The "You Suck!" Chorus Causes Irritability

I was a little more than dismayed at Brodkey’s use of extracurricular written correspondence in order to judge the power structure within educational discourse. Perhaps her intention was to illustrate that, even though teachers and students are capable of interaction outside of the academic environment, they are still incapable of transcending the teacher-preferenced and student-subjugated discursive relationship. However, both groups are operating as students in this case. One group is Broadkey’s own students and the other is the group in the ABE class. Not only is this ignored, but the form of the communication between these two groups does not seem to factor into Broadkey’s analysis of the discursive choices made by the writers either. She comments that the letters were “initiated” by the “white middle-class” group enrolled in her course. This would, at least, partially explain the initiation of subject selection by the graduate students, as is seen in the excerpt from Don’s introductory letter. Broadkey does not present an example of correspondence that began with an introductory letter from a member of the ABE class; and therefore, we have no comparison as to the affect initiation of conversation has on subject selection.

Continuing along these lines, Broadkey seems overly critical of the choices made by the grad students, for she believes them to be incapable of “divest(ing) themselves of those vestiges of authority that strike them as unproductive by ignoring the institutional arrangements that unequally empower teachers and students.” Later she criticizes their inability to empathize with situations they have never experienced due to economic and perhaps cultural differences. In fact, Broadkey determines that such awkward exchanges are “most explicable as a professional class narcissism that sees itself everywhere it looks”. If such class narcissism exists everywhere, and it does, is not the teacher/student relationship within educational discourse an effect of other differences among the groups besides professional affiliations?

Is not Broadkey herself exercising the same class narcissism in her one-sided critique of these exchanges? She fails to grant the grad students the same privilege she allows the ABE students, which is that they are also constituted as subjects in the discourse of their cultures. Often different classes and cultures communicate using different coding. Her treatment of the grad students, as if they should be more aware of, sensitive of, or versed in the codes of class and cultural differences, because of their level of education, when enacting the roles to which they have become subjects in their class discourse, and her carte blanche attitude towards the ABE students who do the same, is an example of privileged discourse all its own. Brodkey’s harsh judgments of subjects like Don do not allow them the same freedom to be a product of class structure and the discourse it produces.

For instance, perhaps Don’s penchant for telling all his stories as though they were naturally imbued with humor is an acquired defense mechanism from living in a culture that rejects a straight forward discussion of feelings as a breech of manners. If this would be the case, it is Dora who is insensitive to Don’s values, by so bluntly referring to human feelings. And instead of Don’s reply being “discursively inadequate”, it may instead be his most honest expression of attempting to sympathize. But we cannot know which perspective is correct based on the limited background and excerpts that are provided.

Though Broadkey does seem determined to privilege the ABE students, she is the one that does not empower Dora with the possibility that she is able to assert herself in the discourse with Don.

It is no wonder that researchers disagree on the level of pluralism in composition research. Kirsch’s call for self-critique among researchers is a recurring theme in these texts. Yet, here it is for greater epistemic clarity that Kirsch advocates such reflection. When discussing the nature of knowledge in the context of composition studies, are we asking, what is the nature of knowledge that drives the methodology, or what is the nature of knowledge that is produced by particular methodologies?
The reason I ask is the obvious role academic background plays in the choice of methodology, as seen in the first of Kirsch’s examples. Bereiter and Scardamalia, with their background in psychology, argue for a linear relationship between methodologies, but are obviously biased towards more quantitative methods, due to their background. However, the purpose of their studies may deem it necessary to use such methods. Kirsch sites that Bereiter and Scardamalia’s framework of methodology suggests that they believe a “right process model” can be achieved. This seems to indicate a problem/solution dichotomy in their thinking process. As Ray and I talked about in our presentation, this type of thinking appeases cultural expectations of a more comfortable and quantifiable answer as to why humans behave the way they do. Bereiter and Scarmadalia seem to be engaged in research that seeks to identify the cognitive processes involved in composition, to be extremely short? Therefore, how much does the purpose or question of a researcher’s project drive the methodology used?
On the other hand, Kirsch points out the background in humanities of Irmscher, a proponent of humanistic, naturalistic methodologies. Irmscher, a past director of composition at Washington U., is focused on teacher professionalism and teaching composition. His being concerned that the methodology used in composition research be inclusive of context for writer and researcher is understandable from his perspective and academic background. And so, perspective of the researcher is again needed to be taken into consideration when understanding what research methodologies are chosen. Consequently, researchers must be honest and inclusive about their backgrounds and assumptions when presenting their research.
Can researchers see past their academic and cultural backgrounds to relinquish epistemic biases? Or, is the answer to just admit biases and allow others of different epistemological stripe to research opposing theories using parallel methodologies?

I have gone over the readings and back again. I have been writing and erasing my thoughts for the past hour, trying to come up with something interesting and insightful to say. I have nothing. After attempting to discuss the difference between case study and ethnography and finding it obvious and redundant, I erased it (one focuses more on the individual in context and the other on a culture in context; the difference is in the choice to study subjects versus an environment? right? but what else?) I then tried a comparison between L & A's and Moss and Newkirk's expectations of the outcomes of these research methods, erased it, gone. I still can't rationalize why the results of qualitative analysis are to take on the characteristics of quantitative analysis. L & A are consistent in the fact that research is only valid if replicable. Yet, both case study and ethnography, based on methods of subject selection, data collection, analysis, and reporting seem less concerned with what makes a individual or group general and more so with what makes it unique via context and perspective, making exact replication impossible. Why does qualitative research not have its own measures of validity?

Reasonable Risk

First, while reading the information for the IRB certification there was a phrase I found particularly interesting which referred to the responsibilities of the IRB board: "ensuring that risks to participants are reasonable in relationship to the potential benefits, if any, to participants and the importance of the knowledge that may reasonably be expected to result;". Similarly, a phrase in the A & A article read, "researchers are reminded that they must take into account subjects' rights to freedom from manipulation when weighing the potential benefits of the research role against the harms that could accrue." (389)

Who judges the degree of risk allowable by the potential benefits of a research project? If the potential benefits of the project does not directly affect the group of participants, does the potential benefits still outweigh the risks? For instance,the benefits of Humphreys' study resulting in his publishing the Tearoom Trade, include a better understanding of a particular group of individuals engaging in exclusive behaviors, normally hidden from, though judged by, the public. Does this generalization of an otherwise exclusive group in the eyes of academics outweigh the risks that come with exposure for the group involved? This phrasing that weighs risk against benefit bothers me more concerning biomedical research. However, when paired with the fail-safe of informed consent, I suppose we are not hading back to dangerous experimental research on humans (but I'm still nervous).

How does this type of wording affect the issue of public and private domain? If individuals choose to engage in behavior publicly which is generally thought to be of the private realm, doesn't that choice negate expectations of privacy? If an individual is funding their research by any means other than government funding, what institution ensures federal laws governing human participants in research are being followed? Are laws regarding human participants more rigorous among IRB's than federal law?

Second, when observation

Reflecting on the readings, specific terms like self-reflection, relevance, production of knowledge, observable behavior, theory and practice were prevalent for me. Ede’s chapter discussing the primacy of methodology and the relationship between theory and practice seemed directly related to the issue of relevance in Alverez’s classroom. The elitist ideology that drives curriculum’s privileging of the classical canon in secondary education is the same that prefers a set methodology in academic disciplines. For Alverez, the cause of disinterest in her students was centered in the canonical content of her course having no utilitarian interest for them. She then discusses how the relevance of content in the classroom drove her theory of research, which becomes her practice or pedagogy. This connected to Ede’s discussion of the relationship between theory and practice where she quotes Phelps as saying, “The practitioner must be ‘not the object of Theory, but a Subject who mediates between the systematic knowledge-creation of disciplinary communities and the reflection of learners.’”(322) The learners in Alverez’s classroom better benefit from curriculum that considers their needs as learners, once their reflections on their learning have been taken into account. These needs then inform the theory for practice within the discipline they are being taught. As Alverez is freed from the fetters of the dominant ideology through self-evaluation leading to theorizing and research, Ede discusses the same potential for freedom from strict disciplinary methodology through self-evaluation of her personal theoretical beliefs. Each comes to the conclusion, in methodology, theory and practice, that self-evaluation and the humanist approach illuminate the fluid nature of a discipline so closely connected with, as Lauer and Asher put it, “400 or so. . .basic dimensions of human behavior . . . (that) cannot be held constant” (Asher, Lauer 8). Therefore, the human element in disciplines such as composition and education argues against the ability of these disciplines to maintain a “core” methodology, theory, or practice. This fact then demands the disciplines’ practitioners and theorists to constantly perform self-evaluation in the creation of new theories and research for the benefit of knowledge production and its relevant practice by all.