Questions on Ethnography

“The particulars will vary, but in essence this is what a number of students go through, especially those in so-called remedial classes. They open their textbooks and see once again the familiar and impenetrable formulas and diagrams and terms that have stumped them for years. There is no excitement here. No excitement. Regardless of what the teacher says, this is not a new challenge. There is, rather, embarrassment and frustration and, not surprisingly, some anger in being reminded once again of long-standing inadequacies.” – Mike Rose, I Just Wanna Be Average


“As a student, I experienced the reality of these norms in a palpable way – one of the tangible advantages of the participant-observation research technique.” – Rebekah Nathan, My Freshman Year


The above quotes (from 2 of the texts I read for my grad class on qualitative research methods) reflect the strands of thought that have, shall we say, haunted me this holiday weekend.


First: What good is a remedial writing course?
In the name of full disclosure: I had the (simultaneously amazing and unbelievably challenging) opportunity to teach an “improving college-level writing” course (because “remedial” is a verboten term at the university level) last summer. My students were bright and funny and positively terrified of failing or looking stupid. But I wondered then, as I wondered after reading Mike Rose’s tale of “Voc Ed” (the high school equivalent of remedial), whether the course did them any good. I’d like to believe that the writing they did gave them confidence as well as some practical skills going into Comp 1, but I’m not so sure, which leads me to my second question: How do we know if a course, activity, attitude, etc. “works” (whatever that looks like in the particular context)? Student surveys can’t give us a complete picture of a student, class or circumstance, and ethnographies and case studies can’t tell us how often a particular answer might be true. I’m more convinced than ever, even after reading a bit of North’s call for methodological purity, that the best we can hope for is a mix of ethnography (that gives us contextual information vital to implementation not mention necessary for deciding if a particular situation “fits” a particular solution but can't necessarily, as Michael Taber's thesis reminds us, offer us much in the way of generalizable information) and quantitative methods (especially surveys). This mixed methods approach offers us the best opportunity to do research that will further our careers (we all want to get a job, publish an article, write a book) and add something useful to the disciplinary conversations already underway.


All this leads me to my second question: How broad a definition of ethnography am I comfortable with? I found Mike Rose’s reflection upon his own experiences engaging and fascinating. It called me into question (as Dr. Santos would say). But was it ethnography? Geoffery Cross offers a very tidy definition: "Ethnography: the firsthand observation, documentation, and interpretation of composing activities and their correlate meanings in natural settings...[they] should balance the input of subjects, research community data and researcher." But what about Rose's narrative? Though it seems to meet the first half of Cross's definition, it's not exactly balanced. It's feels like autobiography, but it also offers me important insight into the lives of the students. So, where’s the line between creative non-fiction and ethnography? I think my answer (though I feel as though it sounds a bit mercenary) is this: If a story tells me something true about my student’s experiences, if it reflects other stories, if it helps me better understand and serve my students, in short, if it’s useful, then I think it’s valid research. Rose’s discussion certainly blurs the lines between autobiography, creative non-fiction, and qualitative research, but I don’t care. If it tells me something important about myself, my colleagues or my students, I’m not sure it matters what we call it. Don’t misunderstand me: methodology, honesty, earnest attention to Sullivan and Porter’s research ethics are still vitally important to me, but I find the labels become less useful than the content.


So here's my big idea for the day: Research, especially educational research, is above all else, intensely rhetorical, both in the standard definition that attends mainly to persuasion and in the more Levinasian/Diane Davis-y sense that calls for us to attend to ethical encounters with others. Qualitative research, especially ethnography that attempts to tell someone's story, has the potential to be intensely personal, messy, and response-able.