess. I restrict my comments, however, to the field studied). It is from actively welcoming the uncertainty surrounding such mess, welcoming the ensuing confusion and the angst, that I believe some deeper understanding may arise. As Eliot (1944) demonstrates in his poem quoted in chapter 6, one way to knowledge may be through first embracing ignorance. However, while "[q]ualitative researchers only gain control of their projects by first allowing themselves to lose it" (Kleinman, Copp and Henderson 1992 p. 9 quoted in Kleinman and Copp 1993 p.3) this, at least in my case, required a great deal of emotional support.

B. Values.

Reed and Biott (1995) argue that "the things we value in research are inextricably connected to the things we value in practice" (p.194) and "the hallmarks of strong practitioner research [are in] research which embodies these values rather than the values of objectivity" (p.194). They point out that the researchers, whose accounts appear in the same volume, "were all motivated by practitioner values" (p.194) and they struggled with the evaluation of such work:

[they were] unable to identify appropriate ways of evaluating what they had done, or make decisions about what they should do, given that they had recognised that traditional research prescriptions did not fit their study (ibid p.194).

Reed and Biott take the position that "practitioner values should form part of the way in which practitioner research is evaluated" (p.194). In the current study, I considered a number of what I called ethical issues which I came to see as drawing on moral values. From the above discussion I feel Reed and Biott are using the term "values", in part [3], in a similar manner ("moral principles ... beliefs ... accepted standards", Collins dictionary). For me, a prime "principle" or "value", which only clarified over time, was that the needs

#[p230] of practice should have priority: as Dadds (1995) describes for one teacher "[t]he children’s welfare ... took priority over [the] search for truth" (p.47).

I had no permission to do other than my job (although I could probably have obtained this), indeed I came to realise I did not want to do anything other than my job, such as set up a controlled trial, experimental comparison of the Eric Harvey method with some other. Anyway what alternative method of working could I possibly adopt with the same level of commitment and expertise? Such a paradigm seemed irrelevant. There are alternative, single case experimental designs, but my perspective was shifting away from conventional notions. I wanted research to be the servant of practice. If that meant in some eyes doing "poor research" then I was comfortable with that from my value position. In any contest between the demands of research and the demands of practice, there was no contest. For me, practice had pride of place. As my confidence in messy methods grew, I became more convinced that I would not want to fall into the trap of allowing some idea of "good research" undermine my commitment to the clients in any research into practice which I carried out. A few examples from other researchers will illustrate the dilemma (which despite the position adopted above, I am sure will continue to tax me).

Calaam and Franchi (1987) describe how in their study of families of abused children they felt unable to give support to the mothers as that would have disrupted their investigative rationale. They describe "the commitment that the practitioner has to maintaining the best possible therapeutic relationship with each individual client" (p.183) but how the use of "standardised measurement procedures may seem to run counter to this" (ibid p.183). I wanted to circumvent the trap they faced:

Research traditionally requires restraint and restriction of behaviour on the behalf of the experimenter, in order to avoid bias or skew results. Hence, we were unable to play with the children ... for considerable periods of time when engaged in formal observation, and restricted our discussion with the mothers to the format of the structured interview, rather than dealing with the issues that the mothers themselves might have wanted to raise. (ibid p.183, emphasis added)

Pirie (1995) describes how in her research with children "I had to remind myself constantly that I must not stray outside the confines of the research design"(p.96) and "trying to comply with both clinical and research procedures ... was much more stressful

 #[p231] than I had ever anticipated" (p.97). Stevenson (1995) explains the tensions she felt in her study of her family therapy sessions. She felt constrained by the need to provide her agency with "data in the language they could understand i.e. numbers" (p.102) but recognised that "there was a risk of losing the family by overburdening them with too many questionnaires. This was against my priority as a therapist" (p.105).

I am not trying to argue here that all "conventional" research is unethical or that I can claim the right simply to practice, because it seems to work, and not examine that practice. There may be any number of ways to combine study of practice with care for the client, such as in action research. It may even be possible to hold the view that it is on some scale unethical not to scrutinise one’s work (whether that be clinical practice in the field or, for academic colleagues for instance, research and teaching in the academy). My struggle to resolve the issue, leading to the account of messy method, is simply one position which others may wish to consider.

C. Honesty.

I separate this out from values generally as it seems to warrant special consideration. Honesty, for instance in describing the off-shoots and anxieties of research, and how I dealt with these, appears to me to be a stance I would not now want to avoid. It appears in any case, a crucial element in my identity. Whether such honesty does indeed add to the quality of the study only time, and the reactions of others, will ultimately tell. What seems to me an additional important dimension in research, following the theme of honesty, is evidence of attempts to evaluate a piece of work, in particular to point out its remaining shortcomings (even on top off seeking the views of others constantly during the study and extra to including accounts of the messiness of the processes). Standing back, near the end of the project, the following areas seem to present themselves with respect to the actual research (my practice related concerns, and those questions raised by the discussion of making sense and identity, are recorded earlier):

* I propose that an honest account of "errors" enhances the believability of a report. This is a largely untested assumption.

#[p232] * The study does not take account of feedback from the various publications existing or in preparation, arising from it. I hoped, for instance, to generate some dialogue over my article "Notes from a Method". The time scale of the project has prevented this. My study leave is due to finish at the end of March 1999 and I cannot sensibly prolong the project beyond then. The study is weaker because of this lack.

* Being consistent with the interactive spirit of the messy method, an appropriate final stage would have been to submit the thesis as a whole to criticism by a series of practitioner colleagues, before fixing its final form and content. Again, I have imposed a time limit on the research which, much to my regret, has prevented more than very limited moves in this direction (so far one colleague has read the work, I refer to her comments later).

* Although not about science, science has been a constant presence in the inquiry. Borrowing from Lather (1993), its impact is "rhizome-like" for me: a mass of tangled ideas, constantly invading my efforts to clear-cut a portion of the field. Lather, rather ironically in the present context, actually uses the concept of the rhizome to describe her attempts at undermining scientific authority; in my case, science is another rhizome, constantly undermining the quest for my personal "authority".

It would, perhaps, take a complete investigation on its own to begin to tease out the interconnecting beliefs and practices surrounding such terms as "science", "objectivity", "rationality" which, from my perspective, present such an impenetrable thicket in coming to know my own processes. Gallie (1957) for example claims "the term science, in its widest sense, is a slippery one, used for the most part for dubious honorific purposes" (p.120) and Bridgeman, a Nobel physicist, explains "There is no scientific method as such ... The most vital feature of the scientist’s procedure has been merely to do his (sic) utmost with his mind, no holds barred (quoted in Denzin 1978 p. 316 emphasis in original).

I return, albeit briefly and speculatively, to this topic in a postscript.

#[p233] D. Communication

I argue throughout the thesis that material unread, whatever its quality, is of little use (see in particular chapter 11). Practitioners appear to call only rarely on academic works in every day practice. Referring to survey results and a number of articles, Polkinghorne reports "therapists learn about therapy overwhelmingly from practical experience with clients and only rarely consult therapy research" (Cohen et al 1986 p.198 cited in Polkinghorne 1992 p.154).

While a pithy scientific text may have a beauty of its own, to the initiate, I believe that practitioners, particularly those who wish to take steps towards being practitioner researchers, may need something different. Collaborative work with the academy, for instance in action research, may be one route to achieving engagement with the world of theory. An accessible text, such as I have tried to create, may be another. This is not to denigrate practitioners, but simply to face the reality of certain of the barriers which may have to be overcome in linking theory and practice; and that to overcome these, some element of conventional notions of academic rigour (at least from one image I carry round in my head) may need to be sacrificed. That my account is readable and yet sufficiently rigorous is, for me, however, simply a matter of faith at this point; as is my belief that I am communicating (see Dadds 1994 for example on the need for alternative texts).

It may be true that in one sense we can communicate without knowing the effects of our actions. It may also be true that in potentially interactive settings "we cannot not communicate" (Watzlawick et al 1967 p.48 emphasis in original) i.e. we may pass on messages whether we want to or not. There may be many routes to exploring the idea of communication. Within psychology, for instance, we might encounter a definition such as "[c]ommunication occurs when one animal (the signaller) signals to another (the receiver) in such a way that it changes the behaviour of the receiver in some way" (Cardwell et al 1996 p. 514), thus emphasising the need for an observable behaviour change resulting from the message. This focus on observable behaviour, however, seems an unnecessarily restrictive approach to such a potentially complex concept.

#[p234] We may wish, for example, to examine conditions for effective communication such as sincerity, comprehensibility, truth and appropriateness (McNiff 1993, drawing on Habermas). Or consider levels of communication, from the baby’s cry upwards (Hoffman 1995). Or, remaining with family therapy authors, we might argue that families "follow poetic rules, not those of deductive logic" (Allman 1982 p.52), and suggest, as he does, that therapists should have "a twinkle in their eyes" (p.52) and attend to aesthetic aspects of communication in "search[ing] for non-linear metaphorical connections" (p.47). While interesting, however, such topics do not get to the heart of my present concerns.

Griffiths (1995a) considers a number of issues, for instance the effect of "large-scale inequalities" (p.67) and the need for the second person to know that the first was trying to communicate. One other aspect she raises, however, brings me close to the position I am developing. Citing Martin (1985) she illustrates how a good conversation "is neither a fight nor a contest ... it is an interchange of ideas" (Martin 1985 p.9 cited in Griffiths 1995a p. 171) and it is this element of interchange which interests me. Schön has a similar notion in his "reflective conversation with a unique and uncertain situation" (Schön 1983 p.130) where the practitioner must listen to the "back talk" from attempts to change events.

In chapter 11, two aspects of communication came to the fore: clarity and having effect on others, although, as I argue, true evidence that ideas "resonate" (or not) requires a time scale longer than I can maintain in this project. For me, however, the final, vital element of communication I wish to explore is embodied in the phrase "two-way communication". I need to know the impact of the point I hoped to make: "[t]he meaning of communication is the response it elicits" (Barker 1986 p. 59). In this sense, communication is not a one-way process. I require feedback.

Watson and Hill (1989) in their Dictionary of Communication and Media Studies, spend some time examining the complexity of the definition of communication. They identify a number of "fundamental factors", including "a receiver who ... decodes ... and interprets the message, returning a signal in some way that the message has or has not been

#[p235] understood" (p.40). They also, however, go on to emphasise the confusing range of normal usage of the word, from "‘transmit’, a one-way process [to] ‘share’ ... a common or mutual process" (ibid p.40). Adair (1997), to underline the non-passive nature of the recipients of messages, offers the alternative term "commoning" (perhaps highlighting the similar Latin roots of communication and common, Concise Oxford Dictionary).

Overviewing my practice and this research I can begin to see a connecting theme emerging. In parent interviews there is constant monitoring of the verbal and non-verbal feedback from the clients. Are they relaxed? Do they laugh at the stories? Are they one jump ahead? Are they safe enough to be honest? All these clues help to reinforce the appropriateness of the intervention and build confidence in the approach. The follow up session’s back talk is the final, rigorous test: did it work? Counselling, which I discussed earlier, I would argue could hardly proceed without some kind of response from the client. In researching research, however, this evidence of effective communication, this feedback, for me remains tantalisingly out of reach, despite my efforts to uncover it, through discussion, papers and publication.

Lincoln and Guba (1985) argue, as mentioned in chapter 9, that good writing is essential to case study reporting, and that such work during its creation should be subjected "repeatedly to searching criticism" (ibid p.364). But in seeking "relatability" or "resonance" at the close of the inquiry, I need additional evidence that others have indeed embraced what I have to offer. Perhaps the best I can do is to strive for this confirmation, and show evidence of this striving.

As a final note, my colleague Rene E.[4], who looked at a draft of the thesis, gave what to me was powerful affirmation that I had indeed "communicated something to her" effectively. This response reinforced my belief in the importance of emphasising the two-way nature of the process. After reading, she said she felt "enhanced" .

#[p236] Post script

xxxxxxx commenting on fire and rose (Eliot 1944 p. 48)

There is a real world out there, I have to believe this. As Sokal points out in the controversy around his spoof post-modernist article (see Sokal 1996a):

... anyone who believes that the laws of physics are mere social conventions is invited to try transgressing those conventions from the windows of my flat. (I live on the 21st floor). Sokal (1996b).

Gouldner (1982), as mentioned earlier, discusses the "background assumptions" which we import into research. A little while before beginning the research, I guess that one of my assumptions would have been that the methods of natural sciences were also applicable to the study of the social world; even, had I considered such an enterprise, to the study of the intrapersonal world. But along with these assumptions I also carried an un-formed, unsophisticated view of the nature of science. Constantly erupting into the manifest inquiry was a latent[5] inquiry, which I resisted, best summed up in Chalmer’s (1982) words "What is this thing called science?"

I began to discover in my reading what to me had the mystique of underground texts, although they possibly form part of a common core of science studies course[6].  In their different ways, they all seemed to point to one idea: that the "scientific method" might be a much more complex creature than I had imagined.

In my mind I had in the past been a poor scientist; throughout the current project I gradually re-evaluated myself. My view of science transformed in parallel, particularly to do with the creative aspects of the messy inquiry and my attempts to subject these to external critique: the notion of "testing while protecting", described here and by implication in Chalmers (1982). Whether or not my new image of science as messy is true in general I cannot say; it did, however, help me to a resolution of these seemingly contradictory positions: seeing myself as poor scientist yet seeing myself as creative [p237] investigator, ready to test out developing ideas in public, thus mirroring (some) scientific procedures.

Eliot’s enigmatic but evocative phrase quoted above, sums up for me this reconciliation of apparent opposites. I note in my diary, near the end of the project a sudden feeling that, like Eliot again, "xxx re: coming home" (Eliot 1944 p.48); that I am, after all, perhaps some kind of scientist:

I have come home (31.10.98 2.00 p.m. in park).

Key points emerging from the chapter.

I began with a "storybook" view of research. The messy method I describe is how I now understand I work. It is also how, I believe, some other researchers may work, in part, some of the time. Its understanding and its application, however, while drawing on existing skills, required both un-learning and learning.

Focusing initially on the benefits of the project, following reflection on practice over the period, I feel my casework is now more defensible. The research appears also to have helped reinforce the place of honesty, reflection and attention seeking on the agenda of practitioner colleagues.

Many practice issues remain to be settled, however, such as decisions on initiating casework and what forms of knowledge we draw on (see also footnote 1). The research has had limited comment from practitioners and does not address wider social and political concerns. Many questions remain around attention seeking and its long term impact. Finally, practice appears to have suffered during the course of the research, although in an unexpected manner.

With regard to research, I draw out three hallmarks: mess, values and communication. The term messy applies both to the nature of the problems encountered and the way I set

#[p238] about tackling them. I see this term in a positive light. The messy method is outlined in chapter 11.

Along with Reed and Biott I argue that the things valued in research are those valued in practice and in daily life, and these aspects appear to include, in particular, moral values. Thus, for example, a prime constraint on research was that practice should have priority. Honesty is singled out for particular attention.

I add a number of remaining criticisms of the project, to those raised in earlier chapters: limited evidence of the assumed positive effect on readers of recounting errors; limited feedback from publications and from practitioners; limited attention to issues raised from discussion of the nature of science.

With regard to communication, I argue that, for practitioners, and practitioner researchers, there is a need to balance rigour with readability.

Of the many facets of communication, that of feedback, knowing the impact of one’s attempts to communicate, appears vital. I relate this to aspects of practice. Evidence of successful communication in the thesis, in this sense is, however, limited.

Notes.

[1] Looking to the future the two mini-projects raise a dozen or so topics for further inquiry in addition to the points raised in this chapter, sections 1 and 2C, as well as, for instance, settling concerns over protocols for assessing research strength. My main interest, however, would be to return to practice: to test out the messy method in the field of practical action, and at the same time, to unpick some of my (largely unexamined, enlightenment) assumptions around terms such as "values" , "action" and "improvement" (see McTaggart 1996, for instance whose chapter, touching upon some of these issues, is contained in a volume in which several authors pose post-modern challenges for action research).

#[p239] [2] My view of research in the social sciences as a messy process is reinforced by other works cited earlier such as Atkinson (1994), Atkinson et al (1991), Bannister (1981), Cornett (1995), Fine and Deegan (1996), Frost (1995), Kleinman and Copp (1993), Minkin (1997), McGrath et al (1981), Salmon (1992), Stanley and Wise (1993), Staw (19 81), St. Pierre (1997), Whyte (1955).

[3] McLaughlin (1994) explores many meanings of the term "values", in an educational context. The studies Reed and Biott refer to I feel emphasise the tensions arising from values with a "moral" dimension - such as choosing between patient care and academic concerns. Which is not to say I do not also value other "non-moral" aspects, such as clarity in writing, and Reed and Biott also use the term values to refer to these, for instance, valuing "imaginative approaches" (p.194). Elliott (1994), however, refers to the "complex, messy, conflictual and provisional nature of values clarification" (p.421). I will thus use the term in a somewhat loose way to indicate moral values.

[4] See comments from Rene E. in appendix D.

[5] The term latent is borrowed from Biott (1996).

[6] I am referring here to works cited throughout the thesis such as Chalmers (1982), Collins (1992), Crane (1972), Feyerabend (1978), Knorr-Cetina (1981), Kuhn (1970), Medawar (1963, 1968), Mitroff (1983) and Ravetz (1971).

#[p240] Appendix A

The book "Attention Seeking: a practical solution for the classroom" (Mellor 1997 a) is included as part of this thesis; as it is copyright, however, it will not be part of the micro film record. Those wishing to consult the book will need to obtain a separate copy.

It is intended that the audio tape of the parent interview mentioned in the thesis will eventually form part of a training pack for psychologists and will be accessible through this source, parents have given permission for publication; again, however, this material will not be included in the micro film record. Those wishing to obtain a copy of the tape in the meantime may contact me.

Kathleen, the subject of the discussion on the audio tape, is age 12 at the time of the interview and attending high school. Her referral details describe her, amongst other comments, as "constantly wanting attention" in class and from her form tutor and head of year. Discussions with school staff and Kathleen are not included in the tape neither is the follow-up interview with mother, three months later. Matters gradually settled and the case was closed soon after this intervention. Further comments on the tape and the "Eric Harvey method" will be found in the forthcoming training pack, obtainable from the author in due course. 

#p[241] Appendix B : off-shoots

Six off-shoots are described here. The seventh, concerning reflection, is covered in chapter 7 and refers to the accompanying article "On reflection" reproduced in appendix C. The rationale for including these "diversions" is described elsewhere.

Initially I was attracted to various "scientific" designs, but gradually became more confident in moving away from this mode of thinking.

Action research offered a starting point but my emphasis on what I thought of as "mess" took me, I felt, too far beyond its prescriptions.

Chaos and circular epistemology were of little use in developing methods but helped to reinforce decision making on when to abandon topics.

Interviewing psychologists could have been a productive line of inquiry, particularly for practice related issues such as in exercising discretion over when to initiate casework.

Schön’s reflection-in-action offered some initial, tentative ideas for a model for the method of the project. In my reading of Schön, however, employing reflection-in-action requires the knowledge of an expert professional in order to "see as", to mould the situation to known examples; and then to evaluate the "back talk" from attempts to intervene, in the light of previous experience. In my casework practice I could do that. In my research, I could not.

Off-shoot 1 : a "scientific" investigation of practice.

Diary entries from the early days of the project record my imaginings of a neat design, influenced strongly I suspect by my psychology background. Several variations came to mind. One fantasy I had was to somehow recruit a friendly psychiatrist, psychotherapist and social worker and split a number of referrals between us to compare the

#[p242] "effectiveness" of our different approaches to children with emotional and behavioural difficulties.

I abandoned that rather impractical scheme, but not the "scientific" thinking behind it. I realised it would be ludicrous to attempt to compare effectiveness by using different approaches myself. I could compare the use of green manures with chemical fertilisers on my allotment, a classic design, but it would be at the very least dishonest to pretend that I could deploy different approaches to parents, in a kind of randomised controlled trial. However, this kind of science-based thinking later surfaced in a plan to compare families, drawing on attribution theory to generate a hypothesis.

The, to me, superficially reasonable idea was that parents who were "closed minded", with fixed and limited attributions for the causes of their children’s problems, would show less change in approach, and the children show less change in their behaviour, than parents with fluid, varying, perhaps self-questioning attributions[1]. I even went some way initially towards collecting evidence of parents’ views and factors such as age, social background and occupation which might have some bearing on the matter; drew up a complex coding form; and spent several months diligently filling these in, with the plan of subjecting it all to some gigantic statistical analysis.

Eventually I rather reluctantly jettisoned these ideas (I quite enjoy statistics) as I began to move further and further away from my notion of a "scientific method" and began to search, blindly, for a new "mind set": "[p]rogress is made by the almost deliberate casting off of existing knowledge" (Thomas 1998 p.152). However, part of my initial motivation in seeking a qualitative approach was somewhat banal: I just wanted something different. I did not want to tread the same familiar path of quantitative methods. It was only much later that I came to value the creative potential of, and enormous effort involved in, "unlearning".

Off-shoot 2 : action research.

#[p243] The action research community provided me with a very tolerant way-station as I wrestled with methodology. In part the study is a kind of action research as I examine and change some aspects of practice. I am sure, however, my eventual thinking departs too far from their principles to count as action research. My colleague, Tina Cook, can readily support a concept of "mess". Recounting our focus group discussions (see Cook 1998 for details of its make up) she explains how "we did not have the words to explain" (Cook 1998 p.105):

We had experienced, when undertaking research, a phase in the process ... we could only describe as the ‘messy bit’ , the ‘jumbly section’ etc. and yet we considered it to be a fundamental part of the research process. It was the part that gave it life and meaning. (ibid p.106).

There was a rejection of the "tyranny of the methodology" (ibid p.99) and a wish for honesty in reporting: "there is a whole tradition ... of not admitting things ...we get the descriptions of systematic research, systematic rigour" (ibid p.104) and " ‘[r]igour’ is misconstrued as ‘neat’ " (ibid p.104).

Tina describes how she feels her action research can accommodate "mess":

Question : how as novice action researchers, could we both utilise prescribed action research models, but also give ourselves permission to break free from perceived structures to develop certain processes or parts of the process? Would including ‘mess’ as part of the process give people permission to lose the thread for a while and explore with confidence? (Cook 1998 p.107)

She describes how the group had a range of views. Someone points out:

Can I put forward a guilty secret here? I don’t think I’m doing anything that resembles action research here. I couldn’t call it action research. I feel I’m here under false pretences. (ibid p.95)

Looking back, I can see that in my case I was beginning to feel that mess was not just a part of the process, in a sense it was the process. I began to move away from the shelter of action research thinking (my stance on change in practice was in any case somewhat ambivalent as explained in chapter 4) , although I continued to draw great support from its practitioners.

#[p244] Off-shoots 3 and 4 : Chaos and circular epistemology. [2]

I will only mention these here only very briefly as illustration of deviations which were not very fruitful.

Off-shoot 3: Some writing in the field of chaos, as I understand it, raises the image of systems circulating around two alternative final states, never repeating the same path (see Gleick 1987 p.140 on "attractors"). My research seemed to flip between the "scientific" and the "non-scientific" and I seemingly endlessly cycled around these two poles, modifying my course and my ideas of both, at the same time.

Another pleasing image was that of "self-similarity" - the way in which, if I have it correctly, many irregular shapes or systems resemble themselves in terms of irregularity at what ever level of "magnification", such as clouds, coastlines, changes in stock prices, electrical noise, river floods (see Gleick 1987 chapter 4). I could draw a parallel with the current research - in broad terms the messy method could be applied at many levels: to studying a difficult article, a book, a part of my practice, a mini-project such as identity or the whole thesis.

While both pictures, attractors and self-similarity, were pleasing, I realised my knowledge of chaos was very shallow as I began to read round and look at applications of chaos in other fields. I abandoned further work on these as outside my field of competence and leading to more problems, not fewer (see chapter 7).

Off-shoot 4: Attention seeking, as described in chapter 3, can in some ways best be understood by replacing notions of linear causation with those of circular causation. That is both its strength (in providing a powerful model for change) and its weakness (in the difficulties of weaning others way from the linear causation of much everyday thinking). Circular processes have been a mainstay of some approaches to family therapy and once exposed to this way of thinking, like Hoffman, a celebrated writer in the field, it is easy to begin seeing circular interactions everywhere "I only saw circles, timeless circles" (Hoffman 1990 p.2).

#[p245] There seemed to be circular processes at the heart of attention seeking; reflection-in-action (see later in this appendix); "double fitting" (see chapter 8); and science ( "the logic of science is necessarily circular" Hesse 1980 p.173; science is "essentially circular" Carr 1987 p. 59). I began to see circles everywhere and tried to develop an article on "circular epistemology". But I quickly realised my knowledge of epistemology was not up to the task and abandoned the effort. However, my early attempts to explain circular causation seemed to "strike a chord" with my critical friend, Ann:

Talking to Ann F. She’d been thinking about circular [causation] and now felt she sees it everywhere. She mentioned some friends where parents had died and the child, ... brought up by [grandparents], ... was a "horror". They blamed it on the car crash but couldn’t see they’d made allowances for the child all along e.g. letting her sleep in their bed. (20.4.94 3.30 p.m. at work)

I abandoned this off-shoot as it again began to pass beyond the range I could deal with, as explained in chapter 7.

Off-shoot 5: interviewing psychologists.

During 1994 and 1995 I collected a series of questions to ask psychologists, with some intention, I recall, of thereby improving my practice and perhaps making these interviews an integral part of the project. The questions (recorded as part of my diary notes) were, for example:

"What do you get out of child interviews that is of any use?" (5.2.95)

"How do you use [test] materials in a non-standard way" (18.10.95)

"How do you protect time for therapy?" (16.11.95).

"What is the most effective change you ever made to a child yourself?" (20.3.94); "What do you base your ideas on when giving advice to teachers, parents etc." (Ann F. had said all her advice came from her teaching experience, not the psychology 17.11.94)

"What are the barriers to getting teachers to change their approach? (21.2.95)

"What about ‘hopeless’ cases?"( 4.2.95)

"How do you go about deciding whether to ‘get stuck in’ or not?" (6.2.95)

Several of these topics I explored in casual conversation, some were taken up more whole-heartedly. It is my regret that I did not follow this line; I am sure my practice would have been the better for it.

#[p246] One colleague, Lois T., agreed to be interviewed. This revealed her uncertainties about the job, which re-assured me about mine (although as she was leaving the post, she may not have been a good example). The extract below is taken from some way into the interview. It centres on decisions when to get involved or not in cases, and has resonance for me in my own work. I return to this point in chapter 10. The interview has not been subjected to the kind of "analysis" or "making sense" of the diary notes, as it is not the main data source. I have simply picked out what seemed to be the relevant point, concerning decision making.
 
  

Extract from interview with Lois T.

Nigel: I'm interested in how psychologists make the decision to become involved with a particular case. Not so much what you do when you get involved, or not so much how you stop getting involved at the end, but how you go about deciding to get involved and how much flexibility. Do you have any choice? What do you take into account when you make the choice, is the problem clear? Just tell me a little bit about how you go about getting involved and making a decision.

Lois : I think it's probably very fuzzy and unsystematic. I think I do have quite a bit of choice but not complete choice. Just an example of how I do have choice -I've decided that I probably wasn't going to do any in-depth counselling with teenagers because I felt my skills were too rusty after being [away] for three years and a lot of the problems that they give me, I just felt that if I was getting into really heavy family problems with teenagers. I would just feel a bit scared and out of my depth and worried about getting involved with that and I'm a bit worried about the way we do counselling without having other people to talk about it to and semi-supervision. I don't think it's very healthy for us to be doing it like that without anybody else that we're sharing our cases with. So I more or less decided I wouldn't do that, more from a confidence point of view than anything else

Then along came a case of a girl who had had some pretty hairy problems ... I somehow decided actually this is somebody that I'd quite like to support ... So that was a totally unsystematic and idiosyncratic, deciding to be involved with somebody because I just wanted to be involved with that particular kind of case. (22.3.95 interview extract)

My own casework displays similar concerns over decisions to start casework:

Concerning home visit to Mr. L. ... house in a mess, Mr. L. very intense/ obsessive/ upset, kids all over the place ... I was conscious that although R. [the referred child] shows many attention seeking symptoms, this is a case I don’t want to get involved in (custody hearing due soon [it looks very complex]) (2.2.95 9.00 p.m. in bath)

#[p247] I began to question more deeply when and why I choose to take on a case. In the rest of the extract below I record a collection of motives, some of them base. My disparaging comments about "cases" being "no-hopers" reflect more perhaps my own feelings of helplessness in the face of families with massive social problems. My skills may only begin to scratch the surface of some of their needs, although at times, as for example with one memorable family I can recall, Suzie I. and her mum, there may still be scope for productive work. The issue of where I can be most helpful, is not one I have resolved. In chapter 4 (section 6) I mention earlier attempts to set some personal criteria. I cannot be all things to all people. Which influences effect my decisions, however, and the consequences of these (e.g. for excluded groups) need to be examined along with how far my "espoused values" and my "values in practice" match up. I return briefly to this issue in the concluding chapter.

[I realised] I can select which cases to work on by (a) simple prejudice (b) what looks like a possibility rather than a "no-hoper" (although with Suzie I. [an unlikely prospect at the start] it worked out in the end) (c) anything else like time/energy etc.

... Have I got the right to choose? ... all year long I’m compromising and choosing - where to work, which school/ child to work on, what to specialise in, when a report is "good enough" etc. Should I just be a "taxi rank"? ... social services have protected case loads, we don’t. (2.2.95 9.00 in bath)

At one point I arranged for a research colleague to interview me. This revealed my yearning for a lost, perhaps rose-tinted time, of working in a team with Eric and other psychologists, all following the same approach. I could envisage a whole study focusing simply on colleagues attitudes to, and beliefs about, practice in the area of emotional and behavioural difficulties. Similar questions became a site of constant concern and I brought these up many times in our regional "therapy interest group" during the time of the project. My efforts to examine and improve practice, as a result of these and other discussions (while not reaching any definitive answer), helped form the training pack for psychologists, currently in preparation (Mellor forthcoming a)

Off-shoot 6 : reflection-in-action.

# [p248] I will spend some time on this off-shoot, as it was an important formative influence. While searching for a convenient method of research, I spent some time looking at grounded theory approaches. These seemed to offer a reliable, valid, systematic way of dealing with data but I began to question them. The first warning bells were sounded quite early on when I came upon Altrichter and Posch’s (1989) critique, particularly their comment that, contrary to suggestions that grounded theory researchers should begin without fixed pre-conceptions, insiders could not (later reading, e.g. Melia (1996) on arguments between Glaser and Strauss continued to reinforce my doubts):

Teacher-researchers cannot enter their field of research in an unprejudiced manner (unlike sociologists who might enter fields they are unfamiliar with) because they already live and work in it. (Altrichter and Posch 1989 p.26 emphasis in original)

Whatever the validity of this point (and they raise other criticisms of grounded theory and its inductivist approach which I will not explore) the important issue for me is that they turned me away from grounded theory and introduced me, later in the article, to the work of Donald Schön. This came to be a guiding light. I still admire his "Reflective Practitioner", despite all the subsequent criticisms, and for some time reflection-in-action seemed to offer a theme to tie up my project. In the end, as I will explain, however, I had to reject this as well. I will first outline my understanding of Schön’s insights, drawing mainly from "The Reflective Practitioner".

Schön argues that there is an awareness of the complexity of situations and "[m]anagers ... manage messes" (Schön 1983 p.16). Nevertheless, some managers display skills in dealing with these but "they have no satisfactory way of describing or accounting for [their] artful competence" (ibid p.19). He argues that the dominant view of professional knowledge is Technical Rationality i.e. "the application of scientific theory and techniques to ... problems of practice" (ibid p.30). Technical Rationality, however, according to Schön, describes the process of problem solving but not the process of "problem setting" (ibid p.40 emphasis in original). To construct a problem from its surrounding "mess" requires "a certain kind of work" (ibid p.40).

When dealing with these situations, Schön claims, professionals speak of "experience, trial and error, intuition, and muddling through" (ibid p.43). However, their skilful

#[p249] actions reveal "knowing more than [they] can say" (ibid p. 51). The professional has tacit knowledge (Polanyi 1958) : " the workaday life of the professional depends on tacit knowing-in-action " (Schön 1983 p 49).

Much practice is carried out routinely. When, however, the relatively smooth flowing of every day action is interrupted, the practitioner (Schön explores these patterns in a number of profession) must switch to another mode of thought : reflection-in-action. This is very different from the process of reflection as commonly understood (which Schön confusingly labels reflection-on-action): the process of looking back over one’s work some time after the events in question.

A. The structure of reflection -in -action.

During reflection-in-action the practitioner adopts a kind of quasi-experimental approach which Schön describes as " a reflective conversation with a unique and uncertain situation" (ibid p.130). This process, which differs in many ways from a conventional "scientific" inquiry includes three stages: (a) Naming and Framing (b) Frame experiment and (c) Holistic evaluation.

(a) Naming and Framing.
 
  

This is the process of "problem setting" where "interactively we name the things to which we will attend and frame the context in which we will attend to them" (Schön, 1983 p.40, emphasis in original). As Schön explains, when "there is a problem in finding the problem he (sic) must ‘reframe’ " the situation (ibid p.129).

(b) Frame experiment.

This involves a mini-experiment, testing out the definition of the problem while listening to the situation's "back talk" : the unintended effects of action (ibid p.79). The practitioner acts within the framework newly created but watches out for the consequences of this experiment. The situation, however, is not static, it "becomes

 #[p250] understood through the attempt to change it and changed through the attempt to understand it" (ibid p.132).

Not all the changes are as anticipated - the situation "talks back" (ibid p.131) through these unintended changes. The practitioner must not behave in a rigid way, clinging onto the initial conception, he or she must simultaneously work within the frame and listen to the back talk. As Schön describes it, we must maintain "double vision" (ibid p.164).

(c) Holistic evaluation.

This is the final stage of the mini-experiment where the practitioner decides : do I like what I get? This is an evaluation of the analysis in a "holistic" way (Altrichter and Posch, 1989 p.28). As Schön explains it: "The practitioner evaluates his problem-setting experiment by determining whether he likes these unintended changes, or likes what he (sic) can make of them" (Schön, 1983 p.135). Questions posed at this point may be, for example, "Can I solve the problem? ...[is the solution] congruent with my fundamental values and theories? Have I kept the inquiry moving?" (ibid p.133).

B. Reflection-in-action, technical rationality and day-to-day practice.

This somewhat circular process of reflection-in-action stands in contrast to a more conventional view of the approach of an "objective scientist":

According to the model of Technical Rationality, there is an objectively knowable world, independent of the practitioner's values and views...

In a practitioner's reflective conversation with a situation [however]... he (sic) shapes it and makes himself a part of it (ibid p.163)

Reflection-in-action does generate a form of knowledge, however, according to Schön:

He (sic) produces knowledge that is objective, in the sense that he can disconfirm it. He can discover that he has not made a satisfactory change.... but his knowledge is also personal, bounded by his commitments to appreciative systems and overarching theory. It is compelling only to members of a community of inquiry who share these commitments (ibid p.166)

#[p251] For me, the important and most illuminating part of Schön’s analysis comes at just this point : the description of the way in which practitioners "mould" the circumstance to fit their style of working[3]. In my understanding of Schön, the professional forms a view of a situation (in Schön's terms they "frame" the situation) which then allows him or her to approach it in a confident, familiar manner.

...the [new] question lends itself to a method of investigation which the [practitioner] knows how to pursue (ibid p.119).

He (sic) sees [the unique] situation as something already present in his repertoire (ibid p.138 emphasis in original).

The practitioner makes his hypothesis come true (ibid p.149).

They seek to make the situation conform to their hypothesis but remain open to the possibility that it may not (ibid p.150).

The phenomena that he (sic) seeks to understand are partly of his own making (ibid p.151).

he (sic) shapes it and makes himself a part of it (ibid p.163)

...the restructured material lends itself to the kind of intervention that the practitioner is good at undertaking (ibid p.318).

This description reverberates with my daily practice. I am not a Freudian, a systemic family therapist, a social worker or a dispenser of pills. I have ways of working which I feel comfortable and confident with. According to Schön, the experienced professional selectively perceives the situation to fit his or her preferred way of dealing with it. In my case, the preferred way may include an attention seeking analysis. As Harvey (1983) emphasises, however, for example, failure to make headway with this attention seeking approach to changing the parents’ behaviour may point to more fundamental problems in their own relationships and circumstances which need to be addressed. The situation "talks back". As Schön argues, if we maintain "double vision", this "back talk" from the intervention confirms its appropriateness or otherwise. We do not simply carry on regardless : "if he (sic) ignores its resistances to change, he falls into mere self-fulfilling prophecy" (ibid p.153). The practitioners "seek to make the situation conform to their hypothesis but remain open to the possibility that it will not" (ibid p.150).

C. Some critical comments on reflection-in- action

Eraut (1994) outlines the difficulties arising from the phrase "reflection-in-action" in Schön's work, and centres these on the term reflection: "it has caused nothing but

#[p252] confusion" (p.148). Criticism of Schön from a number of perspectives has also been raised e.g. for lacking consideration of a critical dimension (Thompson 1995, Carr 1995); being conservative/ not radical (Fish 1989, McFee 1993); not distinguishing between knowing -in-action and reflecting-in-action (Brown and McIntyre 1993); being reactive rather than proactive (Brubacher et al 1994); implying the automatic development of reflective skills in experienced professionals (Rudduck 1992); lacking empirical investigation (Munby and Russell 1989); not considering the role of emotions (Dadds 1993); underestimating the complexity of professional life and its embededness in a political arena (Hart 1995, Newman 1996) and lacking a collaborative dimension (Converey 1998, Hart 1995).

The important point that I feel may be missed by some of Schön's critics, however, is that reflection-in-action is, to my mind, a specialised routine which experienced professionals can apply. In my reading of Schön (as outlined earlier), the practitioners initially fashion situations to fit their preferred ways of working - the ways they are experienced in and most comfortable with. "Back talk" will then either confirm or refute the stance. Although Munby and Russell (1989) for instance find no evidence of these "expert" routines in their research with new teachers, perhaps in this instance they were simply looking in the wrong place.

However, this point about the "expert" dimension was relevant to the project in another way. Altrichter and Posch (1989) complete their article by advocating reflection-in-action as a model for inquiry. Whatever other criticisms could be lodged against this suggestion, from my reading of Schön it posed for me one major problem as researcher: at that stage I was a novice researcher, I had no familiar routines to fall back on. I could not "see as and do as". I had no preferred lines of investigation with which to experiment in a "reflective conversation" with the troubling (research) setting. I thus felt I could not develop reflection-in-action as my research method. I had to move on. My diary at quite an early stage emphasises this predicament:

After going round in circles for ages it occurred to me that there are three different levels:

#[p253] 1. I have a problem solving framework for looking at problems which occur in my professional practice. When these crop up I can use Schön’s approach [of reflection-in-action].

2. I don’t have a framework for analysing practice [choices] e.g. if I wanted to [select]... different approaches to a problem (like for instance the Eric Harvey approach or a Freudian approach or a rational emotive approach or counselling approach or whatever). I don’t have the framework to decide how to tackle the problems that choices of approaches brings up. Perhaps the person to do this would be [for example] a very experienced psychologist who had got into lots of different approaches, if such a person existed i.e. something like a professional practice consultant [they could apply reflection-in-action to this problem of the choice of method].

3. The third level is having a framework for analysing problems of research i.e. answering questions about "how is my practice to be researched?" and [ideally I need] to be able to see that within a framework [where] I know how to go about the business of solving research problems i.e. as a professional researcher. Such a person would have a framework for analysing research problems and then could apply Schön’s method [to the current problem. I could not]. (1.10.94 emphasis added)

Some of the difficulty, of course, arose because of the on-going difficulty of not really knowing exactly what it was I was trying to achieve:

It occurred to me that part of the methodological problem is what questions do I want to ask about my practice ... About the same time ...I asked myself what questions is it possibleto ask my practice, rather than what questions do I want to ask it. In other words, the practice maybe limits what can be done. (1.10.94 - 12 midnight, emphasis added)

Some of the concern centred on the final stage of Schön’s analysis: the holistic evaluation:

Musing about methodology for no very good reason. Wondered how far "I like what I get" is applicable to research [as opposed] to being applicable to practice ... I don’t know much about research therefore what I like is simply what I know or what I’m comfortable with or what I’m experienced at so far i.e. may be just due to my limitations. In other words I’m not "the expert" in this situation. Whereas [in my] practice I am skilled in certain aspects and can judge the situation from the view of the expert in this practice i.e. I can relate this situation to lots of other ones in my past experience. I can’t do that with research i.e. I can’t judge whether my research is right just by saying "I like what I get" in Schön’s way. (24.9.94 8 a.m.)

Apart from the problems reflection-in-action raised for research, I also began to explore the difficulties it threw up in practice areas (e.g. its limitations in the stressful real-life world of day-to-day work). There is scope here for further inquiry. But my interest

#[p254] started to turn away from reflection-in-action and towards reflection, as a way to examine practice. It is there, with an article eventually published in our professional journal, included as appendix C, that the tale of these side roads ends.

Notes

[1] My latest position on such a hypothesis would be to see a number of possibilities, one being that a matrix of half understood, "confused" beliefs may actually be as resistant to change as one clear position, see discussion in chapter 3. I do not pursue this line of inquiry, however.

[2]The term circular epistemology appears to have evolved in the field of family therapy, drawing on the work of Gregory Bateson. For a fuller description see Gurman et al (1986). Other writers decry its use, seeing the phrase as part of the "semantic pollution" (Bogdan 1987) of the field; and seeing epistemology as being used in unconventional ways in family therapy (Held and Pols 1985). As I do not develop the idea, I will not expand on this debate, and stress again that the discussion touched on here is not part of the arguments of the thesis.

[3] Schön’s later work on "Educating the Reflective Practitioner" (1987) in part appears to confirm this reading, but does not emphasise the point in the way I have taken it here. In this later book he focuses mainly on students. These display a range of capabilities from novices with little skill in the professional field, and little associated ability to reflect-in-action, to quite competent "students" taking master classes who can both perform and reflect-in-action well.

#[p255] Appendix C. On Reflection.

The article reproduced below makes fleeting reference to a "reflective methodology". This was my earlier attempt to encapsulate the emerging "messy method", explained in more detail in chapters 6 and 11.

As I explain elsewhere, the main purposes of including the paper here are to complete my account of the by-ways of the project (this one being rather more productive than others); and to further illustrate my concerns with frankness, in this instance about practice related issues (see the discussion in chapter 7). The arguments over the nature of reflection and knowledge[1] outlined below are not, however, offered as arguments of the thesis. I also do not provide an additional summary beyond that contained in the original article.

On Reflection: one psychologist's explorations around an episode of reflecting (Mellor 1998a: Educational Psychology in Practice, 14(3) p.167-175).

Summary

This article offers a model for reflection on practice, not a model of practice. A detailed example is drawn from a recent project involving reflective research into one psychologist's involvements with children exhibiting emotional and behavioural difficulties. Comments on the process of reflecting, lines of further research and a "short form" for reflection are outlined. Finally, the challenge of reflection for day to day work is highlighted.

Too many theories of professional expertise tend to treat experts as infallible, in spite of much evidence to the contrary ... professionals succumb to many of the common weaknesses which psychologists have shown to be regular features of human judgement ... there is a need for professionals to retain critical control over the more intuitive parts of their expertise by regular reflection ... (Eraut, 1994 p.155)

Background to the research

#[p256] Over many years I have had an interest in children who display emotional and behavioural difficulties. Intervention via parents always appeared to me to be the most useful strategy in tackling such problems. Maintaining this type of casework has been difficult, however, with changes in legislation, rising requests for formal assessments of special educational needs (Gregory, 1993) and growing demand as other support services to schools have reduced (Bennathan, 1994).

I became curious about this family-based work, which I had learnt in an apprentice-like way from a very experienced colleague (see Beaver, 1996 for an outline of the method), and decided to research it using a reflective methodology (Mellor, 1996). Increasingly throughout the project I became aware of weaknesses in my approach, particularly in my direct work with the children in these cases. The example below focuses on this aspect.

It would be possible to reflect on confident, successful interventions. My belief is, however, that candid (and sometimes painful) exploration of less positive episodes offers the most potential for personal development. In any case, the aim of this paper is not to illustrate good practice but to provide an exemplar for reflection. The transcript of diary notes (see below) which makes up the bulk of the article departs from the normal style of academic writing. This is deliberate. These were my immediate thoughts as I struggled with my uncertainties and failings. In addition the transcript is more or less complete. This is not indulgence, but an attempt to provide an adequate specimen for those who wish to try their hands. We all reflect, could we reflect more deeply?

One special influence on the development of the research was the writing of Schön (Schön, 1983, 1987) and his accounts of the "reflective practitioner" and the concept of "reflection-in-action". These topics are addressed in Mellor (1996). However, of more relevance to the current paper, Schön’s writing raised for me the simple question : "What is reflection?".

Reflection

#[p257] Attempts to describe reflection have a history stretching back to ancient Greece (Maranhao, 1991). Knowles (1993), in consolidating many definitions, asserts that:

...reflection is an intra-personal process...through which personal and professional knowing can occur... Reflection is seen as a process and method of informing practice with reason... Reflection is not seen as being static; implicit in its meaning is action...It is seen as a vehicle for promoting changed behaviours and practices... and a means of improving foresight...lessening the chances of taking inappropriate lines of action. (p. 83, emphasis in original)

A wide range of issues need to be considered in developing a framework to understand fully the process of reflection. Annexe1 includes many of the relevant aspects (and the list is by no means exhaustive). Any attempt to draw all these together would be a mammoth undertaking but could open up a field for further research. I will concentrate here, however, simply on the basic practicalities of reflection -how to do it - and offer one model I found useful. This can both inform ongoing work and help change future practice and could, with great care, be built into supervision and support processes. It could also provide the opportunity to go beyond specific casework to a systems level and to examine different modes of intervention.

As a word of caution, it is not clear that the exercise of reflection is guaranteed to promote better practice: as Hammersley points out "Might not reflection on our activities sometimes result in incapacity rather than improvement?" (Hammersley, 1992 p.154). In my case, the starting point of the research referred to above was a simple curiosity about a way of working that I had acquired, rather than any desire to "improve" as such. However, early reading starkly highlighted the rut I had fallen into and triggered a desire to change. Schön captures this well:

... as a practice becomes more repetitive and routine, and as knowing-in-practice becomes increasingly tacit and spontaneous, the practitioner may miss important opportunities to think about what he (sic) is doing ... if he learns, as often happens, to be selectively inattentive to phenomena that do not fit the categories of his knowing-in-action, then he may suffer from boredom or "burn out" and afflict his clients with the consequences of his narrowness and rigidity (Schön, 1983 p.61).

#[p258] Although the link between reflecting and acting is unclear- "We do not know how reflection leads to change" (Day, 1993 p.90) - in my experience, attempts to change practice seemed to be a natural consequence of reflection: once I began to look, I became dissatisfied. The question was, how to look.

A structure for reflection

In exploring practice and the uncertainties surrounding it, Holly (1989) strongly recommends the keeping of a reflective diary. Initially my reflections were unstructured and brief: a few minutes in the car recording whatever struck me as interesting about an interview before returning to the office. These were extra to the normal case notes. Then I began to follow themes, for example how I had worked with the pupil, or to focus on "critical incidents" (Tripp, 1993). Soon, however, I began to look for a way to reach a greater depth of analysis. There appeared to be few articles referring to structures for reflection in the educational psychology literature (e.g. Filtness and Hobbs, 1990) but eventually I adopted the framework described by Palmer et al (1994) based on Carper (1978). This was chosen on practical grounds as it appeared to provide a comprehensive set of specific questions and a clear breakdown of areas, rather than general "topics to reflect on". In addition, the questions seemed challenging in that they were somewhat beyond the routine.

Palmer's model seemed to need some adaptations, however, for my particular circumstances. I added extra sections such as celebration (as reflection can be a rather negative experience I placed this near the beginning to maintain motivation), pre-planning or "preflection" (an area I knew was a particular weakness for me), and a consideration of other ways of reflecting to keep the overall inquiry moving. The items were also re-phrased to be more relevant to an educational setting. As the structure can be somewhat daunting at first sight, a "short form" is offered later (see annexe 2).

An outline of reflection (after Palmer et al, 1994)

#[p259] Preflection

What planning did I undertake/ could I have undertaken before the event? Plus other more general musings : "what if ...", "how do I feel" etc.

Celebration

What pleases me about this event?

Description

- The actual experience itself.

- What factors brought it about.

- Significant people in the background.

- Key processes to reflect about.

Reflections

- What was I trying to achieve?

- Why did I intervene as I did?

- What were the feelings about, and the consequences of, my actions for all parties involved? owHow hHHHHmmmmm fdbbbBHow do I know this?

Influencing factors

- What internal factors influenced me? (e.g. intuition, previous experience of similar cases, feelings of enthusiasm, anger etc.)

- What external factors influenced me? (e.g. professional rules, work deadlines, formal procedures etc.).

- What sources of knowledge did influence/should have influenced me?

Could I have dealt differently with the situation?

What other choices did I have and what would be the consequences of those choices? (choices may involve e.g. how I see the problem and take action, and how I see my role).

Learning

- How do I now feel about the experience?

- How does this experience relate to past experiences?

- How will this experience influence future practice?

- What broader issues arise from this experience? (ethical, social, political)

- How has this experience changed my understanding of my ways of knowing?

Personal - knowledge about me and others.

Ethical - knowledge of ethical and moral issues.

Empirics - "scientific" knowledge, drawn from observation and measuremen

#[p260] Aesthetics - the art of professional practice. This involves intuitive knowledge and appreciation of "a sense of form" (Carper, 1978 p.18) and is concerned with producing " a harmonious and pleasing whole" (Jacobs-Kramer and Chinn, 1988 p. 137).

-What might I be missing in this reflection?

Are there any different forms of reflection I could carry out?

To keep the reflective stance fresh, are there additional/ more useful ways to reflect?

An example of reflection in depth (all names have been changed)

Neil Atkins, age 13, was on roll at a middle school in a pleasant suburb. A review meeting in April revealed that he had not attended school since February. He seemed a bright, sensitive lad, possibly indulged at home (from other information). His mother, Mrs Atkins, had a new partner, Mr Watson. Neil had recently begun to see his natural father, Mr Atkins, again after a long break.

Neil had been bullied, but only outside school. He was brought to a review meeting in school, then I saw him briefly at home. These are the reflections on my first long interview with Neil carried out later in school. This event was chosen to illustrate the process of reflection because of my concern over weakness in this area of practice. Possibly through habit, I had tended to make my main focus working with parents in such cases, rather than with the children. My interviews with the children seemed, in contrast, relatively unfruitful. I hoped by reflection to address these problems openly. I wanted to be honest with myself.

The text is simply notes from the diary with one or two explanations added in square brackets, and some comments inappropriate for publication, grammar and other obvious errors cleaned up. I trust readers will be able to glean from the account something of what I was attempting to do. The purpose of the paper, however, is to focus not on how I acted, but on how I reflected. The practice was relatively poor, the reflection I hope was not.

#[p261] Transcript of reflective diary notes 21.5.96

Preflection

Although I did, rather unusually, carry out some planning beforehand, my plan was not clearly worked out. I recall wanting to "develop a relationship" with Neil and for instance to find out his attitudes to his father and Mr. Watson and his attitude to attention seeking [which from other information Neil seemed to display] using the "About Me" game, "junk sculpt" and "Alan’s story" [a vignette to encourage discussion].

I did not have a clear idea of the use of the interview itself as a return to school strategy at that point, although I "wanted to have the interview in school to keep the link with school" in a very vague way. I now think the various "investigations" such as the junk sculpt and About Me game etc. were just "positive activities" to keep him "happy in the school setting" and also to boost his self-esteem a bit.

Celebration

I was very positive towards Neil during this session. I kept the session moving and I had plenty for him "to do". I did not talk in the "failure zone" about getting him back to school or dealing with the bullies. I also came up with a strategy.

Description

- The actual experience: The education welfare officer (EWO) brought Neil and Mrs Atkins to school for 2.30 appointment. I talked to Neil alone in the deputy head’s room, mother was downstairs in the foyer (why leave her out at this point?).

- What factors brought it about: My last attempt at an interview in school was a failure when I wanted Mrs Atkins to bring him and he refused to come, therefore I arranged this with the EWO. This follows on from the very first meeting with mother, Neil, EWO and head teacher, which had been in school and Neil had attended (although he said little). It also follows a second meeting at home where Neil was quite cheerful until he clammed up when I started talking to him about return to school. Thus I thought of building on "success" and having this appointment in school where he seemed happy to come and see me.

- Significant people in the background: Teacher, siblings, mother, her new partner, grandfather, bullies, EWO, natural father. Note: Looking at the whole ecology of the intervention, Mrs Atkins could change this radically simply by moving house as she said she might. Also considering my influence in this ecology - if I see him out of school does that reinforce him being out of school and could I use the spin-off of our interview to keep him in school for at least a period?

#[p262] - Key process to reflect upon: How important is it to try to "discover information" about Neil by interviews and questionnaires etc. These, from experience, don’t actually lead to discovering the "magic key" to solve his problem or even a clear "diagnosis" to be able to tell other people "what the problem is". Associated with this is the ethical issue of the use of interview techniques as "rewards" rather than for information gathering [see below].

Reflections

What was I trying to achieve?

I wasn’t clear initially. There was a confusion of ideas about finding his attitudes to his natural father and Mr. Watson which might "explain it all", his attitude towards attention seeking and any changes of behaviour from last time (I had tried some brief therapy ideas of getting him to notice changes etc.) I wanted Neil to "develop a trusting relationship" with me. I also wanted school to be a "comfortable" event for him.

Why interview as I did?

I felt that working individually with Neil would "unearth information" and that our conversation would "create a bond" and create a comfy time in school. Basically, however, I didn’t have a very clear plan.

What were the consequences and feelings for all parties?

- Neil: He obviously felt happy, he smiled and chatted and didn’t clam up or appear on the verge of tears as he had in the past. I believe that as a consequence he had a positive experience in school and is more than likely to want to repeat this.

- Mrs Atkins: She was probably bored and I even forgot to thank her for her important role in accompanying him that afternoon.

- The EWO: was probably happy that I saved him a return journey as I offered to take Neil home. He remains involved (he brought homework for Neil and also used his car to bring the family). However, I am sure he does not feel "responsible" now having referred the case to me and so far, I am not sharing the problem with him as much as I could.

- School staff: They will probably retain ownership of Neil as they are seeing him on the premises but continue to see me as solving the problem. I need to talk to them a bit more about what I am trying to do, to maintain their commitment.

- Me: I clarified my strategy, which is this plan of getting him into school ostensibly to "see me" [this initially felt slightly "devious" but colleagues later referred me to not too dissimilar suggestions in Blagg (1987)]. This made me feel positive as at least I had an idea and the consequences are I am likely to carry on with this at least for a while. My feeling during the session was I was pleased I was active and doing something, but unsure exactly of what I was doing. This

#[p263] wasn’t counselling really and I was going through the motions of something else i.e. "finding out about him" in order to reinforce his attendance.

Influencing factors

- Internal : I felt relatively helpless and unsure how to proceed and what I wanted to get out of what I was doing. From previous examples of such work I felt unsuccessful with children in this situation: fairly intelligent, apparently sensitive adolescents [although cases had often worked out]. I also felt compelled to "do something", thinking the longer he is out of school the worse it will get.

- External influences: School staff and Neil’s mother obviously were looking for "a solution" and looking to me for this.

- Sources of knowledge: I could have discussed this with colleagues and read up a bit more (I did skim a book on brief therapy).

Could I have dealt differently with the situation?

- I could have referred to Child and Family Therapy. This would have been "off my plate" but I would have continued to feel inadequate with such cases. In addition they may try to work "in the clinic" which I am not sure would be successful.

- Leave it to everybody else to sort out and act as "consultant".This has some attractions in that it gets me off the hook but I wasn’t sure that this would be very successful in this case and, anyway, nobody seemed to be coming up with much in the way of ideas and I hadn’t got time to set up endless meetings to think about it (with the fear that nothing would come out of them).

- Hypnosis. I have had some success with this in the past but Neil refused this and I didn’t feel I should press the case.

- I could try "counselling " with Neil about his problems. I didn’t give this a chance this time. During the session I actually felt I was rushing to get through it and moving on from activity to activity which tends to somewhat inhibit the counselling mode. I was also concerned that if I wanted to do any long-term counselling, as usual there wouldn’t be enough time.

- I could set up a gradual "de-sensitisation" programme of just gradually returning him to school but he initially rejected the idea of a return to school. At this point my thinking did not include the plan I eventually came up with [of his seeing me in school].

Learning

How do I now feel about the situation?

#[p264] I feel okay. The course of action "intervention in school" looks very useful as it gets him into school and also I "get to know him a bit" so I have something to "put in my report".

How does this experience relate to past experiences?

In the past when a situation like that has arisen I have tended to just work with the parents to look at their behavioural strategies and have had some success with that, but this feels safer as I am not just counting on the parents. I also think I am "doing something" directly with the child (which may or may not be helpful) i.e. building up skills in this area which tend to go by the board.

How will this influence future practice?

I think I will try more clearly this idea of "intervention in school" as a tactic to get the child in and to be aware of my possible unwitting reinforcing role of seeing the child in a situation other than at school. I will also try to ensure regular visits to school to see the child with mother, teacher and the education welfare officer also involved in planning these and put them in my appointments diary to ensure they happen. My plan will be somehow to "let them take over" although I am not quite clear how.

What broader issues arise from this experience?

- Ethical: It feels better to "engage" with the child rather than have the usual quick one-off conversation, but am I being deceitful by deliberately organising this at school and using "therapy" and "interview" as a "reward" i.e. a fun time to encourage him to be at school.

- Social: I found I seemed to get to know Neil better than other children by these interviews [my previous contact with pupils in similar situations had been somewhat cursory as I rushed through casework]. I also found I quite got to like him so there was a positive spin off for me in relationships.

- Political: It occurred to me I can exert "power" to get people (adults at least, e.g. EWO, teacher, Mrs Atkins) to do things. I hadn’t thought of my self as having "power" in that way and that is an interesting aspect of the situation . However I wonder if this power confers on me the responsibility to "make it work" in some way. I wonder what happens "if it fails", particularly if it fails on a number of occasions with different children, do I then lose the "power" to influence the teacher and EWO to carry out my suggestions?

How has this experience changed my understanding of my ways of knowing?

- Personal: I was pleased I was able to capitalise on a chance happening (noting that Neil came to school and was quite positive there in some settings, i.e. at the initial review meeting). Thus although I don’t always think ahead clearly I was pleased that I was able to spot opportunities as they arose with the promise to myself, "I’ll get it right next time". Although it wasn’t particularly hard to do I did spot his more positive attitude when we were talking about general matters compared to his being close to tears and clamming up previously when we discussed school and bullies. I also "felt instinctively" that a session in school

#[p265] would be acceptable although initially I had no clear plan of what all this was meant to achieve.

- Ethical: I wonder if it is right to use one reasonably ethical procedure (counselling, playing counselling games, working on life story etc.) for another equally but different ethical goal (getting him into school). Does the end justify the means?

- Empirics: I had a vague idea that the longer you are out of school the harder it is to return and that "school phobia" should be treated best by a speedy return (whether Neil is "school phobic" is doubtful). Unfortunately I was unsure how to bring about such a speedy return. In fact this case had very little empirical knowledge other than talks with Neil, teachers and mother and I was working merely on hunches, impressions and luck.

- Aesthetics: This felt like a good juggling act of building on chance, thinking and intuition, so I felt reasonably professional in the sense of being "creative". However, the work was unbalanced in having lack of foresight, consideration of options and clear ideas of procedures from the literature and from similar cases i.e. it was not aesthetically pleasing. In one sense it seemed "unprofessional" (if we take professional to mean carefully planned), although it was close to Schön’s account of how professionals actually "think in action" [i.e. having the ability to decide on limited information]. On the positive side also, I was not working as "rigidly and unimaginatively" as I have in the past (I have been used to simply dealing with the parents mainly, taking a behavioural approach to their management in such cases, with very little else in place).

What might I be missing in this reflection?

Am I missing the basics? For instance what about just checking out whether Neil’s family are in fact moving house as this could avoid all my work, particularly if Neil is moving school as well.

What about some action against the source of the problems, i.e. the bullies? I hadn’t thought of that and wasn’t sure what to do.

Is there possibly another explanation for his being off school? I am tackling the parental management aspect as well but what about something like "separation anxiety" (although I don’t feel it applies) i.e. I am not examining a variety of hypotheses but tending to go along with my first idea.

Are there any different forms of reflection I could carry out?

What about spreading reflection out over a few days, "to get a perspective" on the issue and bring new thinking to bear? (I did do this in this case and it seems as productive as doing the reflection all on the same day). How about some "collaborative reflection" with colleagues? [This was later arranged, quite productively. In most cases, reflective episodes led to only fairly minor changes in the process as I reflected on reflection].

#[p266] Reflection - some final thoughts on this and other episodes.

I am not proud of the "faltering reality" (Byng-Hall, 1988) of the casework in this example. How I arrived at this state of affairs, the blind spots in planning and reading and gaps in training; the habits in procedures; the hypotheses and techniques unexplored; the demands of formal assessment and limited time for supervision are all quite legitimate questions. I was, for instance, later reminded of relevant literature on non-attendance, some of which may have, even unconsciously, partly influenced my thinking at the time.

It would be easy to claim work pressure as an excuse "As [professionals] are confronted with waiting clients, loaded in-trays and calls for efficiency gains, plans get 'cobbled together' in a hurry, decisions are made 'on the hoof' " ( Eraut, 1994 p.149). Perhaps a careful reading of Blagg (1987) could have saved me a great deal of anxiety at this point in the case (although matters quickly became more complicated in one sense when Mrs Atkins re-married a few weeks later, moved house and Neil transferred to a school out of my patch).

I could have provided shining examples of previous successful casework in this area (which unfortunately generated little reflection). However, my purpose here is not to engage colleagues in a discussion of professionalism or to explore ways to deal with non attendance, but to demonstrate one model of reflecting openly on such practice, warts and all.

The types of knowledge we draw on in psychological work would seem to be a topic ripe for research (see also Thomas, 1992). As Eraut points out "new knowledge is created also by professionals in practice, though this is often of a different kind from that created by researchers" (p.54). I have no particular commitment to the structure of knowledge employed here which is taken from a different discipline (see comments in Jacobs-Kramer and Chinn, 1988 and Meleis, 1991 and discussions of forms of knowledge in Reid, 1983; Hoyle and John, 1995 and Meerabeau, 1995). The framework, however, pointed up some unexpected findings over a number of cases during the project. I was, for

 #[p267] instance, surprised to find regular concern over ethical issues - I thought these would be very rare. Celebration seemed a vital component in maintaining the reflective process as throughout I tried, by being very honest with myself, to ward off the "minimisation, denial and delusion which threatens all forms of self-reflection" (Tripp 1993 p.150). My interventions also seemed to rely very little on "scientific" knowledge and more on intuition/ tacit knowledge (Polanyi, 1958; Schön, 1983).

Keeney (1983) proposes in writing about "The Aesthetics of Change" that "A therapist can be described as either an artist or craftsman (sic)" (p.191). The concept of aesthetic knowledge was the most difficult for me to understand in this study, and the one I felt least commitment to, apart from the intuitive aspects which appeared constantly. As Janaway (1995) points out "aesthetics is a rich and challenging part of philosophy, marked by a high level of disagreement even about what its basic problems are" (p.13). Further research is required to clarify the relevance of aesthetics to the work of educational psychologists. Simply in terms of being aesthetically pleasing, however defined, most of my interventions were not. But they worked (sometimes).

During this investigation, I thought I could readily justify the time spent in reflection. However, even when familiar with the structure, the process took over half an hour. As a "short form", to get into the way of reflecting, I would suggest colleagues focus on the outline in Annexe 2.

My belief is that reflection is of intrinsic value and should not require the spur of a research project to take it to greater depth. However, while I was able to maintain a constant flow of reflections during the course of the research into practice (I could manage one or two episodes per week in what was probably a special effort, one or two a month may be more realistic), since moving on to the next phase, reflection, at least in the depth illustrated, has all but ceased. I can make excuses for this such as chronic staff shortages coinciding with the end of this period, but to be of real benefit, regular reflection in detail needs to become an accepted and valued part of the everyday job, with appropriate emphasis and support both emotional and in terms of time. Without this it is in danger of being lost under the pressure of casework.

#[p268] Reflections can be kept private. Sharing seems, however, to add a powerful dimension. Recognition of the merit of reflection and sensitive handling by all staff would appear essential to facilitate this. Both those reflecting and those providing an audience should be aware of the barriers to frank self examination. A judgmental stance or an emphasis on the errors and oversights in the case handling are likely to create a climate of "cover up" rather than exploration. The giant hurdle to overcome is creating the conditions for honesty. Day (1993) calls for encouragement from those with "the practice of reflecting upon their own practice" (p.88): a culture of sharing and openness is vital. Reflection as part of a one-way, critical appraisal system is likely to fail. We can all perhaps relate to this student's comments:

I told my last teacher that I disliked my client [who] was obnoxious and abusive. The teacher wrote back and said I should be ashamed for feeling that way. She said he was dealing with a lot in his life and I should know better. That's when I got the message - never, never let them know what you truly think. Just feed them what they want to hear. (Paterson, 1995 p. 216)

We can all go through the motions of reflection, the point is, to make it work. And that requires a deep level of trust if our genuine problems are to be opened up to others.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank in particular members of my local EP research network for critical comments and emotional support in writing this paper and also the journal's editorial board and referees for suggestions arising from earlier drafts.

Annexe 1 : Facets of reflection

Initial issues

-Basic assumptions (e.g. that reflection leads to better action) (Knowles, 1993; Hammersley, 1992).

#[p269] -Moral and ethical questions (Knowles, 1993; Altrichter et al, 1993; Sockett, 1989).

-The timing of reflection (Brubacher et al, 1994; Hadfield and Hayes, 1993).

-Helpful and non-helpful conditions (Brubacher et al, 1994; Calderhead and Gates, 1993; Elliott, 1991).

-Personal qualities needed (Dewey, 1933; Pollard and Tann 1993).

Structural issues

-The issue of collaborative or solitary work (Oja and Smulyan 1989; Carr and Kemmis, 1986).

-Phases of reflection and the novice-expert distinction (Benner, 1984; Tann, 1993).

-The role of emotions (Boud et al, 1985; Tann, 1993).

-The relationship between reflection and thinking, and processes such as intuition and incubation (LaBoskey, 1993; Kroath, 1989).

-The influence of the act of writing (in addition to other methods) in promoting reflection (Altrichter et al, 1993; Holly 1989).

-Levels of reflection : from awareness of thoughts and feelings to challenging one's underlying assumptions (Mezirow, 1981; Goodman, 1984; Atkins and Murphy 1993)

Final issues

-The end point of reflection (Schon, 1983; LaBoskey, 1993).

-Analysis of reflection (Winter, 1989; Hart, 1995).

-The impact of reflection on institutions and individuals (Schon, 1983; Leat 1995).

Annexe 2 : A suggested short form for reflection ( Note: colleagues may wish to experiment with different models).

- Celebration. This probably needs to come near the beginning of the process to encourage the candid tackling of painful topics.

#[p270] - What was I trying to achieve? This can facilitate both an examination of initial ideas and the way in which reflection during action influences the course of the intervention.

- Influencing factors. Internal and external factors and sources of knowledge, as outlined earlier.

- Could I have dealt differently with the situation? A consideration of the range of options available and their likely consequences.

Notes (added after publication of the article).

[1] A number of authors consider the position of knowledge, particularly with regard to practitioner research. Carr and Kemmis (1986) and Somekh (1995) for instance consider Aristotle’s views; Somekh also summarises Elliott’s position, drawing on Gadamer and Polanyi.

I later came across Belenky et al (1986) on women’s ways of knowing (silence plus received, subjective, procedural and constructed knowledges) and articles further up-dating Carper’s original position. Silva et al (1995), for instance, note the confusion between a process of coming to know and an end product of knowledge; the implied mutual exclusivity of Carper’s four ways of knowing; and the way in which other authors have tended to take these four as exhaustive and to include in them issues of being as well as knowing.

My own concern centres on the position of Polanyi’s (1958) personal knowledge. He uses this term for tacit knowledge, not in the way Carper uses the term to refer to knowledge of the self. I initially followed Carper and included this tacit knowledge with other "intuitive" knowledge under her heading aesthetics (see also Leddy and Pepper 1989 who follow a similar path). Increasingly it seemed to "bulge out" and need a section all to itself. I will not pursue this topic of the most appropriate breakdown of knowledge, however, important though it is, as my interests developed elsewhere. I trust epistemologically minded colleagues will take up this aspect, but in the field of psychology practice, rather than Carper’s field of nursing (see for example Bolton 1990 for a brief consideration of psychologists’ knowledge base).

#p[271] Appendix D

Interview with Celia 20.9.96

This was taken down by hand. Some of the questions and their place in the discussion are my best recollection when transcribing the following day. I tried hard not to lead with my own ideas on messy methods during the interview.

Celia is an ex-[scientist] and now a [manager] in an extremely large multinational company. I simply mentioned my interest in "messes" and she readily explained her current work, she needed no prompting:

Celia: I start with a vague idea. We as a group are there to make the company more effective in the way it manages its business support processes billing, accountancy, research etc. [not the actual business of the company].We have a vision that it should be simple/more standard/they should share/ should do things the same way. The question I ask is "What do we bring to the party ?" - its not just a classic "Save 10%". [They have] created a business which is a federation of units which report directly to the centre. How [do you] get a standard, sharing world when [they've] created 90 entities all with their own destiny?

We also believe its not right to manage business along functions.

Nigel: What do you mean, functions?

C: Like accounting, human resources, technology etc. [It] should be processes e.g. [looking at the process from] procuring to paying suppliers, from selling to collecting cash etc. Then for example "accountancy" [would not be a separate function but] would support the "process" to get over inefficiency in parts of the process.

First problem: you're looking at a corporation that's global - [which has]different types of businesses. [There are] capital intensive parts which [extract the raw product], with no customer contact. And labour intensive parts [selling the product at thousands of

 #[p272] outlets] with close customer contact. [And there are] geographical and cultural differences [around the world]. To change this function driven company into a process driven company, where do you start?

N: So, where did you start?

C: The world was too big. So we chose the UK - contains all the businesses of the large corporation [its like a microcosm].

We spent six weeks trolling around seeing what they did. [We had two areas]: (1) "What are we looking" at before we looked and (2) We looked at the accounting process and tried to understand the higher level processes, what bits of business do they support

N: What do you mean, higher level?

C: How did the "function" fit into the "process", everything the plant needed to buy. How did it work from someone needs x [through to] the engineering and design, finance etc.

We "process mapped" the engineer, accountant. buyer etc. We found these groups never talked to each other -they looked at their bits [for instance] the buyer would have this wheeze and cause chaos in accounts. All sites had pieces of best practice but never shared it.

N: So what did you do?

C: Brainstorming - we know what they do [in accounts], how do you figure out the best things? [We got] off-the-wall ideas - wild and wacky e.g. pay everybody once a year [then sorted out the nuggets]

We didn't really know what we were doing at the start. We didn't think of functions and processes. We just felt by doing something different we could take 30% out of support costs.

We spent days and days with management consultants, thinking about the right way to go about things. Function and process is not a new idea - it came from people's general knowledge that no one appreciated the full end to end picture.

#[p273] N: So describe how you dealt with this.

C: We were totally lost. [We had feelings like] Worried. What have I signed up for? Somebody knows the answer and they're not telling us. We're a smoke screen [for the leader] his hobby horse is "out-sourcing". There was lots of non-trust. What the hell are we doing here?

N: Tell me some more about how you actually did this.

C: For days we didn't have a clue what we were up to. Where do we start? How do we get into the project? Why hasn't someone defined this - it's half-baked?

N: What was [the teams] view of this mess?

C: A lot of conversation about what it could be we might be doing.

N: Did you see a structure in this mess?

C: Most of these conversations were in breaks, evenings and at the bar.

N: So there was a kind of informal process going on without the consultants?

C: In the formal work [we were] exploring business models and visions of how the company could be in 15 years time. So the process was to understand the environment of the company now and in the future. [We spent] a lot of time understanding how the company might look and figuring out how the support systems might fit in. We stepped right out of the "near term" box to the "far term" box. Thus if we could understand the destination then we could work out which road to start trolling down

N: You needed that formal structure?

#[p274] C: The formal structure didn't seem terribly relevant at the time. In retrospect it was very helpful. Because you can go from vision to reality and back. [But] that wasn't a plan- it just happened. To understand what were about we had to understand the greater context of the "subject" - the company and where its going. Unless you understand the strategy its very difficult to find part of that.

We got a picture of where the company is. The next phase was brainstorming. We decided its got to be process rather than function. [So we used] brainstorming- that's quite a structured way - and out of that fell: we carved finance function out and put it into different processes. It fell out.

[Celia then described a proprietary approach they had used with the consultants for looking at the issues]

... [but] you can't get into this because something's holding you back. So they go for "What are your worst fears?" for example: "I don't know what this projects all about"; "I don't believe in this anyway"; "I'm probably going to be made redundant next week". Then with no constraints [you can get into] brainstorming "What could be done?" Don't analyse, just create it. Then go into action plans of what's possible. That's useful when you're there and you don't know what you're doing.

[We often felt like] we'll be here till Doomsday, we're not achieving very much . Yet the company is behaving the way we visioned - lots of teams have taken this on (that's a compliment) but they don't recognise it.

N: And now?

C: Were back to square one again. What's the team for? Is this a useful role? What should we be doing? We don't know what the questions is (except that we should exist and cost £2 million).

Should it be a nursery for project managers? An (almost) internal ??? function - look at the process. Are we culture changers? Promote sharing, peer support - the glue that keeps the 90 businesses together, to promote federation.

Now the costs have gone down, we don't know how its happened, [but] we must have done something. Its a way of working - culture change. In the past people were rewarded for being "innovative" and "different", but that wasn't adding value to the

#[p275] company. For example two separate projects were working on a customer data base [and they weren't communicating although they were pretty identical]. Now it's focusing on "What's the same?" That's the culture change. So now people from this team are being approached by project managers

I've had to go through all this anxiety - I could easily have fallen flat on my face. I had no authority [to do it this way]. Now we find the sites are talking to each other more, sharing good ideas.

#[p276] Interview with Mike 24.9.96.

Mike is a [fellow professional]. He knows me very well as friend and counsellor. Flushed with enthusiasm from my "successful" interview with Celia (i.e. an interview that confirmed my views) I was sure I was onto another winner. I asked him if he would agree to be interviewed. I said I was interested in experiences of dealing with messes, situations he was unsure of, where he didn't know what to do, what the problem was.

Mike: This job’s like that. I had staff for the first time. The first thing was the office was a complete mess. Cleared that out. Had a filing cabinet full of dead files. As I was clearing the room up [I was] putting validation posters around the wall. (A) There were emotional things like putting up posters and making the room my own - I was feeling quite low in confidence, I didn't know if I could do it or not. And (B) getting the files sorted out, beginning to structure my world.

I did a lot of thinking at the beginning. There were quite a lot of ongoing things - I just had to make sure they were ticking over. I went to the university to get some books from there and sat down and tried to think what the fundamentals of the whole thing was.

Found that I did a lot of networking

Nigel: What do you mean?

M: Subscribed to a lot of journals and associations like the library association and community mental health materials.

I avoided some problems I possibly shouldn't have done - I thought I could get through the first year without sorting them out.

N: Did you have a clear plan or...

#[p277] M: First step was to work out what we should be doing - I needed to get a plan.

N: What was happening to the job in the meantime?

M: A lot of it was getting on. In some sense the plan for me was more long term than immediate - partly just wanting to do things my own way and wondering if what we were doing currently was the right way to go

I chose to have that time to plan. I came from a department where they always said there wasn't time - I felt they were choosing to not do it. I was doing it without a plan and working it out by doing it

I wanted to do more theatre education work - to really engage young people not your usual agit-prop, engage them at an emotional level. My feeling is that this is going to be very trial and error- thinking about it, trying it out and go away and re-vamp it. But I still want some kind of plan at the beginning.

N: Have you ever been in a situation where you didn't have a clear idea of what you wanted?

M: I know for example in health ???? never meeting targets - in fact, going the wrong way. To be honest I have no idea at all what to do - that's partly true. My thought is I'm hoping no one asks any questions about that and I'm doing things for the sake of appearances. In a sense I'm avoiding the question.

N: In a totally different sense?

M: The "motivational interviewing" [a recent course Mike had been on] influenced me a bit - how you can't get through to people on a logical level - just that reminder.

N: I'm thinking of the situation where you don't know what the question is or if there is a question.

#[p278] M: With [our department] generally we don't know what to do - spend time getting into place a lot of systems, information, finance, to find out what we need to do. We haven't got the equivalent of an R. and D. department, like a long term thing.

In terms of not knowing how to buy a house - I would ask someone. Just sit down and think, ask someone or read something.

N: The situation I'm thinking of is one of limited time and fuzzy problems and you don't know how to start.

M: I offered [help?] to a school. I had some general aims on what we could do. That I could sit and discuss with the others.

I suppose there's lots of times when people asked me to do things and I think I couldn't do that but I found I could . There was lots of things I could draw on. I feel I've got a good - I feel a bit disempowered today - on the whole I have a model of what motivates human beings, from co-counselling and I have other models of change [not like] knowing something very difficult like getting a nuclear power station to work, I have a lot of theoretical models to draw on.

N: Like co-counselling etc.?

M: The idea of whether or not the control rests with you. I suppose I have a belief about the control being within me - not with first aid or car maintenance, but in my own field.

N: Do you draw on other things than theoretical models - anything else you fall back on?

M: I've lots of practical things , handouts etc.

N: Do you have any everyday routines?

M: I fall short of [having] co-counselling [ideals]as part of everyday life

N: I mean more humble, fumble about things

#[p279] M: Like keeping going and plugging away. Like a good team can play badly and win - keep going if you've had a bad day. Not so much muddling through (like you said last time) as keeping going. Like Connors and Bjorg - he would follow him to the ends of the earth. He had the most determination, he just kept going.

I do pick things up and follow things through, it's systematic for example if I see something in the papers I'll cut it out and send it off. When odd chances present themselves, just picking up on them. At work I try to be systematic. I am quite a disciplined person - but I find it a bit of a strain.

N: It's not muddling through?

M: In some ways I see the department muddling through and I'm quite critical of that. In one sense I could use it [but] they're incredibly amateur - unsystematic and lacking in theory. You could also be muddling through - be very brilliant and do a good job because you know what you needed to do through experience. When I talked about being disciplined it seems to lack warmth. I sometimes think I'm too disciplined. Perhaps it would be nice to do things well, just know things well and get on with it.

#[p280] Comments from Rene E. on a final draft of the thesis, 21.1.99.

Rene is an educational psychologist in my service. I asked her to make any comments she wanted to, and in particular, to consider whether the questions raised in chapter 11 section 15 on research strength were appropriate. Emphasis is as in the original.

Thank you. I have thoroughly enjoyed your work and feel much enhanced and enriched by the rich tapestry you weave.

From the very beginning, before you mention it overtly yourself, I had registered to myself that this is a very honest work. If only one word were allowed to sum it up, that would be it, honest. Further descriptions could include: moving, all-encompassing, deep, thoughtful, real, human and laugh-out-loud funny. It has pathos and bathos. In fact, it would make a really impressionable Channel 4 movie. Yes, I do work like that, for a lot of the time, although I stand in admiration of your own rigour and strong commitment to your practice and the exploration of your practice. You have at once struck a chord, plus shown me your way, which in turn gives me heart for my way, as well as teaching me new ways I can try. This is certainly a validation in my book!

To turn to your questions in chapter 11: Yes! is the answer - I’ve just realised that what I have written above covers them anyway.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

[*]* and [**] Added in December 2001 and nor part of the original thesis:

I have made some small changes to these two interview transcripts to further protect the identities of Celia and Mike, now that the thesis is becoming more public. 

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