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EDUCARE

Educare är latin och betyder närmast ”ta sig an” eller ”ha omsorg för”. Educare är rotord till t ex engelskans och franskans education/éducation, vilket på svenska mot-svaras av såväl ”(upp)fostran” som av ”långvarig omsorg”. I detta lägger vi ett bild-nings- och utbildningsideal som uttrycker människors potential och vilja att ömsesi-digt växa, lära och utvecklas.

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EDUCARE - Vetenskapliga skrifter är en sakkuniggranskad skriftserie som ges ut vid lärarutbildningen i Malmö sedan hösten 2005. Den speglar och ar-tikulerar den mångfald av ämnen och forskningsinriktningar som finns inom utbildningsvetenskap i Malmö. EDUCARE är också ett nationellt och nor-diskt forum där nyare forskning, aktuella perspektiv på utbildningsvetenska-pens ämnen samt utvecklingsarbeten med ett teoretiskt fundament ges plats. Utgivning består av vetenskapliga artiklar. EDUCARE vänder sig till forska-re vid lärarutbildningar, studenter vid lärarutbildningar, intforska-resserade läraforska-re vid högskolor, universitet och i det allmänna skolväsendet samt utbildnings-planerare.

Författarinstruktion och call for papers finns på EDUCARE:s hemsida:

http://www.mah.se/fakulteter-och-omraden/Lararutbildningen/Nyheter/

Pub-likationer/EDUCARE---Vetenskapliga-tidskrifter/

Redaktion: Björn Sundmark (huvudredaktör), Margareth Drakenberg,

Nanny Hartsmar, Bodil Liljefors Persson, Ann-Christine Vallberg Roth,

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 Copyright Författarna och Malmö högskola

EDUCARE 2009: 4 Att infånga praxis - kvalitativa metoder i (special)pedagogisk forskning i Norden

Titeln ingår i serien EDUCARE, publicerad vid lärarutbildningen, Malmö högskola.

Tryck: Holmbergs AB, Malmö, 2009

ISBN: 978-91-7104-114-2 ISSN: 1653-1868 Beställningsadress: www.mah.se/muep Holmbergs AB Box 25 201 20 Malmö Tel. 040-6606660 Fax 040-6606670 Epost: [email protected]

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Innehållsförteckning

Innehållsförteckning ... 5 Förord: Att infånga praxis – kvalitativa metoder i

(special)pedagogisk forskning i Norden ... 7 Introduction: Honoring and celebrating diversity in

educational research ... 9 Walking on eggshells: Some ethical issues in research

with people in vulnerable situations ... 19 Ytterst berörd - sällan hörd: Att som forskare lyssna

till berättelser ... 35 Læring i inkluderende klasserum: Når eleverne gives

stemme ... 61 Med fokus på samspel: Att använda video i

specialpedagogisk forskning ... 81 Praksisforskning: På tværs af almen- og

specialpædagogik ... 105 Att skapa mening i en skola för alla:

Ett diskursanalytiskt förhållningssätt ... 121 Efterord: Kontrol betyder ikke nødvendigvis kvalitet ... 141

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Förord: Att infånga praxis – kvalitativa metoder

i (special)pedagogisk forskning i Norden

Lena Lang

Den process som har lett fram till temanumret – Att infånga praxis –

kvalita-tiva metoder i (special)pedagogisk forskning i Norden – har gått över ett

flerårigt nätverksarbete. Idén om att skapa ett nordiskt nätverk föds på en forskningskonferens i Jyväskylä, Finland år 2003. I en glänta i Aboretet på det svenska Österlen, börjar sedan formerna för nätverket att utkristalliseras. Därmed kommer några forskare med intresse för specialpedagogisk forsk-ning, i kombination med ett intresse för att analysera kvalitativa data, att verka tillsammans under ett flertal år. Den gemensamma vägen för nätverket

QUalitative Research In a Nordic special(educational) perspective (QUiNS)

har inneburit tre avgränsade nätverksprojekt: gemensam session i en interna-tionell forskningskonferens, arrangemang av en nordisk konferens för prak-tiker och ett gemensamt artikelprojekt med metodologiskt fokus.

En viktig person i relation till flera av nätverksprojekten har bland an-nat professor emerita Birgit Kirkebæk, Danmarks Pedagogiska Universitetet, varit. Hon har bidragit med metodiska perspektiv i relation till nätverkets konferensarrangemang, medan professor Dianne Ferguson, Chapman Uni-versity, Kalifornien och professor Phil Ferguson, Chapman UniUni-versity, Kali-fornien inspirerat nätverket i samband med den initiala fasen av nätverkets artikelprojekt.

I föreliggande temanummers inledningskapitel relaterar Dianne Fergu-son det metodologiska innehållet i de nordiska artiklarna till ”thickness in educational research”. Artiklarna presenteras sedan i samma ordningsföljd som de introduceras i inledningskapitlet och sammantaget visar de på olika sätt att infånga och analysera praxis. Därefter avslutar Birgit Kirkebæk ge-nom att perspektivera det specialpedagogiska forskningsområdet i relation till de aktuella tendenser som för närvarande synes vara dominerande i de nordiska länderna.

Planering av och arbete med artiklar och konferenser medför att nätver-ket kontinuerligt sammanstrålar, bland annat på nordiska högskolor och uni-versitet. Vidare har artiklarna till detta temanummer tillkommit under dagar av sammanhållen gemensam avskildhet utanför de lärosäten som deltagarna verkar vid, såsom under skrivardagar på konferenscentrat ’Det gamle Apothek’ vid Haslev, Danmark och under en skrivarvecka i Kavalla, Grek-land. Utöver artikelskrivande och andra nätverksaktiviteter innebär samarbe-tet i nätverksform att nätverksmedlemmarna även har förmånen att följa

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var-andras övriga verksamheter och glädjas över varvar-andras akademiska karriärer under en räcka av år, där exempelvis några disputerar, andra utnämns till professorer. Nätverket föreställer sig att målgruppen för detta temanummer kan finnas i skiftande (special)pedagogiska utbildningar på mastersnivå och i andra (special)pedagogiskt relaterade utbildningar på avancerade nivåer i Norden.

För nätverket QUalitative Research In a Nordic special(educational)

pers-pective (QUiNS)

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Introduction: Honoring and celebrating

diversity in educational research

Dianne L. Ferguson

I have been privileged over the last several decades to have spent time in nearly all of the countries represented by the contributors to this special is-sue. All of these experiences talking with colleagues, trying to teach in un-familiar contexts through language differences, learning about and visiting schools, talking with teachers and students – have taught me that while much is different, much is also the same. Education, and special education, in all of our countries bear some remarkable similarities. The timeframes vary, the policy details are different, but the patterns are familiar.

Students with disabilities, for example, have historically been excluded, separated, and less well understood by our various systems. Those with the most significant or challenging/confusing disabilities come to notice last and all too frequently receive the least. But over time, policy commitments to compulsory schooling, “schools for all” and the notion that “everyone can learn” have led to special education and a new professional group of teach-ers, specialists, therapists and interventionists. Despite the differences across our cultures and national experiences, there have been similar patterns of first focusing on what students don’t know, cannot do and need to learn and do to be more like their peers. We then develop a range of responses – teach-ing strategies, professionals, even places for learnteach-ing that are targeted on “what works” to address the assumptions of deficit and need. The questions our educational systems have historically asked, and are still trying to an-swer are: 1) Why do some students have difficulty learning? 2) What causes it? 3) How can we “fix” or remediate these difficulties? 4) How do we best organize our schools to deliver these solutions? These questions tend to rely on inquiry traditions that “describe, predict, and control,” or at the very least strive to enumerate, verify and prove. About disability, these traditions would tend to ask: what is disability; what is its nature? While we have learned much from these objectivist traditions about learning, schooling and disability; there was also much these traditions had not allowed us to know until a growing number of scholars and researchers began to draw upon dif-ferent inquiry traditions to ask difdif-ferent questions and describe, interpret, understand and explain more and more about the educational enterprise. The articles in this special issue ask some of these different questions about spe-cial education, disability, learning and schools.

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Interpretivism and Education

Interpretivism describes a set of beliefs about the world that tends to ask dif-ferent questions like “What meanings do people hold about disability? (Bentley, 2008; Davis, 1995; Devlieger, Rusch & Pfeiffer, 2003; Ferguson, 2001; Ferguson, Ferguson & Taylor, 1992; Minow, 1990; Naraian, 2008; Rioux & Bach, 1994) or “How do people experience disability?” (Brewster, 2004; Goodley, Lawthom, Clough, & Moore, 2004; Linton, 1998; Linton, 2006; Murphy, 1990; Titchkosky, 2003). These kinds of questions seek to discover “why”, “how”, and “what does it mean”? in an effort to better un-derstand. Understanding how families experience having a child with a disa-bility or how adults with disabilities experience learning (Bjarnason; Lang & Ohlsson, this issue), understanding what students themselves think about their schools, classroom and participation (Tetler & Baltzer, this issue), and understanding the complexity of communications between children and adults who experience different kinds of communication challenges (Ander-son & Tvingstedt; Assar(Ander-son, this issue) are all addressed by the contribu-tions to this special issue. Each of these research efforts not only describe aspects of the educational enterprise that are not frequently noticed, but they also provide the reader with interpretations, explanations and understanding that other inquiry traditions do not offer. These deeper understandings are needed and welcome in the field.

While associated with a range of knowledge traditions and philosophi-cal labels, interpretivism as an approach to inquiry has long standing tradi-tions in other fields such as sociology (Glaser & Strauss, 1967; Lofland & Lofland, 1984; Bogdan & Biklen, 2007; Bryant & Charmaz, 2007) anthro-pology (Clifford & Marcus, 1986; Geertz, 1973), and psychology (Bruner, 1990; Jacob, 1992; Tesch, 1990; Mitchell, 2003). Interpretivism also en-compasses a wide variety of methodological approaches, from ethnography to ethnomethodology to discourse analysis, naturalistic inquiry, phenome-nology and hermeneutics. Although there were early examples of interpre-tivist research in both education and special education (e.g., Edgerton, 1967; Groce, 1985; Kidder, 1989), over the last twenty years, and despite debates (Eisner & Peshkin, 1990; Gage, 1989; Howe, 1988; D. L. Ferguson & Fer-guson, 2000), interpretivist inquiry has emerged as a legitimate approach to educational inquiry – albeit still sometimes a minority one (e.g., Brantlinger, 1997; 2000). There has been a steady stream of textbooks focused on teach-ing educational researchers to use qualitative methods within the

interpretiv-ist tradition – many in their 4th or 5th edition (e.g., Bogdan & Biklen, 2007;

Eisner, 1991; Lincoln & Guba, 1985; Maxwell, 2005; Patton, 1990; Marshall & Rossman, 2006). More important though have been the studies themselves – what they reveal and help us understand about learning, disability, and schools.

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Thickness in educational research

The quintessential methods of interpretivist research, as characterized by Wolcott (1993; 1994) involve looking using the skills of participant observa-tion, listening through open-ended, semi-structured, and group interviews, and thinking about the resulting data through the stages of analysis. The re-searcher is advised to seek thickness – a common metaphor in discussions of qualitative methods and one that was adopted and popularized by Clifford Geertz (1973) as thick description. Thick description is crucial to an inter-pretive understanding of the social (and educational) world. Most qualitative researchers use thick description to emphasize that data collection is “not simply a matter of amassing relevant detail” (Schwandt, 2001, p. 255), but rather a commitment to capture the richness of context and the varied and multiple meanings present. In any social context, in all social interactions – including the teaching/learning interaction – there are not only multiple perspectives at play, but each of those perspectives possess varied and mul-tiple layers of meaning. Meaning, then becomes one of the key dimensions of knowledge that interpretivism can uniquely offer.

Exploring meaning across our various countries has taught me – and reinforced in me – the need to explore and use interpretivist approaches to inquiry because it is better able to explore the complexities, ambiguities and general “grayness” of much of what happens in the day to day life of schools and classrooms. Schools and classrooms have a dailyness and particularity that is not easily captured by the tools of objectivist research. Thus, I am in agreement with Shulman (1986), who pointed out twenty years ago that any mature social science must encompass competing schools of thought, and Robert Merton who commented about sociology that, “No one paradigm has even begun to demonstrate its unique cogency for investigating the entire range of sociologically [and even educationally] interesting questions” (cited in Shulman, 1986, p. 28.). The very nature of schools and the work that takes place in them requires that we employ as many approaches to inquiry as we can.

Most studies that rely upon qualitative methods and interpretivist ways of viewing social phenomena rely upon thick description to gather details about the phenomenon of focus and to convey the rich complexity of what they find. Beyond thick description, however, we have with this issue the opportunity to explore – along with other examples from educational re-search – three additional types of “thickness” in rere-search: thick inscription, thick explanation and thick prescription (D. L. Ferguson, 2005; P.M. Fergu-son, 2005). Figure 1 briefly describes and illustrates the differences and re-lationships among these types of thickness in research and I will use them to begin to locate the contributions to learning and knowledge in education that is included in this issue.

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Thick Inscription relies most on having data that are thickly described, but goes further to seek to “give voice” to those rarely heard

point of view and description of experience as a way of giving voice. For e ample, Janko (1994) helped her readers und

periences of families adjudicated as having abused their children, and how their interactions with the judicial system and the people they found there were responsible for silencing that voice.

mothers to share their own experiences through photographs and poetry and in so doing offers entry into the unique mixture of joy and challenge these young women faced as they engaged in “public posing and private thoughts” (p. 61). A range of writers have

ture that inscribes not only women’s views, but explore women’s exp riences and the meanings they take from those experiences (e.g., Gilligan, 1982; Lather & Smithies, 1997; Asch & Fine, 1988; Smith & Hutchison, 2004).

In this issue the article by Bjarnason explores the ethics and challenges of trying to provide thick inscription of the experiences of families who have a child with a disability and how these experiences change over time. This analysis offers caution to others who seek to interview people in vulnerable positions who might wish to also give these disempowered and frequently disenfranchised people voice. In a similar way Lang and Ohlsson use in depth interviews with adults with physical (Lang) and int

(Ohlsson) along with observations aided by audio

ractions between the adults and their teachers to both give voice to these relies most on having data that are thickly described, but goes further to seek to “give voice” to those rarely heard – to inscribe their point of view and description of experience as a way of giving voice. For e ample, Janko (1994) helped her readers understand the perspectives and e periences of families adjudicated as having abused their children, and how their interactions with the judicial system and the people they found there ble for silencing that voice. Holm (1997) invited teenage hers to share their own experiences through photographs and poetry and in so doing offers entry into the unique mixture of joy and challenge these young women faced as they engaged in “public posing and private thoughts” (p. 61). A range of writers have contributed to a substantial women’s liter ture that inscribes not only women’s views, but explore women’s exp riences and the meanings they take from those experiences (e.g., Gilligan, 1982; Lather & Smithies, 1997; Asch & Fine, 1988; Smith & Hutchison, In this issue the article by Bjarnason explores the ethics and challenges of trying to provide thick inscription of the experiences of families who have a child with a disability and how these experiences change over time. This on to others who seek to interview people in vulnerable positions who might wish to also give these disempowered and frequently disenfranchised people voice. In a similar way Lang and Ohlsson use in depth interviews with adults with physical (Lang) and intellectual disabilities (Ohlsson) along with observations aided by audio-taping of educational int ractions between the adults and their teachers to both give voice to these

relies most on having data that are thickly described, but their point of view and description of experience as a way of giving voice. For

erstand the perspectives and ex-periences of families adjudicated as having abused their children, and how their interactions with the judicial system and the people they found there Holm (1997) invited teenage hers to share their own experiences through photographs and poetry and in so doing offers entry into the unique mixture of joy and challenge these young women faced as they engaged in “public posing and private thoughts” contributed to a substantial women’s litera-ture that inscribes not only women’s views, but explore women’s expe-riences and the meanings they take from those expeexpe-riences (e.g., Gilligan, 1982; Lather & Smithies, 1997; Asch & Fine, 1988; Smith & Hutchison, In this issue the article by Bjarnason explores the ethics and challenges of trying to provide thick inscription of the experiences of families who have a child with a disability and how these experiences change over time. This on to others who seek to interview people in vulnerable positions who might wish to also give these disempowered and frequently disenfranchised people voice. In a similar way Lang and Ohlsson use

in-ellectual disabilities taping of educational inte-ractions between the adults and their teachers to both give voice to these

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adult’s experiences in learning situations, and to further explore the nature of the interactions between adult learners with disabilities and their teachers. In quite a different way, Tetler and Baltzer give voice to elementary students about their own classrooms and participation in schooling. It is ironic that the very recipients of much of our educational research and practice – stu-dents – are only rarely asked their opinions and thoughts. Using more struc-tured interviews, these authors reveal how these young students with and without disabilities interpret and understand a range of aspects of pedagogy and learning.

Thick inscription can often lead to thick prescription. Janko (1994) sought in the end of her book to offer recommendations to social service and judicial personnel about how to better understand and interpret the expe-riences of families of abused children by better understanding the contexts in which they lived. And to some extent Bjarnason’s analysis of the ethical is-sues raised by interviewing people in vulnerable positions ends up seeking to at least recommend, and perhaps prescribe, specific ways researchers might better protect their efforts to give voice. A more direct example of thick pre-scription is the work of Morin who describes the organization of schooling for students in difficulties in Danish schools by focusing on the dilemmas in the organization of general and special education, which, when understood and addressed in particular ways can improve the functioning of both sys-tems. Certainly in my own work (e.g., Ferguson, 1998; Ferguson & Meyer, 1996) I have spent time in schools observing, interviewing, and sharing back what the research team learned with the expressed purpose to help the school improve their practice. By “mirroring back” information about what hap-pens in the daily complexity of schooling, educators in those setting are fre-quently able to then “see” things differently to define new problems to solve. This kind of ongoing work in watching schools led, in my case, to offering a framework for schools to systematically and systemically improve their practices (Ferguson, Kozleski & Smith, 2003).

An exploration using thick description is found in the work of Anders-son & Tvingstedt who use video to gather more nuanced and subtle informa-tion about the communicainforma-tion patterns, communicainforma-tion signals, non-verbal, and other alternative forms of communication that occur and contribute to the meaning all present make about what is occurring. What is interesting about the video observations is that they allow the thick description to occur even after the observers have left the setting as they view the tapes repeated-ly to find new data each time.

In this issue, Assarson offers an example of thick explanation. Such re-search usually builds upon the thick description of earlier rere-search to speak to a broader audience by providing a more theoretical explanation of the par-ticulars of any one study. In my own early research (Ferguson, 1987), I bor-rowed a device from a classic study of schools by Willis (1981) to first

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present by description, but to then spend additional chapters creating a thick explanation for the findings using a more critical lens. In a similar vein, a growing disability studies literature engages in critical interpretation of disa-bility in order to understand disadisa-bility, as a fundamentally social, cultural, political, historical, discursive, and relational phenomenon (e.g., Barnes, Oliver & Barton, 2002; Davis, 2006; Linton, 1998; Shakespeare, 2006 ). In so doing, Assarson is creating an epistemology of impairment that relies much on the thick description and thick inscription of earlier research. As-sarson uses the tools of discourse analysis to examine the linguistic processes teachers and students use to adjust their discourses in light of the “ruling discourses” that are present. She places the specifics of a particular school into a larger post structural examination of the organization of com-munication between teachers and students.

Thickness in educational research, then, is one way of appreciating,

and celebrating, the diversity of interpretivist research. This set of papers uses the power of interpretivist inquiry to explore all types of thickness in research, and in so doing, contributes both to our increasing understanding and our appreciation of the kinds of questions that can and should be asked about schools and education. While education, or special education, may never comfortably encompass some of the variety that is being explored in interpretivist research— like the confessional tales of Van Maanen (1988), the autobiographical ethnography of Ellis (1993), Ronai (1997) or Wolcott (1994), the ethnographic fiction of Angrosino (1988); or the dislodging scholarship and stories of postmodern storytellers (Danforth, 1997; Gergen, 1994) – the contributions to this special issue contribute to pushing the boundaries of learning and knowing we have so long relied upon and that’s something to honor and celebrate.

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Walking on eggshells: Some ethical issues in

research with people in vulnerable situations

Dóra S. Bjarnason

This article takes up some of the ethical issues at stake when qualitative inquiry in-volves people in vulnerable situations, such as the young, the very old, the sick or disabled or minority groups – people, in short, who are often labelled as “the other”. Ethical issues and dilemmas appear at every juncture of the research process and also when the researcher decides what to publish and why. The article starts with some of the issues and experiences the author brings to the table after working in the field of inclusive education and disability research for over three decades. Next it of-fers some notes on qualitative inquiry and then it moves on to explore the ethics, ethical issues and dilemmas inevitably part and parcel of all such inquiry. Then it ap-plies examples from the author’s fieldwork to the discussion of ethical issues and di-lemmas in qualitative encountered in qualitative research with people in vulnerable situations. Examples are in particular drawn from the authors recent study that in-volved interviews with Icelandic parents of disabled children. The ethical issues and dilemmas touched upon include those related to gaining access, the interview situa-tion itself, including the building of rapport and the fine line between gathering the data, data analysis, ethical issues related to what to select from privileged knowl-edge, and other things that concern the writing up of sensitive data. Finally, some thought is given to publications, their interpretations by the reader and their use or abuse.

Key words: Ethical and methodological issues, researching vulnerable people

Dóra S. Bjarnason, Professor, University of Iceland [email protected]

Introduction

The chapter explores some of the many ethical problems that are likely to confront qualitative researchers, studying people in vulnerable situations, within the field of disability studies and special and inclusive educational re-search. Examples are taken from my own research, experiences gathered over the last 30 years in the field, but particularly from my current research into how parents of disabled children view their lives and the formal and in-formal supports made available to them over time. The examples include moral and ethical challenges, dilemmas and pitfalls one is likely to encounter as a researcher studying people in vulnerable situations in a small society where face to face interaction characterizes social encounters, or in local communities of larger societies, where people know or know of each other.

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The chapter starts with some of the issues and experiences I bring to the table from my own work experiences. Next it offers some notes on qualita-tive inquiry. Then it moves on to explore ethics, and some ethical issues and dilemmas encountered in the context of qualitative inquiry. Then it applies examples from my own fieldwork, particularly the gathering of data through interviews, to the discussion of ethical issues and dilemmas encountered in qualitative research with people in vulnerable situations. The examples are in particular drawn from my recent study that involved interviewing Icelandic parents of disabled children (born 1974-2007) in a time of significant socio- political change in both Icelandic disability- and social policy and the soci-ety.

The ethical issues and dilemmas touched upon include gaining access, the interview situation itself including the building of rapport, and the ethical challenges found in the interview situation itself. Furthermore, ethical issues related to the data analysis will be discussed, and what to select from

privi-leged knowledge (a concept given me by Dianne Ferguson 2009), if

any-thing. The term privileged knowledge refers to the kind of things that the person being interviewed tells the interviewer, sometimes deeply private and personal matters they feel the need to share, which may not further the re-search. Finally the chapter will briefly touch upon other ethical concerns in the writing up of sensitive data and its publication.

Background: What do I bring to the table?

In my work as a qualitative researcher I have often used interviews to gather significant parts of my data combined with observations, participant obser-vations and document analysis. I have interviewed teenagers and their par-ents, entrepreneurs, bureaucrats, government ministers, fishermen, teachers of all kinds, student teachers, health workers and therapeutic professionals, disabled youth, and family members of disabled children and young people. Over the past 25 years I have researched issues related to disability, and inclusion and exclusion in schools and society (for example Bjarnason, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2009). My interests in those areas are fuelled by my con-cern with questions about inequality, marginalization and exclusion in mod-ern schools and societies, and by a personal history of becoming a parent in 1980 to a son with significant impairment and an impressive string of labels (Bjarnason, 2003).

In my work I have often been amazed, humbled and even embarrassed by the intimate details people have been willing to share in semi-structured interview situations. Through successes, mistakes and failures I have become keenly aware of how delicate, but also deeply informative and rewarding, research with people in vulnerable situations can be. This chapter shares some of my reflections and lessons learnt in the field.

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Notes on qualitative inquiry

Qualitative inquiry aims at understanding the meaning of human action. It involves a variety of social inquiry which has its roots in hermeneutics, phe-nomenology and the tradition of Verstehen. It encompasses all forms of so-cial research that involves data in the forms of words and gestures that form the basis for meaning making, and a broad base of methods, techniques and theoretical approaches applied to gather and interpret such data. Thus it may include ethnography, case studies, naturalistic inquiry, life histories and nar-rative inquiry (Schwandt, 2001). When qualitative inquiry involves people in vulnerable situations, it can be a way of giving the subjects a voice in mat-ters concerning their own lives, furthering the understanding of difference, inclusion and exclusion in our schools and society and informing policy makers, professionals and the general public on matters involving diversity, social justice and lived experiences of people labelled as “the other”. In that sense there is a political aspect to such inquiry. Some such inquiry is done in partnership with the subjects involved, where the researcher is seen to be a facilitator, a critic, an advocate or a change agent, counter acting the disem-powering dominant groups or structures in society. This is both a political approach aimed at empowering the research subject and those similarly situ-ated, and a way of framing human relations in the research. Other such in-quiry is carried out where the researcher is a marginal participant and the re-searched are seen to be informants for the research purposes. A bitter con-troversy about these two approaches has recently resulted in a fierce and somewhat ugly debate within the field of disability studies (Shakespeare, 2006; Vehmas, 2008; Disability & Society, 2007). On the one hand are those who want to stick with the British social model for its emancipator and po-litical approach, respecting the slogan of British disability advocates “Noth-ing about us without us” (see O’Brien, 2000; Charlton, 1998; Oliver, 1990, 1996, 2007). On the other hand are those researchers in disability studies, like Tom Shakespeare, who want to be free from the dominant political im-plications of the British social model approach, favouring, what they argue as a more academic pursuit of knowledge. The argument put forward is that the epistemological approach to a research, not the subject matter should de-termine the appropriateness and usefulness of the researched as co-researchers (Shakespeare, 2006; Vehmas, 2008).

Most qualitative inquiry involves an ongoing relationship between the researcher and the researched. Such a relationship can be fairly detached and formalized, as when data is gathered by an outside (supposedly “objective”) expert who makes an a priory formal contract about the procedure and its ethical parameters with the subjects researched. An example of this is the evaluation of an institution such as a school, hospital or university. But more often the relationship is an ongoing one over a period of time, or intense as

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in semi-structured interviews. In the field the relations between the re-searcher and the research participant or subject becomes substantial and sub-jected to changes in agenda, nuances and vested interests. This calls for heightened awareness of ethical dilemmas and possible pitfalls, and for the researcher’s vigilant anticipation of these as the fieldwork unravels.

Before I move on to describe and explore some such ethical issues I have encountered in my work, I will briefly explain what I mean by ethics and ethical issues and dilemmas.

Ethical issues and dilemmas

Ethics is the branch of philosophy that explores the nature of moral virtue and evaluates human action. It seeks to study human action and morality through a rational, secular outlook that is based in notions of human happi-ness or well being. In the widest sense the subject matter of ethics is the jus-tification of human actions, especially as those actions affect others.

There are basically two traditions in modern philosophical ethics re-garding how to determine the ethical character of actions; the first is based on the argument that actions have one intrinsic ethical character but acquire their moral status from the consequences that flow from them. The second tradition is based on the argument that actions are inherently right or wrong. The former is called a teleological approach to ethics and the other

deonto-logical approach to ethics. The former is based in the utilitarian thinking of

the British philosopher Jeremy Bentham and refined by John Stuart Mill. It claims that the moral character of action depends on the extent to which ac-tions help or hurt people. Acac-tions that produce more benefit than harm are “right”, those that do not are “wrong” (White, 1993). This approach can be problematic based on for example who gets to decide what is or is not a benefit or a harm, and whether or not some harm or suffering to the few is justifiable if it brings benefits and pleasure to the many?

The latter tradition, the deontological oriented ethics is based on the approach of Kant’s universal moral law: that actions have an intrinsic moral value based on duty or what is the right thing to do. From that perspective some actions are inherently good, such as telling the truth or keeping a promise, others bad, no matter how much good may stem from them, for ex-ample lying, coercing or manipulating others. This approach is problematic in its inflexibility, and in who gets to determine whether or not an action is deemed right or wrong (White, 1993). Modern ethical theories include

deon-tological ethics, consequensialist ethics which is based on the idea of an

out-come achieving some good state of affairs, and virtue ethics, based on the qualities of character necessary to live well (Schwandt, 2001, p. 73).

In layman’s terms, I think it is safe to say that ethics involves a set of customary principles and practices embodying some sort of a normative

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moral code. Acting in an ethical way implies acting out that code in practice. These codes vary somewhat from culture to culture.

An ethical issue or dilemma arises when there's a conflict between two or more parties, here the researcher and the research participant or informant, if the researcher is benefiting at the expense of the research participant. In other words, when the researcher, using his or her power over the research situation and the research participant, uses the research participant as a

means to his or her own scientific end, hurts or harms the research

partici-pant, breaks a promise, or otherwise undermines the trust which must be part and parcel of the relationship between researcher and the research partici-pants. An ethical dilemma can also arise when there's a conflict between moral rules or when one is violated.

As I am neither a philosopher nor ethicist, I dare not dive deeper into this particular theoretical jungle, but all of us involved in educational and disability scholarships, working with people in vulnerable situations, need to take stance to and reflect upon ethical issues in our work. We need to recog-nize at all times, that ethics, epistemology and politics are intrinsically linked in our every day work.

When the research participants are people in vulnerable situations, we the researchers, must be extra vigilant. People in vulnerable situations can be old people, children and youth, people of all ages with special needs, illness or disability labels and their families, people from minority groups and other disempowered people within our communities.

Sometimes we make errors of judgment or actions and face the painful problem of learning from our mistakes. More often we are just not sure whether or not we managed to live up to our ethical standards, and simulta-neously stayed with what constitutes legitimate warranted knowledge of so-cial life, our personal experiences, political commitments, and our responsi-bilities as students of meaning making. Some such errors may do damage to our academic portrayal, but in the case of people in vulnerable situations, such errors can irrevocably harm the lives of our research participants, peo-ple often already vulnerable, disempowered and socially excluded. The do-ing of qualitative research with people in vulnerable situations can at times be captured by the metaphor of walking on eggshells.

Capturing meaning without doing harm

Most ethical concerns in the literature and practice of qualitative research re-volve around issues of harm, consent, deception and privacy (de Laine, 2000; Punch, 1998; Christians, 2000). As stated above, in qualitative search the researcher enters into a relatively close relationship with the re-search participants, for example in the participant observer or interview situation. Participation is grounded in trust. Bad mistakes may do harm and

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close the door for further research. But too much concern with the possible pitfalls can reduce the flexibility of the fieldwork situation and reduce the quality of the data to platitudes of little use for analysis.

Ethics issues are thus always present in qualitative research which is filled with unanticipated occurrences, feelings, lies, unexpected revelations, and unequal roles and power balance. In qualitative research the researcher

is himself the research instrument. The researcher, with his or her research

participant, creates the text of the research material, interviews, observation, field notes and the research reports. The readers engage with the text of the final report and carry out the final interpretations by engaging with the fin-ished document. Their interpretations may be different to the researcher’s own interpretations and may carry unintended consequences, personal, po-litical and economic.

There are different stances regarding ethical issues in qualitative re-search. Two of those are of particular concern here. They are the absolutist

stance, which addresses the following four ethical concerns: protection of

participants, prevention of deception, protection of privacy, and informed consent. Those who adopt this stance argue that social scientists have no right to invade the privacy of others because such invasion may cause harm to research participants. The relativist stance, by contrast, states that investi-gators have absolute freedom to study what they see fit, but they should study only those problems that flow from their own experiences. Agenda set-ting is most often determined by the personal biography of the researcher. Thus the only reasonable ethical standard is one directed by the researcher’s conscience. No single ethical standard can be developed because each situa-tion requires a different ethical stance. From this point of view the researcher is advised to build open sharing relationships with his or her research par-ticipants and involve them as much as possible in each and every state of the research process and interpretations (www.sahealthinf.org/ethics /ethics-qualitative.htm).

The difference between these two stances is not clear cut in practice. For example there is no clear cut distinction between the public and the pri-vate in research that aims at understanding disability in the family, school or society, partnership between parents of children with special educational or other needs and professionals, formal and informal support as experienced by families of children and youth with special needs, the building or erosion of individual or group social capital in schools or out of school activities to mention just a few research areas. Punch, discussing what can be taken as public and what as private, summarizes the kind of questions that are asked in the research literature on ethical standards in qualitative research as fol-lows:

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What is public and what is private? When can research be said to be “harm-ing” people? Does the researcher enjoy any immunity from the law when he or she refuses to disclose information? In what way can one institutionalize ethical norms –such as respect, beneficence, and justice (Reiss, 1979) – to en-sure accountability and responsibility in the use and control of human sub-jects? And to what extent do betrayal of trust, deception and invasion of pri-vacy damage field relationships, make the researcher cynical and devious, en-rage the “participants” in research, harm the reputation of social scientific re-search, and lead to malpractice in the wider society? (Punch,1998, p. 169)

Obviously there are no simple answers to any of these questions, but I argue that that should not stop us from considering them very seriously at every juncture of our research work, but not so seriously that we intimidate our-selves and our work and render ourour-selves incapable of taking risks and being flexible in how we apply our trade.

Both feminist (Oakeley, 1979, 1981) and disability studies scholars (Barnes, Mercer & Shakespeare, 1999) further mudded the water of what can be seen as the ethical dimension in qualitative research by claiming its po-litical nature. Feminist and disability studies research is carried out not only to develop “new knowledge” or open up new perspectives, but also to give voice to groups that are normally not heard or listened to, unmask injustice, oppression, exploitation and exclusion with the stated aim of improving life for oppressed or people in vulnerable situations. Feminist scholars for exam-ple emphasize identification, trust, empathy and non-exploitive relationships in all their research (Finch, 1984; Oakeley, 1981). As Punch reminds us:

Feminist research by women on women implies “a standpoint epistemology” that not only colours the ethical and moral component of research related to power imbalances in a sexist and racist environment, but also inhibits decep-tion of the research “subjects”. Indeed, the gender and ethnic solidarity be-tween researcher and researched welds that relationship into one of coopera-tion and collaboracoopera-tion that represents a personal commitment and also a con-tribution to the interests of women in general (e.g. in giving voice to “hidden women,” in generating the “emancipatory praxis” , and in seeing the field set-tings as “sites of resistance”). (ibid. p. 169)

Disability scholars attempt much the same thing in their work. Disabled scholars such as Colin Barnes, Michel Oliver and Tom Shakespeare have contributed much to the field by opening up new research venues and theo-retical perspectives, asking new questions, and applying new and emancipat-ing methods of inquiry. Their work is inspired by them beemancipat-ing both insiders and outsiders in the world of disability. The same applies to thoughtful work by scholars who are also parents or siblings of disabled people (Ferguson, D. L. and Ferguson, P. M, 1993, 1995; Ferguson, P.M. 2001; Turnbull, A and Turnbull, R., Skrtic, 1995).

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Examples from the field

My current research project focuses primarily on four groups of parents of disabled children (born 1974-2007), in all 75 families of one or more chil-dren diagnosed with significant impairments, and their experiences of formal supports (by the welfare state including health, education, disability and so-cial services) and informal supports given by members of the family soso-cial networks. The data base is 135 semi-structured open ended interviews, with one or both parents, and with 5 couples who selected to abort a foetus with a difference (10 interviews), and 12 interviews with professionals. I also used 3 focus group interviews with staff and professionals and document analysis. I will use examples from that research here to illustrate some of the ethical dilemmas I encountered. These involve selecting the sample, the interview-ing process, the data analysis and in reportinterview-ing the findinterview-ings.

The research applied theoretical (social constructionist) and purposive strategies in choosing the sample. The parents came from all socio-economic groups, lived in different parts of the country, and had in common that they had given birth to or raised one or more child diagnosed with significant im-pairment (but various diagnostic labels) in a period of massive changes in social policy, law and the society. The sample was chosen because of its relevance to my research questions on parents’ experiences of supports due to a disability in the family over time, and how the analytical framework and the explanations and narratives developed in the research.

In Iceland with its population of 319.000 people, like in any small community, it is inevitably hard to disguise any research informants. This can be almost impossible when researching the lives of disabled people and their families. This poses all kinds of ethical challenges related to trust and the protection of the identities of research participants.

Further, geographic and social proximity within such a small society invites other concerns like role conflicts both for the researcher, research as-sistants and the research participants. A number of times either I or my re-search assistant who came along to the interviews, had to turn away because one or the other of the parents to be interviewed turned out to be old friends or even in case of the research assistants, relations. In such cases either I or the research assistant, depending on which one of us did not know the people took over the interview situation, or we dropped that family from the sample. Over identification of the researcher with his or her research participants is another problem I was keenly aware of in this particular research and in the process of the data analysis, much of the data was coded independently by me and one of three research assistants. We then compared codes and notes and triangulated across and within cases.

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Access

Much has been written about problems researchers have had with gaining access to their field and getting past gatekeepers (e.g. Wolcott, 1994, 1995). I have had problems getting access to research participants in the past, and was almost barred from a school by a powerful gatekeeper, who half way through the fieldwork, felt that the research was impinging upon the power relationships within the school. She was probably right. The research ap-proach was action research. I did not have much experience in that nor did I realize the hegemony held by me in the eyes of the preschool teachers and other staff. My field notes from that study are filled with comments of stress and despair. The gate-keeper played me like a musical instrument, changing her tune, her rules and our agreement. I did manage to finish that research, after altering the research design several times, but my memories of that work are filled with pain, anger, surprise and more. This was amongst my most valuable lessons as a researcher, but I do not look back on the experi-ence with pride.

In my more recent work including the family study referred to above, I have found it surprisingly easy to gain access. I am known in my society as both a parent of a disabled child, for a time active in the parents’ movement, and as an academic. My university is also well known and respected. To gain access I simply called key people in the practical field of teaching or services for disabled people, explained in general terms what my research was about and enlisted their help to find suitable research participants. My contact peo-ple then contacted individuals, who might be willing to talk to me, and after gaining their consent, sent me a list of names and phone numbers. I phoned these people, explained what I was doing and why and asked for interviews. We decided on a time and a place. In this study only one mother refused to give an interview. Two families had heard about my study. They contacted me and volunteered their stories. The willingness of parents (particularly the mothers) to participate in this research is gratifying but it also causes me concern. Many of the people I enlisted to help did so because they wanted to contribute their experiences in order to inform and enlighten professionals, politicians and the general public about the fate of their children, and thus combat stigmatization and prejudice. Each story is a unique gift. By accept-ing it, blurraccept-ing individual details in the writaccept-ing up process, publishaccept-ing arti-cles in academic journals, often in English, and using them in teaching, I must ask myself if I am taking these valuable gifts and applying them for my own ends? I am even more concerned when I learn that some of these par-ents have over the years been swamped with requests for interviews by stu-dents from upper secondary schools and universities, collecting material for their assignments, often with no preparation in interviewing technique.

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Sigrun, a mother of a child with an unusual syndrome said, when I asked for an interview:

It is OK; you can come because I know who you are. But I am getting a little tired of telling our story. Only this year I have contributed to at least nine or ten essays. I have never seen any of them…students just come with their ques-tions about difficult aspects to our lives, tape my answers and leave. I never know what they do with the stuff. I want to help …and I do it because I want young people to understand…but sometimes it is very difficult.

I found it somewhat more difficult to get some of the fathers to talk to me. But I tried to interview them without their wife or partner present. Typical explanations were: “ I cannot find time”, “I work away from home”, “ask the wife, I know much less about what happens around my (disabled) child, she sees to all that and tells me if there is something I need to do”. Sometimes a father has made an appointment to talk to me, but when I turned up he had gone to work or out on an errand, but his wife told me that I could always try later. This was problematic, particularly if the couple lived in a village or on a farm far away from the capital. This avoidance can mean a lot of things. It can be genuine, as many men feel compelled to work long hours, or because these fathers really believed they did not know enough about what was hap-pening in their child’s live, or did simply not want to talk about their experi-ences. The mothers seemed to trust in our shared experience, and many wel-comed the opportunity to talk about their experiences to an insider. Some of the fathers may have found it difficult to talk to a woman and a stranger about experiences they did not talk about with friends or workmates and sometimes not even with their spouses. However, many appeared glad to talk to me. The fathers’ stories were different from the mothers’, and added important dimensions to my research. Some of these fathers, once agreeing to the interview were putting words to experiences and feelings they had bot-tled up for a long time, and not even talked about with their partners. The role of the interviewer is not and should not be that of a therapist. But there is a fine line between listening to peoples experiences and becoming their therapist. That line should not be crossed between the interviewer and the research participant. However listening to the parents narratives my eyes sometimes blurred. I learnt to keep a box of tissue within reach for the inter-viewees, but there is also a lot of smiley voices and laughter recorded and registered in the transcripts.

The interviews

The interviews took place either in my office or in the families’ homes, de-pending on their preferences and the practicalities. The research had been certified by The National Bioethics Committee of Iceland and reported to The National Committee on the Protection and Processing of Personal Data.

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This is standard procedure under Icelandic law and the parents were re-minded of this at the beginning of the interview when they co-signed a statement with me to that effect.

Building rapport

I always began by explaining what I was doing without going into a great detail. I talked about what the research was about, explained that I had a list of topics to talk about but not pre designed questions, promised confidential-ity, asked permission to record the interview, and answered any questions they had. I also told them that it was up to them what they chose to tell me and that we could stop the interview at any time. Further, that if they regret-ted what they had said later, I would erase the interview and not use it for the research purpose. Then we signed a paper of consent and confidentiality. All this is standard procedure.

I started the interview by asking about the family: “Tell me about the people in your family?” This question provided information on the family structure, number of children, the parents work, education and previous marital status if applicable, the children’s schooling and more. Most respon-dents found it easy to sketch out a brief description of their families and the interview could move on.

The interview

Next I asked the parent to describe their child (or in some cases children) la-beled with disability, the child’s strengths, personality, charm and needs. Most, but not all the parents used this question to draw up the strengths, abilities and charm of their child. The father of Peter, a 9 year old boy with Down syndrome said:

Peter is our eldest. He is absolutely delightful. He has developed a lot in the past three to four years… kind of taken a big leap forward. He is good and gentle, and a surprisingly thinking human being… and he is almost able to read….He loves swimming and music and he loves people. He really is the sunshine in our lives…

A few parents however, answered my question by giving a detailed medical account of everything that was seen to be wrong with their child. One mother, Gudrun went as far as explaining to me using a Latin medical term which of her daughter’s chromosomes was irregular, how that might have happened, and what the future prognoses might imply. She seemed surprised when I stopped her and asked her about her daughter’s strengths and inter-ests. She said with tears in her voice: “She is lovely, of course, but nobody wants to know that. All people ask about is her problems.”

I asked why she thought that might be so. She could not get a word out for a while, just cried. She said she did not know why she was crying, and I,

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handing her a tissue offered to stop the interview, she declined and said she wanted to go on, but that she did not know why she was crying. Then she explained that when her daughter was born at the local hospital, she was un-able to suck, Gudrun feared that maybe there was something wrong with her baby, but that the midwife blamed her and did not take her concern seri-ously. They were sent home, but when the baby was a few months old, it be-came undernourished. Gudrun had noticed that her baby did not move nor-mally and became more and more frightened. Nobody believed her except her mother, and the midwife spread a story of Gudrun’s incompetence as a mother. She was sent with her baby daughter, by plane to the large Univer-sity hospital in Reykjavík, and from there from one paediatrician to another. It was finally detected that her daughter had a regressive muscular disease. Once the expert had diagnosed the problem, she lost contact with him. She said:

He was very busy. I do not blame him, but everything stopped. You are inter-esting while the diagnosis is being carried out, then when they have found out what is the matter, you are instantly forgotten.

Gudrun cried all through the interview, but declined my repeated offers to stop. She felt angry, betrayed by the midwife, the doctors, her husband, fam-ily and friends except for her own mother who supported her. She needed to get all this of her chest. Interviews can be abusing. Was I opening a can of worms? For whom and to what end?

I am still not certain whether or not I should have gone on with the in-terview. My probing caused Gudrun to have to revisit some of the most dif-ficult moments of her life. These were things she had not talked about for years, but when the memory came flowing back, it caused her a lot of pain. Was I using her trust and her story as a means to my research ends? How can I be sure she really wanted to do this? I think she felt my empathy and saw my tears reflect hers, but did that help or harm?

As mentioned in the introduction, the term privileged knowledge (Di-anne Ferguson 2009) refers to some of the things the person being inter-viewed tells the interviewer, things that may be deeply private and personal; this knowledge is not asked for and does not further the research. The re-searcher then has the privilege of that knowledge and the ethical dilemma of what to reveal and what to filter out in the analysis and the writing up. I have often been given the uneasy privilege of such knowledge. In the parent study, the husband told me he was cheating on his wife with a woman in their circle of friends, that the marriage bed was getting cold because the wife was always too tired for making love, or that he was unable to visit his wife. I have even had to stop the car to cry or be sick after some such revela-tions. Knowledge of this kind is difficult to handle, especially if the

Figure

Tabell 1. Framstår, fördelas, förändras
Figur 2. EMK, fordelt på almenpædagogiske og specialpædagogiske miljøer.
Figur 3. EMK, anvendt i en klasse

References

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