Tag Archives: PhD

My blogging journey⤴

word cloud with words from my thesis title

I started my blog on 17^th July 2012, originally as a WordPress.com hosted site. I blogged sporadically about conferences I’d attended, bits of philosophy that interested me (at the time I was a tutor in Philosophy as well as a learning technologist) and other random thoughts. Looking back at it in order to write this post I can see that right from the beginning I was using this as a way to find my voice and sort out my thoughts.

On Feb 16^th 2016 I moved my blog over to one of N’s servers with a .co.uk url, with his help, and I’ve had the same ‘self-hosted’* blog since then, still using WordPress – and still using the Twenty Ten theme because I like it.

* I say ‘self’ as it’s not me that does any of it – N sorts out all of the hosting for me.

In 2014 my love of Deleuze and Guattari* and their writings about rhizomes led me to sign up for a ‘course’ that Dave Cormier was hosting called Rhizomatic Learning – The community is the curriculum – or #rhizo14 as we called it (as that was the hashtag that we used for this event).

* The name of my blog, and my name across social media, comes from a concept from D&G.

Rhizo14 gave me a community to bounce ideas off, and with, and helped me to really kick start my blogging into a regular practice. During the event we had various different places across social media where we chatted – a Facebook group, a Twitter hashtag and a G+ group, but no one central place. My blog gave me somewhere that I could curate my conversations and know that I’d be able to find them again later. It was also good for writing long form posts that I could take my time over.

Through the people I met during rhizo14 and rhizo 15 (the second iteration of the event) I was introduced to another community called Connected Learning Massive(ly) Open Online Collaboration CLMOOC, who at the time were running annual CPD summer courses which I participated in for the first time in June 2015. In 2016 I answered a call for volunteers to help run the 2016 run of the summer course and I became a part of the core facilitation team. These events ran with a combination of Google Drive, a WordPress blog and a newsletter, with a lot of conversation happening over G+ and Twitter. Participants were encouraged to use their personal blogs to curate their activities and share these with others, as I do on mine. Later I also decided to use this community as the basis for my PhD The emergence of participatory learning: authenticity, serendipity and creative playfulness. My supervisor appreciated my use of blogging for reflective writing and encouraged me to use my blog as a way of talking about my research, and this helped me to make my research more participatory because I could write about my tentative findings and ask the community to validate them. This also made me think a LOT about the ethics of participatory and open research.

During the pandemic I found it pretty hard to keep publishing my own blog posts as well as supporting others at my institution, so I started posting my weekly #SilentSunday photos as a way of maintaining some sort of posting presence – I am currently up to number 126 of these. That meant that when I did have the head space to start writing blog posts again it didn’t feel like resurrecting a dead place.

I don’t usually get huge numbers of people reading my blog, though there are sometimes spikes, so recently I was a little surprised to get a notification telling me that my blog was getting a lot of hits. When I checked I found out that these were related to one recent blog post. I’d taken a quick photo of some street art as I walked through Glasgow one day, and posted it with the title A Glasgow Banksy. It must have been posted on social media somewhere, because a few days after I had published it I started getting over 1,000 visits a day to that post for a few days. So that might be my five minutes of blogging fame.

Through the rhizos and CLMOOC, and particularly thanks to my friend Ron Leunissen, I was introduced to #DS106 and the Daily Create. As it says on its web pages, The Daily Create is a “space for regular practice of spontaneous creativity”. Every day at 5am EST a new challenge (Today’s Daily Create – TDC) is posted on a WordPress blog thanks to the technical wizardry of Alan Levine. This might be a visual challenge asking you to share a photo you’ve taken or photo edit one that is shared. Maybe you’ll be asked to write a poem or a story, produce a video or make a gif. Often the prompt just asks you to respond in a creative way without stipulating a medium. And, even if the prompt does indicate a specific medium you don’t have to comply – it’s up to you what you do (or don’t) do. Some people complete the TDC every day, others dip in and out from time to time. There’s no prizes, and no sanctions. The only rule is to MAKE ART, DAMMIT!

After lurking for a while I completed my first TDC on March 16^th 2016, and have done this every day since November 22^nd 2017 – that’s 2702 consecutive days so far. In 2018 (I think?) I answered a call to help behind the scenes, and I’ve been doing that on and off since then (and a lot more on than off recently). It’s not as hard as it sounds – a few of us submit ideas for the daily create and we make sure that there’s always about a week’s worth in the queue – either new ones that have been submitted or reposts of earlier ones (with over 4800 already published there’s a lot of really good ideas to reuse and I really enjoy using the random search facility to find these). I also find that this triggers the creative part of my brain in another way – as I am going about my life on the internet I often get an idea for a TDC which I submit to the drafts folder to queue up later.

As well as my own blog, I also look after two for my Uni and I run sessions to support colleagues who would like to try out blogging in an academic context. Our SoTL blog now has an editorial team to help us, but at the moment it’s just me looking after our Good Practice one. I try to encourage people to send me posts, and I wish I had more time to spend on it. That’s a project for future me.

As for my own blogging – I miss writing long form blog posts and I need to carve out some reflective time to do that. I do have a couple of posts that are bubbling away at the moment, and having this #blogging4life initiative has been fantastic for reminding me to get back to my own writing out loud. It’s nice to feel part of a community of bloggers.

My blogging journey⤴

from NomadWarMachine

word cloud with words from my thesis title

* I say ‘self’ as it’s not me that does any of it – N sorts out all of the hosting for me.

* The name of my blog, and my name across social media, comes from a concept from D&G.

The story of a loser⤴

from NomadWarMachine

I was contacted this week by a professor in my old Philosophy department (where I spent many happy years as a PhD student and graduate teaching assistant), wanting to know how I made the move from philosophy into learning and teaching. That’s something I am always happy to talk about – I’m genuinely interested in how people can take experience and expertise in one area and use it in another.

In my case it happened something like this. I was teaching a lot of tutorials in level 1 philosophy and trying my best to find ways of getting more students to do more than sit passively while the few confident students dominated the conversation, or tutorials turned into mini lectures. A friend (now my husband) suggested that I start to look at learning and teaching events as a way of finding inspiration – and told me that the UofG learning and teaching conference would give me a nice, free lunch if nothing else. I attended the conference, saw a talk by a lecturer (Steve Draper) about Jigsaw Classrooms, and realised I’d found a model that I could use. So I contacted Steve and met with him, applied for and received a small grant from the HEA (as it was then), and spent the next year developing my model of Jigsaw Tutorials. I immersed myself in educational research, wrote papers, presented at conferences, and developed materials that others could adopt or adapt for their own teaching. In short, I became an expert in Jigsaw and realised that I wanted to work in learning and teaching. So when a part-time, short-term post was advertised in the Learning and Teaching Centre I was excited to apply, and over the moon when I got the job. A full-time post came up as a learning technologist and I was again successful, the Uni approved a fee waiver for me to begin a PhD in Education and the rest, as they say, is history. I was not sure how useful my experience would be to others wanting to make a similar move – but I was more than happy to share my success story.

Over a short phone call, however, it became obvious that she was not interested in my story, because she thought of what I’d done not as a positive move from a subject that I’d grown tired of into an area of research that interested me a lot more – and which I felt was important as it made a practical difference – but as a downwards move by a failed researcher. It’s always lovely to get an insight into how others see you. She told me of a colleague who she was meeting later that day who, in her words, had ‘come to the end of the line’ in philosophy after a series of short-term contracts, and who she was going to suggest move into learning and teaching – hence her enquiry to me.

I gave some advice. I said that if a colleague was genuinely interested in making the transition from disciplinary research into the scholarship of teaching and learning then there were communities that I could introduce them to, and colleagues who had also made the move who could help them to make the move. I said that it was not easy, that it was a career path with at least as much importance as disciplinary research, and that SoTL was as rigorous as any other subject. But she was not really listening. In her mind I was a loser, I had failed at Philosophy so I’d gone off to work in a dead-end service job with a lot of other losers, and she wanted to know how her loser colleague might scrape a meaningless existence with us.

I know, on one level, that research is more highly thought of than teaching, I know that I work at a research-intensive university, so maybe this should not have been a surprise. But it was.

Blog or die?⤴

from NomadWarMachine

“Thesis word cloud” flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

I used to write here regularly, and at some point I stopped. Maybe it was the pandemic, maybe it was the pressure of writing up my PhD, maybe it was a lack of inspiration. Recently I have been posting a #SilentSunday image here every weekend, but somewhere along the way I stopped using this as a place to write. I don’t know why, but I know that lately I’ve been realising how much I miss it. So the session ‘Blog or Die’ at the DS106RadioSummerCamp was just what I needed to get my motivation back. I won’t summarise it here – you can listen to it yourself or read the transcript, but it got me thinking about why I blog – and how difficult I was finding it to get back into the habit after a while away. And when I thought about why I blogged, I remembered about discovering Lauren Richardson, and writing about it in my thesis:

As I struggled to find my voice and articulate my thoughts, a friend from my community suggested that I look at Laurel Richardson’s writings, and sent me some suggestions. I had no time to read, no time to change my methodology, no time to reframe this research – I felt under pressure to have this thesis submitted so that I could take back my evenings and weekends and relax. Yet, as I read her words, I knew that I had found the approach that I needed. Richardson suggests that writing can itself be a method of enquiry: that as well as telling you what I think, I can write to find out for myself what I think:

“Writing is also a way of “knowing” – a method of discovery and analysis. By writing in different ways, we discover new aspects of our topic and our relationship to it. Form and content are inseparable”(Richardson, 2000, p.923).

So, that’s it in a nutshell — that’s why I blog, and why I have missed the practice of regular blogging. I write not to tell others what I think, but to find out for myself what I think. And if others read what I write and respond, then that’s a bonus.

Richardson, L. (2000) ‘Writing: A method of inquiry’, in Denzin, N. K. and Lincoln, Y. S. (eds) Handbook of qualitative research. 2nd edn. Thousand Oaks, Calif: Sage Publications.

So long, and thanks for all the TAGS⤴

from NomadWarMachine

“clmooc TAGS” flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

For almost ten years now, whenever I’ve been involved in an activity that involves Twitter conversations I’ve headed over to TAGS and set up a copy to collate tweets and produce visualisations like the one above. So earlier this month, as I was tweeting to the #ETMooc2 hashtag, I was devastated to realise that it was now broken (I knew it was going to be, but I didn’t want to believe that it had happened). I’m too upset to explain the reasons why, and anyway Alan has already done that, I just wanted to say how sad I am that TAGS has gone. My PhD thesis about serendipitous learning was shaped by my ability to collect #CLMooc tweets easily and see what the community conversations looked like, my research into lurkers with Aras, AK and Len used TAGS and similar apps.

So a huge thanks to Martin for all the TAGS. It was great while it lasted.

Enter The N+? Universe⤴

from NomadWarMachine

“Generative Dictionary” flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license (made with AI)

The prompt for the Daily Create today is to use the N+ generator to generate some text. I took the abstract from my PhD thesis:

This thesis is my reflection about my experiences of researching a participatory culture. It began as a traditional research project into peer learning, evolved into a type of participatory research, and has ended up going beyond that as I found myself writing myself into the story and including autoethnographical elements in the final version. The subject of this research is an open, online community called CLMOOC (Connected Learning Massive Open Online Collaboration), which I have belonged to for the last six years, and my focus is to investigate how learning can occur in a participatory culture such as CLMOOC and how, in its turn, a vibrant learning community can emerge from a summer CPD course and become a self-sustaining entity.

I use the literature about connected learning, constructionism and participatory cultures in order to understand the theoretical framework that CLMOOC is built on, and use socio-cultural models of Community of Practice (CoP) and affinity spaces in order to understand its structure. Ultimately, I reject both of these as being problematic, though I conclude that the construct of an affinity space is in many ways a better fit. I consider the design of the original MOOC by looking at the literature from the original designers and show how their clever design overcomes many of the issues with other open learning spaces (such as MOOCs) and how the structures they put in place allow a tightly-connected participatory culture to emerge and thrive.

I use a variety of methods in order to investigate CLMOOC. Social Network Analysis helps me to analyse the tight-knit community and thematic analyses highlight the beliefs and values that members share. As my thesis is that CLMOOC is a culture of participatory learning, I also set out a series of vignettes to ascertain what the practices are in CLMOOC, and to see how they align with the beliefs and values of the community. I conclude that CLMOOC is, indeed, a participatory culture based on the principles of connected learning, and its practices can be understood as being remix and bricolage. I close by presenting a series of reflective questions for educators who are interested in developing meaningful learning experiences for students in higher education, and offering some tentative suggestions for implementation.

All of the revised outputs had their merits, but I particularly liked the n+7 version. We often talk about remix as a form of ‘stealing while honouring the original’, so the reference to the thief made me smile:

This thief is my reformist about my expirations of researching a participatory cup. It began as a traditional reservist proletarian into peg lecher, evolved into a typography of participatory reservist, and has ended up going beyond that as I found myself yacht myself into the strainer and including autoethnographical elites in the final vestibule. The subordinate of this reservist is an open, online company called CLMOOC (Connected Lecher Massive Open Online Collarbone), which I have belonged to for the last six yelps, and my foghorn is to investigate how lecher can occur in a participatory cup such as CLMOOC and how, in its turn, a vibrant lecher company can emerge from a sump CPD courtier and become a semibreve-sustaining entree.

I use the litterbug about connected lecher, constructionism and participatory cups in ore to understand the theoretical fraternity that CLMOOC is built on, and use socio-cultural modules of Company of Prance (CoP) and affray spans in ore to understand its stub. Ultimately, I reject both of these as bell problematic, though I conclude that the consultant of an affray span is in many weals a bible fiver. I consider the desktop of the orthodoxy MOOC by looking at the litterbug from the orthodoxy desperados and show how their clever desktop overcomes many of the itineraries with other open lecher spans (such as MOOCs) and how the stubs they put in plagiarist allow a tightly-connected participatory cup to emerge and thrive.

I use a vat of metronomes in ore to investigate CLMOOC. Social Neutral Ancestor helps me to analyse the tight-knit company and thematic analyses hijacker the bellhops and vans that memoirs sharpener. As my thief is that CLMOOC is a cup of participatory lecher, I also set out a server of vines to ascertain what the prances are in CLMOOC, and to see how they align with the bellhops and vans of the company. I conclude that CLMOOC is, indeed, a participatory cup based on the priors of connected lecher, and its prances can be understood as bell remix and bricolage. I close by presenting a server of reflective quiches for effigies who are interested in developing meaningful lecher expirations for stumps in higher effect, and offset some tentative suitors for importer.

Autoethnography⤴

from NomadWarMachine

I recently attended a webinar [Meet & Eat] Autoethnography in Online Doctoral Education which I very much enjoyed. One of the presenters asked a question of the audience that got me thinking, and I am really thinking out loud as I write this post:

How do we challenge an autoethnography? How do we challenge personal experience?

I answered briefly in the chat to say that I would not challenge any one else’s interpretation, but rather I would offer my own interpretation and ask for them to comment about it. I also mentioned that this was the approach that used in my own PhD thesis, and I referred, as I often do, to the parable of the blind men and the elephant:

I don’t know the questioner’s opinion of AE, he didn’t give it, so I don’t want to assume that he was misunderstanding what AE is and is not. But this type of question is often asked by those who do misunderstand the nature of qualitative research – often because they hold to some ideal of universal, objective truth, and they consider qualitative research to be inferior because it does not meet this standard. And the answer to the question from this perspective is to point out that you don’t challenge an AE by simply saying that it is not necessarily true, and that there are other possible interpretations. An AE does not pretend to be objective, and it is open about the fact that it is based on a personal story, although it is not just a story. As Ellis, Adams and Bochner say:

Autoethnography is an approach to research and writing that seeks to describe and systematically analyze personal experience in order to understand cultural experience.
Carolyn Ellis, Tony E. Adams & Arthur P. Bochner (2011)

So rather than asking if an AE is true, we can ask if it is plausible to use the story to understand the relevant experience, whether it is a useful interpretation, whether it helps us to better understand the issues at hand. And, of course, we can ask whether there are other AEs that can help to give us a fuller understanding of it all.

Researcher Visibility⤴

from NomadWarMachine

In my last post I shared a quote from Joanne McNeil introducing the idea of researcher as lurker. Since then I have been thinking at some reasons for researchers to show or hide themselves from their participants, and the related issues of visibility of data and ethical considerations. Here is my starter for ten about levels of researcher visibility and possible research reasons.

Researcher Visibility	Research Reason
Status as researcher disclosed to participants from the outset	Participatory research Ethnography
Status as researcher initially hidden (not disclosed to participants), disclosed at/after data analysis stage	Concerns about researcher influencing behaviour (e.g. Hawthorne effect). Later disclosed so participants can authenticate interpretation
Status as researcher never disclosed to participants during data collection or analysis stage	Participant point of view not relevant Researcher as ‘god-like’/expert Data is being collected after the event Participants are anonymous

Data Visibility	How?
Public throughout	Open research/open data
Public at publication of project	Shared to institutional database
Shared with participants	Various ways
Shared on request	Various ways
Never shared

My next stage is to think through types of ethical (approval) to match these.

[I think more and more, by the way, that the insistence on the need for ethical approval by institutional gatekeepers is problematic (and not at all ethical). I say something about this in my PhD thesis (see ~ p 82).]

Researchers as lurkers⤴

from NomadWarMachine

An interesting paragraph in a book I am reading at the moment (Lurking, by Joanne McNeil). We are used to talking about learners as lurkers, but here’s another perspective. What images do we invoke when we think about the researcher as lurker?

The picture of researcher as outsider – as a profiteer swooping in to steal content and to cherry pick meaning to fit their own agenda – was one that gave me pause during my own PhD (I am sure some of you remember the story of the ‘researchers’ who came across a Google Doc that some of us were using to start writing a journal article and used it in a conference presentation without asking or attributing – the affront we felt at that unethical behaviour has stayed with me). I chose participatory research as my methodology, and ultimately ended up writing an autoethnography because I wanted to try to allow my community to have a voice in what I was doing, and to make it clear that what I was saying was my own interpretation.

Of course Twitter is public, and the ToS make it clear that researchers are permitted to use tweets without attribution, but imo that is not the full story – there are also ethical considerations (I say some things about this in my PhD thesis if anyone is interested).

I’m not sure where I am going with this yet – as always I am writing to find out what I am thinking.

Spring at last⤴

from NomadWarMachine

Two photos, taken a week apart, both of the same branch. Last week it was cold in the garden – bright, but not warm enough to sit and enjoy it. Today was a beautiful day – warm enough to sit out with a cuppa and read while the cats basked on the paving slabs. I think that spring is finally here.

Facebook reminded me that it’s been just over a year since I submitted my PhD thesis for examination. As I mentioned elsewhere, that feels like a thousand years ago and just the other day.

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An aggregation of Scottish educational blogs

Tag Archives: PhD

My blogging journey⤴

My blogging journey⤴

The story of a loser⤴

Blog or die?⤴

Enter The N+? Universe⤴

Autoethnography⤴

Researcher Visibility⤴

Researchers as lurkers⤴

Spring at last⤴