As an ethnographer, niece, student, friend, and cousin working my way through a dissertation I figured I would keep track of the research process with a blog (because who doesn't have a blog these days...)
A few quotes from DJ Robbie Wilde's HP commercial, The Sound of Touch:
"Just a feeling of the bass, that's how we dance. That's how we know what's going on, and we enjoy it!"
"So the way that technology helps me out is the wave forms are colored. Red is a kick, its a bass, and green is a vocal, and blue is a snare. That's how I see what's being played. I see the song."
It is my nature to think about process. I've always been interested in learning how things happened, not necessarily why they happened. I have not been one to ask "why me?" in the states of crisis. And I don't usually attribute the success of myself or others to personal and moral triumphs. I'm typically more invested in figuring out the roadmaps to success. I suppose this is why I'm a sociologist.
So you're all asking yourself why is she talking about process under the post title: "Thoughts on Horizontal Mentorship." Let me explain.
As a graduate student you are expected to develop, design, and implement research projects on your own with only (sporadic) guidance from faculty mentors. But what I've come to learn is that discussing research and the research process with fellow graduate students at various stages in the research process is incredibly gratifying and inspiring for me as a scholar, and more importantly as a friend. I've discovered that talking about unfinished thoughts, crying together, and observing others in the process of research unmasks much of its uncertainty for me.
This past week I went up to DC to attend my very first Signmark concert as both a fan and researcher. I experienced quite a bit of role conflict during the concert as I tried to work out how to embody both roles. Not long after I arrived to the venue full of nerves, anxiety, and a head cold, I heard someone call out my name. I turned around and saw the face of a woman I had met at the Deaf World/Hearing World conference in Berlin this past December. Small world! She was there also for multiple purposes: a researcher, a fan, and the mother of a 7 year old fan. I immediately felt pressure to be a mindful researcher in her presence. She mentioned wanting to interview Signmark, and while my first thought was "yeah me too!" it wasn't long before I started to feel unprepared linguistically an scholastically do conduct such an interview. Thankfully (or not), neither of us had press passes so we couldn't speak with him.
The show started with one of my favorites, Speakerbox, and I was so lost in trying to get my flip cam to work, observe the audience, and enjoy the music that I missed almost the entire song. Throughout the 50 minute show I slipped between researcher and fan roles: sometimes turning around to watch the audience, other times waving my hands in the air with the beat. The show ended with another favorite, Smells Like Victory, and after working my way to the front of the crowd for a picture with Signmark, I said my goodbyes and headed back to Sarah's for the night. I left feeling like I had failed in both my roles. I was too focused on work to enjoy the show as a fan, and I was too anxious to abandon my role of a fan to be fully observant of the sociological event I was partaking in.
Upon returning home I wrote several pages of fieldnotes and tried to process my feelings of failure. It was in that moment that I realized exactly what I needed: I needed some horizontal mentorship. So I called my good friend Erin, a 6th year graduate student in my program who is finishing up her dissertation on fatherhood and work/family balance. Erin did just what I needed her to do in that moment. She first let me cry and release all of fears, anxieties, and nerves about an early experience in the field. Then, she reminded me that ethnographers spend months in the field often before ever doing a "formal" interview. I had put pressure on myself to conduct formal, eloquent interviews with audience members, and even Signmark, at my first show. What I failed to notice as success was that I had begun the task of immersing myself into my field site, building rapport with audience members, and observing what was happening around me. She also reminded me that when I do talk to people I don't have to be Carly, but instead I can be Carly the sociologist. This freed me from all the anxiety and fears of rejection. I felt guilty for having not embraced the role of new ethnographer in the field, but was encouraged to keep moving forward with the research process with the cliche "it gets better" in my head.
In talking to Erin she reminded me of several pieces of advice I've been told from the beginning of this process: 1) everything is data, and 2) as a researcher you can sit anywhere on the bus.
I am greatly indebted to my all my horizontal mentors for helping me discover what exactly this research process is, and for continually reminding me of these two invaluable pieces of ethnographic advice. Onward!
In Signmark's words: "TO STAY STILL BUT NOT TO ADVANCE IS TO REGRESS"
Today while I was volunteering at the local after school program for d/Deaf and Hard of Hearing students I learned that the sign I had been using for "Germany"is the German Sign Language (Deutsche Gebärdensprache, DGS) for "Deutschland." In American Sign Language (ASL) a very similar sign means "horny." All day today the adult volunteers and staff were teasing me because I had warned everyone that I would be away from the program for awhile because "I was going horny."
Oh the joys of learning new languages! :) Have I mentioned how much I love my research?
This past weekend I was a part of a group of graduate students invited to talk about the research process with a group of sociology honors students. Blake Sisk, Ebony Duncan, and I rolled up to Garland Hall at 7pm on a Sunday ready to share our triumphs and pitfalls in research... and even more ready to eat the free meal we were promised for our participation. I have come to relish in any opportunity to talk about my work (and to be rewarded with a free meal). As scary as it is to present a half baked research idea for the first time, I've done it so many times now that it has actually become one of my favorite parts of research. I'm used to talking about my research with faculty and graduate students both in sociology and interdisciplinary settings (each is a totally different experience). I will also soon have the opportunity to present in front of a community of Deaf scholars and those conducting social research on the d/Deaf community at the upcoming Deaf World/Hearing World conference in Berlin. But this weekend was the first time I was able to talk about my research on music and Deaf Culture with a group of undergraduates. It's an entirely different game. And to be fair, this was really more a discussion of research process. Regardless, I found it to be incredibly informative and rewarding. I left with a few new ideas, theories, and concepts to investigate which directly relate to the research I'm conducting. But I also left with, hands-down, the best metaphor to describe the research process ever stated.
In a discussion connected to finding the best literature to ground your research while also being creatively open to theories and research in other fields, Ebony shared an eye-opening and reaffirming metaphor about the research process. (Paraphrasing here...) "Research is like a labyrinth. Sometimes you feel like you are walking away from the center, but you must walk away in order to come back around to it." Genius. Research is messy. Sometimes you find yourself asking, "Why I am reading this study of the experience of coming out as gay?" But it is in those moments that you are walking away from the core of your project that you discover Crip Theory--a fusion of queer theory and disability theory, which gives you a creative new hold on your research question. Research is a labyrinth.
This is a reminder to myself, and other scholars out there in the blog world, for those moments when you feel like you are walking away from the core, remember that this is just part of the journey.
And, as a reminder for times like today where I feel like I'm headed in the right direction...there will be another turn ahead.
Image taken from: http://www.samweller.net/wordpress/?p=191
(a podcast using the metaphor of a labyrinth to describe the writing process can be found here too.)
I thought today's anthem was going to be The Carpenter's "Rainy Days and Mondays." It started, like every Monday starts: "talking to myself and feeling old." No wait, that's the song lyrics...
But I did wake up with a sense of melancholy. I wasn't fully prepared to teach my 12:00 lecture when the morning alarm went off...or when the second alarm went off. I struggled to find the energy to finish my lecture on the sociology of the body for the 101 class I was teaching today. While teaching about re-centering normal and the social consequences of stigma is an interesting topic for me, I couldn't gather the energy required to transmit my passion in a 101 lecture. This lackluster response to the task at hand was somewhat expected because, in general, I've been feeling incredibly bogged down in the minutia of my graduate student responsibilities. I've found it difficult to focus on what I love about graduate school while peering through stacks of what's on my to do list as "everything that's not fun about grad school."
But, I did my best to push Negative Nancy aside and finished practicing my lecture just in time to head to class. When I arrived it was clear the 50 undergraduates in my classroom all, like me, had cases of the Mondays. As the lecture proceeded at least 2 students fell asleep. (And just to spoil the ending of this story, I don't end up as the hero this time.) I had planned the last 15 minutes of my lecture to be a discussion about an article " From 'hearing loss to Deaf Gain?" which I had assigned. (Great article, find it here.) The article is incredibly controversial, yet still accessible for undergrads...or so I thought. When I assigned I knew it would be a ringer; students would have so much to say! Debate would spark! It would be amazing! But, like every teacher comes quickly to learn, students toss wrenches into even the best planned lectures. After launching my first discussion question out to the class their silence made it crystal clear that nobody had done the reading. So instead of the last 15 minutes of class being a provocative discussion, it was dullsville. I left feeling defeated and ashamed of myself for not having been prepared for their lack of engagement.
I threw myself a little pity party as I walked home from school (caveat: the professor I was teaching for observed me and assured me I did fine...but we're all our own worst critics, right?) After grabbing a quick bite to eat I headed to the after school program for d/Deaf and hard-of-hearing students which I've been volunteering at for the past two weeks now. What's the first thing that happens? I get into a van with a d/Deaf colleague of mine and as soon as he turns the van on the radio BLASTS a local country radio station. My body jerks at the unexpected intensity of the sound coming from the speakers while the driver appears not to notice. I smiled to myself at that moment, for the first time today, and we backed out of the garage on our way to pick up the kids from school.
Those kids with their smiles, laugher, and excited screams totally brightened my day... and hurt my ears a bit. As I get to know them all better and better as the weeks pass I'm curious to know how my perceptions of the students and my fellow volunteers will change.
Here's all the text I was able to generate after my first experience with the kids last week:
"Today was my first day of volunteering at a local after-school program for d/Deaf and hard-of-hearing students here in Nashville. I'm still finding it difficult to put into words my responses and reactions to my first day. The experience left me with a flood of emotions, both positive and negative, ranging from pride for the community, to sadness and despair over the lack of encouragement and mediocre expectations these students are held to outside of the program in their academics, language acquisition, and behavior all because of their perceived deficit.
There is a tension I feel volunteering for a population/community that I do not see as vicitims, yet, they are often treated as victims and respond accordingly. How do you volunteer for a community like this? Race and class inequalities intersect with the "disability" these children have in ways that are hard for me to manage conceptually, and emotionally. How do I encourage pride in Deafness when these students are faced with some many disadvantages?"
Today as I was leaving the youth center I recounted my own 101 lecture, and re-centered normal in my analysis of the afternoon's events. One student whose language acquisition I was so worried about last week showed me today that not only does he have strong language skills (with very beautiful sign formation), but I was also able to see his incredible wit and humor! Another student who I suspected was struggling with academics explained parallel electrical circuits to me! I realized that I have been so stuck in my own conceptions of the d/Deaf community, and Deaf education, and Deaf pride that I'd failed to see what was happening in front of me.
The kids, staff, and volunteers all reminded me today to not bring the gloom of my rainy days into the after school program (or my research sites more broadly speaking). To leave my conceptions about normalcy behind, and to begin to see the community for what it truly is. I've decided to stop wondering about the kid's academic programs, their access to speech therapy, their medical diagnoses, their relationships with audiologists, etc., and instead let them teach me a few things...even about parallel electrical circuits.
So today's anthem turned out not to be The Carpenter's "Rainy Days and Mondays", instead I'm humming "Top of the World," it's still a Carpenter's kind of day.
Now that I'm home and school has started I'm finding myself being asked the question: "How was DC?" from faculty and students all of whom look at me eagerly making me feel like the only appropriate response is to launch into a long list of my many accomplishments. My standard hallway answer: "It was great! I'm so excited to go back!" The answer I say in my head: "I failed in DC." The truth: I did nothing I expected to do, but work did happen, progress was made. So for the sake of my own sanity, and to organize my thoughts for the second week of school I figured I'd launch into a long list of what I learned about myself and my work process while I was away...for better for for worse..
I am not now, nor will I likely ever be a "morning person," and that's okay
I do my best work in the company of strangers at Starbucks
I think most creatively when I'm listening to music (the type of music varies day-by-day)
My sign skills are strong around new & intermediate signers
I am nearly lost among native & fluent users
I am a good lipreader and I rely on lipreading when communicating in sign
I need a fair amount of alone time to ward off depressive symptoms
I need checklists
I need deadlines
I drink coffee as a distraction (hmm #2???)
Sometimes saying goodbye to difficult people is the easiest thing to do
I am not an imaginative cook
I let my fears of being rejected stop me from introducing myself to new people/interviewees
Pitching my research to non-sociologists is harder than I imagined
Validation and/or criticism from others affects me a lot more than I thought
Despite criticisms, I now know that I picked the right dissertation topic...I love this
In the months ahead I will read for and write my second area exam on Embodiment and Disability, draft my dissertation proposal, and prepare for my first conference presentation on Deaf culture. I'm making 3 new (school) year's resolutions that I hope will get me through the months ahead:
Blog more regularly
Read more across subfields in sociology to identify an avenue for the "So what?"
Be my own best cheerleader
Now that all these lists have been made, I'll make my way back to my To Do list...
