Liz Farmer
University
College
Plymouth
St
Mark & St John
Working
Together?
Exploring
the relationships between parent carers
of disabled
children and other professionals,
when working
together in planning,
consultation
and delivery of services.
Contents
List of tables
Page 2
Author’s statement of
originality
Page 3
Acknowledgements
Page 4
Abstract
Page 5
Introduction
Page 6
Ethics
Page
11
Methodology and methods
Page
13
Practitioner research
Page 20
Data collection
Page
24
Data analysis
Page
36
Research findings
Page
47
Working
Together? - The theory
Page
61
Discussion
Page
63
Conclusions
Page
71
References
Page 74
Appendices
Page
84
List
of
figures
and tables
Table 1
Excerpt from interview (1)
Table 2
Excerpt from interview (2)
Table 3
Excerpt from coding for social justice
(1)
Table 4
Lived experience
Table 5
Excerpt from coding for social justice
(2)
Author’s
statement
of
originality
I confirm that I have
fully acknowledged all sources of
information and help received and that where such acknowledgment is not
made
the work is my own.
Signed:
Date:
With grateful thanks and
appreciation to the parent carers
who so generously gave of their time and themselves and to the Parent
Carer
Council for Cornwall.
Many thanks.
This dissertation explores
the workplace relationships
between parent carers of disabled children in Cornwall who are employed
alongside
professionals who may also be involved in delivering services to both
their
child and their family. The focus is upon the social justice dimensions
of these
working relationships and their impact upon practice.
This qualitative
practitioner research project was carried
out by a member of the group being studied – a parent carer of a
disabled child
employed within the specialist disability field – and utilised aspects
of
personal experience and reflexivity to enhance and inform the research
process.
A grounded theory approach was taken in which theoretical sampling was
used to
identify possible participants and simultaneous data collection and
data
analysis took place. The constructivist paradigm being used in which a
deliberate,
power sharing feminist stance was employed was demonstrated through
collaborative meaning making and transparency of intention. Data was
collected
through semi structured interviews, a participant workshop and email
activities
whilst concurrent data analysis used open and axial coding and the
constant
comparative method to generate categories.
The theory generated by
the data proposes that at points of
struggle and conflict parent carers adopt a deliberately politicized
identity
in workplace relationships in response to the presence of dualistic
disability
models and the discourses of normality which work to oppress them. This
identity is founded in the lived experience of parent carers which is
perceived
to be of higher value than theoretical qualifications, and is
unavailable to
those outside of the group.
The conclusion is drawn
that an alternative position
underpinned by a social justice approach to practice is possible in
which
equality, value and community well-being are key features. Workplace
relationships can then achieve the purposes for which partnership and
participation
were designed.
Now I am
famous...journalists
consult Google before coming to talk to me and know every stupid thing
I have
said or written. And I know nothing about
them! (Weldon
2008:23
emphasis
added)
Research
background and context
Working in
partnership with parents is a
principle which underpins current social work practice being initially
outlined
in the 1989 Children Act as a result of research which found such
partnership
working to be both more respectful and ‘more effective in meeting the
needs of
children’ (Sinclair & Grimshaw 1997:231). As recent guidance states
–‘all
services are now expected to consult with parents and involve them in
planning
and development’ (Contact a Family and Council for Disabled Children
2004:5).
This expectation brings with it discourses centering on power,
knowledge and
trust, particularly when partnership ‘of any kind’ is erroneously
understood to
‘be a good thing’ (Hughes 1992:24 cited in Christie and Mittler
1999:232) for
when two parties are brought together as a result of legislation rather
than
through deliberate choice, an atmosphere of mutual distrust may colour the process
unless specific action is taken to
overcome this at the very start. As responsibility for this action
lies, on the
whole, with professionals who may find the process time-consuming and
stressful
(Contact a Family and Council for Disabled Children 2004:11) there is
always
the danger that, in some cases, this basic principle has evolved into
an almost
formulaic approach with differing levels of participation principally
designed,
it would seem, to allow workers to tick the box marked ‘participation
with
parents’. Whatever, the move towards
partnership working with a real
equality of participation and status (McMichael & Gilloran (1984)
cited in
Colyer et al 2006) is proving to be problematic in an arena where
partnership
is seen as ‘definitial chaos’ (Trelfa 2008).
The
legislation around parent participation has
wider implications for practice than merely asking parents to take part
in
consultation and service development or delivery. If
parent
carers
are to be valued as people
and acknowledged to be experts in themselves and their children (Moss
2007:39)
then professionals need to move towards practice which enables them to
take
this stance in their assessments and day to day contacts with parent
carers. Research
found that parent carers’ ‘own knowledge and expertise in caring for
their
child and knowing his or her needs was being overlooked in favour of fixed
professional views and procedures’ (Contact
a Family and Council for Disabled Children 2004:10) therefore, key to
changing
practice lies in the support of the organisations and
authorities who employ workers in theses roles,
alongside regular training in anti-discriminatory modes of service
delivery.
The normative discourse of power and knowledge needs to be exchanged
for that
of awareness raising and transformation, where not only are imbalances
of power
noted but also challenged and openly articulated so that change can
begin
(Dalrymple and Burke 1995:15) and social justice can be enacted.
A
social justice approach to practice is one in which all individuals are
viewed
as being intrinsically of equal worth, with equal rights to meet basic
needs
(Parsons :1996:17), all are respected,
have
self respect and are able to access the widest spread of opportunities,
and all
relationships within such practice should be characterised by these
clearly
identifiable markers. However,
whilst
there is little doubt that the relationships between parents of
disabled
children and the professionals working with them are key in the
successful
delivery of services and positive outcomes, there is a growing body of
evidence
from professional practice, parental experience and the theoretical
base
available to illustrate the inequalities and injustices which often characterise these
relationships - parent carer and professional
interactions may ‘take place on an ideological battlefield’ (Goodley
& Tregaskis
2006:637). A broad look at this evidence
shows that there are a number of practices, norms and modes which shape
these
relationships that need to be changed in order for children, families
and
professionals to benefit. Discourses of tragedy and blame - both
personal and
familial (Avery 1996:630) - drive a model of impairment as a deficit in
need of
‘normalising’ through
intervention
(Scott-Hill 2004:88) whilst those of control, knowledge and respect
sharply
define the power imbalances inherent in the relationships (Read et al.
2006:23). Methods of practice which arise from a social justice
approach, in
contrast, seek to transform these relationships through discourses that
emphasise the equal
status of all – service users and providers
alike, with shared aims and goals identified in true partnership (Land 1995:10)
So, if
parent carer/professional relationships, whether thought
of as
participation or as partnership, are already a cause of tension on both
sides,
in a service field where working together is imposed for the financial
benefit
of organisations, what happens when these often contested (Goodley
& Tregaskis
2006:644) relationships are formalised in situations where parent
carers are
employed alongside professionals involved in delivering services to
families of
disabled children, on equal terms with supposed equal status? This
question formed
the central focus of the project.
There
is, within Cornwall, a recent trend for parent carers of disabled
children to
gain employment within the field of services to disabled children and
their
families perhaps in an attempt either to shape future provision in
order that
others have a more positive experience, or because, as those with real
front
line experience, they see themselves as the best people to both design
and
deliver services to this particular group. Volunteer opportunities
currently
abound within the county, particularly with the advent of the newly
formed
Association of Parent Trainers, whilst the high standard of the
training and
support available to parent carers prepares them for a variety of roles
on
steering groups and senior level management committees. The initiatives
that
arise from the influx of Aiming High
(2008 DoH, DCSF) money have created a
number of parent participation positions within the voluntary sector
and it is
inevitable then that parent carers are successful in applying for not
only
those positions but also for other vacancies within the specialist
service
sector, with both statutory and voluntary agencies.
As
a practitioner whose journey into employment mirrored the path outlined
above -
a variety of voluntary positions within parent support groups followed
by a
training course designed to impart the skills required for a face to
face
befriending role, which then gave me the necessary confidence and
experience to
apply for a front line role in service delivery with a voluntary
organisation –
I found my biggest challenge to be very different from that which I
expected
and this was the possession of a visible dual identity – parent carer
and
professional. This placed me in an immediate position of disempowerment
simply
through my not being in possession of an equal level of personal
information as
others around the table had about me. This personal experience was the
motivating
force behind this research project and the aim was to explore in depth
the
personal experience of other parent carers who were also working as
professionals, often in multi agency settings, whilst at the same time
continuing to receive services to both their families and their child
from the
same agencies, teams and occasionally individual practitioners with
whom they
work.
A
research project that arises from personal experience invites the
accusation
that ‘when researchers take [their] personal experience seriously and
incorporate it into their work, [they] expose themselves to challenges
of a
lack of objectivity’ (Roberts 1981:15). However, this should not be a
problem
per se, as such experience can lead to ‘precious insights and
perspectives hardly
accessible for researchers unfamiliar with such topics’ (Mruck &
Mey
2007:519). Research beginning from a personal position ‘values
subjective
experience’ (King 1994:21) and can quite safely be a ‘blend of
intellectual
question and a personal trouble’ (Reinharz 1992:260). The purpose then,
of this
research project was to capture the widest range of experience and
opinion
possible and, without pre-judging, to sort and build upon the data in
order to
produce a theory which articulates what it is like to be in this unique
position of parent carer and
practitioner. A sense of collaborative enquiry framed the entire
project and
together, the aim was for us to identify the ways in which parent
carers manage
both their working relationships and their own personal identities,
whilst in
employment within a fairly closed and exclusive field of service
provision.
Population sample and
definitions
Parent carer:
If
you are the parent of a child who has a physical or learning disability
you are
first and foremost a parent. However, ...as a parent in
these
circumstances you often find yourself with extra caring
responsibilities and
you are, therefore, also a "parent carer“ http://www.carersinherts.org.uk/parentcarers.htm
Disabled child(ren):
Children, aged 0-18, who
receive services from Cornwall’s
children’s service authority (CSA) as opposed to services from adult
teams. These
children are not defined as handicapped by their impairment, but in the
modern
sense of the disability movement emphasising how society disables
through
oppression (Morris 1993).
Services:
Only the experience of
practitioners working within specialist rather than universal services
was
included in the research. This means any specialist provision designed
solely
for children with a recognised impairment and/or their families,
including: Special Education; children
with disabilities social work teams; specialist health services/nurses;
palliative
care services; sibling services; specialist childcare and short breaks
provision (respite).Therefore, the only people invited to participate
in the
study were parent carers of disabled children, in paid employment in a
specialist service field in Cornwall.
Sample
:
In the very small world of
parent carer practitioners in
Cornwall, it was hoped to reach the majority of potential respondents
to invite
them to join the research. An initial group of sixteen eligible
candidates was
identified and this was then expanded through networking and
snowballing to a
total of twenty one possible participants. Through a variety of data
collection
methods (see data collection)
fourteen parent carers participated in the research. This small number
is in no
way meant to be representative of either the general population, or of
parent
carers, or even practitioners within the service field, it was simply
the
population available at that point to be included in the study.
Limited
demographic information was collected as part of the informed consent
including
gender of participant, age of child and some employment information.
This data
established that all participants were female and had children in
primary
school education. Anecdotal data – not recorded – revealed the majority
of
children attended mainstream schools with support and all had
statements of
Special Educational Need. Throughout the study, attempts were made to
identify
eligible fathers of disabled children and there were hopes that this
was
successful. However one had a child who was over eighteen years of age
and the
second worked within universal services making neither of them suitable
for
this particular study. All the participants knew one another, both as
parent
carers, and in their employed roles, and all of them had worked with me
at some
point.
With regard to excellence, it is not enough
to know, but we must try to have and use it (Aristotle)
Ethical
approval was sought from the University’s Ethics board and this was
granted
with BASW (British Social Work) ethical guidelines being followed along
with
those of the university. (Appendix ) This
approval was needed as the research involved living humans who could
potentially experience distress or anxiety as a result of taking part
in the
project.
There
are particular issues which arise from the population sample available
to take
part in the research, primarily centring upon the difficulties of
ensuring
anonymity and confidentiality within a group who, through high levels
of prior
contact, are easily identifiable, both inside and often outside the
confines of
the group (Fox et al. 2007:103) and this was an important consideration
in the
data collection process which impacted upon much of the research
design.
Distinctive voices needed to be obscured and recognisable features were
blurred
which meant that participant responses could not be used directly in
the
publishable body of the research. The data was anonymised at the
secondary/axial coding stage whilst only a consensus of opinion was
recorded
from the later workshop. However, as this was primarily a project
produced for
academic rather than commercial purposes, with a limited intended
readership,
it was felt that this would give enough protection to participant
identity. The
potentially oppressive effect that altering direct quotes may have
(Devault
1990:107) was taken into account when making the decision to summarize
the data
used in the axial coding, but the ethical need to protect identity
needed to remain
the primary concern. The summarised data formed the basis of the
workshop activities,
which acted as a method of giving participants the opportunity to
verify the
interpretation made, but no changes were proposed.
Further
issues centre upon the possibilities of conscientization (Friere 1998)
as the
research process may potentially reveal the oppressive character of
some of the
daily interactions of the working relationships under scrutiny. While
awareness
raising and a call to activism is outside of the intent of the research
project, any research conducted from a feminist position will certainly
be
interested in the potential for change within the oppressive structures
which
surround and frame the research context. Practitioner research
particularly is
an ‘enterprise which in essence is about contributing to both
transformation of
practice and transformation of society’ (Mockler 2007:95). Concern for
respondent well-being within a research paradigm which values the
collaborative
construction of knowledge precludes any attempts to retain the status
quo in
preference for embracing change. Thus the political well-being of
respondents
is as important as their psychological well-being and in reality the
two cannot
be separated as the personal is
political (Nelson & Prilleltensky 2005:141).
Ethical
issues for practitioner research begin with the difficulties that can
surround
being both practitioner and researcher at one and the same time within
a field
of practice. The recognition that this can throw doubt on the validity
of the
findings may suggest that research is best conducted outside that field
(Fox et
al 2007:104) yet I would find it hard to justify conducting this
initial
research outside of Cornwall, as for me, this is where the central
focus of the
research is situated. Secondly, because it would have been impossible
to
demarcate any switch between my practitioner and researcher roles,
particularly
with respondents who all know and have worked with me, I rejected any
attempt
to artificially create distance between my self and the respondents ‘in
order
to reduce the interviewer effect’ (Hyman et al 1954) so reviled in
older texts.
Any view of respondents as objectified sources of data to be exploited
for my
own ends (Oakley 1981:48) is necessarily at odds with the paradigm
being
employed in which egalitarian, non hierarchical relationships become
the
setting for information sharing and reciprocity. It was hoped that the
participants would gain as much from the research experience as myself
and to
this end, I was happy to answer questions and respond to queries both
during
the interviews and in the workshop. These two data collection methods
worked in
some way to give the support and empowerment that parents carers are
noted to
receive through their interactions with one another (Goodley &
Tregaskis
2006:641-2). To further embed this principle of the session as
collaborative
information sharing, resources were given at the conclusion of the
workshop
which pointed to some of the sources which had been used to shape the
project. (Appendix 4)
Research
starts with a researcher who is
interested in learning something new about a topic and developing a
theory...(Mruck
&
Mey
2007:519)
Research
Paradigms and Methodology
The
complex relationship between methods and methodology is one which is
vitally
important for the novice researcher to grasp, outlining, as it does
right at
the beginning of a project, which direction the research is likely to
take and
what the final destination should look like (Harding 1987:2). When
clear
understanding of such a vital component of a project is needed, it is
easy to
imagine the response which came from turning over book after book that
used the
terms method and methodologies interchangeably to describe techniques
and
approaches of gathering the information needed to answer the research
question.
Disappointment soon gave way to irritation, after all, if ‘they’ didn’t
know
the difference, how was I supposed to? Happily, I soon worked out that
very
simply, my methodology would be the frame around my particular project
and
moreover, that this frame would consist of the perspectives and beliefs
that I,
as a practitioner researcher, would bring to bear upon the project as a
whole
(King 1994:20). Taking as my starting point the notion that ‘to ensure
a strong
research design, researchers must choose a research paradigm that is
congruent
with their beliefs about the nature of reality’ (Mills et al 2006:2),
the
initial strands of my framework needed to consist of the explicit
articulation
of my own beliefs about the nature of reality as pertaining
to
my
practice. After all, my research methodology
would reflect not only my purposes in research, but also my way of
being in the
world, and both needed to fit with the ways in which the study was
going to be
conducted (Corbin & Strauss 2008:1). In order to do this then, I
needed to
examine the values and beliefs that inform and underpin both my
practice and my
personal worldviews.
My
understanding of parents of disabled children as a marginalised group
who are
identified solely by their child’s impairment (Farmer 2008a:9) is
reflected in
my practice in which my deliberate de-powering takes place in order
that true
partnership working can occur (Nelson & Prilleltensky 2005:43).
This, then,
enables problems to be defined and solutions to be found as parent
carers and I
work together (Pierson 2005:457). Alongside this, there is always a
commitment
to raising awareness of the often hidden inequalities that so often
characterise relationships between parent carers and the professionals
working
with them. This conscientization (Friere 1998) - the process by which
an
‘illuminating awareness’ of the social forces which shape reality is
achieved (Nelson
& Prilleltensky 2005:501) - in which individuals begin to view
themselves
as the agents of change to bring transformation to those unequal
relationships
of power, status and discrimination, is a vital component of any
practice which
makes claims to have social justice at its heart. Linked
with
all
these is the continual
attention to how gender impacts upon parent carer/professional
relationships in
which the majority of parent carers are women functioning in the
socially
devalued role of caring (Williams 1999:5). Finally,
the
commitment to reflexivity is
demonstrated throughout my
practice as I attempt to ensure that my own position and power, as both
a
parent carer and a professional, does not homogenise those I work with,
but
recognises difference, and aids giving voice to this difference (Stone & Priestly 2001:704-5).
When
these principles, which guide and underpin my practice, are transferred
into
the realm of research, they begin to form a framework in which all are
able to
participate in making meaning (Krauss 2005:762) as legitimate ‘knowers’
of the
truth through lived experience (Barron 2006:202). This suggests both
that there
is neither one objective truth ‘out there’ to be discovered, but
equally nor
are there multiple truths depending upon where you stand. Rather that
there is,
indeed, a shared, but imperfectly understood reality which is
constructed
through daily experience and interaction (Kane & O’Reilly-de Brun
2001:18).
This question of truth is further refined in that I am deliberately
seeking out
subjective truth as experienced by women, who, in general are the main
carers
of disabled children (Read 2000:51) although concerted attempts were
made to
find men who could participate in the project.. As this is a piece of
practitioner research, I can therefore expect to see these values at
play in
the research paradigm being employed for the study. Accordingly, a
non-hierarchical,
interactive approach where all involved can be considered to be
participants in
the study (Campbell & Bunting (1991) cited in King 1994:20) aims to
produce
a project in which the participants’ voice can clearly be heard (Keddy
1992
cited in King 1994:20).
The
epistemological principles of a feminist methodology according to Cook
and
Fonow (1990) correspond with my own values as stated above, with the
addition
of the concern for the ethical implications of any research project
particularly surrounding women as legitimate possessors of knowledge.
These
basic principles of feminist methodology in research are that the
influence of
gender is acknowledged; the focus is on consciousness raising; personal
grounded experiences are acknowledged as valid; the emphasis is on the
empowerment of women and the transformation of patriarchal social
structures
and in which there is regard for the exploitation of women as the
objects of
research (Cook & Fonow 1990:72ff). Therefore, it can safely be
surmised
that my research project takes a feminist perspective from the outset.
In
addition, the stated aim of my research design, that as a group of
practitioner
parent carers we could engage collaboratively in making meaning from
our
experiences and thus construct our reality together, demonstrates that
a
constructivist perspective (Guba & Lincoln 2005:183) was also an
integral
part of the study. In this approach, the researcher is fully part of
the
construction of the facts which make up the shared, but imperfectly
understood
reality which exists in our daily experience and interactions with one
another
as practitioners and parent carers (Kane & O’Reilly-de Brun
2001:18).
Research
design
As
Roberts (2007) notes, personal experience is often the starting point
of feminist
research, where researchers ‘start with an issue that bothers them
personally
and then use everything they can get hold of to study it ‘(Reinharz
1992:259) .
That this is true in my case is clear from the introduction, which then
led to
the development of the research question –
exploring
the
relationships
between
parent carers of disabled children and other
professionals, when working together in planning, consultation and
delivery of
services. The question then directed me
towards finding a research method which would provide the data I needed
to
answer the question as ‘it is essential to ensure that the method
matches the
research question being asked’ (Baker et al 1992 cited in Wimpenny
& Gass
2000:1485). The decision to conduct interviews rather than circulate
questionnaires was a result again of the research question which did
not lend
itself easily to being ‘a problem to be tackled by [a] survey’ (Moser
&
Kalton 2004:73) but rather was an attempt to ‘begin with an area of
inquiry and
allow whatever is ... relevant to
emerge’ (Strauss & Corbin 1990 cited in Wimpenny & Gass
2000:1486). The methods most likely to
produce the type of data that I was looking for appeared to be either a
phenomenological study or grounded theory as both are interpretive
methods,
addressing both questions of meaning -
what does it the experience of being both a parent carer of a disabled
child
and a professional working in that service mean
to the participants – and of understanding -
how
do participants understand and respond to this
situation in their
daily lives (Starks & Brown Trinidad 2007:1374). Both can use
subjective
experience as valid data, important when taking a feminist approach as
outlined
above, and both methods can accommodate the sometime intense, level of
reflexivity required of practitioner research. It was this particular
dimension
of the study which enabled me to take a final decision, for if the
research was
to ‘assist me to reflect...and learn from [my] own practice’ (Fox et
al.
2007:81) then the methods used needed to accurately reflect those used
within
my practice. The skills I brought to the study as a practitioner would
therefore be the skills I used to explore the experience that I was
interested
in. This was articulated in an email to
my supervisor in which a rejection of phenomenology in favour of
grounded
theory as the method best suited to the study was justified:
Rationale:
I feel ill equipped to use [phenomenology] for a
number of reasons – 1) I am not a hugely skilled in depth interviewer.
My
skills lie in finding connections and links between things rather than
in the
sitting, being and listening that would be required if I were to take a
phenomenological approach. 2) I am not really interested in individual
experience per se, rather in the group experience of the phenomenon.
Breadth of
experience rather than depth is my aim so that concepts and links can
be
generated 3) I don’t want to ‘bracket off’ my own assumptions but use
them as a
resource and involve them in the theoretical sensitivity required by
Grounded
Theory. Email dated 16/10/2009
Grounded
Theory
The
rise of grounded theory as a research method from its conception in the
1960’s
to the present day is well documented along with the various debates
surrounding the progress or evolution of the method (Mills et al
2006:2). Some
writers, Hood for example, argue for only a pure interpretation of the
method
to be classified as Grounded Theory (with capitalization to denote it
as a
proper name), with all other interpretations to be classified as
research using
grounded theory principles (Hood 2007:151ff). However, in her
introduction to
the 2008 edition of Basics of Qualitative
Research, Juliet Corbin - long time associate of Anselm
Strauss, co-founder of grounded theory - highlights
the
outdated view that only one “grounded
theory” approach is
possible, instead many different approaches which aim to generate
theory from
data are now legitimately recognised as grounded theory, further noting
that
‘each evolution has been an attempt to modernize or extend the original
method,
bringing it more into line with contemporary thought’ (p.viii).
Corbin’s move
away from ‘pure’ grounded theory was influenced by a belief that all
theories
are reflections of a researchers’ interpretation and position and are
as such
not to be taken as ‘categorical truth’ (p. ix). The
early
focus in grounded theory of researcher
objectivity is replaced
by an awareness of the researcher being placed ‘right at the heart of
the
study’ with an aim that respondents would be enabled to ‘talk for
themselves’
(ibid. p vii).
Chiovitti
and Piran (2003) emphasise the need for a detailed explanation of the
inquiry
process used, for in grounded theory, as with all qualitative research,
‘there
is more than one version of how researchers can go about implementing
procedures’ (p 428). As this detail forms an essential part of the
ongoing
analytic cycle, it will be included in the data analysis and
discussion.
Nevertheless, a brief outline of the basic elements of grounded theory
that
were used in the study may be useful here.
Firstly,
a research project utilising grounded theory has as its sole aim, the
generation of a theory which gives a conceptual explanation (Holton
2007:268)
of the research problem rather than seeking an answer to any
predetermined
research question. “Thick” or “rich” description of a phenomena or
experience
may often be a by product of the data collected, (Corbin & Strauss
2008:53-56) but to retain the title of grounded theory, the development
of
theory must always be the goal. This is achieved by developing
increasingly
abstract ideas about the research participants’ meanings, actions and
words and then searching out further
data to confirm, expand and flesh out the categories which will
eventually
generate the theory (Charmaz 2005:508). To
do this, Charmaz proposes that grounded
theory researchers need to remain close to their studied worlds (ibid)
whilst
at the same time acknowledging how their prior experience and tacit
knowledge
will impact upon the research world and thus affect the end theory
(Cutcliffe
2000.1479). Secondly, a grounded theory research project can be used to
collaboratively construct meaning from the data (Charmaz 2003:250) and in doing so can make the invisible,
visible (Lempert 2007:253) through giving true voice to those
participating in
the study. This view resonated with my own and confirmed grounded
theory as
providing the best fit for the study.
However,
I was not unaware of the difficulties associated with attempting to use
grounded
theory. As a novice researcher,
to attempt to generate an ‘integrated theoretical formulation’ (Corbin
&
Holt 2005:49) about a population where little theory already exists to
guide
and inform, could present a rather large undertaking. It went against
any advice
to begin with data that is close at hand and readily accessible; to
select a
topic appropriate to that data and not attempt to reinvent the wheel
(Silverman
2000:28).Without pre existing theory or
literature to link concepts and data to, there is a
danger of
simply producing lists describing the respondents experiences and not
taking
the analysis cycle to enough depth. Conversely, the danger is of
rushing
indiscriminately to theorising (Bryant & Charmaz 2007:14), again
disregarding the depth of analysis required.
A
further problematic feature of grounded theory is the ongoing ambiguity
of the
project in which final decisions regarding direction cannot be made
until late
on in the project (Morse 2009:18). This feature is one which novice
researchers
may find the hardest to live with and may result in attempts to ‘force’
the
data into categories in order to find resolution (Glaser 1992b:23).
Finally, the role of the
researcher in
making meaning means there was always the danger that I would not find
anything
I did not want or expect to find, (Darlington & Scott 2002:17)
through
being selective in both my data collection and my coding. However, the
use of
an audit trail as a verification tool along with the peer and
participant
checking methods (see data analysis) made
it unlikely that any obvious themes in the data could be overlooked.
The more
obvious danger was, in contrast, that I would find something completely
unexpected through a deliberate, analytic respect for the data (Stern
2009:58)
and would then be flummoxed as how to proceed with this. Indeed
qualitative
research can serve to reveal paradoxes and processes of which even the participants are unaware (Morse 1998
cited in Charmaz 2005:512 emphasis added), making the expectation of
the
unexpected an essential part of the project.
These
difficulties were kept in mind throughout the duration of the research
project
and served as important points of reflection, demonstrating the
reflexivity
which characterises practitioner research.
My
experience as a researcher has been a source of great reflection,
inner struggle and ethical questioning. Some of the difficulty occurred
because
of my being a nurse as well as a researcher. At times I wondered if I
was first
a nurse and then a researcher, or first a researcher and then a nurse.
Sometimes, the difficulty arose because of my experiences as a mother,
wife,
midwife, woman or professor. In other words, the research experience
and all
the reflection and struggle happened in part, because of
who I am. And I don’t want to change that. (Moch 2000a:7 emphasis added)
This extended opening
quote neatly summarises many
of the characteristics of practitioner research, particularly the idea
that the
research experience is directly affecting by the “being” of the
researcher. For
me, the most compelling feature of practitioner research is that it is
born out
of both
personal
experience
and
a need to know (McLeod 1999:8). This neatly sums up my
thinking
around the challenges which I face in my practice – I know how it is
for me,
but how is it for you? As Roberts records, personal experience can be
the very
starting point of a study whilst Reinharz takes this a step further to
note
that ‘feminist researchers frequently start with an issue that bothers
them
personally and then use everything they can get hold of to study it’
(1992:259).
The
expectation that I could use my own skills and strengths as a
practitioner as
part of the ‘everything’ required to conduct the research rather than
having to
need to develop a whole new set, outside and beyond those needed, is a
positive
aspect of practitioner research. Some of the skills Corbin and Strauss
highlight as a requirement for a grounded theory researcher include the
drawing
upon of past experience and theoretical knowledge in order to interpret
what is
seen in the data (Strauss & Corbin 1990:18). These soft skills -
along with
the reflexivity - which is a necessary part of my practice, combined
with IT
and administration skills, gave me enough confidence to undertake this
research
project.
Often,
knowledge gained within the context of practice is perceived to be of
greater
value than any conducted by outsiders who cannot possibly know how it
is to be
in these situations and practitioner researchers are able to be
actively
involved in discovering and developing new forms of knowledge which may
be
unavailable to an outside researcher. This new knowledge, constructed
for
practitioners by practitioners, is aimed at directly benefitting
practice. So,
in my situation, I envisage my findings will have an impact upon the
way in
which I work with professionals, whether this is through a greater
understanding of the dynamics of the relationship, through finding an
avenue of
change and transforming those dynamics, or simply through gaining a new
awareness of myself as a practitioner.
If,
however, the aim of practitioner research is that research should
always be
undertaken for a purpose, with a definite intent rather than for its
own sake,
(Fox et al. 2007:76), then successfully researching the working
relationships
between parents and professionals must culminate in knowledge which can
be
utilised in some form within the realm of practice. Although the desire
to
understand and interpret human behaviour can be a powerful motivator
when
seeking knowledge (Habermas 1971), practitioner research necessarily
requires a
commitment to advancing my own practice, rather than simply to satisfy
my own
curiosity. Accordingly, my research was designed to explore the
dynamics of the
relationships with the explicit aim of using the findings within a
practice
context, whether localised or for a wider audience. However, through
undertaking the project and engaging with the methods, theories and
debates
surrounding practitioner research, my own learning, critical awareness
and
practice skills have undoubtedly been enhanced (Fox et al 2007:81-2).
Practitioner research can therefore be seen as a method of professional
development rather than simply an onerous task performed as an academic
necessity.
My own
position is as a member of the group of practitioners who participated
in the
research, therefore it was a not unreasonable expectation that the
majority of
the intended respondents would be known to me, either professionally,
through collaborative
involvement in parent carer projects, or socially. Rather than this
being a
hindrance to my work, I feel that it was, in fact, a benefit offering
me a
vantage point that was not available to those outside of the group.
There was
no need to artificially insert a new group member in order to collect
the data
(Fielding 1993:158) and this ‘lived experience’ offered the opportunity
to
co-construct a reality with the respondents in such a way as to make me
an
equal resource in the research, for us to ‘make meaning’ together.
(Darlington
& Scott 2002:49) Oakley terms this ‘interactive research’ (Oakley
1981:45)
although as Wainwright clearly notes, managing my relationship with the
respondents
was an important aspect of the study (Wainwright 1997:9). Steps were
taken to
ensure that any emancipatory effect of research was not only for me, at
the
expense of my colleague parent carers (Mockler 2007:89) through the
ongoing
disciplines of reflection, respondent feedback and the conscious intent
to do
no harm, expressed in respect, beneficence and justice (Miner-Rubino
&
Jayaratne 2007:315). The concrete manifestation of these principles lay
in the
personal invitation to participate, detailed informed consent and
availability
of materials, and time, where needed, to reflect upon the experience.
Practitioner
research
and
grounded theory
Grounded
theory is an ideal methodology for practitioner research in its
explicit use of
theoretical sensitivity as a tool in theory building. This sensitivity
comes
directly from the researcher position and refers to the ways in which
practice
experience and knowledge are used as resources to heighten the
awareness of the
subtleties and meanings of the data collected (Strauss & Corbin
1990:41) in
order to separate that which is pertinent to the particular area under
scrutiny. In addition, the recognition that the theory generated from
the study
is the result of one particular construction which unequivocally
reflects my
position as a practitioner researcher (Corbin & Strauss 2008:ix)
brings
freedom from any objective search for one categorical truth about the
data.
Finally, if the chosen methodology should match some of the
personality,
character and skills of the researcher in order that a good fit between
the two
should ensue (ibid:11), then for my
practice, grounded theory in which meaning is collaboratively
constructed with
fellow practitioners through simultaneous data collection and analysis
is the
ideal fit.
Data
Collection
and
Analysis
All is data (Glaser 1998:8)
Data
collection
The initial data
collection method
chosen was semi-structured interviews, which fit well with the research
paradigm and methodology through a reflexive, joint authored creation
of
knowledge (Gordon 1998 cited in Wimpenny & Gass 2000:1487) through
which
meaning can be constructed. Grounded theory interviews ‘seek to follow
the
major concerns or point of view’ of the participants (ibid. 1487) and
rely upon
the skill of the researcher to not ‘lead the participant nor interrupt,
thereby
cutting off a stream of potentially important data’ (Morse 2007:230).
The
research plan was that subsequent interviews would focus on theory
development,
requiring perhaps different questions as I attempted to refine the
constructs
which were emerging through the analysis of the previous interview
data.
Alongside this, in accord
with the paradigm being employed to frame the research, I sought always
to take
an openly collaborative approach in which I was happy to respond to
participants’ questions about my experience and about me as a person
(Oakley
1981). The interviews became real two way conversations through which
experiences were shared, compared and discussed, so that some depth of
meaning
could be elicited together. In this way, I hoped to avoid any sense of
exploitation
for the interviewee as I wanted them to leave with a real feeling that
together
we have explored some of the issues that surround our working
relationships.
This reflects a feminist approach to interviewing which relies very
much upon
the ‘formulation of a relationship between interviewer and interviewee
as an
important element in achieving the quality of the information required’
(Rapoport & Rapoport 1976:31 cited in Oakley 1981:44). This
relationship
also enabled an immediacy to be captured within the data which also
allowed any
confusions or misunderstandings to be checked at the time of the
interview.
There are numerous instances recorded in the transcripts where the
interviewee
corrects my assumptions, clearly demonstrating that the interviews were
definitely not simply an exercise in answering questions but truly
contained
that element of meaning construction that I had hoped for.
For example, in one
interview, I concluded that the professionals could somehow be
construing this
parent as receiving their ‘comeuppance’ in some small way and suggested
as
such;
Researcher:
So was it a case of “Well,
so now you know what it’s like madam”?
Parent
2:
No,
no,
not
at all. I got a lot of
support.
The parent then went on to
outline a
brief theory of how personal experience can change professional
behaviour,
which was not a direction I had thought of taking. This interview met
the
expectations of grounded theory as the participant gave their account
of their
experience (Starks & Brown Trinidad 2007:1375). I am aware that
these
interviews only produced data around what people say and think as
opposed to
what they actually do (Darlington & Scott 2002:51), but as I was
primarily
interested in how parent carers experienced their working
relationships, which
necessarily uses thoughts and feelings to construct meaning, actions
were of
less importance to me in this piece of research.
One criticism linked to
this, may be surrounding the accuracy and validity of the participant
responses
and how I could be certain that what they were saying was true rather
than
simply being influenced by my presence and the desire to give me the
information I wanted. However, rather than being sidetracked into a
whole lot
of ‘modifications of the situational factors’ designed to reduce the
“dreaded”
interviewer effect (Hyman et al. 1954:94), I decided to follow Glaser
&
Strauss and take the view that,
[E]ven if some of the
evidence is not
entirely accurate this will not be too troublesome, for in generating
theory it
is not the facts upon which we stand but the conceptual
category... that was generated from it... (1967:23)
This “unscientific” stance
freed me
from any concerns regarding objectivity and truth and allowed me to
listen to
the participants telling their own story, in their own voice, from
their own
perspective, and for them to have their experiences believed and
accepted as
legitimate sources of reality. This
fits
with
my
rejection of a positivist search for a truth “out there” and
allowed me to explore the subjective worlds we share as parent carers
working together
as professionals.
However, this reliance
upon subjective truth should never detract from the trustworthiness of
both the
research and the record of that (Olesen 2007:429), and one way of
ensuring this
is retained is through the support of an audit trail (Bowen 2009). An audit trail should ‘document
chronologically and systematically what [the researcher] did, how they
did it,
and how they arrived at their interpretations’ (p. 305) and should
encompass
trustworthiness, credibility, transferability, dependability and
confirmability. Any charge that researchers ‘choose evidence
selectively,
clean up subjects’ statements,
unconsciously adopt value – laden metaphors [and] assume omniscience’
(Charmaz
2003:269) can be refuted through the use
of an audit trail. The, simplified, audit trail for this study takes
the form
of research notes and log book, interview transcripts and coding tables
and the
written data produced through the later workshop. This material is only
available to the examiners and will not be published. This lines up
with
Charmaz’ observation that word limitations in books and journals (and
here
academic dissertations) restrict space for full accounts of research
methods
(Charmaz cited in Olesen 2007:424) and also serves to protect participant
anonymity, whilst at the same time clearly evidences the steps taken
throughout
the research to develop the emerging theory.
Analytic memo writing was
used throughout the study, with dated records of feelings, impressions
and
thoughts which aimed in some way to gain both the analytic distance
needed to
move away from simple description towards conceptualisation (Lempert
2007:249)
and to chart the journey through data collection and analysis so that
it became
more than an internal conversation in which significant processes may
have been
lost. As Johnson (2001) notes, this act of memo writing is more than
the type
of reflection practiced in the shower (p.53) as it shifts onto a
technical
level where the very act of doing – in this case writing – becomes
analogous
with thinking. Cohen links thinking and writing with the possibility
that the
only time we think is when we write (1977 cited in Johnson 2001:57) and
I
certainly found memo writing to be a useful analytic tool in the study.
One early memo (dated
1/11) concerns the uncertainty contained in beginning a study as a
novice
researcher and the responsibility to the participants’ material, to ‘do
my
best’ with it (Roberts 2007:27). It describes the decision to firstly
“have a
go” at coding an account of my own experiences before attempting to
even
undertake an interview! This memo serves
in some way to begin to justify the inclusion of my own account within
the data
collection, as an initial endeavour to ‘feel my own way through and
into the
research’ (Corbin & Strauss 2008:x). This also served as a
mechanism to
allow me to find my own voice within the research process in a
deliberate
effort to move away from an objective, academic style of reporting in
which silent
authorship comes to mark mature scholarship (Charmaz & Mitchell
1996:286).
Data
collection (1): Autoethnography
As noted above, my foray
into autoethnography resulted more from a need to situate myself as a
participant researcher and find my voice than any commitment to the
practice
per se. In addition there were more practical reasons for beginning the
coding
process with my own account and this was due to a delay in gaining
ethical
approval from the University. What I discovered through this recording
of my
own story, was that a personal narrative can be used as ‘a method to
avoid the
objectification of more scientific methods of research by erasing the
boundaries between the self of the researcher and the researched’
(Bocher &
Ellis 2002). In addition, then, to
our
shared identities as parent carer practitioners, I felt that I had
undergone a
similar “interview” experience as the participants in the study.
However, unlike those
participating in the research, I did not need to frame my account for a
particular audience, nor was I truly “telling” my story to anyone, it
was
simply a record I needed to practise coding upon. If legitimate
autoethnography
requires the writing of a reflexive personal narrative (Denzin &
Lincoln
2005:645), then my bald statement of facts falls far short of anything
deserving such a title! It is fair to say at this point that I was
unaware of
how different my story would seem in comparison to the actual
interviews and so
in complete naivety and innocence I began the coding process.
The majority of the memos
composed during this period of waiting to conduct the interviews are
concerned
with the actual process of coding data rather than any response to the
data or
to the concepts that were beginning to form. The greatest difficulty
was not
just to describe the data but to find relationships within that data
which
necessarily required some interpretation (Strauss & Corbin
1990:29). The
second hurdle was to use theoretical sensitivity whilst at the same
time not
forcing the data into preconceived codes, chosen solely because of my
familiarity with my own story. Grounded theory aims to explain
phenomena
(Holton 2007:272) rather than to attribute meaning to that phenomena
(ibid.
p.268), a subtle but important difference that can be difficult for the
inexpert researcher to initially achieve. Memos
detail
the basic errors that were being made
during this first
coding cycle:
30/11
Mistake of attempting to code the whole account in detail rather
than just the passage particularly dealing with the professional
relationships.
End up with too much information and it takes too much time.
30/11 Need
to consider the meanings of the terms being used and the codes
rather than just them as descriptors of the data – ie what does
“knowledge”
mean here? Who owns/controls it?
Fortunately, through the
continual
return to the literature during this preliminary coding cycle, (Saldaña, 2009; Corbin &
Strauss
2008;Charmaz 2006), these errors were soon identified and were not
carried over
into the next phase of data collection – the interview phase.
Data
collection (2) – Individual
interviews
In accordance with the
“rules” of grounded theory (Hood 2007), a pool of possible interview
candidates
were identified through personal invitation to participate and an email
“mailshot”. This purposeful sampling sought
out
individuals who had experience of the
phenomena to be studied
and was therefore more detailed than simple convenience sampling (Morse
2007:38) but the decision as to whether to contact people for an
interview at
that point was based on the concepts arising from the previous data
analysis.
This theoretical sampling has its
foundations in Strauss & Corbin’s interpretation of Glaser &
Strauss
original method and not only ‘allows sampling on
the
basis of concepts emerging’ as above, but
also enables further
verification of hypotheses while they are being developed’ (1990:46).
For this study then, the
first parent carer working in a professional role to be interviewed
needed to
be someone who had had a dissimilar experience to my own. I was
employed in a
completely different field until the birth of my child so deliberately
searched
for an individual who had remained broadly within their same field in
order to
compare and contrast the findings (Morse 2007:240). This jump straight
from the
coding cycle into theoretical sampling without ploughing through a
serious
number of introductory interviews may seem precocious but it was needed
for two
reasons. Firstly, as discussed in the population
sample and definitions the number of available participants was
very small
and secondly, the time limitations did not allow for a large number of
individual interviews. It is here that grounded theory as a method
really
shines, as the consensus is that there is now no single prescriptive formula that needs to be rigidly followed,
rather grounded theory has become a more general qualitative method of
conducting research (Charmaz 2009:127) so I could move from one phase
into
another with absolute freedom. Hood (2007) disputes this view and
argues
strongly that only a purist form of the method should be awarded the
title
‘Grounded Theory’ - complete with capitalization - lesser methods,
particularly
those which confuse purposeful and theoretical sampling (as may well be
the case
here) should go by the title of Generic Inductive Qualitative Model.
Hers
appears to be a lone voice and as many of Glaser and Strauss’ original
canons
have since been overturned in favour of wider interpretations I am
confident in
my own employment of the method and its dictates here.
Interviews as a primary
method of data collection are used throughout qualitative research
(Starks
& Brown Trinidad 2007:1375) as each one can produce rich, dense
data
(Hycner 1985), meaning a study can be completed if necessary with fewer
participants– which is useful in an area where there is only a small
pool of
possible candidates for inclusion to begin with. Corbin & Strauss
(2008) stress that it is the skill of
the interviewer that is important rather than the number of interviews
undertaken and Morse (2007) confirms this with the adage that ‘more bad
data
does not make good data’ (p.231) going on to comment that ‘it is
necessary to
locate excellent participants to obtain excellent data’. Finally, Hyman
et al
(1954) add to this with the reminder that thorough and accurate
recording is
needed (p.89) to consolidate all the above elements and make each
interview a
positive, useful source of data.
Semi-structured interviews were used, these being more
successful in obtaining dense data than those which are rigidly
composed, but
less useful than those which are completely unstructured
(Corbin & Morse 2003). However, I felt
that I needed a certain amount of structure in order to guide me
through the
process of conducting fairly in depth interviews with people that I
already
knew. I also felt that it would assist in creating a sense of equity
amongst
participants who knew each other and were likely to meet up at various
points
in the year if roughly the same questions were used to open each area
of
inquiry. In addition, I hoped that the use of the same questions which
had
guided my own account would further the sense of a non-hierarchical
structure
to the study where all involved are equal participants (Campbell &
Bunting
1991). All interviews were tape recorded
and later transcribed using voice recognition software and participants
were
offered a copy of their transcript to check, only one accepted. In
accordance
with the ethos of the study, none of the transcripts will be published
but will
be available to the examiners in order that participant identity is
protected.
The four broad areas
discussed in
each interview were:
1.
Motivations
for seeking employment in the field of disability
2.
The
experience of working in both formal and informal settings with service
providers who may be working with the participant and their family
3.
Whether
participants would remain in their same field of employment if
disability no
longer affected their family
4.
Work/leisure
boundaries with their family
Within these areas, the
interview was
generally able to follow the direction that the participant wished to
take. However, the mere existence of
these areas of interest suggested that a ‘conceptual map of the
phenomenon’
already existed within my own preliminary thinking and that this
pre-existent
map may then have served to ‘limit the interview and reduce the
potential
depth’ (Wimpenny & Gass 2000:1490). In defence of this, the project
was
designed to look at one particular aspect of parent carer experience
and
without this frame there was always the risk that the data produced
would be of
poor quality for the research purposes. Additionally, grounded theory
interviews are themselves aimed at beginning broadly but become more
specific
as the theoretical concepts emerge and need developing (ibid. 1490). Here, the specificity simply began a little
earlier.
It needed a lot of care
and effort on my part to ensure that the interview did not descend into
a type
of interrogation and remained an interactive conversation, in line with
both
the methodology of the study where direct questions should never be
asked
(Glaser 1992:25) and to preserve the participant’s freedom to control
the flow
of information. The major source of difficulty lay in that my skills as
a practitioner
were more in conducting the type of interviews in which the salient
facts need
to be identified precisely and clearly in order for a specific task to
be
completed. This “free form” style was a new development for me, but
could be
viewed in the positive light of enhancing my development as both
researcher and
practitioner (Fox et al 2007:81-2). However, as it was an awareness of
my own
ability and preferred style that had caused me to choose grounded
theory over
phenomenology (see methodology & methods), this enabled me to be
prepared
and to work hard to ensure a balance of interviewer/interviewee time
(Kvale
1996) was deliberately accorded.
A post-interview comment
sheet was used to capture an immediate response (Chiovitti & Piran
2003),
particularly to note elements of surprise or excitement (Miles &
Huberman
1984). As Morse et al (2002) outline, identifying features which cause
surprise
can enable the identification of one’s own personal constructions
surrounding
the phenomenon under study.
The transcription of the
interviews
was a tiresome, but essential research task.
Memo
23/11 It is so difficult and
time-consuming to transcribe
data. I am not an accomplished audio typist and find the process
reduced to
frustrated efforts to capture what at the time seemed such a rich
source of
data but now is dry and dusty words on a screen.
The use of voice
recognition software
removed much of this frustration although the same amount of time was
then
taken. It did however have the benefit of bringing me back into close
contact
with the data, as transcription by the researcher, as opposed to by a
member of
the admin team, enables a re-engagement with the data and a chance to
revisit
some of the ideas (Morse et al 2009:192) and to begin some preliminary
sorting
as an emphasis on particular ideas and themes started to reveal itself.
The transcript was then
coded and the literature searched for insight on any concepts and
themes that
were emerging before the next interview took place. Each subsequent
interview was
aimed at filling the gaps or confirming some thoughts from the data
analysis
that had occurred this far. This was not as easy as it may at first
seem as it
is fairly challenging to identify participants who will have the right information for that precise point
in the study, especially when there are only a few possible candidates.
Later
interviews included a number of targeted questions in order to verify
the
emerging theory (Morse 2007:240) , although at this point is was much
less a
theory and more an ambiguous mish mash
of thoughts and ideas which very much needed sitting with and
reflecting on in
order to find the direction in which to take the project (Morse
2009:21).
Data
collection (3) – participant
workshop
The next stage of data
collection was initially envisaged as a focus group which I saw as
adding to
the research by enabling the details of the working relationships,
which may have
been forgotten or overlooked in the interviews, to be expressed through
the
sharing or comparing of knowledge (Leavy 2007:174). One parent carer’s
experience, or the way in which they responded to it, may resonate with
others
who, until that point, did not have that knowledge in an accessible
form. In
addition, the oppressive character of some daily experiences can often
be
revealed within a group setting as individuals, who have become
hardened to
unequal power dynamics through repeated episodes, or who have perhaps
repressed
the experiences in order to continue to function successfully at work
(ibid.
p.182), are enabled to revisit these. Focus groups, therefore, can
allow the
researcher deeper access to data that would otherwise be unavailable.
In
addition, focus groups are designed to produce the same type of rich
data as an
in depth interview (Basch 1987:434) and therefore are a good match with
the
earlier phase of the research – the data would be of a similar type and
in a
similar format and would use the same coding formulas.
However, as the
individual interviews proceeded, I found I was drawn more to a
collaborative
workshop type activity in which, together, parent carers and I could
consider
the findings and the outlines of the theory in order to finalise the
findings
and neatly tie up any loose ends. I also found that my rationale for
proposing
a focus group – motivated by the need to ensure that participants felt
safe and
able to share thoughts and feelings from a difficult and marginalised
position
(Leavy 2007:173) – was simply not needed. Throughout the interviews,
and
whenever I talked to likely participants, there was a sense of them
wanting to
share their experiences and being more than able and articulate enough
to do
so. A final factor in my rejection of a focus group model lay in a lack
of
confidence in my own ability to successfully run, record and enjoy such
a
group. Instead, in keeping with practitioner research, I chose to use
my
professional knowledge and run a workshop.
Morse (2007) terms this
type of data collection activity ‘theoretical group interviews’ as they
are
designed with the specific purpose of finishing the puzzle,
facilitating the
analysis and adding information (p.241). I
prepared a number of activities that were intended
to be completed in
small groups, with the whole group coming together to agree the
response to be
recorded (Appendix 3). This design
was chosen deliberately to protect participant identity by obscuring,
or
removing, any distinctive or dominant voices, although it was agreed
that any
radically conflicting views would be recorded. The workshop was
recorded but
not transcribed as this was simply an aide memoir if needed – the data
was
captured on the completed worksheets.
Seven parent carers
attended the workshop and cakes were baked and shared by one
participant,
making the event a very positive one from the outset. However the group
did not
immediately grasp the language or concepts that I was presenting and
some time
was taken up exploring and explaining these. This is probably due to my
having
lived with the data and the research for a long period of time and thus
having
placed implicit rather than explicit ideas in my material.
This demonstrated that practitioner
researchers do not just need theoretical sensitivity, but also the
ability to
translate the language of concepts and categories of the data into
clear statements
for participants to work with. Once again, the success of the data
collection
is dependent upon the skill of the researcher (Strauss & Corbin
1990:18).
Karp (1996) summarises this problem by noting that ‘ issues, worked on
nearly
daily for [a period of time] become so familiar that bringing them into
clear
focus seems impossible’. Fortunately, the need for explanation and
illumination
worked as a vehicle for the workshop to operate as a real experience of
‘dynamic interaction between the researcher and the researched’
(Hesse-Biber
2007:320). The participants, as
expected, were vocal and eager to share their experiences and the
energy and
balance differed from the individual interviews as the participants
interacted
with one another and with me as we considered their responses to the
activities. Early on in the proceedings, the challenge that I perhaps
should be
a neutral voice without an opinion was addressed through further
reference to
practitioner research and my hope that I could place myself right in
the centre
of the study along with the participants (Corbin & Strauss 2008:4)
and I
feel this was achieved in the workshop as we genuinely constructed
knowledge
together (ibid. p10).
Early preparation for the
(then) focus group included considering the possibilities of
conscientization
(Friere 1998) as the research process had the possibility of revealing
the
oppressive character of some of the daily interactions of the working
relationships under scrutiny. The practical outworking of this was
expected to
take the form of information sources representing employer/employee
relationships such as ACAS being made available to participants at the
end of
the workshop. Instead, as the analysis took shape ready for the
session, the
central concepts emerging were around disability and choice rather than
equality and status in employment. Because of the need to ‘respect the
data’
even if I wasn’t finding quite what I had expected (Noerager Stern
2009:58), I
needed to offer resources that dealt with these concepts and which
enabled
participants to spend time after the workshop reflecting upon their
experiences. An article by Vic Finklestein (1975) and another by
Smoller (1986)
were identified as representing a balanced view of disability models
and
construction of knowledge and these were given along with references to
some of
the literature referred to. (Appendix 4)
Data
collection (4) – email responses
Finally, in order to
reach as many of the limited number of parent carers that were eligible
to be
included in the study, an email ‘mailshot’ was used in which the
activities
from the workshop could be completed individually and returned
electronically.
This was sent to eight possible candidates but unfortunately only two
were returned. The return rate of 25%
looks impressive but
illustrates the deceptive nature of statistics. However, this last step
was
needed in order that every possible avenue to increase participation
had been
explored and that the theory building could use as wide a range of data
as was
available at that point in time.
Data
analysis
One of the key
differences between grounded theory and other qualitative research
methods is
that data collection and analysis are performed in a continuous cycle
where one
informs the other, each stage having implications for the direction of
the
next. As the founders of grounded theory describe it:
...the analyst jointly
collects,
codes and analyzes his data and decides what data to collect next and
where to
find them in order to develop his theory as it emerges. (Glaser &
Strauss
1967:45)
For
ease
of
reading, although data analysis
and collection in the study occurred simultaneously rather than in
discrete
stages, they are presented separately here. I am aware of the criticism
that
this narrative presentation ‘slurs the methodology’ (Suddaby 2006:637)
but feel
that any other attempt at presentation may simply confuse both me and
the
reader.
Coding the collected data
is the ‘core process’ (Holton 2007:264) of data analysis in grounded
theory
methods and although it is used in many other types of research, for
grounded
theorists it is only through coding that concepts can be abstracted and
the
categories that will eventually form the
theory can begin to emerge directly from the data. Linked to this
central
process is the writing of memos as a record of the ongoing products of
analysis
(Corbin & Strauss 2008:117) so that an ‘ongoing, developmental
dialogue ‘(Shatzman
& Strauss 1973:9) with the data can be tracked throughout the
project.
Accordingly, I followed these foundational procedures in the hope that
using the
correct processes would result in the correct theory!
Although I found I was
excited about the prospect of beginning to code my data, as a novice
researcher, I had no experience of exactly how to do this and my
excitement was
tempered with fear generated from statements such as ‘the excellence of
the
research rests in large part on the excellence of the coding’ (Strauss
1987:27)
in which the success of the study depended entirely upon my abilities
in
applying a process I know very little about. In
contrast,
memo writing was a technique familiar
to me through the
ongoing use of reflection throughout my academic studies and practice
and so
could be used to enhance the practitioner researcher element of the
analytic
process.
Memos from this early
stage of coding clearly illustrate my grappling with the process and
procedures
of coding rather than addressing any content of the data. The main
theme
appears to be the need to refrain from simply describing the data
alongside an
attempt to keep the purpose of coding uppermost in my mind.
1/11 Need to not just code – as
this will simply describe (Corbin
& Strauss 1990:29) but need to find relationships between the data
to build
theory with – requires interpretation.
One of the eventual goals
of GT is to formulate categories from, codes – so not to lose sight of
the
reasons for coding
Theoretical
sensitivity
Strongly
linked with the technique of skilled, non descriptive and purposeful
coding, as
the vehicle through which such success can be achieved, is another of
grounded
theory’s foundations – theoretical sensitivity. This key attribute
describes
the manner by which the researcher’s background and professional
knowledge can
enable the coding process through a familiarity with the broad areas of
debate,
the narrower local context and the reflexivity of practitioner research
(Dey
2007:168ff). This suggests that codes are not arrived at through a
pre-defined
hypothesis, but nor can they be expected to emerge “fully formed” from
the raw
data if one would only look hard enough at it. Instead, the researcher
is
expected to use ‘reflexive self awareness to gain access to the
underlying or
implicit meanings of the study’ (McLeod 1999:8).This realisation gave
enough
confidence in my own practice ability to facilitate the initial
attempts at
coding. As previously mentioned, a delay in ethical agreement resulted
in a
delay in data collection so my coding began with the written account of
my
experiences.
Open coding
The
influence of research that prescribes definite procedures in order for
analysis
to qualify as ‘grounded theory’ (Hood 2007; Strauss & Corbin 1990;
Glaser
& Strauss 1967) can be clearly seen in this first ‘stab’ at coding (Table 1 below) and significant time was
spent on getting the layout of the page correct as per the literature:
Information
Source
1
(I.1)
Page layout as
Liamputtong &
Ezzy (2005:270-3) cited in Saldana (2009:17)
Raw Data
|
Preliminary
Codes
|
Final Code
|
I experienced the
difficulties of the ‘system’ – the inequalities around
knowledge, provision and resources and the need to ‘fight’ for
everything – very little was freely offered.
|
Personal experience
Difficulties of System
Inequality
Knowledge as resource
Fight
|
|
The most powerful thing
was information – about rights; about services; education;
benefits etc. I became very aware and picked up information wherever
possible, at conferences, exhibitions etc that I attended. I was always
willing to learn more
|
Information as power
Rights
Awareness raising
Sources of information
Proactive
Desire for knowledge
|
Power
|
Table 1 –
Excerpt from interview(1)
Memos
written during the coding remonstrate about my lack of skills with
publishing
layouts as I grappled with keeping the text static whilst adding codes
to the
sides. A further period spent with the literature centring on
techniques and
procedures resulted in the addition of a need for process codes which
sought to
isolate both actions and consequences of those actions through the
exclusive
use of gerunds (“-ing” words) (Saldaña 2009:77). The
process codes
added to the passage (Table 1) - in
pencil in the margins as this was much more efficient than attempting
to
reformat the data - were fighting for
rights/services, information gathering, conscientizing. The accompanying memo expands on these:
2/11 Fighting
for rights/services –a
necessary part of everyday life with a disabled child in order to
receive appropriate
services (Beresford et al 1996). Fighting → getting needs met
appropriately. In
order to do this, knowledge of both rights and available resources is
required,
so information is key to the ability to fight, or rather, fighting is the consequence
of information gathering.
Line by line analysis of
the data proved to be a
challenging task as I preferred to take a more immediate, overall view
of each
section of the transcript. However, as this initial, holistic stance
may
disguise or obscure important coding opportunities a more
phenomenological
approach was taken where initial impressions were “bracketed off” so
that the
data could speak for itself rather than having any form imposed upon it
(Wimpenny & Gass 2000:1487). Unfortunately, this positivist
expectation
that the “truth” would then arise from the page of the transcript
(ibid.)
served to prohibit any notion of theoretical sensitivity from operating
and the
approach was abandoned. What was found to be supportive was the notion
that
‘trusting one’s intuitive sense of the conceptualization process’
(Holton
2007:266) was enough to enable codes and categories to begin to emerge
through
the coding process.
It was important to ensure
that coding was not
simply producing labels with accompanying raw data piled up under those
labels
and that reflection was actually taking place (Corbin & Strauss
2008:163).
It is in this reflection that the conceptual links can begin to be made
and
when these are recorded through systematic memoing, the resulting audit
trail
may address one of the identified problems within grounded theory – of
rigour
in the analysis (Wasserman, Clair and Wilson 2009:355ff). In addition,
the
employment of theoretical knowledge meant that the codes were not
simply a
‘plethora of incoherent observations and descriptions’ (Kelle 2007:203)
nor
were they merely patterns in the transcripts (Dey 2007:177) but they
were
concepts actually generated from the data itself. It is important here
to
refute any accusation of suggesting the codes were objectively
available within
the data to anyone who was looking. It must always be remembered that a
grounded theory depends upon the location and position of the
researcher who
makes particular choices about the data dependent upon its purposes and
through
these choices, shapes the research (Corbin 2009:51).
In vivo
coding
The initial coding process
continued with subsequent
transcribed interviews and at one point ‘in vivo’ coding was used in an
effort
to retain the participants’ voices in the analysis as I felt this had
been lost
through my repeated exposure to both the literature and the data as I
now “knew
what I was on about”. In vivo coding uses the terms and words used by
the
participants themselves (Strauss 1987:33) with the aim of bracketing
off the
terminology found in academic texts and professional practices
(Stringer
1999:91). It is a method of honouring and prioritising (Saldaña 2009:74) the
voices of
the researched and as such resonated with the feminist approach of this
study
(King 1994:20).
The codes that were
generated using this process
looked very different from those previously generated For example:
Excerpt
from interview
|
Preliminary
code
|
In vivo code
|
Yes. They were very
informal with me. When they came into [work] they would be very
informal and would start talking about [my child] while I was at work.
I didn’t like it as that’s
private. And I’m quite a private person, I found that hard.
|
Information about you
Boundaries
One of us
Exposure
|
Just very informal with me
A private person
I didn’t like it
I found it hard
|
Table 2 - Excerpt
from interview(1)
In vivo coding is useful
to identify what is
significant to the participant and helps to preserve their ‘meanings of
their
views and actions’ (Charmaz 2006:55). In the extract above, the
participant
clearly declares an identity as a private person who did not like the
informality being encountered. In contrast, the initial codes failed to
link
boundaries and exposure with any notion of privacy nor were they
capturing the
emotions that the participant had expressed. A
memo
records:
30/11 In vivo
coding: passages move from language of choice and preference towards
compulsion
and need, the language of receiving – “give me”, “I got”.
The memo also notes how
much more flowing and
intuitive in vivo coding was which eased the process of coding long
interview
transcripts. Unfortunately, even with these positive attributes which
could
surely only enhance the analytic process, in vivo coding does not
protect the
anonymity of the participants sufficiently for me to continue using it.
The
rationale of the project has always been for identity to be protected
through
every stage which must include the analysis as well as the write up and
dissemination. Taking the extract above as an example, considerable
time was
spent pin pointing a section of the transcript that was fairly mundane
and
common to each interview so that any distinguishing language or
phraseology
could be avoided. A different approach
was needed in order to both safeguard anonymity and to bring a reality
check to
the codes being generated so a peer group coding session was planned as
part of
the ongoing academic supervision of the project.
Peer coding exercise
With the
specific permission of the interviewee, one page of the transcript was
given to
a group of fellow students and the senior lecturer who was supervising
the
research module. The aim was to individually code the page and then
bring the
findings together so that any extreme bias I may be bringing to the
coding
could be revealed and then accounted for. It was also a confidence
building
activity as I, in common with most novice grounded theory researchers,
had
found it difficult to move away from the specifics of the data to a
more
abstract concept (Weiner 2007:301). Interestingly, this process made it
evident
how the page layout that so carefully adhered to a research ideal (see
Liamputtong & Ezzy 2005 cited in Saldaña 2009:17 and Table 1) was influencing the coding. The tabular format
had the
effect of breaking up participant’s words so they would fit into the
space
allowed as opposed to reflecting natural pauses or separation of ideas.
Hence
codes were being artificially pushed into places where perhaps none
should have
been. Whilst later stages of coding endeavour to explicitly fragment
the data,
at this early stage a more holistic view was being sought. This
difficulty
aside, it was a relief to find that on the whole, the codes selected
through
this coding exercise tended to confirm my own choices, demonstrating
perhaps,
the common social constructions of research students!
Constant
comparison
Glaser & Strauss
(1967) introduced the term
‘constant comparison’ (Bryant & Charmaz 2007:43) to describe the
process by
which the ongoing data analysis (and collection) is designed for the
‘creative
generation of theory’ (p.103) through comparing incident with incident.
The
particular way in which this procedure epitomises grounded theory is in
the way
that the data is constantly in flux, as new concepts are generated,
past data
is scrutinised to find incidents to compare to this, and new data is
sought for
this specific comparisons. This could only work in a model where
analysis
begins as soon as the first data is collected and where, delightfully,
if
deviant cases occur, rather than negate a long held hypothesis, they
are simply
another incident to be coded and classified – there is no cause for
alarm
(Covan 2007: 63). For the purposes of comparison, the data is broken
down into
incidents, actions or processes (Glaser & Strauss 1967:108) which
will then
be put back together in new ways as the emerging theory demands. The
holistic
overview is no longer needed but remains a useful initial tool in order
that
the researcher can recall from memory some of the details rather than
need to
rely on an actual written note of each incident (ibid. 106).
In this study, one of the
earliest codes to be
generated was that of “experience”. Using the constant comparative
method an
example follows showing how the notion of the meaning of experience was
constructed and explored.
Experience was initially
categorised as:
- Shared identity
- Difference
- Currency
- Unavailable to
professionals
- Closed group
- Belonging
- Insider knowledge
This concept was then
further
abstracted as follows:
·
Having “had” the
experience of parenting a disabled
child → to go through; to know
·
Previous employment
experience with disabled
children → familiarity, knowledge
·
Experience as a parent →
to know, familiarity,
understanding
- Own personal experience
→to live through, to know , familiarity
- Levels/amount of
experience →exposure, knowledge, understanding
- Professional experience
→practice, familiarity, contact
- Experience as
understanding others → knowledge , understanding, to feel
- Role of experience
→familiarity, knowledge, to encounter
Therefore, if experience =
knowledge, and information = knowledge, then to live
it is to really know.
Further comparisons resulted in the generation of a category in which
“experience” is to know about it, to know
how it feels and to know what it means. Comparisons continued
throughout
the remainder of the analytic cycle until the final categories were
produced –
see Research Findings.
So,
for this first cycle of coding, open coding with accompanying memos,
informed
by theoretical sensitivity of data collected via theoretical sampling
with
constant comparison, means that much of the criteria for a grounded
theory
study had been achieved.
Reflection on the coding
process
Fairly early on in the
data collection cycle, the point of
theoretical saturation - where no new information was arising from the
data -
appeared to be reached. Over 300 initial codes had been identified yet
by the
fifth interview no fresh information was coming to light. That this
saturation
resembled more Stern’s (2007) account of being ‘bored’
(p117) rather than Glaser & Strauss’ (1967) experience
of reaching saturation whereby gaps in the emerging theory are almost,
if not
completely filled (p61) was something of a disappointment. Any romantic
ideas
that may be harboured about a theory emerging fully completed from the
data
(Stern 2009:59) were quashed as the long hard slog of construction and
interpretation beckoned instead. I needed to put myself, as a
practitioner
researcher, right at the heart of the study (Corbin & Strauss
2008:viii) which entailed more than
simply acknowledging a shared membership with the respondents taking
part, and instead
required some direct analytic work. What was needed now was a
significant
amount of time spent working directly with the data collected in these
initial
interviews in an attempt to tease out some of the less obvious themes
that were
being thrown up. This thematic analysis (Auerbach & Silverstein
2003) aimed
to organise the data into larger, more useful blocks as opposed to the
fragments that the initial coding had produced and was undertaken in
the
certain knowledge that simply adding new interview transcripts was not
the answer.
I needed to look again at the data I had.
This phase of the
analysis generated more questions than answers and the research took a
more
reflective turn as I grappled with the difficulties that a shared
identity and
discourse had effected on the data collected. This period of abstract
conceptualization, which, according to the ‘touch test’ (Saldaña
2009:187),
meant that categories did not refer to anything of physical substance,
was
anticipated to be one of the most enjoyable periods of the research. Rather than equating time spent thinking
about the data as self indulgent practice with limited rewards, I was
encouraged to grasp the opportunity to pause and reflect upon which
aspects of
the data were puzzling me; what stories were being told; where were the
plots
and the sub-plots, and how valuable were the answers to these
questions, both
to me as a practitioner researcher and to the research project itself.
Unfortunately, after a
prolonged period of reflection and consideration of the data and the
codes generated
in the first cycle, I found myself going around in circles. No further
information was emerging from my interaction with the data and my close
proximity to the field and familiarity with the interview transcripts
now were
such that it became difficult to see new possibilities (Alvesson &
Sköldberg 2000:17). I turned back to the literature in search of
my ‘eureka of
new, powerful explanations ‘(Leigh Star 2007:77). This approach
contrasted
sharply with that of grounded theory’s originators who direct
researchers to
only go back to the literature to determine if a category is there
(Strauss
& Corbin 1990:50).
Coding for social justice
From the outset of the
research project, issues of equality and hierarchy and the rights to
knowledge
and information had appeared. A concern for these topics had remained a
fixed
point throughout the duration of my postgraduate studies and was no
doubt
coloured by my own position as a member of the respondent group and the
theoretical sensitivity I brought to the project as a practitioner
working with
the effects of equality and rights on a daily basis. A re-reading of
Charmaz’
(2005) Grounded Theory in the 21st
Century, Applications for Advancing Social Justice Studies reminded
me of
the rationale behind my initial interest in the experience of parent
carers and
professional relationships in the workplace environment. Her
expectation that
any researcher who was interested in social justice would ‘note points
of
struggle and conflict and ... look for how participants defined and
acted in
such moments’ (p517) led me back to the data to do exactly that.
However, to go
back through all the transcripts to identify such moments in order to
code them
accordingly, felt like an overwhelming task for a novice researcher who
was
also trying to juggle paid employment and family life as well as study,
particularly when so many hours of coding had already been completed.
Fortunately, and excitingly, it appeared from the very start to throw
up some
new and very interesting concepts which were an encouragement to
persevere. The reminder from Glaser &
Strauss (1967)
that there is no need to code every incident for the new categories as
this
would simply add bulk to the codes and nothing to the theory (p.111)
meant that
I was able quickly to identify the points of conflict I was interested
in. This
resulted in around 20-30 incidents for each transcript which were then
analysed
for both action and definition – process codes (Table 3 below).
A
decision
was also made to summarise each incident
so that with identifying markers removed, the data could be widely used
if
needed. Once again, the IT dimension of research reared its head and
four of
the five transcripts were analysed by hand in pencil as this again was
a more
time efficient manner of completing the task.
Points of struggle and conflict
Table 3 –
Excerpt from coding for
social justice (1)
Area of
conflict
|
Action
|
Definition
|
Professional and personal responsibilities
and need to look after own health
|
Left profession
Used experience to help others to ‘get the
best out of the system’
|
No one else will look after me
-personal responsibility
The experience was valuable and could be used
|
Balancing request from profs. with own
responsibilities at home and work
|
Attempts to find solutions
|
I am expected to sort this out personal
responsibility
The child, rather than the system, is the
problem
|
For
the analysis in the table above, “definition” was an attempt to
identify the
‘ongoing action/interaction/emotion taken in response to situations or
problems’
(Corbin & Strauss 2008:96) and is a continued part of process
coding.
It was interesting to see
how once the data had been
fractured in this way it ceased to be simply “someone’s story” and
became the
purposeful data needed to build the theory. Each piece of data could be
numerically identified and traced back to the source if needed but in
this form
it enabled a distancing from the participants themselves so that their
words
could be scrutinised more closely. It is true that in transposing their
voices
a level of interpretation had certainly taken place, but as the
research was
framed within a paradigm of constructivism, ‘any theoretical rendering
will
offer an interpretive portrayal of the studied world, not an exact
picture of
it’ (Charmaz 2006:10) this
interpretation was to be expected.
For
this reason, the final stages of the data collection cycle included
participants being asked to work directly with these interpretations to
check
for validity, legitimacy and fit.
Second
cycle/axial coding
During this phase of the
analysis, the fragmented data needed to be organised in ways which
would
attribute depth of meaning to the codes, and begin to build the theory
by
strategically reassembling the data (Saldaña 2009:159). This stage
significantly reduces the
number of codes through a process of delimitation (Glaser & Strauss 1967:109-110) in which properties of a
categories are combined or dropped from the theory altogether through
becoming
redundant. The memos may also be coded and included in this stage of
analysis,
and final pieces of data may need to be collected. For this study, this
took
the form of the workshop and email activities mentioned in Data
Collection.
The aforementioned lack of
IT based
publishing skills necessitated a very old fashioned method of data
assembly in
which the process coding tables and memos were photocopied and cut up
into
concepts which were then organised into major categories, again through
comparison. This method is obviously
familiar
to Stern who writes:
For my part, I always had
the
impression that we constructed grounded theory – we built it. Sorting
memos by
hand, we built piles of thoughts about data that became a grounded
theory.
(2009:60)
So it was then, that
surrounded by
piles of paper, months, weeks, days and hours of toil were reduced to
the
thirteen major categories which would, once the final connections were
made and
relationships identified, become my Grounded Theory.
Well, the
theory certainly doesn’t rise up off the page as
the term [emergence] implies, but after weeks or months of painstaking
analysis, when you finally get it, it
seems like a second coming!
(Stern 2009:59 emphasis
added)
Whilst grounded theory
methods are ideal for researching invisible and marginal populations
about whom
little is already written, (Punch 200:103) a lack of agreed guidelines
for
writing up a grounded theory (Corbin & Strauss 2008:280) mean that
decisions regarding which data to include and how exactly to present
the final
theory are left to the individual researcher. For a novice, this can
either be
seen as another instance of methodological ambiguity or as the freedom
to
structure the writing to one’s own tastes and preferences. As a
practitioner
who finds that the greatest freedoms lie within defined structures, I
have
chosen to follow a similar outline to that found in many journal
articles which
present grounded theory research projects.
Core
concepts
The initial data analysis
produced over 300 preliminary codes which covered a wide range of
issues, concerns
and descriptions including: asking
questions and asserting control, disability
hierarchy and welcome - openness and acceptance.
These
two or three word phrases did not carry the depth of abstraction
required for a
grounded theory analysis which is itself ‘an act of conceptual
abstraction’
(Holton 2007:272) and it was not until the second cycle of coding that
categories and relationships began to emerge. At this point thirteen
core
concepts had been generated by constant comparison and inductive
analysis of
the data. This reduced number reflects the notion that fewer, more
novel
categories can give depth to the writing power of the final analysis
(Charmaz
2006:161) through presenting memorable and thus more easily recalled
concepts.
The core list comprised of:
·
Partnership
·
Value
of experience
- Information
- Support
- Personal responsibility
- Control and choice
- Identity
- Stereotypes
- Systemic barriers
- Equality and status
- Feelings
- Boundaries
A
brief glance at the list above reveals very little evidence of any
novel ideas
and categories, visibly demonstrating the difficulties novice
researchers
encounter when trying to move out of the specific to more abstract
concepts
(Weiner 2007:301) and this remained the case throughout the final
analytic
stages. A further three categories were added once the analytic memos
(not
including those which simply dealt with process) had been coded. These
additional concepts were:
- Difference
- Contradictions
- The professional ownership
of care
Once
the final stages of data collection and associated analysis had been
completed,
the core categories reduced further as the conceptual links and
relationships
subsumed some concepts into others whilst removing some information
altogether.
Lived
experience
The central category
emerging from the research concerned the lived experience of the
participants.
This experience was variously described as being of higher value than
theoretical knowledge, skills and qualifications; as being the ‘secret
weapon’
in the parent carer’s arsenal; as being unavailable to outsiders and as
a
method by which parent carers of disabled children “triumph” over the
system.
One participant pointed towards the person specification for her role
in which
understanding the needs of parent carers of disabled children was an
essential
attribute. She argued that the only way that this could truly be
achieved is by
having had that personal experience oneself. Experience gained through
employment was listed as being only a desirable attribute for the
purposes of
shortlisting.
One exchange regarding
the choice to disclose parent carer identity in a situation where
perhaps
others in the room were not aware of it, revealed a view in which this
identity
was seen as a “trump card”. This card could be played at the
participant’s
discretion but its main use was to outstrip the professional opinion
being
given. The sense of outwitting others through secret inside knowledge
characterised
this exchange throughout which notions of “us” and “them”, enemy forces
and the
language of battle permeated. This section of the interview was
summarised in
the coding as (Table 4):
Area of conflict
|
Action
|
Definition
|
Professional knowledge versus personal
experience
|
Fostering a sense of superiority due to
insider knowledge not being available to professionals
|
Lived experience is of higher value than
qualifications. Qualifications can be learned/gained but not lived
experience
|
Table 4 –
Lived experience
Comparing this view with
other data found that this secret knowledge was employed as protection,
as a
confidence booster, particularly for participants who did not have
professional
qualifications in the service field they were employed in. It enabled a
genuine
impression of equality, of having valuable information to offer and a
unique
viewpoint which could be used in decision making. For those
participants who
were appropriately qualified, lived experience acted as a reality check
on
their professional opinions and ultimately altered these causing them
to act in
ways which differed from their colleagues without this experience. One
participant had found a balance through the “explicit wearing of hats”
– a
means by which she articulated some views as a parent carer and others
as the
holder of her particular position. Interestingly though, when wearing
the parent
carer “hat,” she plainly stated this to be representative of the
opinions of a
wider body of parents rather than speaking from just a personal
position.
A memo records some of the
conflicts
I was having with the research findings:
03/02 Is it
not expecting too much,
double standards maybe, to expect to be
accepted as an equal and then in a deliberate effort to “win” and make use of your identity as a member of
the group, an identity which until then did not come into it? Is that
subversion? Is it good or is it somehow devaluing and dishonest?
Should we,
simply because of our lived experience expect to be of equal status?
Should not the role rather than the person occupying it be the focus?
When exploring how the
professionals involved may feel when a colleague unexpectedly attempts
to
influence opinions and decisions through disclosing a personal interest
in a
subject, the suggestions centred on the expected eye rolling and “not
another
bloody whinging parent” scenario, in which the only reason the job was
given
was to meet government expectations of working in partnership with
parent
carers. One participant described this situation as follows:
But I think
that as parents we often feel that professionals dismiss us
and dismiss our opinions. Consulting with us without thinking that
we’ve really
got anything to say, whereas they have a degree and have been to
university and
have been studying their subject for years and they know everything
about
everything...but they probably don’t know what it’s like to live year
in and
year out with that disability....
This reveals the paradox
that then
may arise when identity is disclosed in a deliberate, perhaps
confrontational
manner – that an opinion is subsequently dismissed simply because it
comes from
a parent carer standpoint.
The idea of a secret
identity is further reinforced when the question of who the parent
carers in
employment in Cornwall actually are is asked. Unlike some of the many
other
identities held throughout a lifetime, that of parent carer is
ultimately
visible in some sense to other parent carers. This may be caused
through the
geography of the region or through the diligent work of the Parent
Carer
Council who seek out as many parent carers throughout the county as is
possible
in order to carry out consultations and service development plans, or
through
coincidental meetings at events designed for families with disabled
children.
One participant noted that parent carers just “get each other” – a
comment
perhaps on the solidarity that accompanies a minority position.
This shared identity was
probed further through discussions surrounding parent carers working
within the
service field who do not disclose their identity to other parent carers
but are
later “found out”. The consensus of opinion towards any parent carer in
this
position was very gracious and understanding although the difficulties
involved
in concealing this were seen to make this possibility fairly unlikely.
One
participant had encountered such a situation and said that it made her
understand
why the person did the work they did and how their lived experience
undoubtedly
enhanced their practice, but at the same time commented on the need to
be
upfront and open about one’s identity. The fact that fellow
practitioners were
unaware that their colleague was a parent carer raised questions
regarding
disclosure with the families they were working with – did they know?
How would
it have been managed if they had asked?
The outcome of this
particular thread indicated not only the affect that assumptions about
identity
can have in the workplace environment but also the way in which
stereotypes can
be constructed – to be a parent carer of a disabled child is to not have a degree or professional
qualification, but to be employed as a tokenistic gesture. Conversely,
to be a
professional is usually not to be a
parent carer.
The data suggested
different ways in
which the experience of parent carers could be used in their
professional role:
·
I
can use my knowledge and experience as a parent carer to help other
parent
carers
·
I
can use my knowledge and experience as a professional to help other
parent
carers
·
I
can use my knowledge and experience as a parent carer to help my own
family
- I can use my knowledge and
experience as a professional to help my own family
The majority of examples
focussed on
the way in which both personal and professional experience could be
used to
assist other families to “get the best out of the system” as one
participant
said. However, there were occasions in which this altruistic position
was
abandoned in a deliberate need to source service provision for one’s
own child.
I needed to
ensure the support required was put in anyway so I managed to
convince somebody to give me extra weeks which they weren’t going to
do...
So I used
what I knew when I could, wherever I needed to, I used anything
you know, anybody...
They said
you will never get the support and when I did it was because of
my professional role...
Even though
I was just a shambles at the time I didn’t want them
thinking... so I said I am also a professional so don’t patronise me....
Aside from occasions like
these,
motivations for entering the workplace appeared generally to come from
a desire
to use parental experience for the benefit of other parent carers, to
make a
positive difference and to prevent future families from having to go
through
similar battles.
I wanted to
use what I had experienced personally and professionally to
help other parents and to get the best out of the system.
Parent
carer and professional roles
This follows immediately
on from that of lived experience and was generated by that data which
itself
suggests parent carers of disabled children construct their identity
around
their caring, rather than their professional role. There may be any
number of reasons
for this, but during all of the data collection activities, the focal
point for
all respondents, regardless of where or when the data was collected, or
who
they were with, was their parent carer role. This was the role talked
about,
even when the tape was switched off, this was the role the workshops
participants discussed before the session began, and this is the role
that the
email participants responded in. A definite “them” and “us” segregation
was in
operation as this memo notes:
27/11 There seems
to be two distinct roles in operation here – “they” have the medical
and
theoretical knowledge but choose when and if to share this, but parents
have
the real knowledge borne of experience – lived knowledge and freely
share this with
one another
There were a number of
incidents in which the parenting role was colonised by medicine and
technology,
requiring parent carers to make a deliberate stance to take back this
role
I sort of
lived by the technology but you know what, they told me I
couldn’t intervene - if I thought my child needed help they had to sort
themselves out, but I ignored them ...
And it
wasn’t my child; my child was this medical thing that needed to be
made better
It appeared that the
battle to regain control of the parental experience was one which was
not
easily forgotten and that the battle lines drawn at this stage remained
fully
functioning and active, even many years later. The motivations to enter
employment – to help other families – clearly demarked where loyalties
lie and
when the direct question was asked as to whose “side” participants were
on, the
unanimous verdict was that of parent carers. A lively debate took place
in the
workshop concerning how participants viewed themselves and whilst the
majority
expressed a desire to remain neutral, this revealed no one constructed
their
personal identity as “teacher”, “social worker” or “nurse” but all
included
“parent carer” as part of their professional identity.
During the coding cycle,
the majority of points of conflict and struggle were linked to the
parenting
rather than the professional role, the data suggesting that:
·
Parent
carers construct professionals as the opposition and thus there is a
need to
fight
·
Parent
carers need to find information themselves as professionals do not
support them
in doing this
·
Parent
carers are seen as in need of protection and professionals take a
paternalistic
attitude towards them
·
Parent
carers are seen as of lower status
During these times of
conflict,
parent carers do not identify themselves with professionals, regardless
of their
role. This was addressed in the workshop and whilst participants were
definite
that they did not feel they did this, throughout the session “they” was
used
when speaking of professionals and services in contentious situations.
Data which questioned
whether participants would continue in their current professional role
in the
field of disability service if they were no longer parent carers served
to
substantiate the view of identity being constructed around their caring
role. Only two participants said they
would
continue and both of these had remained broadly within their same
service field
after becoming a parent carer. The remainder said no.
No, I am
fairly certain that my role, as enjoyable and satisfying as it
is remains a direct consequence of my parent role. I would not choose
to engage
with the system without very good reason and would be happy to leave
the work
to someone else....
No, I
probably wouldn’t because I don’t see I could do this job without
it...
An additional conclusion
is that a
professional role has little or no impact upon a caring role, but that
of a
parent carer has a huge impact on a professional role, as one
participant said
about being a parent carer of a disabled child – it
changed me professionally.
Personal
and professional boundaries
Many of the conflicts
found in the data arose from a seeming
lack of respect or understanding for personal and professional
boundaries on
the part of professionals who were not parent carers. This lack of
respect did
not seem to extend to other professionals, suggesting that it was
solely to do
with parent carer identity. It was noted that:
Yes, [they]
might have done an assessment on your child and
sat and had a cup of tea in your front room and then you meet them
somewhere
and you don’t know anything about them...
One
participant particularly disliked the informality that was being used
with her
where questions regarding her child were being asked in her workplace.
Another
participant found that once she moved roles, former colleagues began to
make
requests regarding her child during work time whereas before they had
respected
the fact that she was at work. She commented that:
And because
they knew I had stopped working as a___they
phoned me up and I said I’m working but they said, no, you’re not a
___anymore!
This
statement was represented in the analysis as (Table 5):
Area of conflict
|
Action
|
Definition
|
Work outside of the profession not respected
|
Seeing other roles as work
|
No longer of equal stauts
|
Table 5 – Excerpt from coding
for social justice (2)
One instance was given
where the participant, in her
professional role, was introduced to fairly senior colleagues with the
statement directing them to the identity of her child first and then to
her. When
this area was explored in the workshop, the consensus of opinion was
that, yes,
this does happen although it is very much dependent upon the background
and
profession of the person involved. Some professions were more likely to
refer
to a parent carer’s child than others and in my own account I observed
that the
most likely candidates to mention my child were those from social
services.
Linked to these boundary issues was
the question of whether participants deliberately crossed the borders
of
personal/professional themselves with their child and family. When
asked
whether they were happy to attend social events with their child where
they
were likely to meet the parents they were involved with in their
professional
role, the majority response was an unqualified “yes”, with only one
person
other than myself preferring to keep the two very separate. Although
this may
be a geographical anomaly as Cornwall only has one other local
authority
boundary which is crossed by families at the top of the county, it
suggests
that parent carers are happy to mix personal and professional
boundaries with other parent carers. That this was
a decision based partly upon choice is another important factor.
Personal
responsibility
Much of the second cycle
data makes reference to how parent
carers construct the need to resource their family as being their
personal
responsibility.
No one else
will look after me...Needed to act to protect child and
family life, no one else will do this
Parents
need to find solutions themselves...not expecting any
help...still asking trusted people
If I didn’t
do this job I wouldn’t know [anything]
I didn’t
get a lot of support... the health visitor came once and then
left...but I was not very proactive at getting help
I am
responsible for getting services and information...it is
not freely offered
This
refrain continued through each stage of data collection, with the
scaling
activity in the workshop for the statement “Parents are
personally responsible for identifying and accessing the
appropriate support for their family” scoring at the very top of
the scale
– “the statement is very true”. The
most forgiving explanation for this was that professionals actually did
not
know what was available in the area and how it could be accessed,
whilst at the
other end of the spectrum, it was construed that professionals working
with
families of disabled children deliberately withheld information.
But who are
they to say when parents are ready for
information?...They are trying to be protective of the parents but when
you are
in that situation you just want up front disclosure...
A number of participants
recall professionals refusing to
offer support group leaflets to newly diagnosed parents as they didn’t
think
“they were ready”. One participant recalled an incident where the
leaflets she
gave to a professional were returned to her rather than her receiving
the
actual information she had requested. Another participant talked of how
she had
spent considerable time trying to work out who was who in service
provision and
still did not feel she had it figured out. There
were
few instances of information or support
being freely offered,
the overwhelming feeling was that parent carers always needed to find
things
out for themselves.
Information
and knowledge
At the outset of the
project, it was expected that
information and knowledge would form a majority part of the findings,
being a
key resource in the lives of parent carers of disabled children.
However, it
seems that rather than occupying the central role, information and
knowledge
underpin the other key categories either through access being denied or
through
parent carers needing to be creative and resourceful to identify useful
appropriate information. Information and knowledge were constructed as
illustrative of the power dynamic as parents freely, openly and
deliberately
worked to share information and knowledge between and amongst
themselves in as
many ways as were possible, in a direct contrast to the attitudes of
professionals.
You gather
all the information you can and you want to talk
to other parents...
And she
[another parent carer] came round and sat with us for
three hours and talked through things and she was just amazing...I just
held
her in regard because straight away she said “I’ll support you”...
I let
parents know that I’ve been there...and I still am and I
understand what they are going through...
In
contrast, a number of responses recorded occasions when they were
informed that
a service was to be delivered to their child without any explanation of
what or
who that service actually was.
She said
I’ll need portage - and that was it! When the
portage workers came they explained everything...
And I
didn’t know what that was...
Difference
I was particularly
puzzled by the data concerning difference in which participants said
that they
thought having a disabled child was a “good thing”:
I love
it... I totally love this different world
I feel
honoured...
Lucky...I
wouldn’t have it any other way
I love it
that my child is different...
A memo concerning this
records my
response:
03/02 When I read
or hear opinions about
being lucky, being chosen, being honoured and that it is a “good thing”
to have
a disabled child, it arouses
feelings of annoyance in me as it seems like a deception that society
has
“sold” parents in order to assuage their feelings
of guilt and shame and to help cope with mixed conflicting feelings
around
disability...I recognise the attitude as a necessary coping system for
some,
however it then fails to challenge the systems which make it necessary
and the
status quo is preserved.
The need to explore this
issue a
little more resulted in one of the workshop activities being designed
around
perceptions of difference. Six choices were offered and participants
were asked
to indicate the responses that were closest to their personal and
working experiences:
1.
To
be the parent of a disabled child is to be chosen, it is an honour
2.
The
disabled child is the one chosen and should be honoured/venerated
3.
To
be the parent of a disabled child is a tragedy and deserves pity
4.
Parents
are to be blamed for having a disabled child
5.
Parents
should be ashamed of their failure to produce a normal child
6.
Disability
is okay and can be celebrated where appropriate
The discussion surrounding
this
focussed on the way in which diagnosis affected how parent carers felt
about
difference with some diagnoses being more “acceptable” than others.
However,
the consensus of opinion was that option 6 was preferred but with a
minor
adjustment to read:
Disability
is okay and your
child can be celebrated where appropriate
The option that most
accurately
reflected the workplace culture within Cornwall was seen to be both
numbers
three and four:
To be the
parent of a disabled child is a tragedy and
deserves pity
Parents are
to be blamed for having a disabled child
Systemic
barriers
The final concept to
emerge from the data concerned the ways
in which “the system” hindered families from engaging in the ordinary
lives
that families without disabled children took for granted.
These barriers were rarely explicitly
articulated in the interviews or even in the workshop and needed
careful study
to attempt to extrapolate what actually was meant from the responses.
The
general finding was that in negative contexts participants conflated
both
systems and professionals into one homogenous “they”:
She said
they don’t give statements...
They were
desperate to label my child...
And they
don’t do assessments...
They
couldn’t get any in the school because there aren’t any...
A researcher unfamiliar
with the
various systems in Cornwall would have encountered some difficulties in
trying
to track who each of the “they”s referred to, and it seemed that the
barriers
were so accepted as normal that it was difficult to even notice their
presence
any longer. The failure to articulate
these barriers suggests these have simply become internalised as ‘one
more
penalty imposed upon disabled families’ (Read et al 2006:43). The
perhaps
unconscious segregation process in operation was evidence through the
constant use
of “us” and “them” throughout the project.
The theory
These previously outlined
key concepts, generated directly
from the data, each of which serves as a conceptual explanation of a
pattern of
behaviour (Holton 2007:268), when linked together in a final theory,
offer an
account of the experience of being a parent carer of a disabled child
working
together with professionals whilst at the same time receiving services
from
those same professionals.
Working
together....?
Parent carers of disabled
children who gain employment within the same service field as those
professionals working with their child and family, find themselves in
the
unique role of both service user and service provider/developer. This
dual
identity allows a vantage point unavailable to colleagues working
alongside
them, which may in some respects be considered privileged or inside
information,
which can be utilised for positive and productive purposes to benefit
families
of disabled children and their own families.
The key to the successful
securing of employment lies in the lived experience of the parent
carers which
appears to be about overcoming adversity, triumphing against the odds
and being
victorious in a system which is designed to normalise disability
through
interventions aimed at fixing or eradicating the problem. Foundational
to this
success, are information and knowledge which parent carers have had to
source
for themselves, often through a long hard slog to identify entitlements
and
rights to services - information which is not always freely given by
professionals working with families. The sense of personal
responsibility to
resource one’s own family has the effect of turning this information
into hard
won currency - the property of parent carers, to be freely shared
amongst
themselves. The notion of this material as having been “stolen” from
the
professional knowledge keepers acts to identify the main perpetrators
within
parent carer circles as key informants, prominent in local networks and
able to
informally advise and support others within the group. These are the
skills
which enable successful employment within the field of services to
families of disabled
children.
Information and knowledge
lead directly to control and choice through both the awareness of
rights and
entitlements and that of available local service provision. Families
are no
longer in the position of needing to go “cap in hand” to a
paternalistic welfare
system but are able to take empowered decisions regarding the types and
level
of support appropriate for their family. This again rests on the
concept that
parent carers have personal responsibility to take action for their
family and
this is driven by the societal notion of blame and tragedy and
internalised
oppression in which parents are responsible and expected to heal, fix
and
protect their child. These are further reinforced when a professional
ownership
of care model is invoked by professionals who colonise the parental
role with
technological and medical interventions, all which aim to eradicate the
problem
– the child’s impairment.
This contrasts sharply
with the aims and motivations of parent carers who, despite initial
efforts to
find a “cure” for their child, then focus their energies on the system,
for it
is here that they triumph, it is systemic barriers which are overcome,
for it
is these physical and social constructions which disable their child
and their
family, not the impairment. For parent carers, difference can be
celebrated
appropriately and the child is accepted as the gift that any child is,
regardless of the nature or cause of their disability.
The final result is that
when finding themselves working alongside professionals who operate
from such a
radically opposing position, parent carers of disabled children
amalgamate the
key concepts of lived experience; personal responsibility; information
and
knowledge; control, choice and difference into a single, coherent
position –
the assumption of the deliberately politicized identity of Parent
Carer. It is
from the security of this political identity that they seek to
challenge the
medical and individual models of disability surrounding them.
So for this group of
participants to whom social justice is regularly denied through the
systemic
barriers and institutional oppression which characterises their
interactions
with professionals (Edworthy 2005:12), the value of lived experience
expressed
through the adoption of a politicized identity, created as informed,
empowered,
aware and confident, offers a valuable method of achieving equality in
workplace relationships.
The
important insight lies ...in how to make proper use of...knowledge
(Strübing 2007:587)
Opposing models of
disability and impairment frame and underpin the theory generated by
the data
from the research project as systems, which were designed by
able-bodied
professionals in ways which perpetuate their own professional agendas
(Davis
1993:199), are challenged and overcome by resourceful Parent Carers who
construct their identity as a political statement. The conflicting
positions
occupied by professionals either with or without lived experience of
disability
result in working relationships which have quite different motivations,
aims
and goals. For those who seek to eradicate or fix the impairment
through the
imposition of normality (Scott-Hill 2004:88), interventions which focus
directly on the child and family are designed, whilst those who look to
the
wider arena of society as the cause of the disability focus their
efforts on
the systemic and structural barriers (Oliver 1993:65). The parent
carers in
this study all occupied the ideological stance which sees disability as
the
socially constructed phenomenon resulting from society’s response to
the
impairment of their child (UPIAS 1976:3-4) and each had personal
experience of
the unequal power relationships between service users and professionals
resulting from these opposing views of disability. When these parent
carer/professional relationships, which are already a cause of tension
on both
sides, are formalised in situations where parent carers are employed
alongside
professionals involved in delivering services to families of disabled
children,
on equal terms with supposed equal status, the political identity of
Parent
Carer is used as the mechanism through which the power imbalance is
addressed.
The inside information or
privileged knowledge possessed only by those who have experience of a
phenomenon demonstrates the shared identity and solidarity which
characterise oppressed
marginalised and minority groups (Nelson & Prilleltensky 2005:27),
of which
parent carers are one (Murray & Penman 2000). The involvement with
other
parent carers through a range of support groups, web based forums and
consultation events leads to increased emotional well-being (Baum
2004:381) and
it is through this involvement that information on the range of issues
that
concern parent carers of disabled children is shared (Beresford et al
1996). Research
notes that parent carers need to ‘be very active indeed’ (Read et al
2006:43)
in their search for information if they are to access the services they
want,
and parent support groups often provide the primary forum through which
information
is disseminated. Avery (1996) notes how parents become experts and
together
form a ‘knowledge capital’ that cannot be accessed in any medical
office or
professional text (p.122). It is through
these networks and groups that the skills for employment are practiced
‘and the
emergence of parental visionaries and role models’ (Goodley &
Tregasksis
2006:642) is seen. Herein lies the power in experience that
cannot
be gained through theoretical knowledge or qualifications.
Furthermore, the manner
in which this inside information is constructed as a mechanism to
foster
equality, or even superiority, reflects the way in which the unequal
power
relationships between parent carers and professionals are experienced
as a
matter of course (Read et al 2006:23). Where deliberate power sharing
is
illustrated clearly through shared knowledge and information, effective
and respectful
listening and practice which values diversity (Moss 2007:39) such
mechanisms
become redundant. However, the lived experience of this group of parent
carers
is that whilst good practitioners can mediate stress, the difficulties
they
have encountered have made them ‘feel worse, particularly if their
views on
needs differ from those of the professionals’ (Beresford 1995 cited in
Read et
al 2006:43). The socially devalued caring role (Williams 1999:5) that
comes
from parenting a disabled child, linked with the financial disadvantage
that
caring brings (Contact a Family 2010:6) means that parent carers often
begin
their employment in a position of inequality when compared with their
peers.
The struggle needed to bring liberation and regain power from such
circumstances necessarily requires the explicit challenging of
‘commonly help
assumptions and consciousness raising about the sources of problems’
(Nelson
& Prilleltensky 2005:27) and it is for this purpose that parent
carers find
security and strength in the adoption of an overtly political identity.
Throughout the project,
participants identified themselves as “Parent Carers” of disabled
children
rather than as “mothers”. This identification adds weight to the idea
of Parent
Carer being a politically constructed identity in its ability to
depersonalize
the challenges and conflicts that are faced, whilst at the same time
protecting
the mothering relationship that parent carers continue to have outside
of the
workplace. By bringing some distance to their relationships, parent
carers in
employment are making an attempt to avoid some of the ‘discrimination
by
association’ (Carver 2008) which comes from the impairment of their
child and
also the way in which society disables the whole family (Rogers
2007:136) of a
disabled child. In addition, the powerful ideas of a ‘good’ mother’s
role in
society as ‘child-centred...emotionally absorbing, labour intensive,’
(Hays
1996:47) in which the mother ‘is the sole source of child guidance,
nurturance,
education, and physical and emotional sustenance’ (ibid) mean that the
choice
to construct an identity as a Parent Carer brings release from certain
of these
expectations during working hours (Johnston & Swanson 2007:448).
Discourses of tragedy and
blame in which the inability to produce a “normal” child is the fault
of the
mother and whose flaws become the mother’s own (Avery 1996:117) further
strengthen the argument to identify as a Parent Carer within a
workplace environment
which may have been constructed not to develop the struggle for social
change
and equal opportunity but for the inappropriate disability services
currently
in existence in one form or another (Davis 1993:199).
The experience within
this study was that the opposing constructions of disability and
impairment
effect, in some professionals, an inability to respect boundaries,
whether
personal/professional in the workplace or those of the caring role
through the
medical and technological colonisation of care. This lack of regard
links
closely to the construction of difference, as whilst for the
participants in
the study, difference could be appropriately celebrated and may in
itself be a
“good thing”, for professionals operating within a medical/individual
model of
disability, difference is tragic and “awful” (Morris 1993:101), in need
of outside
intervention designed to eliminate the impairment through the
imposition of
normality (Scott-Hill 2004:88). It is this adjudging of difference and
impairment as negative which makes disabled children and their families
‘public
property’ and allows ‘non-disabled people to feel [they have] the right
to
invade our privacy’ (Morris 1993:105).
The adoption of the
politicized identity of Parent Carer appears to have no directly
ameliorating
effect upon this invasion of privacy and may actually be thought to
invite the
informality so disliked by one participant. However, this is forgetting
the
choice and control that is associated with the deliberate putting on of
an
identity in which others (the professionals without lived experience)
are
deliberately excluded. The power that is exercised (Tremain 2005:4)
through the
opportunity of “border crossing” identities (Grant et al 2007:569),
unavailable
to others serves as a method of deliberate self-empowerment in such
situations.
However,
the dangers inherent in this minority group approach lie in its
potential,
through exclusion of others, to reinforce the categorization of parent
carers
of disabled children as a separate group (Shakespeare 1996 in Faucett
2000:23). In addition, to deliberately
adopt a
particular identity is necessarily to reject other identities:
Identity as
a [Parent Carer] may have a valuable strategic
function...yet to the extent that identity always contains the spectre
of non-identity
within it, the subject is always divided and identity is always
purchased at
the price of the exclusion of the Other (Fuss 1989:102-3)
The most surprising
finding then from this study was this focus on identity rather than
interpersonal workplace relationships. This may be an indication of
poor
quality data collection activities which failed to effectively guide
the study
(Stern 2009:56), or more positively, that the data itself broke through
assumptions (Strauss & Corbin 1990:27) and enabled the discovery
that is
the purpose of grounded theory research (ibid:50). This new direction
suggests
that further research in this area should include identity theories,
particularly group, individual and worker identity (Stets & Burke
2000:226)
and the way that attachments to any one of these can make already
contested
relationships (Goodley & Tregasksis 2006:644) more problematic.
Limitations
The limitations of the
research project concern firstly, the constraints
of time and resources. As I was not being employed as a researcher, the
work
needed to fit in with my other commitments and with my caring role.
Inevitably,
events occurred meaning that a project which began at a fairly stable
point in
both my work and family life ended whilst some issues were in crisis. The time available for in depth analysis was
therefore reduced somewhat and one intended part of the project – the
shared
dissemination – was abandoned altogether.
Secondly,
the demographic spread of the participants was narrow, with no male or
BME
participants being included, making the findings representative of only
a small
group of parent carers. The influence of gender was not explored in any
way
during the project. Thirdly, this initial study is context bound with
no aim of
generalising these results and as such may be of limited interest.
However, as
a substantive theory, the research findings may be a stepping stone to
further
research (Punch 2000:104) which will go on to produce a formal grounded
theory
with wider generalisablity (Glaser & Strauss 1967:79).
Further limitations come from the structure
of the study in which only one side of a relationship was explored.
Investigations into how the non parent carer professionals experience
workplace
relationships may produce valuable insights to extend and give depth to
the project.
Likewise, research into identity theory would serve to give greater
context to
the findings from this study.
Finally, my position as
practitioner researcher with a group
of people with whom I share an identity undoubtedly affected the data
collected,
both in my choice of pertinent responses and through the participants’
interaction with me, particularly the ways in which my identity as a
member of
the “in group” – parent carer – may have caused me to make more
positive
evaluations of that group (Stets & Burke 2000:226) even though the
group
status is relatively low compared to that of the “out group” – the
professionals (Ellemes, Spears & Dooje 1997 cited in Stets &
Burke
2000:226).However, throughout the project this shared identity has been
made transparent
and was viewed as a resource rather than a problem and has offered a
vantage
point unavailable to those outside of this group (Mruck & Mey
2007:519).
Implications
for
future
practice
Practitioner research
should not produce work which merely sits
on the shelf gathering dust, rather its aim is work which will inform
and guide
others in the enhancement and advancement of practice. Dissemination of
a
theory written in a purely academic style is unlikely to be effective
(Fox et
al 2007:171) meaning that dissertations may need to be converted
(Corbin &
Strauss 2008:288) into a more readily recognised format.
For this project, a group was planned solely
aimed at discussing and planning any dissemination or use of the
material in
order that the collaborative paradigm which framed the project should
continue
right through to its projected use. Although this session did not take
place
due to time constraints, there is no reason why it should not convene
at a
later point. As parent carers who are practitioners are the most likely
audience for the findings, it is hoped that the theory could be
included in
future participation training sessions to highlight some of the
difficulties
that are encountered within practice and as a way of ensuring the
mechanisms that
may be employed by practitioners are fully understood by those who are
using
them. In the true spirit of practitioner research, my skills and
practice
abilities have certainly been enhanced through conducting this study,
highlighting the need for increased reflexivity as I examine which
particular
identity I am practicing from at any one point and seek to be able to
adjust
that when and if needed.
Research
validity
The need to verify the
theory generated is of less concern in
grounded theory than the evidence for the emergence of the theory from
the data
(Glaser & Strauss 1967:26,28). Within method triangulation in which
the
four different data collection techniques were used to measure the same
variables (Casey & Murphy 2009:41) helps to confirm the findings;
the
inclusion of an audit trail for the examiners (see data
collection p.) lends a modicum of legitimacy to the theory
whilst the re-examination of the data in search of negative cases
(ibid:27)
served to affirm the sense of the theory (Stern 2007:114).
Grounded
theories
arise
from positions of
flux, ambiguity and choice and as such cannot be replicated (Stern
2009:61)
rather than being ‘stable, constant and standardized [they] are
individualized
according to the topic of the study, differences in participants and
settings
and the personality and various knowledge bases of the users (Morse
2009:18).
Constructivist grounded theories do not seek truth, but are instead
aware that ‘what
we take as real, as...knowledge... is based upon our perspective’
(Charmaz
2000:523).
Critique
The
implication that the
theory somehow formed itself separately from any involvement on my part
is one
of the objections to grounded theory terminology (Stern 2009:59, Kelle
2007),
for theory results from choice, interpretation and construction of the
data and
does not ‘rise up off the page’ (Stern 2009:59). This does not negate
the
relevance of the findings (Strauss & Corbin 2008;12) but simply
reflects
the analytic decisions made by the particular researcher at that
particular
point in time. I could have chosen to
follow a different thread in the data, of which there were undoubtedly
many, in
which case a different, but equally valid theory would have been
generated as
data collection strategies would have taken another direction.
Reflecting upon
the project, one possible thread would have been to explore which
models of
disability best described the perspectives of the participants
(Landsman
2005:126) as this would help generate further conceptual explanations
of workplace
relationships. Nevertheless, the choices made effected one particular
construction of the studied world, not an exact picture of it (Charmaz
2006:10)
and it is from here that the findings are able to posit a stance with
which
even the participants may not initially be familiar as they attempt,
through
the stories they choose to tell, ‘to explain and make sense of their
experience
and lives, both to themselves and to the researcher’ (Corbin 2009:40).
Grounded
theories therefore,
do not give a straightforward, objective representation of the world
and as
such may fail, in the eyes of advocates of more “scientific” methods,
to
produce valid findings. This rejection of a positivist paradigm in
which
results aim to be replicable and generalisable makes the satisfactory
completion of grounded theory research in which results are more
conceptually
abstract (Hutchinson 1993 cited in McCann & Clark 2003:21), more
problematic. The ongoing debate around
methodological reliability (Hood 2007; Charmaz 2009) which proposes
either the
rigid reliance upon techniques and procedures or the ‘smorgasbord
table’
character of the method (Mruck and Mey 2007:525) may mean, ‘the
application of
the method is asking too much’ (ibid.). For me, this was demonstrated
by a
constant uncertainty as to whether I was really using the method
correctly and
therefore whether I had genuinely produced a ‘grounded theory’.
Charmaz’s
(2009) observation that grounded theory has become a more general
method,
requiring both application in diverse substantive areas and ways in
which to
think about and conceptualize data (p.127) gave some reassurance that
correct
use of methodological techniques were not the only markers of a
successful
grounded theory study. Using these criteria, the theory can undoubtedly
be
classified as grounded in the data, yet I still remain unconvinced. I am certain that I have produced more than
simple description and that the theory really does ‘provide answers to
the why
questions’ (Becker 1993 cited in Maijala, Paavilainen &
Astedt-Kurki 2003:
55) and I am satisfied that my theory is effective in giving an
explanation of
the inter-relationships between and among concepts (Weiner 2007:308),
it is
perhaps a confidence in the abstract quality of these concepts that is
missing.
Handling
your discoveries...(Richards 2009:76)
More
than thirty years on from the famous UPIAS statement in which
disability was
located, not in impairment, but in societal structures and systems
which limit
opportunity (UPIAS 1976), parent carers of disabled children still find
themselves at the intersection of the competing discourses (Landsman
2000:121)
of medical and social models of disability. Whilst the normalising
influence of
the medical model is well documented in the literature, the effect of
the
social model’s severance of the causal links between disability and
physical
impairment (Thomas 2004:23) mean that parent carers who deal daily with
real
bodily disfigurement and dysfunction become members of a social
minority group
oppressed by both models (Landsman 2000:137). The perceived personal
responsibility to identify and access limited resources in a culture
where ‘the
socio-political map of disability has radically changed as more people
have
chosen to define themselves as disabled’ (Stevens 2009), makes the role
of a
parent carer employed in disability services one which is diametrically
opposed
the majority of their colleagues. The defensive position identified
through
this study in which a political identity is adopted is only one
response to
this position, others may be available, yet as this study investigates
a
population about which very little has been written, these are
currently
unknown.
It was with
some regret then
that I viewed the theory emerging from the data analysis. To have
grappled
intensively with an unfamiliar research method and to have fully
invested both
self and time in the project, only to return to that same old chestnut
– social
versus medical/individual models of disability – was profoundly
disappointing. I
had been hoping to produce new and powerful explanations (Leigh Star
2007:77)
of ‘a latent pattern of behaviour
that holds significance within the social setting under study’ (Holton
2007:268) and by doing so, in some way to solve or eliminate the
problematic
areas in workplace relationships. However,
this was forgetting the purposes of
practitioner research which
are to develop theoretical perspectives which aim to aid the
understanding of
the researcher (Fox et al. 2007:14) not to find solutions.
What is
possible
though, is for this renewed awareness of these problematic areas to be
raised
and jointly addressed through both an individual and organisational
commitment
to social justice. To recap, a social justice approach to practice is
one in
which all individuals are viewed as being intrinsically of equal worth
with
equal rights to meet basic needs (Parsons 1996:6) but to be equal does
not
necessarily mean being the same (Thompson 2003:7).
Therefore professional practitioners
need not be afraid that taking a social justice approach means
discounting the
years of professional training and experience they may have undergone
in an
attempt to level the playing field (Craig 2007:95). Instead, equality
can be
sought through communication - having a shared understanding of what is
being
said (Sinclair & Grimshaw 1997:239) and by appreciating the
different kinds
of knowledge base that each party can bring (Christie & Mittler
1999:234).
In addition, the normative discourses of power and knowledge which
underpin
medical/individual and social models of disability need to be exchanged
for
that of awareness raising and transformation, where not only are
imbalances of
power noted but also challenged and openly articulated so that this
change can
begin (Dalrymple & Burke 1995:15). The pursuit of social justice
may then
effectively overcome the dualistic character of disability models in
all their
variants by subverting the focus from either society or individual onto
that of
community, ‘redefining [disability] as an integral part of all human
experience
and history’ (Garland-Thomson & Holmes 2005:73). Workplace
relationships
can then be transformed through practice in which both partnership and
participation are valued as mechanisms to achieve personal, collective
and relational
well-being (Prilleltensky & Nelson 2002:125) and the compulsion for
dominance is freely relinquished. This well-being is then demonstrated
by the
presence of enabling organisational
and community infrastructures (ibid: 11) in which the need for the
offensive or
defensive adoption of identities is no longer required. However, until
this
atmosphere of shared values is realised and social justice is truly
enacted
within parent carer and professional workplace relationships, the study
of
these interactions and the identity mechanisms utilised within them
offers a rich and
rewarding field for future research projects.
With this in
mind, I was able
to see how the theory authenticated my own experience as a parent carer
working
as a professional and also how the transformation of my own practice
could
begin from a deeper knowledge of the mechanisms being employed by the
various
parties as they attempted to work together. In addition, the dimension
of
identity theory serves to deepen and nuance the ways in which
disability models
affect the lives of parent carers of disabled children within the
workplace.
This could indeed be the ‘new discovery’ (Strauss & Corbin 1990:50)
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accessed 08/04/2010
Appendix 1 – Ethical
Approval
Appendix 2 – Invitation to
participate and consent
Liz Farmer
liz.farmer@cafamily.org.uk
07852
445132
September
2009
Dear Colleague,
Thank you for
your interest in participating in the research module of
my studies. Please find below a detailed outline of the research
purposes and
plans along with contact details of the supervising institution and
staff
member. I hope this will answer any questions you may have and I very
much look
forward to completing my research with you in the near future.
Title: Working together?
Exploring the relationships between parent
carers of disabled children and other professionals, when working
together in
planning, consultation and delivery of services in Cornwall.
Aims:
The aim of this
proposed research is to explore in depth the
experiences of parent carers who are working with professionals, often
in multi
agency settings, whilst at the same time continuing to receive services
to both
their families and their child from the same agencies, teams and often
the same
people that they work with. This piece of qualitative research seeks to
capture
a wide range of experience and opinion with the aim of producing a
theory to
articulate what it feels like to be in this unique position. The
central
research question framing the study is as follows:
How are working
relationships between parent carers of disabled
children and the professionals who work with them, experienced by the
parent
carers?
Purpose
of
the
research: The
purpose of this research is primarily to fulfil the academic
requirements of an
MA rather than for any commercial gain or policy purposes and the
research has
not been sponsored by any statutory or voluntary organisation although
my
employers are supporting my own professional development. The resulting
dissertation may be made available to the public via the academic
library and
extracts may be made available to inform training and employment
processes if
appropriate and with the necessary consents from participants.
Academic
details:
The
dissertation will be submitted to the University College of St Mark
& St
John, Plymouth as part of an MA in Professional Practice (Counselling,
Guidance
and Support). The supervisor is Sue Wayman, Senior Lecturer in Youth
and
Community Studies. She can be contacted at the above institution or by
email:
swayman@marjon.ac.uk.
All
participants need to fulfil
the following criteria: Be a parent carer of a child aged 0-18
years who is
receiving services from Cornwall’s Children’s Service Authority- e.g.
Social
Services; Special Education; Children’s Community Nursing Team;
Community
Paediatrician; Speech and Language; CAMHS; Physiotherapy; Early
Support; Early
Years Inclusion Teams or other relevant specialist service delivered
through
the statutory or voluntary sector and
be in paid
employment at any level within a specialist service area
within Cornwall.
Participation
will take two forms – an individual interview and/or
participation in a small focus group. All interviews will be scheduled
for a
time and place to suit you and the focus groups will run at a central
venue,
one in the day time and one in the evening.
Consent,
confidentiality
and
anonymity:
All data collected will
be treated in a manner so as to protect the confidentiality and
anonymity of
respondents and consent can be withdrawn at any point in the
proceedings.
Interview records and transcripts will not be made available other than
for
assessment purposes and all data will be obscured to protect respondent
identity. The ethical guidelines for academic research will be strictly
adhered
to and the research proposal has passed the University’s ethics board
and a
certificate of ethical approval has been given.
The final
dissertation will be available for respondents to read
following assessment at which point the contents will become the
academic
property of the University.
If you are able
to participate in this research please indicate your
proposed participation by returning the attached consent form as soon
as
possible. The information above will be
recapped prior to participation and final consent given.
Please contact
me if you have any further questions.
Many thanks,
Liz Farmer
To: Liz
Farmer
Yes, I am
interested in participating in the research Working
Together?
 I am available for:
Individual interview
and/or
Focus
group daytime
Focus
group evening
Name
|
|
Contact
Address
work/home
(please
delete)
Postcode
|
|
|
|
Telephone
|
|
Email
|
|
These next
questions are to check your eligibility to participate:
Employer/organisation
|
|
Role
|
|
Child’s
age
|
|
Please indicate
any access requirements you may have:
Consent
to participate:
Appendix 3 – Workshop
activities
Please rank the following
concepts in
order of relevance to your professional working relationships. Use the
blanks
for anything you feel is missing from my coding of the interviews.
Partnership
Value of
lived experience
Information
Support
Personal
responsibility
Control/choice
Identity
Stereotypes
– parent carers/professionals/children
Problems
with ‘the system’
Equality/status
Feelings
Boundaries
Expectations
of ‘professional’ behaviour
Other.........................................................
Other...........................................................
Activity 2
Hands up if you... identify yourself as
the parent carer of a
disabled child
Identify
yourself as the mother of a disabled child
Which is preferred?
Activity 3
Please scale the following
statements
which have been formulated from the interview data as to how true this
is for
you. There is no right or wrong and the aim is to discover what is happening rather than what you would
like to be happening!
A.
Very true
B.
Slightly true
C.
Not true
There are points between
the letters
and you need to reach a consensus within the group of where your marker
must
go. At the end the groups will come
together and we will make a final mark to represent the group as a
whole.
A . . .
.
B .
. . . C
1.
Professionals do not
appear to respect the personal boundaries of parent
carers of disabled children working as professionals in the same way
that they
appear to do for colleagues who are parents of non –disabled children.
A .
. . . B . . .
. C
2.
Parent carers of disabled
children working in a professional role
construct their identities around their caring role, rather than their
professional role.
A .
. . . B . . .
. C
3.
Parents are personally
responsible for identifying and accessing the
appropriate support and information for their family.
A .
. . . B . . .
. C
4.
When parent carers of
disabled children talk in their professional role
about services, ‘they’ is shorthand for the system as a whole rather
than
meaning individual professionals.
A .
. . . B . . .
. C
5.
Personal/lived experience
of life with a disabled child is of equal or
greater value than professional/theoretical qualifications.
A . . .
.
B .
. . . C
For this last question,
the rating
scale changes to:
A.
Identify with parents
B.
Try to remain neutral
C.
Identify with professionals
In my professional role I
generally...
A . . .
.
B .
. . . C
Please think about your
internal
reference point rather than the way you think you should, or do, act
outwardly.
There is no right or wrongs and only the whole group response will be
used to
build the theory so please be honest.
Activity 4
Choice and control around
disability
and difference play a role in the relationships between parent carers
of
disabled children working as professionals and the other professionals
they
work with.
There are a number of
perspectives on
this including, but not limited to:
7.
To be the parent of a
disabled child is to be chosen, it is an honour
8.
The disabled child is the
one chosen and should be honoured/venerated
9.
To be the parent of a
disabled child is a tragedy and deserves pity
10.
Parents are to be blamed
for having a disabled child
11.
Parents should be ashamed
of their failure to produce a normal child
12.
Disability is okay and can
be celebrated where appropriate
Which of these is closest
to your
experience in your work relationships – ie what is the prevailing
attitude?
Which of these is closest
to your own
feelings?
Do they match?
Please try to reach a
consensus of
opinion in the small groups before we bring together the whole group
response.
Appendix 4 – Workshop
handouts
‘The
focus
on
the individual with a disability
ignores the extent that society favours able bodied people and excludes
people
wth disabilities from, for example, buildings, committees and
employment
opportunities. Some have argued that the social handicaps should be the
subject
of change rather than fitting the person to an arbitrarily defined norm
set by
able bodied people’ (British Psychological Society 1989:4)
Impairment
– the lack of part or all
of a limb or having a defective
limb, organ or mechanism of the body
Disability – the loss or limitation
of opportunities hat prevents peole
who hve impairments from taking part in the normal life of the
community on an
equal level with others due to physical and social barriers (UPIAS)
British Psychological
Society (1989) Psychology and Physical Disability in the
National Health Service Report of the Professional Affairs Board of
the
British Psychological Society, Leicester
Union of the Physically
Impaired
Against Segregation (1976) Fundamental Principles
of Disability, UPIAS, London
To Deny or Not to
Deny Disability
by Vic
Finkelstein
Disabled people have always struggled against the way
they have been
prevented from taking part in the normal activities of their
communities. More
recently, however, these struggles have taken a step forward. Disabled
people
have begun to organise for their emancipation and joined the growing
numbers of
groups struggling against social discrimination. We are taking a deeper
look at
ourselves, at the way we are treated and at what is meant by
disability. We
have noticed that it has nearly always been others who have researched,
written, analysed, examined our history, and proposed their knowing
solutions
for us. More and more disabled people have had experience of
"disability
experts" and increasingly we have come to recognise the humiliation
this
relationship may take for granted. Can it be that having others
research on the
lives of disabled people (rather than us expressing our own experience)
has
something to do with the very nature of disability? What, then, is
disability?
To many of us, the single factor that unites us together
in our struggles is
that it is our society that discriminates against us. Our society
disables
people with different physical impairments. The cause, then, of
disability is
the social relationships which take no or little account of people who
have
physical impairments. If this definition is correct, then it should be
possible
to prove that other social groups can become disabled, in an imaginary
society
which took no account of their physical status. In such an imaginary
society it
would be possible for physically impaired people to be the able-bodied!
Let us see whether we can turn the world upside-down and
show that
disability is a socially caused problem. An upside-down world where the
"able" become the "disabled" and the "disabled"
become the "able-bodied" and where we show, too, that far from
adjusting and accepting disability perhaps, just perhaps, it is
healthier to
deny and struggle to eliminate disability?
Let us suppose that those who believe in segregation
could really have their
way. We will imagine a thousand or more disabled people, all
wheelchair-users,
collected together and settled in their own village where they had full
management and democratic rights. We will suppose able-bodied people do
not
often visit the village and that the wheelchair-users control all
aspects of
their lives. They make the goods that they sell in their shops with
special
aids, they work the machines that clean the street, run their own
educational
colleges, banks, post offices, and transport system of the village, and
so on.
In fact, for the villager, being in a wheelchair is like everyone else
in their
world of people that she or he meets in daily life. They see
wheelchair-users
on television and hear them on radio. Able-bodied people, however, are
only
rarely seen and little understood.
In the course of the life of the village the
wheelchair-users plan their
lives according to their needs. They design their own buildings to suit
their
physical situation. One thing the wheelchair-user architects quickly
discover
in this village is that because everyone is always in wheelchairs there
is no
need to have ceilings at 9 feet 6 inches high or door heights at 7 feet
2
inches. Soon it becomes standard practice to build doors to a height of
5 feet
and ceiling or rooms to a height of 7 feet 4 inches. Naturally the
building
codes set out in the regulations made these heights standard. Now
everyone is
happy in the village; all the physical difficulties have been overcome
and this
little society has changed according to the physical character of its
members.
At last the buildings and environment are truly in tune with their
needs.
Let us say that when all the adjustments had been made
and became fixed, in
this wheelchair-user society, a few able-bodied had, through no choice
of their
own, to come and settle in this village. Naturally, one of the first
things
they noticed was the heights of the doors and ceilings. They noticed
this
directly, by constantly knocking their heads on the door lintels. Soon
all the
able-bodied members of the village were also marked by the dark bruises
they
carried on their foreheads. Of course, they went to see the village
doctors, who
were, naturally, also wheelchair-users. Soon the wheelchair-user
doctors,
wheelchair-user psychiatrists, wheelchair-user social workers, etc.,
were
involved in the problems of the able-bodied villagers. The doctors
produced
learned reports about the aches and pains of the able-bodied in
society. They
saw how the bruises and painful backs (from walking bent double so
frequently)
were caused by their physical condition. The wheelchair-user doctors
analysed
the problems and wrote their definitions. They said these able-bodied
people
suffered a 'loss or reduction of functional ability' which resulted in
a
handicap. This handicap caused a 'disadvantage or restriction of
activity'
which made them disabled in this society.
Soon special aids were designed by the wheelchair-user
doctors and
associated professions for the able-bodied disabled members of the
village. All
the able-bodied were given special toughened helmets (provided free by
the
village) to wear at all times. Special braces were designed which gave
support
while keeping the able-bodied wearer bent at a height similar to their
fellow
wheelchair-user villagers. Some doctors went so far as to suggest that
there
was no hope for these poor sufferers unless they too used wheelchairs,
and one
person even went so far as to suggest amputation to bring the
able-bodied down
to the right height. The able-bodied disabled caused many problems.
When they
sought jobs no one would employ them. Special experts had to be trained
to
understand these problems and new professions created for their care.
When one
able-bodied disabled person applied for a job as a television
interviewer, a
special medical examination had to be arranged to see whether he was
fit for
this work. In the end it was decided that be was not suitable. It was
felt, the
wheelchair-user doctor pointed out in the case file, that a television
interviewer wearing a helmet all the time would not be acceptable.
Since the
cameras would only show the top of his head because the able-bodied
were always
bent double by the harness they had to wear, he would not be suitable
for
interviewing. It is well known, the wheelchair-user doctor wrote, how
difficult
it is to communicate with the able-bodied because it is not easy to see
their
facial expressions and meet eye-to-eye while they bent double
In time special provision had to be made in the village
to provide a means
of obtaining money for these able-bodied disabled to live. Voluntary
societies
were created to collect charity and many shops and pubs had an upturned
helmet
placed on the counters for customers to leave their small change.
Painted on
the helmets were the words "Help the able-bodied disabled". Sometimes
a little plaster-cast model would stand in the corner of a shop - the
figure
bent double, in their characteristic pose, with a slotted box on the
figure's
back for small coins.
But one day, when the able-bodied were sitting together
and discussing their
problems they realised that they were never consulted by the
wheelchair-users
about this in the little society. In fact they realised that there may
be
solutions to their problems which had never occurred to the wheelchair
users
simply because they never looked at these in the same way as those who
had
them. It occurred to these able-bodied disabled people that perhaps the
cause
of their problems had a social solution - they suggested that the door
and
ceiling heights be changed! They formed a union to fight segregation.
Of course
some of the wheelchair-users thought the able-bodied disabled were
failing to accept
and adjust to their disabilities, and they had chips on their shoulders
because
they argued so strongly for social change and a change in attitudes by
the
wheelchair-users. The able-bodied disabled even argued that perhaps,
just
perhaps, their disabilities could be overcome (and disappear!) with
changes in
society.
Source:
Magic
Carpet,
New Year 1975, xxvii, No. 1, pp
31 - 8. [from Brechin, A., Liddiard, P. and Swain, J. (Eds.) (1981)
Handicap in
a social world, Hodder and Stoughton.]
Accessed
08/03/2010
THE ETIOLOGY &
TREATMENT OF CHILDHOOD
Jordan W. Smoller
University of Pennsylvania
Childhood is a syndrome
which has only recently
begun to receive serious attention from clinicians. The syndrome
itself,
however, is not at all recent. As early as the 8th century, the Persian
historian Kidnom made references to "short, noisy creatures," who may
well have been what we now call "children." The treatment of
children, however, was unknown until this century, when so-called
"child psychologists"
and "child psychiatrists" became common. Despite this history of
clinical neglect, it has been estimated that well over half of all
Americans
alive today have experienced childhood directly (Suess, 1983). In fact,
the
actual numbers are probably much higher, since these data are based on
self-reports which may be subject to social desirability biases and
retrospective distortion. The growing acceptance of childhood as a
distinct
phenomenon is reflected in the proposed inclusion of the syndrome in
the
upcoming Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, 4th
edition, or
DSM-IV, of the American Psychiatric Association (1990). Clinicians are
still in
disagreement about the significant clinical features of childhood, but
the
proposed DSM-IV will almost certainly include the following core
features:
1. Congenital onset
2. Dwarfism
3. Emotional lability and
immaturity
4. Knowledge deficits
5. Legume anorexia
Clinical Features of
Childhood
Although the focus of this
paper is on the
efficacy of conventional treatment of childhood, the five clinical
markers
mentioned above merit further discussion for those unfamiliar with this
patient
population.
CONGENITAL ONSET
In one of the few existing
literature reviews on
childhood, Temple- Black (1982) has noted that childhood is almost
always
present at birth, although it may go undetected for years or even
remain
subclinical indefinitely. This observation has led some investigators
to
speculate on a biological contribution to childhood. As one
psychologist has
put it, "we may soon be in a position to distinguish organic childhood
from functional childhood" (Rogers, 1979).
DWARFISM
This is certainly the most
familiar marker of
childhood. It is widely known that children are physically short
relative to
the population at large. Indeed, common clinical wisdom suggests that
the
treatment of the so-called "small child" (or "tot") is
particularly difficult. These children are known to exhibit infantile
behavior
and display a startling lack of insight (Tom and Jerry, 1967).
EMOTIONAL LABILITY AND
IMMATURITY
This aspect of childhood is
often the only basis
for a clinician's diagnosis. As a result, many otherwise normal adults
are
misdiagnosed as children and must suffer the unnecessary social stigma
of being
labelled a "child" by professionals and friends alike.
KNOWLEDGE DEFICITS
While many children have
IQ's with or even above
the norm, almost all will manifest knowledge deficits. Anyone who has
known a
real child has experienced the frustration of trying to discuss any
topic that
requires some general knowledge. Children seem to have little knowledge
about
the world they live in. Politics, art, and science -- children are
largely
ignorant of these. Perhaps it is because of this ignorance, but the sad
fact is
that most children have few friends who are not, themselves, children.
LEGUME ANOREXIA
This last identifying
feature is perhaps the most
unexpected. Folk wisdom is supported by empirical observation --
children will
rarely eat their vegetables (see Popeye, 1957, for review).
Causes of Childhood
Now that we know what it is,
what can we say about
the causes of childhood? Recent years have seen a flurry of theory and
speculation from a number of perspectives. Some of the most prominent
are
reviewed below.
Sociological Model
Emile Durkind was perhaps
the first to speculate
about sociological causes of childhood. He points out two key
observations
about children: 1) the vast majority of children are unemployed, and 2)
children represent one of the least educated segments of our society.
In fact,
it has been estimated that less than 20% of children have had more than
fourth
grade education. Clearly, children are an "out-group." Because of
their intellectual handicap, children are even denied the right to
vote. >From
the sociologist's perspective, treatment should be aimed at helping
assimilate
children into mainstream society. Unfortunately, some victims are so
incapacitated by their childhood that they are simply not competent to
work.
One promising rehabilitation program (Spanky and Alfalfa, 1978) has
trained
victims of severe childhood to sell lemonade.
Biological Model
The observation that
childhood is usually present
from birth has led some to speculate on a biological contribution. An
early
investigation by Flintstone and Jetson (1939) indicated that childhood
runs in
families. Their survey of over 8,000 American families revealed that
over half
contained more than one child. Further investigation revealed that even
most
non-child family members had experienced childhood at some point.
Cross-cultural studies (e.g., Mowgli & Din, 1950) indicate that
family
childhood is even more prevalent in the Far East. For example, in
Indian and
Chinese families, as many as three out of four family members may have
childhood. Impressive evidence of a genetic component of childhood
comes from a
large-scale twin study by Brady and Partridge (1972). These authors
studied
over 106 pairs of twins, looking at concordance rates for childhood.
Among
identical or monozygotic twins, concordance was unusually high (0.92),
i.e.,
when one twin was diagnosed with childhood, the other twin was almost
always a
child as well.
Psychological Models
A considerable number of
psychologically-based
theories of the development of childhood exist. They are too numerous
to review
here. Among the more familiar models are Seligman's "learned
childishness" model. According to this model, individuals who are
treated
like children eventually give up and become children. As a counterpoint
to such
theories, some experts have claimed that childhood does not really
exist. Szasz
(1980) has called "childhood" an expedient label. In seeking
conformity, we handicap those whom we find unruly or too short to deal
with by
labelling them "children."
Treatment of Childhood
Efforts to treat childhood
are as old as the
syndrome itself. Only in modern times, however, have humane and
systematic
treatment protocols been applied. In part, this increased attention to
the
problem may be due to the sheer number of individuals suffering from
childhood.
Government statistics (DHHS) reveal that there are more children alive
today
than at any time in our history. To paraphrase P.T. Barnum: "There's a
child born every minute." The overwhelming number of children has made
government intervention inevitable. The nineteenth century saw the
institution
of what remains the largest single program for the treatment of
childhood --
so-called "public schools." Under this colossal program, individuals
are placed into treatment groups based on the severity of their
condition. For
example, those most severely afflicted may be placed in a
"kindergarten" program. Patients at this level are typically short,
unruly, emotionally immature,and intellectually deficient. Given this
type of
individual, therapy is essentially one of patient management and of
helping the
child master basic skills (e.g. finger-painting). Unfortunately, the
"school" system has been largely ineffective. Not only is the program
a massive tax burden, but it has failed even to slow down the rising
incidence
of childhood. Faced with this failure and the growing epidemic of
childhood,
mental health professionals are devoting increasing attention to the
treatment
of childhood. Given a theoretical framework by Freud's landmark
treatises on
childhood, child psychiatrists and psychologists claimed great
successes in
their clinical interventions. By the 1950's, however, the clinicians'
optimism
had waned. Even after years of costly analysis, many victims remained
children.
The following case (taken from Gumbie & Poke, 1957) is typical.
Billy
J., age 8, was brought to treatment by his parents. Billy's affliction
was
painfully obvious. He stood only 4'3" high and weighed a scant 70 lbs.,
despite the fact that he ate voraciously. Billy presented a variety of
troubling
symptoms. His voice was noticeably high for a man. He displayed legume
anorexia, and, according to his parents, often refused to bathe. His
intellectual functioning was also below normal -- he had little general
knowledge and could barely write a structured sentence. Social skills
were also
deficient. He often spoke inappropriately and exhibited "whining
behaviour." His sexual experience was non-existent. Indeed, Billy
considered women "icky." His parents reported that his condition had
been present from birth, improving gradually after he was placed in a
school at
age 5. The diagnosis was "primary childhood." After years of
painstaking treatment, Billy improved gradually. At age 11, his height
and
weight have increased, his social skills are broader, and he is now
functional
enough to hold down a "paper route."
After
years of this kind of
frustration, startling new evidence has come to light which suggests
that the
prognosis in cases of childhood may not be all gloom. A critical review
by Fudd
(1972) noted that studies of the childhood syndrome tend to lack
careful
follow-up. Acting on this observation, Moe, Larrie, and Kirly (1974)
began a
large-scale longitudinal study. These investigators studied two groups.
The
first group consisted of 34 children currently engaged in a long-term
conventional treatment program. The second was a group of 42 children
receiving
no treatment. All subjects had been diagnosed as children at least 4
years
previously, with a mean duration of childhood of 6.4 years. At the end
of one
year, the results confirmed the clinical wisdom that childhood is a
refractory
disorder -- virtually all symptoms persisted and the treatment group
was only
slightly better off than the controls. The results, however, of a
careful
10-year follow-up were startling. The investigators (Moe, Larrie, Kirly
, &
Shemp, 1984) assessed the original cohort on a variety of measures.
General
knowledge and emotional maturity were assessed with standard measures.
Height
was assessed by the "metric system" (see Ruler, 1923), and legume
appetite by the Vegetable Appetite Test (VAT) designed by Popeye
(1968). Moe et
al. found that subjects improved uniformly on all measures. Indeed, in
most
cases, the subjects appeared to be symptom-free. Moe et al. report a
spontaneous
remission rate of 95%, a finding which is certain to revolutionize the
clinical
approach to childhood. These recent results suggests that the prognosis
for
victims of childhood may not be so bad as we have feared. We must not,
however,
become too complacent. Despite its apparently high spontaneous
remission rate,
childhood remains one of the most serious and rapidly growing disorders
facing
mental health professional today. And, beyond the psychological pain it
brings,
childhood has recently been linked to a number of physical disorders.
Twenty
years ago, Howdi, Doodi, and Beauzeau (1965) demonstrated a six-fold
increased
risk of chicken pox, measles, and mumps among children as compared with
normal
controls. Later, Barby and Kenn (1971) linked childhood to an elevated
risk of
accidents -- compared with normal adults, victims of childhood were
much more
likely to scrape their knees, lose their teeth, and fall off their
bikes.
Clearly, much more research is needed before we can give any real hope
to the
millions of victims wracked by this insidious disorder.
REFERENCES
American Psychiatric
Association (1990). The
diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders, 4th edition: A
preliminary report. Washington, D.C.; APA.
Barby, B., & Kenn, K.
(1971). The plasticity
of behaviour. In B. Barby & K. Kenn (Eds.), Psychotherapies R Us.
Detroit:
Ronco press.
Brady, C., & Partridge,
S. (1972). My dads
bigger than your dad. Acta Eur. Age, 9, 123-126.
Flintstone, F., &
Jetson, G. (1939). Cognitive
mediation of labour disputes. Industrial Psychology Today, 2, 23-35.
Fudd, E.J. (1972). Locus of
control and shoe-size.
Journal of Footwear Psychology, 78, 345-356.
Gumbie, G., & Pokey, P.
(1957). A cognitive
theory of iron-smelting. Journal of Abnormal Metallurgy, 45, 235-239.
Howdi, C., Doodi, C., &
Beauzeau, C. (1965).
Western civilization: A review of the literature. Reader's digest, 60,
23-25.
Moe, R., Larrie, T., &
Kirly, Q. (1974). State
childhood vs. trait childhood. TV guide, May 12-19, 1-3.
Moe, R., Larrie, T., Kirly,
Q., & Shemp, C.
(1984). Spontaneous remission of childhood In W.C. Fields (Ed.), New
hope for
children and animals. Hollywood: Acme Press.
Popeye, T.S.M. (1957). The
use of spinach in
extreme circumstances. Journal of Vegetable Science, 58, 530-538.
Popeye, T.S.M. (1968).
Spinach: A phenomenological
perspective. Existential botany, 35, 908-813.
Rogers, F. (1979). Becoming
my neighbour. New
York: Soft press.
Ruler, Y. (1923). Assessing
measurements protocols
by the multi-method multiple regression index for the psychometric
analysis of
factorial interaction. Annals of Boredom, 67, 1190-1260.
Spanky, D., & Alfalfa,
Q. (1978). Coping with
puberty. Sears catalogue, 45-46.
Suess, D.R. (1983). A
psychometric analysis of
green eggs with and without ham. Journal of clinical cuisine, 245,
567-578.
Temple-Black, S. (1982).
Childhood: an ever-so sad
disorder. Journal of Precocity, 3, 129-134.
Tom, C., & Jerry, M.
(1967). Human behaviour
as a model for understanding the rat. In M. de Sade (Ed.). The rewards
of
Punishment. Paris: Bench press.
FURTHER READINGS
Christ, J.H. (1980).
Grandiosity in children.
Journal of applied theology, 1, 1-1000.
Joe, G.I. (1965). Aggressive
fantasy as wish
fulfilment. Archives of General MacArthur, 5, 23-45.
Leary, T. (1969).
Pharmacotherapy for childhood.
Annals of astrological Science, 67, 456-459. Kissoff, K.G.B. (1975).
Extinction of learnt
behaviour. Paper presented to
the Siberian Psychological Association, 38th annual Annual meeting,
Kamchatka.
Smythe, C., & Barnes, T.
(1979). Behaviour
therapy prevents tooth decay. Journal of behavioral Orthodontics, 5,
79-89.
Potash, S., & Hoser, B.
(1980). A failure to
replicate the results of Smythe and Barnes. Journal of dental
psychiatry, 34,
678-680.
Smythe, C., & Barnes, T.
(1980). Your study
was poorly done: A reply to Potash and Hoser. Annual review of Aquatic
psychiatry, 10, 123-156.
Potash, S., & Hoser, B.
(1981). Your mother
wears army boots: A further reply to Smythe and Barnes. Archives of
invective
research, 56, 5-9.
Smythe, C., & Barnes, T.
(1982)0. Embarrassing
moments in the sex lives of Potash and Hoser: A further reply. National
Enquirer, May 16.
Available from
http://www.pshrink.com/humor/Childhood.html
Accessed 08/03/2010
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