Urban Bushwomen at the UGA Fine Arts Center, Friday, January 23rd, 2015 at 8:00 p.m.
My classmates and I enjoyed this dance performance by the Urban Bushwomen, and I'm glad Dr. Cahnmann-Taylor gave us an opportunity to attend. Our class accompanied her undergraduate group, some other graduate students, and her family to dinner and then to the performance. The whole evening felt like a community experience, and it was nice to talk about the event with other people who are passionate about the arts and arts-based research.
Some of the choreographic and narrative techniques the artistic director used reminded me of the arts-based research and the memoirs I have read in the past, both for Dr. Cahnmann Taylor's LLED/QUAL 8590 class and Dr. Niemann's Creative Nonfiction class at KSU. Jawole Willa Jo Zollar narrated her family's story of migration from Texas to Kansas City as the dancers moved to the rhythm of her words. She said her story was a combination of facts, memories, and legends. All of her story was true, but not all of it was factual, or capital "T" truth as we discuss in my Qualitative Research 8400 class. What I love about memoir stories and performances is that truth doesn't always have to be literal, but it is still important to learn of people's experiences, especially those who have been oppressed or marginalized. In a way, I think Jawole's story was both narrative and ethnographic, as she was telling the history of her family and of the cities in which they lived. Some of her memories were painful, yet she and the dancers very skillfully turned painful experiences into art.
Ethnography and narrative inquiry use a combination of fact, memory, and personal anecdotes to tell stories. We hear the truth from one person's lens, yet it is an important truth to understand to give us access to stories that might otherwise be untold. Although many of the resulting articles are written as more traditional research articles, they serve some of the same purposes of memoirs, the dance performance described above, and other artistic representations of people and culture. Through the understanding of mutual purpose, I believe more people will become even more open to artistic methodologies in qualitative research.
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Thoughts on Ruth Behar, My Fellow Poetic Soul
Behar, R. Between poetry and anthropology: Searching for languages of home. Arts-based research in education: Foundations for practice. Eds. Melisa Cahnman-Taylor & Richard Siegesmund. New York: Routledge.
As I read this chapter for my Arts-Based Inquiry course, I found myself getting choked up and emotional at times. I don't always feel that way when reading texts for my class, but Behar's account was so beautifully composed and personal that I felt emotionally invested. Also, I saw parallels between her life and mine. Like her, I feel that I have a poetic soul, but was sometimes discouraged from pursuing this passion. Also, she and I both have academic careers that we love, yet also want to express some of our scholarship creatively.
I was inspired by Behar's use of poetry to depict scholarly accounts of her anthropology career, as I too hope to blend my research with my creative endeavors. I believe ethnography is a methodology very conducive to poetry writing, along with autoethnography. Since ethnography has roots in both anthropology and creative writing, a skilled writer can use poetry to tell the story of a community's lifestyle or a researcher's individual journey. I'm learning that my field of language and literacy blends well with anthropology and other cultural fields of study.
A poet is one who explores both the inner and outer world. As scholars, we sometimes feel pressure to utilize traditional research and essay writing practices. While there is a time and a place for such choices, it is also important to stay in touch with our creative side. As Behar wrote, "you will reach a point, as I did, where there is no choice but to work from your poetic self" (p. 67). In reality, I have been at that point all along. When I write, I am in touch with my poetic soul, whether I am writing a poem or a content analysis essay. Children's literature, to me, is a form of high art worth of study and reflection, as is poetry. I'm glad that my doctoral studies can be multi-faceted. Now, I realize I do not have to separate my poetic self from my scholarly self.
I used to think my creative writing was impractical and that it was not going to help me progress in life. However, through the support of my Ph.D. professors, I realize that my creative writing and my academic writing aren't mutually exclusive. In the past, I have told my professors that I feel more confident in my academic writing than my creative writing. Bob Fecho and JoBeth Allen have both asked me why I separate the two. It is a valid question. We are all involved with the National Writing Project, so we believe in the power of narrative writing, that people who teach writing should write themselves, and that all genres of writing have value. It's been nice to work with people who have that values system. Misha Cahnman-Taylor is a "ScholArtist" herself and a poet, so she understands my creative writing passion. I do feel more confident in my prose than in my poetry, but I still want to write poetry. Plus, my poetic language comes through in some of my prose pieces.
Ruth Behar, like me, has a strong teacher identity to accompany her writer identity. In this chapter, she notes, "I am always afraid that I will break the transparent butterfly wings of my students, who grow younger and more delicate...with every passing year. The kind of teacher I am: too nice, because I'm absolutely terrified of causing harm. I know all too well, from my own life, that we are susceptible as students to the words of our teachers. So as teachers we need to be careful about our words. Nothing we say can be taken for granted" (p. 67). Here, she definitely expresses thoughts and feelings about teaching that have always been hard for me to articulate. I too struggle to find that line between giving constructive criticism and building my students up, discipline and praise, honesty versus kindness. Yet I want students to grow wings so they too can become butterflies. I too know that actions might speak louder than words, but words have the power to heal or hurt a fellow human. I am passionate about teaching, but I understand the fears she expresses. I am learning to be more careful with my words in all areas of my life.
Behar fascinates me, as a teacher, scholar, and writer. Her interest in Latin@ Jewish communities intrigues me, and I want to read more of her work. My sister and my brother-in-law are Jewish, as will be their future children. For the past few years, I've wanted to learn more about Jewish culture to connect to this side of my family. I am sure Behar writes about all sides of her ethnic identity beautifully, just as she expressed her professional identity so well in this book chapter.
Now, I plan to write more poetry, even if it is sketches in my journal that I carry in my book bag every day. I too need to stay in touch with my poetic soul.
As I read this chapter for my Arts-Based Inquiry course, I found myself getting choked up and emotional at times. I don't always feel that way when reading texts for my class, but Behar's account was so beautifully composed and personal that I felt emotionally invested. Also, I saw parallels between her life and mine. Like her, I feel that I have a poetic soul, but was sometimes discouraged from pursuing this passion. Also, she and I both have academic careers that we love, yet also want to express some of our scholarship creatively.
I was inspired by Behar's use of poetry to depict scholarly accounts of her anthropology career, as I too hope to blend my research with my creative endeavors. I believe ethnography is a methodology very conducive to poetry writing, along with autoethnography. Since ethnography has roots in both anthropology and creative writing, a skilled writer can use poetry to tell the story of a community's lifestyle or a researcher's individual journey. I'm learning that my field of language and literacy blends well with anthropology and other cultural fields of study.
A poet is one who explores both the inner and outer world. As scholars, we sometimes feel pressure to utilize traditional research and essay writing practices. While there is a time and a place for such choices, it is also important to stay in touch with our creative side. As Behar wrote, "you will reach a point, as I did, where there is no choice but to work from your poetic self" (p. 67). In reality, I have been at that point all along. When I write, I am in touch with my poetic soul, whether I am writing a poem or a content analysis essay. Children's literature, to me, is a form of high art worth of study and reflection, as is poetry. I'm glad that my doctoral studies can be multi-faceted. Now, I realize I do not have to separate my poetic self from my scholarly self.
I used to think my creative writing was impractical and that it was not going to help me progress in life. However, through the support of my Ph.D. professors, I realize that my creative writing and my academic writing aren't mutually exclusive. In the past, I have told my professors that I feel more confident in my academic writing than my creative writing. Bob Fecho and JoBeth Allen have both asked me why I separate the two. It is a valid question. We are all involved with the National Writing Project, so we believe in the power of narrative writing, that people who teach writing should write themselves, and that all genres of writing have value. It's been nice to work with people who have that values system. Misha Cahnman-Taylor is a "ScholArtist" herself and a poet, so she understands my creative writing passion. I do feel more confident in my prose than in my poetry, but I still want to write poetry. Plus, my poetic language comes through in some of my prose pieces.
Ruth Behar, like me, has a strong teacher identity to accompany her writer identity. In this chapter, she notes, "I am always afraid that I will break the transparent butterfly wings of my students, who grow younger and more delicate...with every passing year. The kind of teacher I am: too nice, because I'm absolutely terrified of causing harm. I know all too well, from my own life, that we are susceptible as students to the words of our teachers. So as teachers we need to be careful about our words. Nothing we say can be taken for granted" (p. 67). Here, she definitely expresses thoughts and feelings about teaching that have always been hard for me to articulate. I too struggle to find that line between giving constructive criticism and building my students up, discipline and praise, honesty versus kindness. Yet I want students to grow wings so they too can become butterflies. I too know that actions might speak louder than words, but words have the power to heal or hurt a fellow human. I am passionate about teaching, but I understand the fears she expresses. I am learning to be more careful with my words in all areas of my life.
Behar fascinates me, as a teacher, scholar, and writer. Her interest in Latin@ Jewish communities intrigues me, and I want to read more of her work. My sister and my brother-in-law are Jewish, as will be their future children. For the past few years, I've wanted to learn more about Jewish culture to connect to this side of my family. I am sure Behar writes about all sides of her ethnic identity beautifully, just as she expressed her professional identity so well in this book chapter.
Now, I plan to write more poetry, even if it is sketches in my journal that I carry in my book bag every day. I too need to stay in touch with my poetic soul.
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