Learning to read: a detective story

There are so many reasons why I #loveTwitter, but it is unusual for me to tweet for inspiration.

 I needed a sentence to start, an opener. Thanks to the New York Public Library, @nypl I found one that seems to echo something of what this blog is about:

There’s someone in my head, but it’s not me!

The idea that I am developing here is one that takes as its starting point Fairclough and his notion of reading as dialogic exchange between writer, actual and imagined readers: the imaginary reader. 

The 'exchange' in the case of written texts is played out between the writing and the reading of the text, and there may therefore be considerable temporal and spatial gaps between the initiating and responding moves. Moreover, a written text and especially a mediated text (e.g. a book) will figure in a great many exchanges corresponding to its many readings. Written texts often consist in themselves of nothing but Statements, and responses to them may go on only in readers' heads, so it may seem somewhat tenuous to insist on the concept of exchange in such cases. Nevertheless, all texts imply and are oriented to dialogue in a broad sense, even a diary I write for myself inevitably involves choices in what sort of imaginary reader (be it an imaginary self) to address, and this generalization of the concept of exchange is one way to capture this. ¹

I want to extend to reshape this idea, the stance from which it is written to suggest the ‘imagined reader’ as not the reader the writer had in mind when drafting their text, the active audience.  Not the ‘imagined reader’ that the actual reader imagine (and does or does not identify with) when reading a text. It is the readerly self I create in the process of reading.

I want to think about the ‘imagined reader’ as the readerly self I create in the process of reading.

Hence the image of ‘Coffin’ Ed and Gravedigger ‘Jones’, two fictional detectives created by Chester Himes, one of the many black writers I have read and loved – obsessively.

The readerly self, the academic readerly self is on a quest to find ‘the truth’.  This is a truth that may be pluralised: ‘to find truths’; it may also by qualified – ‘to find plausible truths’ rather than find ‘the definitive truth’.  To read, published texts or data to be able to make statements about how the world is: plausibly rather than definitively.  This is of course a risky undertaking.

The readerly self, the academic readerly self is sceptical. The stance taken in relation to everything read, heard, suggested is one of incredulous disbelief. A critical stance that demands, show me, prove it how do you know that’s the case, but what if, who says and so on. The questioning is relentless.  Whatever ls left intact at the end of the process, is temporary until old answered questions re-emerge alongside new unanswered questions.

The readerly self, the academic readerly self relies on informants. The reading process is an entirely dialogic one. The plausible truths to emerge through text do not reveal themselves spontaneously – they are actively sough be and through the engagement with the writer, through places several writers alongside each other, through looking and text and the world the text refers to – which may be a world other then the one he writer was specifically referring to –my reasons for reading may not be same as the writers reading for writing, or for wanting me to reads.  None-the-less the detective self forages for truth and draws on whatever is available to assemble plausibility.

This is one possible version of the readerly self – there are many other possible: the diver,  the orchestral conductor, the explorer, the hair stylist. The more I read, the more and newer selves I discover. There is nothing I enjoy more than being lost in text, lost as an imaginary self in a unexplored world.

¹ Norman Fairclough, Analysing Discourse: Textual Analysis for Social Research (London: Routledge, 2003) 109, Questia, Web, 13 Jan. 2012.

#WResearcher Meme #3 How do you read to learn / learn to read: uncovering / unfolding

How do you read to learn / learn to read: uncovering / unfolding

The idea of an academic having to learn to read is counter-intuitive but resonant. Academic reading is unlike any other reading that we do. In fact – if we adopt the stance of the New Literacy Studies, it is not unreasonable to say that all reading is deeply contextual and particular  to a specific domain. This means, and I think this is true, that the reading I do for my job – reports, emails, assignments, policy papers and texts to inform my teaching, is quite unlike the reading to do for academic research – extended, exploratory, open ended texts, books, bibliographies, research reports, conference listings, chapters, published papers, my own work in the course of revision.

Becoming and remaining an academic involves a process of learning to read.

At the start of my MA I was acutely conscious of this. On one occasion, we had a session where our lecturer sat with a small seminar group and together we read a few paragraphs from a chapter. We then went on to discuss it in detail. The approach was not unlike an activity I might well have undertaken with a group of adult literacy students, although of the course the level and nature of the text and direction of the discussion was significantly different. We were reading about Bourdieu and together unpicking habitus.

I am here making a deliberate and provocative connection. The adults who come to my literacy class have a particular set of quite specific practices they have acquired in relation to reading. Joining an adult literacy class signifies a desire on their part to change, to become someone different. A changed approach to reading is part of that process. This is not unlike the aspiration to become an academic, someone who wants to be something other than who they are at the moment:  a prolifically published writer, a highly regarded academic, a quoted and referenced expert – reading is part of achieving this changed sense of self.

I am here also making a disconnection. With the adult literacy student the actual content of the text is of little importance. What matters is their capacity to explore it independently. That they can read, that I read in identification terms is as important as what I read. Oh, it has to  be interesting - but this is a loop, if it is not interesting, I won't read it. As an academic there is an interplay between what I read and that I read. I invoke the iconic image of the academic standing in front of her books displayed decoratively in the background on rows of shelves. It is being a reader that matters.

Academic reading, reading to learn, is a very particular kind of reading.

Norman Fairclough's Critical Discourse Analysis explicates the work that texts do. How they position readers – that is the writer constructs an ideal reader inviting the actual reader to fall in with the qualities assumed of that construct. This is what readers habitually do. Usually as readers we are unaware of this process. Once we become aware, we may question the assumptions and negotiate an alternative stance. But this still positions us; if we are not the desired, imagined reader constructed by the writer / the text - then we are forced to re/define ourselves as the actual, desired, imagined, self-constructed reader. We then have to negotiate our readerly selves into an alternative position in relation to text and relation to the text's imagined reader. This happens with – for example policy texts. Texts that talk about education in instrumental terms, about qualification as if it were their exchange value rather than their use value that matter. When policy texts are well written, they are compulsive, seductive, they draw the reader in with warm faltering words. You find yourself engrossed and willingly accepting the stance the writers of policy texts take, the normative truth regime they create around you and them. We are seduced by such texts when we are disarmed by them, when our critical faculty is temporarily quietened and we willingly sign up to their agenda.

Doesn’t happen often and certainly doesn’t happen with anything this particular government has written

The point is that in starting the EdD I found I had to be very structured, explicit about the reading I was doing. These academic texts were not policy texts but still I was seduced. The trouble is – I can be faddy, a 'buy-one-get-one-free' person. I would read text (a) and I love it. I enthuse and think yes! that's it, that's it.  Then I would read text (b) a scathing critique of text (a) and have the same excitement and sense of gosh golly – that is so true. At some point I realise I have to fall out of line. It helped to devise strategies to enable a more distanced, less emotional reading. 

Remembering, that in reading these texts part of what I am doing is creating a new identity for myself: an academic.

We were advised by a lecturer on how to read. Advised to ask a series of questions. I had to translate these into a template. I need to fling words across paper (or screen). It's not all in my head. I need to let it happen on paper, through my finger tips as well – otherwise too much of it disappears.

The questions – I have still have all those notes, somewhere.  

·         What is the main argument out forward by the writer?

·         How is this argument developed?

·         How well is it supported?

·         How does this connect to other things you have read?

·         Does it convince you?

·         What other reactions do you have to it?

·         What key concepts does the author develop or use?

·         Any particular vocabulary that you want to make a note of?

These questions stopped quite early – I didn’t need to be so specific, so focussed and interrogated the text in different ways. Usually in ways that was more related to the question I had in mind for a research project and paper.

This is a kind of uncovering, or at least an unfolding; it seeks to make bare what is hidden. Hidden: not through artifice as such. But is a natural process. We present the text not the draft and redraft that created it. We present a completed garment; the stitching is on the inside. Reading involves reminding yourself of the inherent sociality involved in learning. These are not truths being presented but biographies.  Someone persuasive attempt to persuade you – the reader –that this is how it is, a plausible account of how things might, just possibly might, be.  The inherent sociality of learning means reading is not a process of reading as such, as in decoding text and understanding what it means, it is a social process of conversing with someone, the person or persons who have written the text.

And so the final take on reading: unfolding

One that is I think at odds with what I would normally associate with reading, but which explores uncovering, unfolding. Fairclough suggests that the reading associated with critical discourse analysis is no more than what readers do with texts anyway. The process formalises, records and annotates this. We read text as social theorist and as ‘consumers’ professionals charged with implementing the policies they display. But what about reading data. How do we read data – this is surely all at once reading to learn and learning to read. What Faorclough describes as a process readers engage in anyway perhaps does not appreciate the extent to which the reading, re-reading, annotating and recording of readings changes the process. It slows it down. It compels connections. It is not dissimilar to the Rorschach ink splodge test. Do we create images from the random splattering of human life to meet a deep seated yearning for order, coherence, narrative thread?

May be so.

Reading data: what and how do we do this?

I refer here to something I posted earlier this week. I have now gotten over my anxiety about the UCET presentation. What is left is not the frustration of a paper that felt truly terrible – but the pride with having broken my self-imposed silence: good. And more – with looking again at my analysis and seeking to understand the source of my discontent.

To clarify. Last Thursday I presented a paper at a conference, University Council for the Education of Teachers (UCET). The paper presented was a background paper, a contextualising draft. The data that will eventfully shape the paper had only just been gathered and was largely not collated. I had 1 quote from research participants based on earlier interviews. I have often chosen to avoid speaking to peers in public situations –  if I possibly can. And so this presentation thing is quite a challenge to me. But mostly, when I present, the nerves and dread are vindicated: the session goes well, the feedback is good and I feel exhilarated. I did not enjoy UCET. I felt stilted and that I did not cover new ground. I felt it was simply a re-churning of what I already know and that I think those who chose to attend the session also knew. It ended 20 mins early and I missed whole chunks of the paper out. This feeling of dread – post presentation dread has stayed with me.

But once it subsided – a little. I thought again about the quotes I bought with me. The tiny bits of data. 

I was asking the data one question – reading the data with a particular focusing mind. As such I fear that the elephant in the room (far from couching in the corer trying to hide) was sitting and sipping coffee without my noticing. The text does not address the question I was asking – and actually does not do so for a very particular reason. That is the context within which the participants work does not allow them the exploration an answer to this question implies. In one instant at least, a participant is clearly deeply unhappy with his professional situation. Is distressed by it and seems to feel in something of a cul-de-sac. Mostly the qualification they achieve is a means of moving toward something, for him it is means of escape.

Research participants find it difficult to answer the question – what do I mean by literacy and how to I reconcile literacy as social practice and literacy as skills – because – any attempt to move beyond literacy as skills is curtailed. They recognise it but – as one participant has said, ‘at the end of the day, I still have to tick that box’.

In the assemblage that is a policy driven, research based literacy pedagogy – professionals are compelled to play dead: to appear as if they have committed the epistemic suicide that Taylor-Webb so evocatively talks about.

Drafted Wednesday, 09 November 2011 03:04:57

First edit Wednesday, 09 November 2011 22.17.25


ALBRIGHT, J. & LUKE, A. 2008. Pierre Bourdieu and literacy education, Routledge, Taylor & Francis: London.
BARTON, D. 2007. Literacy : an introduction to the ecology of written language, Malden, Mass. Oxford, Blackwell.
TAYLOR & WEBB, P. 2007. Accounting for Teacher Knowledge: Reterritorializations as epistemic suicide. Discourse: Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education, 28, 279-295.

teachers may teach more than we know, why we teach not just what we teach matters

ELLIS, V. 2009. Subject knowledge and teacher education: the development of beginning teachers' thinking, Continuum Intl Pub Group.

My purpose here is to explore, though at other times I will simply review and annotate.

The point of interest here is the nature of teachers’ pedagogic knowledge. At times this is presented as if there is subject knowledge and pedagogic knowledge as distinct and separate things. Ellis is attempting to sophisticate this view.  She does not explicitly mention Schon, though clearly his theories are of relevance here and will be explored and connected at a later stage.  

The main pointers here are:

Teachers beliefs, values, conceptions of purposes for teaching their subject

This is something other than what their subject is; the discussion I have so far had about literacy / literacies has tended towards a reified notion of it is or is not something – but this sense of pedagogic purpose is perhaps as important as pedagogic subject. I think that SfL not only shapes the discourse within which we frame what we teach, it also strongly constrains our sense of purpose.

Pedagogic knowledge is a specific construction not entirely bound to subject knowledge

That there seems to be a particular construction of pedagogic knowledge that is specific to practice and not based on subject knowledge as a distinct category, p43 – teacher test and research that suggested teachers who did poorly on abstract tests of say grammar, but did particularly well on the knowledge they were able to deploy in their teaching.

Knowledge that is brought into being by the nature of the learning context itself.

Nature of teacher knowledge:

Less fixed than 'disciplinary' knowledge – it is ‘totally embedded in subject knowledge’. It is less stable and more situated.

There is some Hattie like taxonomy of ‘effective teachers’ I note here that Elis refers to research suggesting that effective teachers of literacy – strong and coherent personal philosophies about teaching literacy; placed greatest emphasis on ‘purpose, communication and composition.’

All of this is good. All of it. What I am still unsure of and can find no direct reference to is: what and how teachers develop this beliefs about; and how they make connections between their own beliefs abut teaching as a pedagogic subject (albeit one defined in the moment) and their own experiences of being literate. 

learning to read

·         Literacies: this strand of reading explore varying conceptions of literacy and the various ways these dis/connect to practice. The area is vast – there are several different schemata as well as several contrasting and competing distinct constructions. The most significant of these social practices and skills is frequently written about but less often researched. I am here interested in developing visual and metaphorical representations of literacy and language. Kell – the shell & Wilson – 3^rd space. It’s important here be clear about the distinction between language and literacy.

·         Pedagogic implications: my focus is less on exploring the literacies and their pedagogic implications as such. I am more concerned with exploring how trainee teachers construct their ideas about literacy. This is part has include a view of how they construct their own professional and academic identities. I partly want to know what their ideas are, how they manage (identify) the tensions, and how these tensions shape what they do.

·         Research methodology: this is a broad strand that covers situational analysis, grounded theory, qualitative enquiry and complexity theory. Non-representational theory, actor-network-theory are part of the nexus – but what is important here is identifying strands of thought that are helpful, stimulating and help me sift through the messiness of real world research – when the main struggle is time and energy. The advantage of the methodologies I explore is that they enable to recognise myself as deeply implicated within the subject  study.

·         Quality and teacher education: I continue to frame the dilemmas that trainees have to resolve as one of different professional frames between what policy requires ‘ticking the box’ and between meeting the aspirations of their learners. In part the focus on study is on how they connect theory and practice but primarily its based on what sense they make of the terrain.

·         Policy under the coalition: I am conscious of a shifting climate that has become something of a policy vacuum and the need to re-engage with this. The commentary from RaPAL is a good starting point here – for pointers for reading as is what Hodgson and Spours are now writing.  Literacy and language in a cold, hostile climate. Fragmentation. No analysis or skills agenda.