SECCIÓN IV. HOMOLOGACIÓN DE ENTIDADES FORMATIVAS
CONDICIONES GENERALES
This section focuses on the semi-structured interview process and on my roles as an ‘insider’ in the NI education sector and as an ‘outsider’ researcher visiting schools. In describing the qualitative interview as a co-production of knowledge by the interviewer and the participant, Kvale (2007) saw an equal balance between interviewer and
interviewee. Chase (2005, p. 643), on the other hand, described the interview as a non- neutral tool “grounded in specific interactional episodes” that are influenced by the interviewer. Presumably, the interviewer’s influence stems, initially, from the content and presentation of questions in the interview schedule. I was very conscious of Ezzy’s (2010, p. 64) advice that asking questions and listening to the answers requires a “simultaneous sense of one’s own sense of self as an interviewer independent of the interviewee and an openness to, a dependence on, what the interviewee has to say”. On that basis, I was pleased to align myself with Kvale’s (2007) metaphorical traveller, engaged in post-modern constructive understanding through conversation. This
approach was entirely consistent with my professional work as the CCEA music officer which required me to consult widely on issues related to curriculum and examination syllabus content. My main concern was always to listen carefully, report faithfully and, where possible, be responsive to teachers’ views and issues.
Just as the music teacher participants had their individual social realities it was important for me to be aware of my own social reality, namely that of a retired music educationalist living in NI who has transferred from working practitioner (on the inside?) to researcher (on the outside?). This raised the issue of identity: was I to present myself as one or more identities? My positioning as researcher with a teaching and music curriculum background was closely allied to that of practising music-teacher participants, and despite the perceived balance of power, my intention was to promote a collegial approach. Experience showed that this was successful with those teachers who knew me, but it raised the issue of how I would approach and be perceived by those who did not know me and had no awareness of my background. The result was that I did, indeed, have at least two identities, one for the teachers who knew (of) me and another for the mainly young and newly-qualified teachers who had no idea of who I was. This was consistent with Lavis (2010) who argued that researchers adopt different identities with different participants in order to facilitate their research. Apart from the possibility of the research participants adopting identities (Lavis, 2010), I believed that there was an additional dimension to identity. This was an identity that the research participants may impose upon the researcher through their perception of the person and resulting from their interview experience; a super-imposed identity of which the researcher would be unaware.
My ‘insider-outsider’ dilemma was a factor which seems to underpin social research (e.g., Leigh, 2014; Turgo, 2012). It was addressed by Wiederhold (2015) who drew on her own research from the position of ‘insider’, but recognised that field research which included researcher mobility could also encompass the concept of the ‘outsider’. Thus, although I was the ‘at home’ researcher embedded in the NI society I was also the ‘outsider’ as I travelled to schools across NI which, for me, are located in unfamiliar small communities. Additionally, given the religious divide, there remained the question of religious identity, a fundamental aspect of life and living in NI. This could also contribute to the concept of being an ‘insider’ or an ‘outsider’. Surnames and schools attended in NI provided significant clues to religious affiliation. For example, while conducting research in NI schools Carlisle (2007, pp. 10-11) whose surname was ‘agnostic’ had assumed that participants were not aware of her religion. Consequently, she refrained from conversations which referenced things “you just don’t talk about” and was uncomfortable when details of her school were made known to participants by a former teacher. Despite my intended collegial approach I have no doubt that an insider/outsider identity was also reflected in teachers’ perceptions of my role and
purpose. To some extent my surname did not allocate me to either side of the religious divide and this, along with the breadth of my professional, personal and social reality, placed me within a ‘no man’s land’. I had no problem with participants’ knowledge of my religion (Roman Catholic) as references arose in pre or post-interview conversation, but was conscious of Donnelly’s conclusion (2004, p. 268) that religious identity can align the researcher to a particular religious affiliation and make the task both easier and more difficult. Ultimately, I decided that the issue of identity, in my case, was quite complex and that I should follow Heaney’s advice (‘whatever you say, say nothing’ see Chapter 1) during the recording of the interview because my role was that of active listener, not that of teacher or challenger. Ultimately, irrespective of
interviewer/interviewee identities and the insider-outsider question, I was conscious of the importance of establishing trust and rapport with each participant interviewee. While Fontana and Frey (2005) considered that close interview rapport may lead to more informed research they also identified the possibility of the researcher becoming a spokesperson for the group (“going native”). They proposed that interviewing was “inextricably and unavoidably historically, politically, and contextually bound”, therefore preventing the collection of “objective data to be used neutrally” (p. 695). While their words had significance for my approach I was constantly aware that my ‘outsider’ role in the research was underpinned by the ethical standards and training provided by the University of Glasgow.
Teachers’ general views of the low status of classroom music were evidenced, for example, by NI’s Education and Training Inspectors’ apparent policy revision in no longer assessing and publishing reports of progress in teaching and learning across individual subjects. After the introduction of the 2007 curriculum, Inspectors appeared to focus primarily on English (literacy) and Mathematics (numeracy) and new post 2007 DENI initiatives which are dealt with in Chapters 5, 6 and 7. Consequently, there were no published ETI assessments of teaching progress in the 2007 music curriculum. The only mention of music in ETI online school reports was an identification of achievement results in GCSE and A level music examinations. Given this situation, my intention, in recording and presenting teachers’ views, was to provide them with a voice within the new post-2007 educational environment. Whether or not there was a consistent or unified voice would not be known until the data had been collected, analysed and discussed. Throughout the data-collection process conscious reflexivity (Cruz, 2015; Shaw, 2010; Banister et al., 1994) was of prime importance and personal reflection was undertaken after each interview. The concept of reflexivity within the interview
conversation provided an added dimension to Witkin’s (1974) view of the subjective reflexivity between the child’s creative intention and the expressive media being used within the music classroom. Just as each affects and modifies the other, the data collected through interview experiences enriched my knowledge and understanding and, hopefully, that of the interviewees. I trust it was a case of reciprocal learning, or for the teachers at least, some ‘food for thought’.