Understanding Research (41 page)
Read Understanding Research Online
Authors: Marianne Franklin
These do’s and don’ts are much easier to list that they are to follow; there are
unwritten and explicit codes and hierarchies in play
including the (necessary) desire of most researchers to put their stamp on a research report they are getting credit for on an individual basis; innovativeness, originality, and ‘flair’ are highly prized in even the most conventional academic settings. In this aspect of research practice and academic life, the quantitative–qualitative divide operates in particular ways.
The key dividing line is the relative weight government bodies, university managements, and respective constituencies give to
outcome
as opposed to
process
; output is what counts in other words. Most quantitative assessment, also referred to as feedback pure and simple, is of the latter; the final outcome (exam script, essay, or dissertation) is what counts for examined
student
assessment. As many students studying abroad notice, there are geographical and institutional differences between how grades are assigned; higher ceilings can differ by 10–20 per cent in some cases, which is one reason why most academic records provide a guide for translating the home institution’s indicators of excellence, whether these are quantitative or qualitative, for other contexts.
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Many ambitious and high-achieving students can be overly perturbed on receiving a grade that appears lower than what they are used to, taking little comfort in being told that this mark is the highest in the class.
The point here is that grades are conventions, shorthand for ascertaining whether one essay, one thesis is more (or less) original or well executed than another. Of course, these scores need to be backed up by a written justification – feedback – on how to improve the mark; these marking scales and corresponding criteria are usually available in the relevant programme or institutional guidelines. In short, something marked at 75 per cent is considered markedly better than something marked at 55 per cent; whether the latter is close to failing (50 per cent being a common cut-off point but not exclusively) or average (when the pass/fail mark is set at 30 per cent for instance).
Changes in educational fashions and attitudes notwithstanding, the
aim of both praise and criticism
is to lead to improvement in quality in the long run. It is a truism that the best sort of criticism is constructive, namely that there are some reasons provided underpinning any negative comments. In that respect, student feedback and peer reviewing are not well represented by the sorts of personalized or kneejerk reactions that characterize a lot of talkback radio, online readers’ comments pages, or vituperative reviewer reports and student course evaluations. That said,
without negative feedback in the case of a research project our work has little chance of improving
; sometimes a piece of work is not up to scratch. Becoming aware of how others see our proposed work-plan or provisional findings helps us to deal with any weaknesses
or blind-spots in our argument, underlying assumptions, and practicalities in the research design. It also alerts us to how different audiences, sometimes from other research traditions, regard what we do. It helps us think outside our particular ‘box’. So, whilst not all criticism can be taken on board it also means that praise is not sufficient in itself.
Whichever way you look at it,
when the feedback is positive
– a high mark, thumbs-up from our supervisors, colleagues, or classmates, a high ranking in external assessment exercises – it feels good. A good performance is a prime motivator for many people, in competitive societies especially. When the feedback is negative, however, the going can get tough, for student and experienced researchers. As people respond differently to negative feedback, particularly criticism about the aims, organization, or even worth of our project, there is no golden rule. Qualitative feedback in the case of student–teacher or student–supervisor relationships operates within a hierarchy; the teacher/supervisor is in a superior position. Sometimes, though, excessive levels of self-critique (likewise for self-congratulation) can blind our judgment. The reality we have to settle for is usually somewhere in between these two extremes. The same rule of thumb applies to how input from other people influences what, and how we write. Here, over-sensitivity to every criticism or suggestion levelled at us by superiors and our peers can be as counter-productive, as can over-defensiveness.
As for
peer assessment
such as student presentations, research seminars, conference panels, or anonymous reviewing, the relationships between giver and receiver are less clear cut. Personalities, intellectual backgrounds, cultural differences, and social conventions in terms of how criticism is expressed all have a role to play in how the message is sent, received, and then understood or misunderstood. However, peer
assessment is often underestimated as a valuable part of the research process. Not only in terms of receiving input and ideas from our peers but also in terms of giving feedback to others. Both aspects need to be practised, for the ability to give and to receive feedback improves over time. There are also differences according to personal circumstances, and between educational and professional settings.
One
key difference between feedback that takes place in the workplace and in an academic environment
, particularly when it occurs between peers or in a supervisory interaction, is that the latter does not occur within a line-management structure. Your peers in a research setting are not your boss, or team-leader, or desk editor. Their comments are freely given and in the spirit of dialogue. In this respect they do not impact on your final mark. But they do make a difference in other ways. How you give feedback too, harder than it sounds as many novice teaching assistants learn, is also a measure of your ability to be constructive. It also trains you in how to better frame your own work for others.
Academic research in undergraduate and postgraduate degree processes are intrinsically individualistic, sometimes quite self-absorbed and hermetic experiences. Your main contact person is your supervisor/s, who during your project has a double role as your mentor and your examiner at the end of the day. Peer-to-peer assessment, just like P2P sharing on the web in the case of creative cultures and knowledge exchange, can be a synergetic process, not a downward spiral. Ultimately we are all better off, and our projects are stronger, for ‘going public’ and hearing what others think. That means also that
learning to give constructive feedback
also needs practice; as does learning to receive and then deal with criticism of our work along any research project’s lifespan.
This penultimate section takes a look at other equally important aspects to the writing-up and completion phases of a larger piece of academic work. I am referring here to all those self-created and unforeseen obstacles along the way to completion, as well as ways of encouraging the creative dimension to your writing and thinking at this stage. For there is scope for flair, perhaps not in all disciplines and dissertation formats or genres in equal amounts; always a degree of ‘wriggle room’ for letting inspiration and original thought and approaches show. Indeed in the history and philosophy of science literature there have been some renowned studies of the role of creativity and inspiration in the natural sciences, some even arguing that methods in the strictest sense of the term can be counter-productive to the advancement of knowledge (that is deemed scientific).
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Recall, the
conventional approach to academic writing
is underscored by the formalities of research dissertation, and funded research report writing (see
Chapters 1
and
2
) where standard, generic headings provide the outer shell for arranging the various parts in some kind of order; ‘introduction’, ‘lit review’, ‘theory’, ‘method’, ‘empirical chapter/s’ – or ‘findings’, ‘discussion’ and the ‘conclusion’. For many this is enough; following the recipe will do. That said, even for those of you simply wanting to tick the boxes but particularly for anyone striving to successfully complete
their research project to high standards of self-satisfaction or external evaluative criteria, keeping up the momentum, particularly as research ‘metal fatigue’ sets in, can trip you up.
First is, metaphorically speaking, ‘altitude sickness’; the feeling that there is still so much to do and still so much you do not yet know, can be overwhelming. This is the first point: how to stay ‘on task’ for a sustained amount of time (months often) without going off the boil; initial enthusiasms can easily go stale, findings prove less riveting, topics less thrilling after living with them for so long. The second is a form of inertia. For many facing the writing-up phase, as analysis takes shape in the form and act of writing, general procrastination or avoidance of specific sections can be a major hurdle. We all face moments of putting off starting the writing or periods of inaction during the writing. Any long-term degree of ‘writer’s block’ has a way of becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy; inaction perpetuates the cycle of anxiety–no/not enough progress–more anxiety.
What are some ways of responding to these twin perils?
One response is to grit your teeth; realize that once the research design and data-gathering are completed writing up is effectively a whole new stage, mostly uphill. It also occurs in a large part quite late in the process, often too late for many – but more on this in due course. Gathering the data is not the same as being in control of it, cognitively, intellectually or literally. These moments of handling, apprehending, and then (re)presenting the work you have done are distinct processes. As Carol Smart notes, even the most experienced researcher has faced their data (however defined) more as ‘recalcitrant mound of wet clay which defies you to shape it into something recognizable’ (2010: 5) than something ready-made for writing purposes. This because
working
with data is not the same as ‘the ability to
write
with data’ (ibid.: 5, emphasis added).
A second response lies in even more contentious territory; the fine line between creative and formal requirements in academic writing practice is a shifting one; talk of striving to write ‘well’ can appear to be mutually exclusive to the trials of
writing/working with the material we have gathered, collated, and analysed. Research projects identifying with literary and philosophical traditions often work with a high regard for ‘slow writing’ – and ‘close reading’; others consider simple sentence structures, executive summary-style introductions and conclusions, bullet-points and very short paragraphs as the
sine qua non
of readability. In all cases, without something to report, truckloads of creative writing, journalistic copy, or blogging experience serve little good when this ‘mound of clay’ or, worse still, pile of feathers (some students have characterized their research findings as flying away from them as they try and pin them down) defies our attempts to tame it.
There is such a thing as creativity in academic writing, comparable to how originality and innovativeness are valued highly (see
Chapter 2
). However, this quality is understood, and then evaluated, a bit differently than in creative writing or composition for instance. At one end of the spectrum, creativity is tantamount to ‘anything goes’, free associative techniques, or the effect of inspiration, the source of which is the subject of debates in philosophy, theology, and aesthetics as well as other disciplines in the wake of the postmodern – literary – turn in the arts and social sciences. Just how creative you can be in terms of the formalistic requirements of dissertation work and your writing very much depends on the disciplinary context in which you are working; in some settings all the formalities discussed thus far are a mainstream to be resisted, subverted, and transformed. At least in theory if not in practice. Even radically subversive expressions of academic form emerge from some sort of disciplining crucible. The point here is to realize that creativity and originality are not absolutes; they are negotiated and contested at all points.
For some academic contexts, creativity is less about the literary value of the final report, stylistic gymnastics, but more about how
parsimonious
the theorizing is, elegance in research design, or coherence of the argument made. In other cases, creativity is not considered a goal in itself; considered
reports
, there are genres of academic writing that are assessed by standards of what constitutes unambiguous, transparent and so ‘accessible’ written expression, declamatory as opposed to lyrical. In those parts of academe where literary styles or evidence of creative flair are part of the assessment
here too there may well be limits; the tension between form and substance, prescription and permissiveness varying in degree accordingly. The point is to note that no matter where our work is being done, informal expectations create their own ‘holes’ that can create obstructions to our thinking and executing the project.
Some tactics for getting yourself out of any hole:
- ‘Don’t get it right, get it written’; write first and rewrite afterwards is a way to get copy produced, particularly for those who have a hard time putting words onto the page/screen.
- Perfectionism, particularly when wrestling with the data and changes in how we interpret these data, conclusions we make as the data-analysis and writing-up phases merge, can be an obstacle in the early stages of writing the research report. One useful tip is to think about ‘four drafts in an hour’ rather than ‘one draft in four hours’. Whilst this may not work all the time, it is a good way to get past tinkering with that first paragraph, early chapter.
- When working with transcript material, often producing large amounts of text, be aware that there will be a need to tailor the main text (your voice) with the voices of your respondents (the ‘evidence’). The latter, if in textual form, can create pressure on the word-limit. So, first get down those citations you have decided matter. Reread and then reconsider. This sort of writing-with-data is always rewriting-with-data or, letting the data write, or speak.
- If you find yourself labouring over the same passage, early chapters over and over again, to the detriment of less well-honed or unwritten sections, take heart; at some point these more refined parts were relatively raw. Apply the above approach for any ‘white space’ threatening to engulf you in the fog of prevarication by jotting down notes, establishing some section headings, working backwards (we tend to move forwards and then stay stuck when that forward movement stalls).
- Plan! The exclamation mark is deliberate. Writing by planning not only generates copy, but ideas. You may well be surprised at just how much you have written down after a planning session.
- Try different formats to use different body/brain parts if you find your inspiration and attention span waning. Mind-maps using coloured pencils, crayons and other sorts of visuals (draw instead of write) can help shift your thinking and take on the material; for example, tables of figures could be transposed to other graphics if you are unable to see past the number in that pie-chart, and bar-charts convey different angles, if not suggest different interpretations to even immovable quantities.
- Assembling and writing about these data, and in such a way that you are making an argument, could be seen as a puzzle; move the flat screen into three-dimensional space by literally cutting and pasting.
- Take a break, a cat-nap, a walk. These do wonders to our thinking and writing.
- Try monitoring any recurring habits, procrastinating behaviours that get in the way (as opposed to being creatively supportive activities) if you find yourself in danger of not making the deadline; for example, get out of bed earlier, allow yourself these activities as a reward for completing some aspect of the work; alternatively start with the toughest first (sifting through the material one more time) and then reward yourself with the more ‘fun’ parts (for example, formatting).
- Keep working a bit at a time; writing only happens by writing so by dividing your writing tasks or days up into bite-sized/doable chunks you may well find yourself producing more of what you hope to, even if only in draft form, than sitting down at the start of the session determined to ‘not get up until I have written or “x” hours, written “x” amount of words’. That may work for some but for others it may be too daunting. Get a sense of what works, and what does not work for you. Encourage the former and minimize the latter. If you cannot carry out your own diagnostic, ask those around you – they will know.
- Finally, coherence, insight, creativity, and flow even in the most formal document layout or discussions of dry findings, for example, discussing the findings from large ‘n’ surveys, come in fits and starts. If you expect to be on the ball 100 per cent of the time you will disappoint yourself.
- Be content with being in the flow for any of the time. Even academics over-romanticize the process, practice, and skill of any sort of writing.
