Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People: Diverse Contexts, Methods and Stories of Everyday Life [1 ed.] 9783030556464, 9783030556471

Table of contents :
Acknowledgements
Praise for Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People
Contents
Notes on Contributors
List of Figures
1 Introduction: Narrative Research with Children and Young People
Sequencing, Silence and Omission in Narratives
Narrative as Creative and Contextual
Narratives as ‘Portals’
Giving ‘Voice’ to Children and Young People: Challenges and Complexities
Narrating Childhood and Youth: Volume Overview
References
Part I Narrations of Home, Care and Identity
2 Young People Narrating the Meaning of Homelessness and Home
Introduction
Constructions of Home and Homelessness
Methodological Approach
Findings
Young People Leaving Home
From ‘Home’ to Homelessness
Young People Finding ‘Home’
Conclusion
References
3 The Experiences of Young Carers in Northern Ireland: Negotiating Pathways to a Positive Sense of Self-Identity—Narratives of Resilience, Risk and Identity
Introduction
Resilience, Risk and Self Identity: Conceptual Issues
Methodology
Study Participants
Research Findings
Young Carers’ Experiences of Education
Young Carers’ Interests
Stigma, Peer Affiliation and Social Acceptance
Young Carers’ Sense of Maturity
Concluding Thoughts
References
4 Narrating Childhood in the Present: Growing Sideways with Emily
The Child in Time
Narrating Childhoods
Everyday Childhoods
Materialising Time: Choosing Favourite Things
Making Memories Together
Growing Sideways: Queer Childhoods and Queer Temporalities
Beginnings, Endings and Methodological Practice
References
Part II Recreation, Place and Community
5 Narratives of Recreation and Identity Development Among Muslim Teens
Introduction
Background to the Research Project
Recreation, Leisure and Youth Identity
Recreation as a Key Element of Adolescents’ Identity Stories
Photographic Narratives of Belonging
Video Narratives of Belonging
Reenacting Belonging
Goal Setting & Skill Development
Online Creativity
Narration Through Performance
Conclusion
References
6 The ‘Do-ers’ and the ‘Do Nothings’: (Non)Participation in Community, Recreation and Place amongst Young People in Manchester, UK
Introduction
Lessons from the Literature
Setting the Scene
The Sample
Access and Ethics
Methods of Narration
Critical Narrative: Beyond Content to Context
Stories from the Data: Bag Packing, Peer Leaders and the Park
Community and Civic Activities
General Community Activities
Voluntary Roles Through Schools
Voluntary Roles Outside of School
General and Social Activities
Doing ‘Nothing’: Young People’s Constructions of ‘Being Active’ Through Community Participation
Kian
Concepts of ‘Nothingness’: David’s Perspective
Tom and Nathan
Active: To Be or Not to Be?
Conclusions
References
7 Understanding Community, Culture and Recreation as Resilience Resources for Indigenous Young People
The Importance of Community Engagement as a Resilience Resource in Supporting Indigenous Young People
Spaces & Places
Methods
Findings
What We Do, and Don’t Do
The Outdoors and Its Connection to Culture
Dualities and Contradictions
Supporting Engagement
Discussion
Conclusion
References
8 Exploring Childhood in Ireland: Narrating the Places and Spaces of Everyday Life
Introduction: Critical Children’s Geographies
Story-Mapping: Collaborative Methods and the Places and Spaces of Childhood Project
Story-Mapping: Narrating Environmental Risk and Everyday Vulnerabilities
Concluding Comment: Multiple Voices and Methodological Reflections
References
Part III Narrative and Educational Spaces
9 Queering Understandings of How Matter Comes to Matter in the Baby Room
Introduction
Difficult Differences: The Prevent Duty and Fundamental British Values
Cultivating Response-Ability Through Research
The Study: (K)not-Knowing Diversity in Early Childhood
Becoming-Monkey-Spit-Camera-Cube
(In)-Conclusion
References
10 Authoring Imaginative Selves Through Digital Narratives in the Science Classroom
Introduction
Stories and Filmmaking for Equitable Science Education
Beyond Facts: The Interaction of Science Identity and Science Learning
Science Through Story Curriculum Design
Agency Through Role
Connecting Science to Social and Cultural Experiences
Collectives, Individuals and the Narrative
Conclusion
References
11 Narrating the Learning Ecosystem: Knowledge, Environment and Relationships for Participatory and Principled Design of Educational Technology for Childhood and Youth
Introduction—The Emergence of Design in Education
The Complexity of Educational Design
Narrative as a Sociocultural Foundation of Education
Design: A Narrative Approach
Practitioner-Based Educational Design
Educational Design Research—The Imperative to Innovate Assessment
Narrating the Learning Ecosystem: Examples from Design Practice
Digital Narrative Design in a Museum Context
Digital Poetry in the School Context
Discussion
Prototyping a Design Model
Design as an Iterative Participatory Process
Design as an Iterative, Systematic Process
Multi-ontological Educational Design
Dual Design Dividend of Narrative
Embodiment and the Material Properties of Learning Design
Concluding Note
References
Part IV Methods for Narrating Childhoods: Reflexivity, Environment and Biographies
12 ‘I’d Keep Them Tidy’: Domesticity, Work and Nostalgia in Girls’ Imagined Futures Described in Essays Written by 11 Year Olds in 1969
Introduction
Background Literature
Methods
Approaches to Coding and Analysing the Essays
Children’s Activities Within NCDS
General Findings About Imagined Family Life: Gendered Futures
Categories of Domestic Work
Girls Combining Paid and Domestic Work
Managing Childcare
Nostalgia for Lost Childhoods
Discussion
References
13 The Inextricable Linking of Methods and Narratives: Researchers, Children, and Adults’ Stories of Childhood
Interlinked Methods and Narrative Analyses
Chapter Overview
Researcher Narratives of Children’s Social Media Accounts
Illuminating Childhood Through Retrospective Accounts
Affordances of Multiple Methods for Narrative Understandings of Childhood
Concluding Discussion
References
14 Topological Mapping: Studying Children’s Experiential Worlds Through Spatial Narratives
Introduction
Conceptual Grounds of Topological Mapping
Studying Political Presence with Finnish and English Children and Youth
Mapping Topologies with Children
Analysing Narrated Topological Realities
Conclusions
References
15 How Adults Tell: Using a Biographical Narrative Interviewing Methodology to Explore Adults’ Experiences of Sexual Abuse in Childhood
Biographical Narrative Interviewing Methodology: An Introduction
BNIM Sub-Session One
Sub-Session Two
Optional Sub-Session Three
BNIM Panel Analysis Process
How Adults Tell: The Wider Study, Why and How BNIM Was Used
Through the ‘Cracks’: David’s Reflections on Childhood
Reflections on Method
Conclusion
References
16 Rights-Based Narrative Research: Empowerment of Children and Young People Experiencing Impacts of Trauma
Introduction
Rights-Based Framework
Narrative Research
Childhood Trauma
The Case Study
Applying a Rights-Based Narrative Approach
Ideology
Ethics
Recruitment
Agency
Maturation and Change
Culture and Language
Gender and Sexuality
Dissemination
Research Principles
Conclusions
References
Part V Conclusion
17 Concluding Comments: Challenges, Opportunities and Future Directions in Narrative Inquiry
Introduction
Narrating Childhood and Youth: Methodological and Conceptual Insights
Children and Young People’s Everyday Experiences Across Multiple Contexts: Key Insights
Home, Care and Identity
Recreation, Place & Community
Narrative and Educational Spaces
Methods for Narrative Approaches with Children and Young People
Narrative Research with Children and Young People: Challenges and Future Directions
References
Index

Citation preview

STUDIES IN CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH

Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People Diverse Contexts, Methods and Stories of Everyday Life Edited by Lisa Moran Kathy Reilly Bernadine Brady

Studies in Childhood and Youth

Series Editors Afua Twum-Danso Imoh University of Sheffield Sheffield, UK Nigel Thomas University of Central Lancashire Preston, UK Spyros Spyrou European University Cyprus Nicosia, Cyprus Penny Curtis University of Sheffield Sheffield, UK

This well-established series embraces global and multi-disciplinary scholarship on childhood and youth as social, historical, cultural and material phenomena. With the rapid expansion of childhood and youth studies in recent decades, the series encourages diverse and emerging theoretical and methodological approaches. We welcome proposals which explore the diversities and complexities of children’s and young people’s lives and which address gaps in the current literature relating to childhoods and youth in space, place and time. We are particularly keen to encourage writing that advances theory or that engages with contemporary global challenges. Studies in Childhood and Youth will be of interest to students and scholars in a range of areas, including Childhood Studies, Youth Studies, Sociology, Anthropology, Geography, Politics, Psychology, Education, Health, Social Work and Social Policy.

More information about this series at http://www.palgrave.com/gp/series/14474

Lisa Moran · Kathy Reilly · Bernadine Brady Editors

Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People Diverse Contexts, Methods and Stories of Everyday Life

Editors Lisa Moran Department of Social Sciences Edge Hill University Ormskirk, UK

Kathy Reilly School of Geography, Archaeology and Irish Studies National University of Ireland Galway, Ireland

Bernadine Brady UNESCO Child and Family Research Centre Institute for Lifecourse and Society School of Political Science and Sociology National University of Ireland Galway Galway, Ireland

Studies in Childhood and Youth ISBN 978-3-030-55646-4 ISBN 978-3-030-55647-1 https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-55647-1

(eBook)

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

Acknowledgements

The authors would like to offer their thanks to a number of people who contributed to this book in various ways. Firstly, our sincere thanks to all of the children, young people and adult participants who took part in the many studies that feature in this volume. We greatly value the opportunity to hear your stories and are grateful to you for sharing them for the benefit of others. We hope that you feel your contribution has been worthwhile. To the chapter authors who contributed such varied, interesting and insightful chapters—thank you for all you have done to make this volume possible. Thanks also to our valued colleagues who took the time to review chapters and offer invaluable feedback and guidance to authors. Special thanks to Amelia Derkatsch, Poppy Hull, Sharla Plant and all the team at Palgrave who were a pleasure to work with at all stages of the process. Finally, a word of thanks to our colleagues in the Department of Social Sciences, Edge Hill University, Lancashire, UK; the School of Geography, Archaeology and Irish Studies, National University of Ireland,

v

vi

Acknowledgements

Galway; the UNESCO Child & Family Research Centre and the School of Political Science and Sociology, NUI Galway. Thanks especially to our families and friends who provided considerable support and encouragement since we began writing this book. Lisa Moran Kathy Reilly Bernadine Brady

Praise for Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People

“This multidisciplinary book provides an outstanding resource for significantly advancing research, teaching, and policy through narrative inquiry. It clearly shows the value of narratives as being central to our individual and collective understanding of each other; particularly the lives lived by children and youth. It is important that we remember that it is their stories on which we hang our teaching and learning points upon.” —Mark Brennan, Professor, Pennsylvania State University and UNESCO Chair for Rural Community, Leadership and Youth Development, USA

vii

Contents

1

Introduction: Narrative Research with Children and Young People Lisa Moran, Kathy Reilly, and Bernadine Brady

Part I 2

3

1

Narrations of Home, Care and Identity

Young People Narrating the Meaning of Homelessness and Home Paula Mayock and Sarah Parker The Experiences of Young Carers in Northern Ireland: Negotiating Pathways to a Positive Sense of Self-Identity—Narratives of Resilience, Risk and Identity Marlene McGibbon

35

63

ix

x

4

Contents

Narrating Childhood in the Present: Growing Sideways with Emily Rachel Thomson

Part II 5

6

7

8

9

10

Recreation, Place and Community

Narratives of Recreation and Identity Development Among Muslim Teens Orla McGarry The ‘Do-ers’ and the ‘Do Nothings’: (Non)Participation in Community, Recreation and Place amongst Young People in Manchester, UK Aimee Harragan Understanding Community, Culture and Recreation as Resilience Resources for Indigenous Young People Darlene Wall, Linda Liebenberg, Janice Ikeda, Doreen Davis-Ward, and Youth Participants from Spaces & Places, Port Hope Simpson Exploring Childhood in Ireland: Narrating the Places and Spaces of Everyday Life Kathy Reilly and T. J. Hughes

Part III

87

111

133

163

189

Narrative and Educational Spaces

Queering Understandings of How Matter Comes to Matter in the Baby Room Jayne Osgood

213

Authoring Imaginative Selves Through Digital Narratives in the Science Classroom Elizabeth M. Walsh

237

Contents

11

Narrating the Learning Ecosystem: Knowledge, Environment and Relationships for Participatory and Principled Design of Educational Technology for Childhood and Youth Tony Hall, Cornelia Connolly, Gerry Mac Ruairc, Sally McHugh, Ann Marie Wade, Eílis Flanagan, Paul Flynn, and Bonnie Thompson Long

Part IV 12

‘I’d Keep Them Tidy’: Domesticity, Work and Nostalgia in Girls’ Imagined Futures Described in Essays Written by 11 Year Olds in 1969 Virginia Morrow and Jane Elliott

14 Topological Mapping: Studying Children’s Experiential Worlds Through Spatial Narratives Kirsi Pauliina Kallio

16

257

Methods for Narrating Childhoods: Reflexivity, Environment and Biographies

13 The Inextricable Linking of Methods and Narratives: Researchers, Children, and Adults’ Stories of Childhood Ann Phoenix

15

xi

How Adults Tell: Using a Biographical Narrative Interviewing Methodology to Explore Adults’ Experiences of Sexual Abuse in Childhood Joseph Mooney Rights-Based Narrative Research: Empowerment of Children and Young People Experiencing Impacts of Trauma Patricia McNamara

283

307

329

353

377

xii

Contents

Part V 17

Conclusion

Concluding Comments: Challenges, Opportunities and Future Directions in Narrative Inquiry Lisa Moran, Kathy Reilly, and Bernadine Brady

Index

405 427

Notes on Contributors

Bernadine Brady is Lecturer at the School of Political Science & Sociology and a Senior Researcher with the UNESCO Child and Family Research Centre at NUI, Galway. Bernadine is a mixed methods researcher with a focus on social ecology and young people’s well-being, exploring how community, school, family and service provision influence outcomes for young people. Bernadine has particular expertise in relation to youth mentoring, participation and youth civic engagement. Her most recent co-edited book is Mentoring Young People in Care and Leaving Care: Theory, Research and Practice (Routledge, 2020). Cornelia Connolly is Lecturer in the School of Education at the National University of Ireland, Galway. Cornelia is Programme Director (Education) of the undergraduate initial teacher education programmes at NUI Galway. Chair of the Research Committee in the School of Education, Cornelia is Co-PI for national and international projects such as the EU Erasmus+ DEIMP Project (Designing & Evaluating Innovative Mobile Pedagogies), T-REX (Teacher Research Exchange project) and the Google funded Creative Coding for Maths Makers.

xiii

xiv

Notes on Contributors

Cornelia co-authored The Ultimate Study Skills Handbook published by Open University Press. She continues to publish regularly on research interests such as mathematics and computer science education, computational thinking and innovative pedagogical enhancement. Dr. Connolly is currently supervising 4 doctoral projects in these areas, which adopt a design-based research methodology. Jane Elliott is Professor of Sociology in the Department of Sociology, Philosophy and Anthropology at the University of Exeter. From 2014 to 2017, she was the Chief Executive of the Economic and Social Research Council (ESRC). Prior to 2014, she was Professor of Sociology, and Head of the Department of Quantitative Social Sciences, at the Institute of Education, University of London. In this role, she was also the Director of the ESRC-funded Centre for Longitudinal Studies (CLS) which manages the 1958, 1970 and Millennium Birth Cohort Studies and has recently taken responsibility for the Longitudinal Study of Young People in England. Jane’s main research interests include gender and employment, healthy ageing, longitudinal research methodology, combining qualitative and quantitative research and narrative. Her first book Using Narrative in Social Research: Qualitative and Quantitative Approaches was published by Sage in 2005. Eílis Flanagan is Lecturer and Researcher in the Department of Teaching and Learning at Letterkenny Institute of Technology, Ireland. Eílis holds a Ph.D. in Education from the National University of Ireland, Galway (NUI Galway), M.A. in English Literature, a Postgraduate Diploma in Education and a B.A. (Hons) in English and Classics. She has worked across a number of funded research projects and is the lead investigator of the PROGRESS study funded by the National Forum for the Enhancement of Teaching and Learning in Higher Education. Eílis is a former post-primary teacher and has extensive experience in lecturing and research supervision in initial teacher education programmes. A keynote speaker in the Department of Education and Skills (Ireland) conference, Eílis’ research interests include English education, engagement in learning, teacher professional development, technology-enhanced learning, design-based research, action research,

Notes on Contributors

xv

discourse analysis and video methods. Eílis is a Fellow of the International Society for Design and Development in Education (ISDDE) and supervises research in pedagogy, educational design and technologyenhanced learning. Paul Flynn is a researcher in education and a lecturer in teacher education. Within the sphere of second-level education and related teacher education, he has carried out research on the development of learning communities, digital pedagogical engagement in STEM, literate and numerate boundary crossing, content and language integrated learning in multidisciplinary problem solving, the role of leadership in learning space development, facilitating epistemic agency for social change, history of education and the development of technology-enhanced learning methodologies at the National University of Ireland, Galway, where he currently works as researcher and lecturer. Paul is involved in a number of ongoing research projects relating to the development of domain-specific numeracy and literacy and the translation of literate and numerate agency across domain boundaries. The model for this research track was initially developed as part of Paul’s Ph.D. thesis and forms the foundation for programmes, led by Paul, such as Breaking the SEAL and INNOVATE21, evident in recent peer-reviewed disseminations. Paul has developed a number of successful funding proposals, as a principal investigator and co-principal investigator, and succeeded in helping to attract over e3m of competitive funding from local, regional, national, European and global funding agencies. Tony Hall is Senior Lecturer in Educational Technology and Deputy Head, School of Education, National University of Ireland, Galway (NUIG). A Fellow of the International Society for Design and Development in Education (ISDDE), his research focuses on design-based research, innovation and technology in formal and informal educational environments. He holds a Ph.D. (Computer Science) and B.A. (Physical Education & English), both from the University of Limerick, and a Master of Information Technology (NUIG). Tony was previously a secondary school teacher of English, PE, ICT, Social, Personal and Health Education (SPHE), and Mathematics; and a

xvi

Notes on Contributors

school ICT coordinator. He is currently NUIG’s co-principal investigator for the EU projects: DEIMP (Designing & Evaluating Innovative Mobile Pedagogies) and BRIST (Building a Research Infrastructure for School Teachers); and the nationally funded T-REX (Teachers’ Research Exchange), a blended learning platform to support Irish teachers to engage in collaborative research. He is widely published in educational design and technology; his most referenced article, “Designing Ubiquitous Computing to Enhance Children’s Learning in Museums”, in the Journal of Computer-Assisted Learning, has c.130 citations (Google Scholar). Tony’s most recent book is Education, Narrative Technologies and Digital Learning: Designing Storytelling for Creativity with Computing, published by Palgrave Macmillan in May 2018. He has supervised 8 PhDs to completion and is currently supervising 4 doctoral projects in educational design, innovation and technology. Aimee Harragan was conferred with her Ph.D. in Sociology at the University of Manchester in 2017. Her thesis “Youth, Politics and Place: Political Engagement among Young People in Manchester” examined young people’s understanding of the political and their political engagement from an everyday perspective, through observational work and semi-structured interviews. Aimee’s other work has included creative participatory methods with young people to explore identity-making and concepts of culture through community organisations. Other projects Aimee has worked on have included young people’s “risky” behaviour in relation to youth criminalisation. She also lectured in sociology and social research methods at Edge Hill University, Lancashire, in 2017– 2018. Her current work focuses on wider citizen engagement and qualitative data collection to inform policy-making across local government. Her interests continue to focus on political participation and engagement, participatory and action research methods and community asset-building. T. J. Hughes is a Ph.D. Candidate in Geography at National University of Ireland, Galway. His research examines the governmentalities and spatialities of the “everyday”, in the context of participatory forms of development and academic engagement. He holds a B.A. in Geography and Sociology & Political Science, and an M.A. in Environment, Society

Notes on Contributors

xvii

and Development from NUIG. For his Ph.D. research, he was awarded the 2018 James Flaherty Scholarship from the Ireland Canada University Foundation. Janice Ikeda is an independent researcher who has worked on mixed methods, qualitative and PAR research projects. All of these projects have focused on youth living with complex challenges. These youth include Indigenous youth, youth living with a mental illness, youth involved with the justice system and the child welfare system, and youth experiencing homelessness. She has worked with youth in rural, remote communities in Labrador, as well as youth in more urban areas such as Cape Breton and Halifax, Canada. Kirsi Pauliina Kallio is Professor of Regional Studies and Docent in Childhood Studies, at the Tampere University, Finland. She has studied extensively children’s contextual political agency, political subject formation, and spatial and political socialisation. Dr. Kallio has taken part in the establishment of the subfield of political geographies of childhood and youth, which broadens interdisciplinary childhood and youth studies towards political geography. Currently, her research focuses on refugees and the humanitarian border, and she participates actively in the development of open publishing. Recent publications include “Care as mundane politics in contested familial refugee lives” in Gender, Place and Culture (2018) with Jouni Häkli, “Recognizing politics in the nursery” in Contemporary Issues in Early Childhood (2018) with Zsuzsa Millei, “Citizen-subject formation as geo-socialisation” in Geografiska Annaler B: Human Geography (2018) and “Children’s caring agencies” in Political Geography (2017) with Ann E. Bartos. Dr. Kallio has also edited a number of special issues and volumes, including “Intergenerational encounters, intersubjective age relations” in Emotion, Space and Society (2019) with Mary Thomas, “Spaces of the geosocial” in Geopolitics (2018) with Kathryn Mitchell and “Politics, Citizenship and Rights”, Vol. 7 of the Geographies of Children and Young People Major Reference Work (2016) with Sahar Mills.

xviii

Notes on Contributors

Linda Liebenberg is a researcher and evaluator with a core interest in children and youth with complex needs, and the communities they live in. Her work explores the promotion of positive youth development and mental health through civic engagement and community development, focusing often on initiatives driven by organisations and service providers. As a key component of this work, Linda reflects critically on how best to conduct research and evaluations with children and their communities, including Participatory Action Research (PAR) using image-based methods; sophisticated longitudinal quantitative designs; and the design of measurement instruments used with children and youth across multiple cultures. Linda has presented internationally and published extensively on these topics of research and youth. Bonnie Thompson Long is an education technologist/multimedia content developer in the Centre for Adult Learning and Professional Development, NUI Galway, training and supporting educators in the creation of multimedia for use in their blended and online modules. Bonnie works collaboratively with project teams in the design and production of interactive learning materials which employ adult learning theory, best practice teaching methods, and digital technologies. Bonnie’s research interests include the use of technology to enhance the learning experience of adult learners and pre-service teachers. Her Ph.D. research focused on the use of digital storytelling as a method of enhancing student teachers’ ability to be reflective practitioners. Related interests include reflective practice, narrative theory in education, digital storytelling, multimedia learning theories and design, auto ethnography in teacher education, and the use of technology in professional development and teacher education. Gerry Mac Ruairc is Established Professor of Education and Head of School at the School of Education, NUI Galway. Previous to taking up this role, Gerry was a teacher, School Inspector and Associate Professor at the School of Education at University College Dublin. During his tenure at UCD, Gerry directed a number of programmes including the Master in Education (M.Ed.), the Professional Diploma in Education (the forerunner to the current Professional Master in Education, PME). Most recently, he was director of two innovative, online/blended courses

Notes on Contributors

xix

on school leadership—the one-year part-time Professional Diploma in Education Studies (PDES) (Leadership) and the newly accredited, twoyear, part-time M.Ed. (Leadership). Gerry has also held a Fellowship in Teaching and Academic Development and Chair of Teaching and Learning and Taught Masters Programme Boards while at the School of Education in UCD. He has published widely in the areas of leadership for inclusive schooling, language and social class, literacy as well as in the areas of leadership and school improvement for equity and social justice. He works extensively on a number of European projects including acting as an advisor to the review of Leadership Development in Poland under the direction of the Polish Ministry of Education and as a contributor and advisor to the work of the leadership development units of Lower Saxony, NLQ (Hildesheim) and LISUM (Berlin). He was appointed as expert advisor to the EU Commission European Policy Network on School Leadership (EPNoSL) where he is currently working on the overall evaluation of the impact of the network. He has a strong track record in the area of funded research and leadership development work including projects funded by Atlantic Philanthropies, the World Bank and Erasmus. He is currently working on an online school leadership development platform as part of Erasmus+ with colleagues from Christchurch University Canterbury, Jagiellonian University Poland and the Universities of Oslo and Murcia. Paula Mayock is Assistant Professor at the School of Social Work and Social Policy, Trinity College Dublin. Her research focuses primarily on marginalised youth and adult populations, covering areas such as homelessness, drug use, drug treatment and mental health. Paula is a qualitative methodologist with a particular interest in biographical and qualitative longitudinal research approaches. She is the founder and codirector of the Women’s Homelessness in Europe Network (WHEN www.womenshomelessness.org), co-editor of Women’s Homelessness in Europe (Palgrave Macmillan, 2016) and author of numerous articles, book chapters and commissioned research reports. Orla McGarry is a sociologist with extensive experience conducting research with migrant and ethnic minority groups in a vast range of settings across Ireland and Europe. She has developed particular

xx

Notes on Contributors

expertise in the development and implementation of participatory research methods with migrant groups. Orla has published widely on methodological innovation, diversity and intercultural engagement and is currently employed as a Lecturer in the School of Political Science and Sociology in NUI Galway. Marlene McGibbon studied at Queen’s University Belfast. She holds a degree in Social Science and completed her Ph.D. in 2015. Her research interests have focused on informal care and carers and she has published papers on young carers in the British Journal of Social Work and conducted research with Craigavon and Banbridge Health and Social Services Trust and Age Concern Northern Ireland to identify the needs of adult care providers. She has taught on a range of policy and health and social care courses at Queen’s University Belfast and Northern Regional College, Co. Antrim, Northern Ireland. Sally McHugh is an Irish Research Council (IRC) Doctoral Candidate at the School of Education, National University of Ireland (NUI), Galway. Her Ph.D. research explores children’s creative engagement with cultural heritage using constructionist technologies across formal and informal learning environments. She holds a M.A. in Digital Media and a B.A. in Archaeology and Information Technology from NUI Galway. She was awarded a Fulbright Creative Ireland Museum Fellowship in 2018– 2019 to the Exploratorium: Museum of Science, Art and Human Perception in San Francisco, USA, which enabled her to develop and expand her research interests within an international setting (http://www.fulbri ght.ie/custom_alumni/sally-mchugh/). Patricia McNamara is a teaching and research academic, currently based at the University of Melbourne as a Senior Fellow in Social Work (Hon). She has worked for many years as a teacher, social worker and family therapist. Patricia is widely published and has frequently been invited to present and teach internationally, most recently in New Zealand, Hong Kong, Switzerland, Spain and Malta. She is primarily a qualitative and mixed methods researcher. Her current research interests are therapeutic approaches to residential and foster care and education in out-of-home care. She is lead editor on a new international volume

Notes on Contributors

xxi

published by Springer (2020) focusing on the latter topic. She is also co-editing a Special Issue of Residential Treatment for Children and Youth on Partnering with Families in Residential Care. Patricia was a foundation board member of the International Association for Outcome-Based Evaluation and Research in Family and Children’s Services (iaOBER fcs). She is also active in the National Therapeutic Residential Care Alliance— Australia (NTRCA) and the International Work Group on Therapeutic Residential Care (IWGTRC). Joseph Mooney is Assistant Professor of Social Work at University College Dublin and has a specific focus on child welfare and protection, social work practice and education. Prior to this, he worked as a social worker with the Irish Child and Family Agency, Tusla. Joseph is a professionally qualified and CORU registered social worker having attained a Master’s Degree in Social Work from the National University of Ireland, Galway. Joseph was awarded his Ph.D. at the UNESCO Child and Family Research Centre (NUIG) under the supervision of Professor Caroline McGregor and externally examined by Professor Ramona Alaggia of the University of Toronto. Joseph’s research interests include disclosure of childhood trauma; child sexual abuse; child welfare and protection systems, practice, policy and law. Joseph is highly active in the area of child protection and welfare research. He has spent the past nine years researching the area of Irish policies concerning retrospective disclosures of childhood sexual abuse and presents his work to national, international and community and practice-based audiences. Lisa Moran is Senior Lecturer in the Department of Social Sciences, Edge Hill University, Ormskirk, Lancashire, UK. Dr. Moran has taught at several higher education institutes in Ireland and has a very extensive qualitative research portfolio. Among several other projects, she is the PI of a narrative, cross-national study of veterinarians’ emotions in Ireland and the UK. She was a Postdoctoral Researcher with Teagasc, the Agriculture and Food Development Authority of Ireland and the School of Veterinary Medicine University College Dublin (UCD) on a biographical study of biosecurity programmes for the control and eradication of Johne’s disease in Irish dairy herds. She was a Postdoctoral Researcher with the UNESCO Child and Family Research Centre (UCFRC), NUI

xxii

Notes on Contributors

Galway, from 2015 to 2017. Her research at the UCFRC focused on the following themes: child protection, children’s rights, family support, arts-based approaches as pedagogical tools for STEM subjects and youth development. Her current projects include a study of silence and touch in residential care and educational supports for care leavers in UK universities. She is a member of the Advisory Committee of the Evaluation and Policy Analysis Research Unit at Edge Hill University. Virginia Morrow is Visiting Professor, UCL Institute of Education, Department of Social Sciences (in the Social Science Research Unit and Thomas Coram Research Unit), University of London, and Research Associate, Young Lives, Department of International Development, University of Oxford. She was Senior Research Officer/Associate Professor and Deputy Director of Young Lives from 2011 to 2017. Her research has focused on children’s work, sociological approaches to the study of childhood and children’s rights, ethics and methods of social research with children, violence affecting children, children and “social capital”, and children’s understandings of family. She was co-editor of Childhood: A Journal of Global Child Research, from 2006 to 2016. Jayne Osgood is Professor of Education (Early Years & Gender) based at the Centre for Education Research & Scholarship, Middlesex University. Her present methodologies and research practices are framed by feminist new materialism. Through her work, she seeks to maintain a concern with issues of social justice and to critically engage with early childhood policy, curricular frameworks and pedagogical approaches. Through her work extends understandings of the workforce, families, “the child” and “childhood” in early years contexts. She has published extensively within the postmodernist paradigm including guest editing special issues of the journal Contemporary Issues in Early Childhood (2006, 2016, 2017 and 2019) and authoring Narratives from the Nursery: Negotiating Professional Identities in Early Childhood (Routledge, 2012) and most recently Feminist Thought in Childhood Research (2019, Bloomsbury Series). She is a member of several editorial boards including Contemporary Issues in Early Childhood , British Education Research Journal , and is co-editor of Gender & Education Journal and co-editor of Reconceptualising Education Research Methodology.

Notes on Contributors

xxiii

Sarah Parker is a Government of Ireland Scholar and Doctoral Researcher in the School of Social Work and Social Policy, Trinity College Dublin. Her Ph.D. research uses a mixed methods approach to examine families’ trajectories through and out of homelessness. Previously, Sarah worked as a Researcher at the Children’s Research Centre, Trinity College Dublin, and has co-authored several articles, reports and book chapters. Her most recent collaborative work has been published in Housing Studies, Journal of Family Issues and the European Journal of Homelessness. Ann Phoenix is Professor of Psychosocial Studies at the Thomas Coram Research Unit, Department of Social Science, UCL Institute of education, and a Fellow of the British Academy. She co-directed the Childhood Wellbeing Research Centre funded by the Department for Education and is the Principal Investigator on NOVELLA (Narratives of Varied Everyday Lives and Linked Approaches), an ESRC National Centre for Research Methods node. Her research is mainly about social identities and the ways in which psychological experiences and social processes are linked and intersectional. It includes work on racialised and gendered identities and experiences, mixed-parentage, masculinities, consumption, young people and their parents, the transition to motherhood, families, migration and transnational families. Much of her research draws on mixed methods and includes narrative approaches. From 2016 to 2018, she was the Erkko Professor at the Helsinki University Collegium for Advanced Studies. Port Hope Simpson Youth group are nine young people from the community of Port Hope Simpson: five young women and four young men. At the time of our participation in the study, we were aged between 12 and 17. We were selected to participate because members of our community believed that we had something important to say about what children and youth need to grow up well on our community despite facing various challenges. And say something we did! Our contribution to the community has been acknowledged by the NunatuKavut Community Council, who have included our findings in annual general meetings, and celebrated our work. We hope you enjoy what we have shared here! Best wishes, B-MC, SC, TC, C-JP, ZP, AP, KP, MP, KW.

xxiv

Notes on Contributors

Kathy Reilly is a Human Geography Lecturer, in the School of Geography, Archaeology and Irish Studies, at the National University of Ireland, Galway. Her research interests focus on critical themes in social, cultural and political geography, including a focus on geographies of children, young people and families; media geographies and representation; education and social justice among migrant young people; and more recently, homeless geographies. Kathy’s research practice is underpinned by participative and field-based methodologies, allowing for work with various communities in Ireland and more globally. In doing so, she acknowledges the need to work with research communities within and beyond the academic, connecting with community collaborators, activists and practitioners across various interdisciplinary fields. Kathy’s work is cognisant to the importance of listening to the communities within whom she works, allowing for the development of a reciprocal dialogue, whereby research agendas and methodological design are informed by and through conversations with collaborative partners. Rachel Thomson is Professor of Childhood & Youth Studies at the University of Sussex where she teaches on a B.A., M.A. and Ph.D. programmes and is a founding Director of the Sussex Humanities Lab and the Centre for Innovation & Research in Childhood & Youth (CIRCY). Her research interests include intimacy, family life and social change, and she is currently leading an ESRC-funded study called “Reanimating data: experiments with people, places and archives”. Her most recent book (with Liam Berriman and Sara Bragg) is Researching Everyday Childhoods: Time, Technology and Documentation (Bloomsbury, 2018 open access). Ann Marie Wade is a second-level teacher in St. Columba’s College, Stranorlar, Co. Donegal, Ireland. Ann Marie graduated from the Postgraduate Diploma in Education programme at the National University of Ireland, Galway, in 2012. Currently, Ann Marie is an AP2 post holder in her school and is coordinator of the Step Up team within St. Columba’s. Step Up is a joint initiative between the Junior Cycle for Teachers (JCT) and the Inspectorate funded by the School Excellence Fund which aims to move schools from effective to highly effective teaching practices within the LAOS 2016 framework.

Notes on Contributors

xxv

Darlene Wall is an Indigenous woman from Happy-Valley Goose Bay, Labrador, and is the Health and Social Sector Manager at the NunatuKavut Community Council (NCC). She holds a wide and varied portfolio that includes project development and implementation, research, policy and management. Darlene is involved in vast amounts of projects that address the social determinants of health and aim to improve the health and wellness outcomes of members in her community. Darlene’s focus is on community-based health promotion initiatives as evidenced by her involvement in projects addressing chronic diseases, oral health, sexual health, homelessness, poverty, drug use, mental health, violence prevention, suicide prevention, etc. Through her integrative and holistic approaches, Darlene has facilitated numerous relationships and partnerships between communities, universities, governments and industries that help contribute to a vibrant NunatuKavut community. Darlene’s emphasis on community-based participatory research and Indigenous methodologies has positioned her well in the role as Chair of the NCC Research Advisory Committee. She is also actively involved in a variety of research projects. Elizabeth M. Walsh is Associate Professor at San Jose State University with a joint appointment in Meteorology & Climate Science and Science Education. Dr. Walsh received an M.S. in Oceanography in 2006 and a Ph.D. in Learning Sciences in 2012, both from the University of Washington. Her work focuses on how youth participate in climate changerelated activities across the contexts of their lives, addressing issues of social justice and equity in science education, creating and facilitating climate change professional development for educators, and exploring the role of politics and social values in climate science learning. She currently leads a research team in analysing how the creation of climate change digital media supports youth science learning and agency in climate action. Her work has been published in Nature Climate Change, the Journal of the Learning Sciences, among others, and has been funded by the National Science Foundation. Doreen Davis-Ward was born and raised in an isolated Metis community on the southeast coast of Labrador, Canada, learning the traditional Metis way of life. She has experience in various research projects and in

xxvi

Notes on Contributors

ministry with the Anglican Church. She lives in Port Hope Simpson, Canada, and is working towards a research degree in spirituality and counselling.

List of Figures

Fig. 4.1 Fig. 4.2 Fig. 4.3 Fig. 5.1 Fig. 7.1 Fig. 7.2 Fig. 8.1 Fig. 8.2 Fig. 9.1 Fig. 9.2 Fig. 9.3 Fig. 9.4 Fig. 9.5 Fig. 9.6 Fig. 14.1 Fig. 14.2

Pegasus, a favourite thing Babapapa Mum’s doll collection Outline of methodological approach (Adapted from McGarry 2016b) Inukshuk (Spaces & Places Hopedale Youth Participants) Staying connected to culture (Current versus ideal cultural engagement activities) Emma, participating child, aged 8 Sinead, participating child, aged 8 The Polaroid Cube  1 The Polaroid Cube  2 Taken by Polaroid Cube  1 Taken by Polaroid Cube  2 Assemblage of affective thresholds 1 Assemblage of affective thresholds 2 Example of a national scale map Supplementary essay material from interview participant

92 99 102 115 172 181 201 202 225 225 226 226 229 230 339 344

xxvii

1 Introduction: Narrative Research with Children and Young People Lisa Moran, Kathy Reilly, and Bernadine Brady

Storytelling is a universally recognisable genre inherent in all human life. The ability to narrate transcends difference, providing a space from where stories are made and unmade, through the voices (however manifest) of storytellers. The capacity to narrate does not discriminate by gender, age or class, nor is it limited contextually. Instead, stories prioritise the voice(s) and perspective(s) chosen of and by storytellers and by L. Moran (B) Edge Hill University, Ormskirk, UK e-mail: [email protected] K. Reilly School of Geography, Archaeology and Irish Studies, National University of Ireland, Galway, Ireland e-mail: [email protected] B. Brady UNESCO Child and Family Research Centre, Institute for Lifecourse and Society, School of Political Science and Sociology, National University of Ireland Galway, Galway, Ireland e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s) 2021 L. Moran et al. (eds.), Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People, Studies in Childhood and Youth, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-55647-1_1

1

2

L. Moran et al.

extension, every story is laden with silence(s), elements of life and context that remain untold, suppressed and/or, are absent. This implies that storytelling is a powerful act, with the capacity to prioritise particular perspectives over others. Storytelling is not limited to the pages of a book or an oral account, but represents a variety of communicative structures including pictures and performances (e.g. song and dance) and accounts of everyday life in a multitude of places and spaces. In the life of a child, storytelling is implicit both as storyteller and listener; stories form part of everyday life, providing portals to explore the (often) imaginative worlds offered by and through the lens of a story, while offering children and young people opportunities to narrate experiences that shape and reflect their life experiences. Research engaging narrative or storytelling as a method has increased significantly since the 1980s, with contributions from scholars across multiple and diverse fields. Among these contributors are literary theorists, sociologists, educational researchers, linguists, anthropologists, psychotherapists, veterinary specialists, social work and social care researchers, scholars from medical and health sciences, and geographers. By the 1990s, Connelly and Clandinin (1990) argued for an emerging ‘narrative revolution’ across the social sciences (Clandinin 2006; Connelly and Clandinin 1990).1 This was further influenced by the emergence of humanist approaches in post-war sociology and psychology which precipitated a more general interest in predominantly person-centred methodological approaches, including life histories, biographies and oral history methods (Ibid.). The concepts of ‘narrative’ and ‘narrative inquiry’, along with questions about what it means to narrate in relation to the social positioning of narrators, listeners and tellers, are now accorded prominence in academic scholarship across disciplinary boundaries (Riessman 2002). Sandelowski (1991, p. 162) argues for an interpretation of narrative as an ‘interactive and interpretive product’ comprised of stories, actions, happenings, characters and plots (Riessman 2002) while researchers have underlined how intersections between physical environments and social life continuously shape and reflect narratives and storytelling (Anderson and Jones 2009; Koller and Farley 2019). Not surprising, given the ‘narrative turn’ in social science research, there has been increasing use of narrative approaches in research with

1 Introduction: Narrative Research with Children and Young People

3

children and young people (de Leeuw et al. 2017). Narrative methods hold great appeal for social science researchers as they allow diverse and varied groups of children and young people to tell stories about their lives in a relatively organic way (Hill and Dallos 2011), providing a ‘portal’ into their lived experiences (Reeves 2007; Tomanovi´c 2012; Bartik et al. 2013). Through the telling of stories and subsequent analysis, narrative inquiry provides a space to understand difference and the wider socio-historical, political and cultural events that shape experiences of inclusion and exclusion for children and young people (Goodley and Clough 2004). This edited volume represents a collection of scholarly peer-reviewed contributions from diverse, yet interlinking disciplinary fields, with the central aim of critically examining the value of narrative inquiry in understanding the everyday lives of children and young people across multiple and diverse contexts. Bringing together research findings and methodological insights from sociology, geography, education, child and youth studies, social care and social work, the volume emphasises the importance of narrative, children’s voices and storytelling methodological approaches, as applied in social science research with children and young people. The volume points to the diversity of spaces and places encountered by children and youth considering how young people ‘tell tales’ about their lives (e.g. written essays, online platforms, visual methods, narrative interviews), highlighting the multidimensionality of narrative research in capturing their everyday lived experiences. Given the increasing prominence accorded to young people’s participation in contemporary society (Lundy 2018), the voices and agencies of these groups indelibly shape areas of pivotal importance to global citizenries, making this volume extremely timely. The aims of the volume are: 1. To bring together a diversity of approaches to narrative inquiry, underlining the multifarious ways that these concepts are understood in research with children and young people across a range of disciplines and research contexts. 2. To examine the value of narrative research approaches for understanding children and young people’s ‘everyday’ experiences in distinctive settings (e.g. home, community, schools).

4

L. Moran et al.

3. To create a deeper understanding of how different narrative research methods are utilised specifically in research studies with children and young people (e.g. mapping techniques, narrative interviews, online stories, blog posts, essay writing, among others). 4. To engage with critical methodological debates, and address subsequent challenges of utilising narrative methods with children and young people. The idea for this edited volume emerged during the 3rd International Irish Narrative Inquiry Conference that took place at the National University of Ireland in Galway, in March 2016. The focus of the 2016 event centred on how we ‘do’ narrative inquiry research in arts, humanities and social science disciplines broadly (see O’Grady et al. 2018 for further details). Since 2014, the conference has been held annually and has an interdisciplinary ethos and a global focus, attracting scholars from multiple and diverse interdisciplinary interests and fields, including agriculture, childcare, education, environment, gender studies, health care, medical and scientific fields (among several others). Some of the principal themes and questions that are explored at this event are enshrined within and across this book’s contributions including; what it means to be a narrative scholar; what constitutes narrative inquiry; and how people construct different narratives of and about themselves in diverse spaces. These ideas form the very basis of conceptual and methodological research on narrative inquiry, and have informed many of the central themes explored throughout this volume. In this chapter, we set the context for the volume by exploring the rationale for the increased interest in narrative research with children and young people. The discussion then moves to consider key theoretical and methodological themes in the literature on narrative inquiry, before considering how such ideas are both embedded and embodied by and through the volume’s contributions. Narrative Research with Children and Young People The emergence of the ‘new sociology of childhood’ in the early 1990s (Mayall 2015) and the ratification of the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC 1989) have (re)focused and increased attention on young people’s issues, experiences and rights (Reeves 2007; de Leeuw et al. 2017). This paradigm challenges traditional developmental ideas of

1 Introduction: Narrative Research with Children and Young People

5

children and youth as ‘becomings’ rather than ‘beings’ and (re)positions young people as social actors who are expert in their own lives, who recreate complex understandings of the world (Ansell 2005; Wyn et al. 2012; Smith and Greene 2014; Garvis et al. 2015; Brady and Graham 2019). Theoretical support for approaches that regard children as competent commentators about their own experiences can be seen also in developments in sociocultural theory, postmodernism, poststructuralist theory and the reconceptualising early childhood movement. These perspectives challenge dominant narratives of ‘childhood’ as a universal concept (Ansell 2005) and position children and young people as actively working to understand the world in which they exist, while also changing it through participation and interaction (Garvis et al. 2015, p. 3; Cooper 2017; Harju 2018; Rogers and Anderson 2019). Within childhood research, there has been a particular focus on giving voice (Aitken 2017, 2019) to ‘seldom heard’ children and young people, including those from minorities or groups that experience discrimination (Moskal 2015). Such themes of inclusion and exclusion are common across narrative research examining diverse places and spaces, from where difference is constructed, experienced and articulated by children and young people (see, e.g., work in Children’s Geographies by Vanderbeck and Morse Dunkle 2010; Harju 2018; McDonnell 2019). That said, notions of ‘giving voice’ to children and young people are also interpreted as enshrining primarily adult-centric agendas that largely detract from children’s rights agendas and reinforce power hierarchies (Spyrou 2016). This new approach towards childhood has also led to the development of novel methods suited to exploring and identifying children’s perspectives (Smith and Greene 2014; Dowling et al. 2018). Researchers are concerned with how best to ensure that young people’s voices can be heard and shared, thus providing greater insights on how children and youth make meaning in their lives (Garvis et al. 2015). There have also been significant developments in practices involving children and young people in the design, delivery and dissemination of research (Brady and Graham 2019) and in relation to the ethical issues stemming from narrative research with children and young people (de Leeuw et al. 2017; Kearns 2014; Kennan and Dolan 2017). From this context, narrative emerges as a valued qualitative research approach for understanding children and young people’s lives. Furthermore, as a child-centred research

6

L. Moran et al.

technique, narrative offers the possibility of collecting young people’s stories, through diverse methodological practices, as well as helping them to create stories (Garvis et al. 2015, p. 10; Moskal 2015). Described as an approach that both ‘privileges the voices of participants’ and disseminates ‘lived experiences through thick descriptive storytelling’ (McNamara 2013, p. 138), narrative-based methods are seen as sensitive and respectful, (re)positioning children and young people as authorities in and of their own lives, with capacity and capability to direct tone and focus throughout their own narratives (Liebenberg et al. 2018). Narrative methods also provide an opportunity for children and young people to participate in research that helps them to organise and make sense of experiences of loss, pain and joy (Weber et al. 2007), and to understand how seemingly ‘ordinary’ or everyday life events are interconnected, and can affect how they process the meaning of traumatic events in their lives too. Issues to do with eliciting narratives about traumatic events in narrative interviews necessitate deeper discussions on ethics. Such issues are addressed in chapters of this book (see, e.g., Mooney, this volume). While narrative accounts are ostensibly personal, they also bring into focus the wider socio-historical, political and cultural events that shape inclusion and exclusion of young people (Goodley and Clough 2004, p. 349). Narrative methodologies have been used to better understand young people’s experiences with regard to a myriad of social issues across diverse cultural settings (e.g. Hill and Dallos 2011; Leyshon and Bull 2011; Tomanovi´c 2012; Bartik et al. 2013). Geographers, for example, have made contributions that spatialise children and young people’s sense of belonging, identifying where these groups feel affinity, and by extension where they do not. Drawing from scholarship in the digital humanities, geo-visualisation techniques and digital storytelling, geographers explicitly use maps (however manifest) to understand young people’s interpretation of place, and most importantly, deconstructing how and why they hold and perform these perceptions (Dowling et al. 2018; Moore et al. 2018; Peterle 2019). Narratives as Multidimensional and Context-Specific Narratives are frequently conceptualised as stories, and stories are, in themselves, inherently multidimensional representing a multiplicity of ideas and knowledges, people and places, cultural signs and symbols.

1 Introduction: Narrative Research with Children and Young People

7

Stories are dynamic sites ‘for the deployment of embodied knowledges’ and a ‘stage for the narratable selves to make connections’ (Tamboukou 2010, p. 21). Narratives are also iterative and contextual; they are types of cultural and discursive ‘artistry’ (Clandinin and Huber 2002, p. 161) and are conceptualised in this volume as forms of ‘linguistic dance’ where the interconnections between words, phrases, plots, scripts and characters continuously reveal unique sociocultural complexities based on an individual’s unique life experiences. For children and young people, the process of telling one’s own story is an inherently personal and politicised act (Byrne and O’Mahony 2011). As Tamboukou (2010, p. 22) also affirms: Stories should not be conceived as only discursive effects, but also as recorded processes wherein the self as the author/teller of his/her own story transgresses power boundaries and limitations and follows ‘lines of flight’ in its constitution as a political subject.

Definitions of narrative are often largely contingent on the disciplinary orientation of researchers (Riessman 2002; Larsson and Sjöblom 2010); however, definitions of narrative as they appear in the literature are broadly characterised by two competing, yet complementary approaches. Essentially, they constitute sociologically oriented approaches that are grounded principally in social constructivism and postmodernism on the one hand (Riessman 2002), and psychological approaches (including psychodynamic and humanistic tropes) on the other (Crossley 2000). Some narrative methodologies combine aspects of both approaches however (e.g. Biographical Narrative Interpretive Method [BNIM]); which is frequently defined as a psychosocial approach to narrative inquiry (see Chamberlayne and King 2000; Wengraf 2001). Rustin (2000) conceptualises narrative as: A specific way of giving an account: namely, an account that is oriented towards story, a temporal sequence of events in time following one after another: one thought after another, one event after another etc. but always one thing after another in temporal sequence.

8

L. Moran et al.

Comparable to this, Larsson and Sjöblom (2010) emphasise the significance of temporality, sequencing and moral instruction in their definitions of narrative and narrative analysis (see also Sandelowski 1991; Peta et al. 2019). Such insights are central to how we conceptualise narrative inquiry throughout this volume as multidimensional; as inherently embedded within contexts; as geographically, socially and discursively situated and as both transforming and transformative. This concept broadly concurs with aspects of Eaves and Walton (2013, p. 67) who advocate for a ‘polyphonic, multi-layered, and authentic narrative inquiry’, one that focuses on the ‘layered’ and ‘levelled’ character of narratives, and the interconnectedness of past, present and future (see also Wengraf 2001; Andrews 2007, 2014). Commensurate with leading authors in the field of narrative inquiry, our approach to narrative further emphasises processes; dynamic interconnections between people, place and contexts over time, and in doing so, we draw attention to chronology, individual life histories and the continuous and constantly evolving interactions between human and non-human worlds (Wengraf 2011; Phoenix 2013; Squire et al. 2013; Andrews 2014). Applying these ideas to narrative, we are drawn to think about narratives as ‘cultural scripts’ (Vanclay and Enticott 2011) where stories, both big and small, emerge and circulate in everyday life, considering how they are infused with different forms of ‘knowledge cultures’ (Tsouvalis et al. 2000) and are legitimised, de-legitimised, interpreted, changed, eradicated or remain constant in relation to social, cultural and environmental dynamics, which are themselves, interconnected. We contend therefore that narrative as process and product cannot be separated from the contexts in which it is produced, and the transmission, exchange or the ‘death’ of narratives is contingent on sociocultural norms, and tacit and explicit knowledge that prevails in various societies. ‘Small’ and ‘Big’ Stories in Narrative Research The concept of ‘small stories’ has gained prominence in narrative inquiry research (Bamberg 2004, 2006) with some referring to this development as a ‘new narrative turn’ (Georgakopoulou 2006, p. 122). Bamberg (2006) analyses the societal importance and meanings of ‘big stories’ from the perspective of ‘small stories’. Generally speaking, ‘small stories’

1 Introduction: Narrative Research with Children and Young People

9

are defined as those which are short; stories that are told in interviews and/or everyday interactions about ‘mundane things and everyday occurrences’ (Ibid., p. 122). Therefore, such stories do not encompass full descriptions of the ‘lived life’ or significant events, individual subjectivities or participant’s reflections on the relevance of potentially transformative life events that happen over time. That said however, ‘small stories’ can point or allude to life events that are of much greater significance to participants, where participants talk around or talk about something (as opposed to ‘talking to’ an event) (Tsouroufli 2015). Chapters in this volume underline the significance of small stories in children and young people’s narratives, highlighting the rich diversity of research methods that facilitate the emergence of ‘small stories’ in relation to the themes of identity and belonging (Bamberg 2004; Spreckels 2008), but also connect and are framed by larger societal narratives (‘big stories’) around large-scale social and political issues and events (Andrews 2007).

Sequencing, Silence and Omission in Narratives Riessman (2002), Larsson and Sjöblom (2010, p. 274) similarly identify several distinguishing features intrinsic to narrative inquiry that are of interest in relation to narrative research with children and youth. The first relates to order and sequencing, with narrated actions accorded meanings by the teller(s), so that one action is viewed as consequential and/or connected to the next, and/or to preceding actions. While actions are interconnected in people’s ‘everyday’ narratives, some events, plotlines and details of episodes may also be deliberately or inadvertently omitted from their accounts (Wengraf 2001; Andrews 2007). What people include and/or omit in narrations, how they deliberate internally about what and how to narrate, is an extremely important (and interesting) area which is often underexplored in research. Of course, memory is also a critical factor in determining the shape and details contained in individual narrations (Cohen and Conway 2004). Generally speaking, links between past, present and future time, as embedded in specific narrations, are explicated by leading scholars on narrative

10

L. Moran et al.

research (Churchill and Churchill 1982; Sandelowski 1991; Wengraf 2001). With a focus on children and young people, contributions to this volume broadly ask questions about what it means to tell and/or not to tell stories about specific life events and different types of communicative conventions and technologies that young people use to tell their own stories everyday (see, e.g., Phoenix, this volume).

Narrative as Creative and Contextual The ‘creative’ power of narrative is also frequently explicated in research and specifically in relation to children and young people’s identities (see, e.g., Faulkner and Coates 2011). Larsson and Sjöblom (2010) (among other authors) illuminate that the process of narrating one’s world creates plots and storylines which are steeped in personal experiences across time. They, along with other authors (e.g. Clandinin and Connelly 1990; Adler and McAdams 2007), show that stories are constructed temporally, spatially and episodically, pointing to how rhetorical devices and sounds are used in everyday discussions and various forms of texts to convey meaning to readers and/or listeners, and that these devices are contextual (Strömqvist and Verhoeven 2004). The latter point about rhetorical and linguistic tools encompasses specific words and phrases used to draw attention to the significance of specific life events and/or details in episodes or plotlines. They can also include ‘turns of phrase’ that are incorporated into speech to reinforce and/or legitimise particular interpretations of events or episodes, and speech intonations to convey different meanings through sounds (Larsson and Sjöblom 2010, p. 274). Other devices that can be drawn upon include being silent at particular points during the narration (or indeed, for significant parts of it), speaking in different tones or pitches throughout, singing or humming or using body language which are sometimes dismissed and/or misinterpreted for being silent and are viewed largely as inconsequential for the preceding or subsequent narrations (Green et al. 2019). Narrative analysis similarly encompasses a myriad of techniques for engaging in the life worlds and meanings of participants, around charting the ‘said’ and the ‘unsaid’ (see Riessman 2002). However, it usually involves immersion in

1 Introduction: Narrative Research with Children and Young People

11

the lived experiences of the teller (see Corbally and O’Neill 2014) where he/she is embedded in space and time throughout the telling, necessitating a focus on what the teller says happened, along with how and why, to discern hidden meanings, changes in subjectivities throughout, and uncover what the point of the story is at different stages of the interview (see also Clandinin et al. 2007; O’Grady et al. 2018). This is broadly comparable with what Etherington (2004, p. 81) conceptualises as ‘the social reality of the narrator’, facets of which are indelibly embedded and interlinked throughout narrations that happen daily, across the life course (see also Green 2010).

Narratives as ‘Portals’ In the context of this volume, narratives can be seen to represent ‘portals’ from where children and young people ‘enter the world’ and make experiences of the world ‘personally meaningful’ (Connelly and Clandinin 1990). In narrative research, portals are conceptualised as ways of entering into people’s inner worlds (Ibid.). Similarly, in sociological terms, they are places where knowledge exchange and transformation takes place (Sassen 2002) which further illuminates the complexity and creative power of people’s ‘everyday’ narrations about themselves and the world around them. For children and young people, the process of narrating and indeed, narratives themselves are not linear, neither are they straightforward. They can be deeply emotional, complex, cultural and corporeal (Punday 2003). Narratives are living; they can be ‘cathartic’ (Wengraf 2001), and mentally and spiritually healing (see McLeod 2004). However, narratives can also be interpreted as dark and dangerous places, and/or as the means of entering linguistic terrains that are precarious, disturbing and emotionally distressing for researchers and participants (Marin and Shkreli 2019). Elements of the ‘portal’ metaphor are echoed in chapters presented in this volume, illustrating how Biographical Methods yield rich details on everyday experiences that are central to how survivors of Child Sexual Abuse (CSA) make sense of childhood traumas (see Mooney, this volume); how narratives

12

L. Moran et al.

are oriented to social transformation and the role of Internet-based technologies in facilitating deeper understandings of children’s interpretations of poverty and social disadvantage (see, e.g., Phoenix, this volume).

Giving ‘Voice’ to Children and Young People: Challenges and Complexities The concepts of ‘voice’ and ‘silence’ attract considerable attention in recent literature on young people and narration (Thorne 2003; Komulainen 2007; Spyrou 2011, 2016). While storytelling may be like ‘second nature’ for some children, the process of ‘giving voice’ to children and young people for research purposes is complex (James 2007; Moskal 2015). Researchers cannot assume that narratives elicited for research purposes will be as authentic as those shared organically in everyday settings with friends or loved ones (Engel 2006). Voice is often conceptualised as a corporeal or physical attribute. However, it is also socially constructed (Komulainen 2007); the degree of primacy attached to different voices and by whom typically depends on social hierarchies and prevailing power dynamics (cf. Peace 2001). Engel (2006) reminds us that young people’s sensitivity to context raises questions about how ‘typical’ the narratives elicited by a researcher can be. Researchers must reflect on how the context within the story is told, the prompts used, and the story form (e.g. verbal, written or both); shape the nature of the narrative. There is also need for attention to the power relations between the researcher and the researched and the ethical considerations that often arise during this process (Kearns 2014). The notion of ‘giving voice’ to children and youth also reproduces adult-centric power gradients to some extent, invoking notions that children are ‘voiceless’ without adult interventions. However, Hothi and Karlsson (2014, p. 548) argue that children’s voices are ‘contingent on their social, discursive and physical environments and power relations, and constructed in reciprocal processes of telling and listening’. While aiming to ‘give voice’ to young people’s experiences, many authors also acknowledge the partial and situated quality of research knowledge (Reeves 2007; Moskal 2015). A

1 Introduction: Narrative Research with Children and Young People

13

variety of studies have focused on power relations and perceptions of otherness (Punch 2002; Eldén 2013), along with matters such as the ‘production’ of children’s voices and the need for reflexive and creative research (Eldén 2013). For example, McGregor et al. (2019) focus on young people’s perceptions of the power of social workers and discursive conventions operationalised by professionals that militate against participatory decision-making and partnership working with children and families. Similarly, the notion of ‘listening’ to children and young people is also critiqued extensively. While adults listening to young people are generally regarded as positive, potentially leading to enhanced participatory outcomes (Hogan and O’Reilly 2007), Roberts (2008) reminds us that adult’s listening to children can also be intrusive and distressing, depending on context as well as pre-existing hierarchies, perceptions and relationships. Furthermore, silence is often regarded as superfluous in comparison with narrative (Lewis 2010). However, ‘children’s silences are pregnant with meanings and a constitutive feature of their voices’ (Spyrou 2016, p. 7). Therefore, understanding how children and young people narrate; what they say and do not say and why they talk about some things but not others, are exceptionally complex matters; such complexity is exemplified throughout the various chapters in this volume. Having identified narrative research then as a valuable approach when working with children and young people, it is pertinent at this juncture to discuss themes and topics addressed in subsequent chapters.

Narrating Childhood and Youth: Volume Overview The subsequent chapters of this volume are situated within a variety of places and spaces; examining children and young people’s lived realities through the theoretical and methodological lens of narrative inquiry. The chapters presented here broadly explore how young people across different contexts make sense of the world around them and further illuminate the experiences of young people that are frequently conceptualised as ‘hard to reach’, including migrants, young carers, homeless

14

L. Moran et al.

young people and Indigenous rural youth. While the chapters and research contexts included in this volume are diverse, contributions to this volume share several unifying themes and capture different aspects of the everyday lived experiences of children and young people. Across the chapters in the volume, significant themes or tropes relating to narrative research include the following: • Young people are powerful agents in their communities and have the capacity to create positive and meaningful social and political change; • Young people’s narratives on belonging, identity and community are highly complex, creative and transformative; they are socially and culturally constructed and linked to physical space; • Enhanced political and societal participation with young people on matters of social and political importance can lead to better policy solutions; • Narrative research methods and approaches offer substantial scope for engaging with complexity in the context of children and young people’s lives, generating insight on the everyday ‘lived realities’ that might remain ‘concealed’ using more structured research approaches; • Capturing the ‘ordinary’ or ‘everyday’ experiences of children and youth is significant for understanding how they live their lives in a period of rapid social, political and technological change. Contributions throughout the volume also help to answer some of the following questions around narrative research and conceptualisations of ‘narrative’, ‘voice’ and ‘the unsaid’. Such questions include: • How is the concept of ‘narrative’ defined and theorised across different disciplines? • What does it means to ‘narrate’? Is there confluence and convergence in concepts such as ‘narrating’, ‘telling’ and ‘storytelling’? • What are the intricacies of differing methodological approaches to encourage narration and storytelling from children and youth across various types of research contexts?

1 Introduction: Narrative Research with Children and Young People

15

• How is the role of researcher different when engaging narrative methodological approaches with children and youth (e.g. as insider or outsider (or both) (Neal and Walters 2006), and/or as co-constructor)? • How are children and young people’s narratives framed by environments, societal values and ‘knowledge cultures’ (Tsouvalis et al. 2000)? In considering the diversely rich qualitative frame facilitated by narrative inquiry, a greater depth of understanding emerges in relation to children and young people’s lives. With this in mind, the edited volume to hand considers research contributions across four thematic parts. These include young people’s interpretations of home, care and identity (Part I), relationships in communities, participatory and recreational spaces (Part II) and educational spaces (Part III). Methodological insights gleaned from a rich range of narrative studies globally are inherent to the volume’s final part (Part IV). Part I consists of three chapters exploring various themes relating to children and young people’s narrations of home, care and identity. Young people who experience homelessness can lose the ‘ontological security’ (Giddens 1990, p. 92) associated with home, and experience a loss of social and emotional connectednesss and sense of place. Drawing on a biographical longitudinal study of youth homelessness in the Republic of Ireland, Mayock and Parker’s chapter is concerned with how young people who have experienced homelessness make sense of both homelessness and home. Through life history interviews conducted with 40 young people at two time points, two years apart, the authors were able to capture the temporal dimensions of youth homelessness and the dynamics that shape young people’s homeless and housing trajectories over time. Young people recounted the experiences that led them to disconnect with family or foster home, leading to the ‘loss of identification with home as a site of constancy, safety and security’. Mayock and Parker illustrate how young people responded to new realities and challenges in their day-to-day lives as they navigated the experience of homelessness. Many of the study’s participants embarked on a complex ‘journey’ of meaning-making that was intimately connected to their experiences and relationships in their previous homes. Others felt that

16

L. Moran et al.

they never had a secure home and struggled to imagine what ‘home’ might mean. At the follow-up interview, the majority of young people had not found a home; those who found stable housing viewed it as a critical ‘turning point’ in their lives, contributing to a stronger sense of identity, place and normality. Mayock and Parker’s contribution provides a nuanced understanding of the experience and consequences of homelessness by highlighting both the subtleties and perceived realities of home and homelessness, illuminating how meanings are lived, experienced and created over time. Young carers are children or young people under the age of eighteen who care or help to care for a family member with an illness, disability, mental health issue or addiction (Cree 2003). In public and policy discourse, references to young carers emphasise risk and vulnerability, with the positive aspects of a caring role often overlooked. Guided by resilience theory, Marlene McGibbon’s chapter focuses on how young carers negotiate and construct a positive sense of identity within the social contexts in which they are located. McGibbon undertook narrative interviews with 22 young carers in Northern Ireland as part of her Ph.D. study exploring their experiences of education, their interests and their perspectives on stigma, peer affiliation and social acceptance. The findings suggest that young carers strive to attest to their ‘normalcy’ by meeting traditional expectations in relation to educational attainment and peers norms. At times this involved secrecy, establishing relationships with others also perceived as ‘different’, attempts to ‘normalise’ their family circumstances and adopting various personas depending on the demands of the moment. McGibbon argues that we need to move away from a simplistic view of the needs of young carers, developing a much more comprehensive understanding of the intimacies of young carers’ lives in order to better understand risk and resilience in the lives of this group. Rachel Thomson’s chapter takes us into the home of 7-year-old Emily, who tells Rachel about objects that represent her past, present and future. The chapter is framed by arguments from the sociology of childhood that consider children in the present tense, rather than interpreting them through developmental, future-oriented frameworks. Thomson takes up

1 Introduction: Narrative Research with Children and Young People

17

Bond Stockton’s (2009) challenge to think beyond the dominant imperative of ‘growing up’ to engage with various kinds of ‘growing sideways’. The interview took place in Emily’s bedroom where Emily showed Rachel her ‘favourite thing’, a painted wooden winged horse called Pegasus and other objects that were meaningful to her. In the course of their discussions, Emily makes a series of ‘sideways swerves’ whereby she references her or her parents past or future selves, before returning to the present. Thomson argues that digital modes of recording are leading to the emergence of new kinds of narrative research, enabling a more ethnographic, situated and intimate research practice. The encounter with Emily illuminates how the materiality of new documentation practices, including photographing, recording, listening and note taking, allows us to name and narrate that which might otherwise be hard to articulate. The volume’s Part II explores young people’s narrations about communities, recreational and leisure spaces, encompassing research insights from three countries (Canada, the UK and the Republic of Ireland). In keeping with the orientation of the volume, community is interpreted as both a bounded physical space (e.g. see Wall et al., this volume and Harragan, this volume) and as an entity endowed with sociocultural meanings and interpretations of place among groups of children and youth that affect how they see themselves (Wall et al., this volume) and how they conceptualise risk and vulnerability (see Reilly and Hughes, this volume). Furthermore, conceptualisations of community as encompassing diverse forms of social practices, religious communities and social groupings that transcend myriads of insider/outsider categorisations are also explored in this section (e.g. McGarry, this volume). In her chapter, Orla McGarry explores the role of narrative inquiry in understanding the lives of young Muslim teens in a rural community in the West of Ireland. Through her research design, she incorporates the use of photographs, videos and physical objects, collected and (sometimes) created by teens to tell their stories. These visual representations provide an insight to the importance of recreation and leisure in the construction of self among participating Muslim teens. McGarry indicates that there was a series of unanticipated outcomes stemming from this research, challenging assumptions regarding learning and goal setting associated with formal educational experiences. Instead the participants

18

L. Moran et al.

in this study point towards the importance of the informal in influencing the development of particular skills and life goals. Aimee Harragan’s chapter documents fieldwork completed for her ESRC-funded Ph.D., on young people’s experiences of communitybased, participatory initiatives in Trafford, Manchester, UK (e.g. school and extra-curricular activities) and specifically, what it means to do ‘something’ and ‘do nothing’. Detailing rich findings from 79 young people and five key workers, Harragan explores what it means to ‘participate’, which connects to salient debates and policies internationally on participation rights and young people as ‘active’ citizens (cf. Flanagan 2013). Significantly, Harragan explores narratives of young people who report that they ‘do nothing’ with their time. Such narratives could be incorrectly (and simplistically) classified as narratives of inaction. However, Harragan underlines the complexity of these young people’s experiences (e.g. Kian, David, Nathan, Tom), highlighting how discourses of activity and inactivity are constructed in relation to perceptions about themselves, their place, and material and structural factors that constrain how they actualise their participation rights every day. Overall, Harragan’s work illuminates that narratives of doing ‘something’ and doing ‘nothing’ are exceptionally important aspects of young people’s participatory rights, and thereby further illuminates how participation is a multidimensional and contested concept in young people’s lives. Research has shown that the sharing of culture across generations through formal and informal community structures can be important contributors to resilience for Indigenous youth. The chapter by Wall et al. describes a research study, Spaces & Places, which explores how cultural engagement can be enhanced for Indigenous youth in Canada as a means of promoting healthy psychosocial outcomes. The study made use of visual elicitation methods situated within a Participatory Action Research (PAR) framework, whereby young people collaborated with researchers on data gathering, analysis and dissemination. In this context, young people’s narratives highlighted a very clear desire to draw on community relationships and physical resources in accessing and engaging in traditional activities, in addition to an awareness of their own agency in establishing the intergenerational social opportunities that would facilitate cultural connection.

1 Introduction: Narrative Research with Children and Young People

19

In their chapter, Kathy Reilly and TJ Hughes explore narratives associated with children’s everyday lives through the creation of story-maps. Drawing from 90 story-maps collected by Final Year BA students, the chapter discusses themes emerging from the Places and Spaces of Childhood in Ireland project. In particular, Reilly and Hughes discuss environmental perceptions of children aged 8–10 years, specifically exploring discourses of risk and vulnerability. Centring on the voice of the child, the chapter examines the spatiality of children’s everyday lives, pointing towards the people and the places enjoyed by participating children. The chapter also provides a reflection on the innovative methodological design of the overall project. Part III of this edited volume considers the role of educational institutions as a setting for narrative inquiry research with children and young people. Drawing from examples in early childhood (the baby room in particular), the middle school classroom and design-based learning at second-level education, this part points towards the value of narrative inquiry in understanding the lives of children and young people while also clearly demonstrating this approach as a pedagogic principle. Reflecting on recent feminist scholarship (Haraway 2016; Bennett 2010), Jayne Osgood explores how diversity manifests through the celebration of festivals in the baby room of a registered Early Years institution in London. Osgood begins by providing an in-depth discussion of the invasive policy arena, and in particular pointing towards how global events and perceived threats impact the day-to-day processes and practices of the baby room. In this instance, Osgood discusses the Prevent Duty (HM Government 2015) and Fundamental British Values (HM Government 2014). Furthermore, Osgood is clear on how these operational policies pose a direct challenge to the theories and philosophies underpinning the early childhood educational curriculum. As a result, Osgood seeks an alternative interpretation of difference and diversity and uses matter as a lens to conduct qualitative narrative research through observational techniques including video footage and photographs from the baby room. The analysis advocates for a shift away from a focus on the human experience of things, towards the things themselves, representing the material and onto-epistemology of the things.

20

L. Moran et al.

Elizabeth M. Walsh’s contribution stems from the arena of science communication and explores the role of digital storytelling in science learning among 10–13 year olds in an American middle school. In particular, Walsh explores the impact of creating a climate action film on this group of middle school children, exploring how the children’s stories include both the imagined and the lived reality of life, through a superhero narrative. Ultimately, this chapter explores how children’s identities manifest in the creation of the film and how the film can subsequently be used as a mechanism for understanding young people’s perception of climate action and the context of such actions. From a pedagogic perspective, the process of constructing a digital climate action film is examined in relation to children’s learning on and about climate science. The chapter by Tony Hall and colleagues provides an insight into how, despite multiple and diverse educational contexts, similar designbased principles emerge when incorporating technology, with and for children and youth, for the purpose of storytelling in the classroom. The chapter draws closely from two examples, the first being the use of digital narrative design in a museum context. Against the backdrop of an archaeologist’s study room, children were tasked with uncovering the stories associated with the artefacts found in the room; the emerging stories were multiple and related to both the story-ing of the artefacts themselves in addition to considerations as to who owned what. The second example explores the use of digital story telling in teaching poetry in a second-level institution (high-school equivalent), pointing towards the rich learning environment afforded by this technology in allowing young people to engage poetic messages with greater depth and understanding. Part IV of the book on methodological practice comprises five papers, underlining the multidimensionality of what it means to ‘do’ narrative research; showcasing diverse methodological approaches and techniques that engender the concept of narrative, while underlining issues to do with narrative analysis. The first chapter by Virginia Morrow and Jane Elliott draws on essays written in 1969 by British children as part of the National Child Development Study (NCDS).2 Children were asked to imagine what their lives would be like when they were 25 years old and to write an essay about it. The variety and richness of their responses about ‘imagined futures’ encompassed stories about work, family, pets,

1 Introduction: Narrative Research with Children and Young People

21

children and future relationships with spouses, and are further illuminative of children’s agency, in how they re-imagine their worlds. However, these essays are also illustrative of how children conceptualised masculinity and femininity during a period of tremendous social change in Britain, and how they understood caring work in the home as opposed to, or separate from work outside of it, in professional spheres. While Morrow and Elliott conclude that children’s accounts were mainly positive, they were also highly gendered, thus illuminating how gender and expectations about work learned in early childhood might be informally and formally perpetuated in society, affecting gender relations and employment choices during subsequent life stages. Overall, the chapter illuminates the versatility of essay writing as a methodological technique for capturing how young people imagine and re-imagine the world around them, while showcasing the richness of data garnered in the NCDS study. Ann Phoenix’s chapter contributes to the plethora of recent research on the importance of social media and technological change for understanding young people’s lives in late modernity (Loader et al. 2014; Berriman and Thomson 2014). In this chapter, Phoenix shows that online platforms (e.g. ‘YouTube’) offer extensive scope for extending and realising children’s participation rights in society, and as data sources, online videos offer deeper insights into children’s interpretations of global issues, such as poverty and homelessness. Significantly, Phoenix shows that despite children’s historical marginalisation from societal and political debates, the language that they use portrays the complexity of their experiences and awareness of deeply rooted social problems, and understanding of structural inequalities that affect their lives and adults life worlds too. Phoenix confronts issues such as heteroglossia and ventriloquising of children’s accounts of the world and therefore challenges the notion that children’s narrations constitute mere representations or ‘mirrors’ that reflect how adults who inhabit their worlds (e.g. parents, teachers) see the world around them. In subsequent parts of the paper, Phoenix presents findings from separate studies; retrospective accounts from Caribbean-born adults about childhood experiences of trauma and racialised identities; how children and parents represent their worlds through photo-elicitation methods, and interviews that

22

L. Moran et al.

Phoenix completed in Andhra Pradesh/Telangana, India. In doing so, her chapter illuminates the importance of ‘small stories’ in narrative inquiry, the multidimensionality of children’s experiences, the flexibility of narrative approaches and the significance of hearing children’s voices for understanding intersectionality, identity, power and marginalisation in different societies. Chapter 3 of this part, by Kirsi Paulina Kallio, puts forward an innovative methodological approach, drawn from research completed with children and youth in Southern Finland and Northern England, for understanding young people’s interpretations of place, are personal and social experiences. Kallio’s approach to topological mapping embodies concepts such as ‘subjectivity’, ‘beingness’ and ‘becoming subjectivities’, thus showing that how young people reconstruct space and place is interlinked with identities and everyday lived realities. Similarly, the concept of ‘topological polis’ is further indicative of how place and community are relational ideas that are linked to children’s lived experiences. Significantly, Kallio’s chapter underlines that topological mapping offers rich insights into children’s experiences of places, thus showing how this is linked to everyday relationships, realities and imaginings. The contribution by Joseph Mooney, an academic and social worker, underlines the importance of ethical implications when doing narrative research with people who experienced Childhood Sexual Abuse (CSA). His paper, therefore, contributes to a growing corpus of social work literature on child protection (generally) and qualitative research with young people who experienced traumas due to physical and/or emotional abuse or neglect by adults (Biehal et al. 2010; Biehal 2014; Moran et al. 2019). Mooney’s work draws on qualitative materials from an interview with David (a pseudonym), who experienced sexual abuse in childhood, illustrating the power of the Biographical Narrative Interpretive Method (BNIM) in ‘going deeper’ into people’s lived realities and the complexity of everyday experiences, which are significant to how David processes the meaning of distinctive episodes of abuse, later in life. Mooney describes specific aspects of the BNIM method in detail including distinctive aspects of the interviewing technique such as designing a ‘Single Question Used to Induce Narrative’ (SQUIN) and panel analysis, which are characteristic of BNIM. Significantly, Mooney’s work illustrates that

1 Introduction: Narrative Research with Children and Young People

23

BNIM yields interview materials about people’s lived lives that could at first glance be described as ‘ordinary’ or ‘everyday’. However, these everyday encounters and the spaces they happen in are highly complex. They are significant to how participants re-live and recount experiences of abuse and how they reconceptualise meanings attached to these events. Importantly, Mooney describes some of the ethical implications he implemented as part of his Ph.D. research with adult survivors of CSA to offset risk of harm from re-traumatisation from reliving emotionally painful life events. While the BNIM method offers scope and depth to research with so-called vulnerable groups, ethical concerns to do with harm require enhanced critical attention from BNIM scholars as well. The final chapter in Part IV by Patricia McNamara focuses on rightsbased narrative research, and empowerment of children and youth in research who experienced trauma. McNamara examines concepts that are embedded in rights-based frameworks when conducting research with children and youth, such as inclusion, participation, advocacy and empowerment. She focuses primarily on a research study with young people and families in community-based child and family centres in Melbourne Australia, who experienced trauma due to histories of family violence and parental separation. For McNamara, these research experiences precipitate the explication of key principles for conducting rights-based narrative research and the role of ethics, ideology and agency in ensuring that children’s rights are realised in narrative research studies. In the concluding chapter, we reflect on the contribution of the volume, further discussing the concept of narrative and reflecting on key questions and issues discussed throughout the book such as the ‘coproduction’ of narratives and representing children’s voices. We further conclude by outlining some future directions for narrative research with children and youth in and across our respective disciplines, underlining the potential for enhanced trans-disciplinary research.

Notes 1. While the notion of narrative inquiry as a form of social science research methodology was relatively new at this time, its intellectual roots could

24

L. Moran et al.

be traced farther back to narratology, and a so-called classical phase that occurred between the 1960s and 1980s (Connelly and Clandinin 1990; Meister 2014). The adaption and development of narrative research was then further bolstered by the emergence of new approaches to literary criticism (e.g. Russian structuralism and later French poststructuralist and postmodernist thinking) (Squire et al. 2013). 2. The National Child Development Study (NCDS) is a multidisciplinary research study which follows the lives of approximately 17,000 people born in a particular week of 1958.

References Adler, J., & McAdams, D. (2007). Time, Culture and Stories of the Self. Psychological Inquiry, 19 (2), 97–99. Aitken, S. C. (2017). Children’s Geographies: Tracing the Evolution and Involution of a Concept. Geographical Review, 108(1), 3–23. Aitken, S. C. (2019). Coloring Outwith the Lines of the Map: Children’s Geographies as Contested Subfield and Practical Global Force. In T. Skelton & S. Aitken (Eds.), Establishing Geographies of Children and Young People (pp. 1–33). Singapore: Springer. Anderson, J., & Jones, K. (2009). The Difference That Place Makes to Methodology: Uncovering the ‘Lived Space’ of Young People’s Spatial Practices. Children’s Geographies, 7 (3). https://doi.org/10.1080/147332809030 24456. Andrews, M. (2007). Shaping History: Narratives of Political Change. New York: Cambridge University Press. Andrews, M. (2014). Narrative Imagination and Everyday Life. New York: Oxford University Press. Ansell, N. (2005). Children, Youth, and Development. London, UK and New York, NY: Routledge Perspectives on Development, Routledge. Bamberg, M. (2004). Talk, Small Stories and Adolescent Identities. Human Development, 47, 366–369. Bamberg, M. (2006). Stories: Big or Small: Why Do We Care? Narrative Inquiry, 16 (1), 139–147.

1 Introduction: Narrative Research with Children and Young People

25

Bartik, W., Maple, M., Edwards, H., & Kiernan, M. (2013). Adolescent Survivors After Suicide. Crisis, 34 (3), 211–217. Bennett, J. (2010). Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things. Durham and London: Duke University Press. Berriman, L., & Thomson, R. (2014). Spectacles of Intimacy? Mapping the Moral Landscape of Teenage Social Media. Journal of Youth Studies, 18(5). https://doi.org/10.1080/13676261.2014.992323. Biehal, N. (2014). A Sense of Belonging: Meanings of Family and Home in Long-Term Foster Care. British Journal of Social Work, 44, 955–971. Biehal, N., Ellison, S., Baker, C., & Sinclair, I. (2010). Belonging and Permanence: Outcomes in Long-Term Foster Care and Adoption. London: CoramBAAF. Bond Stockton, K. (2009). The Queer Child, or Growing Sideways in the Twentieth Century. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Brady, L. M., & Graham, B. (2019). Social Research with Children and Young People: A Practical Guide. Bristol: Policy Press. Byrne, A., & O’Mahony, D. (2011). Family and Community: (Re)-Telling Our Own Story. Journal of Family Issues, 33(1), 52–75. https://doi.org/10.1177/ 0192513x1142121. Chamberlayne, P., & King, A. (2000). Cultures of Care: Biographies of Carers in Britain and the Two Germanies. Bristol: The Policy Press. Churchill, L. R., & Churchill, S. W. (1982). Storytelling in Medical Arenas: The Art of Self-determination. Literature and Medicine, 1, 73–79. Clandinin, D. J. (2006). Narrative Inquiry: A Methodology for Studying Lived Experience. Research Studies in Music Education, 27 , 44–54. https://doi.org/ 10.1177/1321103x06027001301. Clandinin, D. J., & Huber, J. (2002). Narrative Inquiry: Understanding Life’s Artistry. Curriculum Inquiry, 32(2), 161–169. Clandinin, D. J., Pushor, D., & Murray-Orr, A. (2007). Navigating Sites for Narrative Inquiry. Journal of Teacher Education, 58(1), 21–35. Cohen, G., & Conway, M. (Eds.). (2004). Memory in the Real World . Hove and New York: Psychology Press. Connelly, F., & Clandinin, D. J. (1990). Stories of Experience and Narrative Inquiry. Educational Researcher, 19 (5), 2–14. https://doi.org/10.3102/001 3189x019005002. Cooper, V. L. (2017). Lost in Translation: Exploring Childhood Identity Using Photo-Elicitation. Children’s Geographies, 15 (6), 625–637. Corbally, M., & O’Neill, C. (2014). An Introduction to the Biographic Narrative Interpretive Method. Nurse Researcher, 21(5), 34–39.

26

L. Moran et al.

Cree, V. (2003). Worries and Problems of Young Carers: Issues for Mental Health. Child and Family Social Work, 8(4), 301–309. Crossley, M. (2000). Narrative Psychology, Trauma and the Study of Self/Identity. Theory & Psychology. https://doi.org/10.1177/095935430010 4005. de Leeuw, S., Parkes, M. W., Morgan, V. S., Christensen, J., Lindsay, N., Mitchell-Foster, K., et al. (2017). Going Unscripted: A Call to Critically Engage Storytelling Methods and Methodologies in Geography and the Medical-Health Sciences. The Canadian Geographer / Le Géographe Canadien, 61(2), 152–164. Dowling, R., Lloyd, K., & Suchet-Pearson, S. (2018). Qualitative Methods III: Experimenting, Picturing, Sensing. Progress in Human Geography, 42(5), 779–788. Eaves, S., & Walton, J. (2013). Advancing Polyphonic, Multi-layered and Authentic Narrative Inquiry: Actor Sense-Making During Transformational Change. The Electronic Journal of Business Research Methods, 11(2), 67–83. Eldén, S. (2013). Inviting the Messy: Drawing Methods and ‘Children’s Voices’. Childhood, 20 (1), 66–81. https://doi.org/10.1177/0907568212447243. Engel, S. (2006). Narrative Analysis of Children’s Experience. In S. Greene & D. Hogan (Eds.), Researching Children’s Experience: Approaches and Methods (pp. 199–216). London: Sage. Etherington, K. (2004). Becoming a Reflexive Researcher: Using Ourselves in Research. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers. Faulkner, D., & Coates, E. (Eds.). (2011). Exploring Children’s Creative Narratives. London: Routledge. Flanagan, C. (2013). Teenage Citizens. Cambridge, MA and London, UK: Harvard University Press. Garvis, S., Ødegaard, E. E., & Lemon, N. (2015). Beyond Observations: Narratives and Young Children. Boston, MA: Brill Sense. Giddens, A. (1990). The Consequences of Modernity. Cambridge, MA: Polity Press. Goodley, D., & Clough, P. (2004). Community Projects and Excluded Young People: Reflections on a Participatory Narrative Research Approach. International Journal of Inclusive Education, 8(4), 331–351. Georgakopoulou, A. (2006). Thinking Big with Small Stories in Narrative and Identity Analysis. Narrative Inquiry, 16 (1), 122–130. Green, L., Warwick, L., & Moran, L. (2019, May 11). Exploring Connections between Touch, Silence and Residential Child Care: Ambiguity, Ambivalence

1 Introduction: Narrative Research with Children and Young People

27

and Intersectional Power Dynamics. Paper presented at the Sociological Association of Ireland (SAI) Annual Conference 2019, School of Political Science and Sociology, National University of Ireland, Galway. Green, L. (2010). Understanding the Life Course: Sociological and Psychological Perspectives. Cambridge: Polity Press. Harju, A. (2018). Children Practising Politics Through Spatial Narratives. Children’s Geographies, 16 (2), 196–207. Haraway, D. (2016). Staying with the Trouble: Making Kin in the Chthulucene. London: Duke University Press. Hill, K., & Dallos, R. (2011). Young People’s Stories of Self–Harm: A Narrative Study. Clinical Child Psychology and Psychiatry, 17 (3), 459–475. HM Government. (2014). Fundamental British Values. London: HMSO. HM Government. (2015). Prevent Duty Guidance. London: HMSO. Downloaded via http://www.legislation.gov.uk/ukdsi/2015/9780111133309/pdfs/ ukdsiod_9780111133309_en.pdf. Hogan, F., & O’Reilly, M. (2007). Listening to Children: Children’s Experiences of Domestic Violence. Dublin: Office of the Minister for Children (OMC), Department of Health and Children. Hothi, R., & Karlsson, L. (2014). Lollipop Stories: Listening to Children’s Voices in the Classroom and Narrative Ethnographical Research. Childhood, 21(4), 548–562. James, A. (2007). Giving Voice to Children’s Voices: Practices and Problems, Pitfalls and Potentials. American Anthropologist, 109 (2), 261–272. Kearns, S. (2014). Working Reflexively with Ethical Complexity in Narrative Research with Disadvantaged Young People. Qualitative Social Work, 13(4), 502–521. Kennan, D., & Dolan, P. (2017). Justifying Children and Young People’s Involvement in social Research: Assessing Harm and Benefit. Irish Journal of Sociology, 25 (3), 297–314. Koller, D., & Farley, M. (2019). Examining Elements of Children’s Place Attachment. Children’s Geographies, 17 (4), 491–500. https://doi.org/10. 1080/14733285.2019.1574336. Komulainen, S. (2007). The Ambiguity of the Child’s ‘Voice’ in Social Research. Childhood, 14 (1), 11–28. https://doi.org/10.1177/090756820 7068561. Larsson, S., & Sjöblom, Y. (2010). Perspectives on Narrative Methods in Social Work Research. International Journal of Social Welfare, 19 (3), 272–280. Lewis, A. (2010). Silence in the Context of ‘Child Voice’. Children and Society, 24 (1), 14–23.

28

L. Moran et al.

Leyshon, M., & Bull, J. (2011). The Bricolage of the Here: Young People’s Narratives of Identity in the Countryside. Social and Cultural Geography, 12(2), 159–180. Liebenberg, L., Wood, M., & Wall, D. (2018). Participatory Action Research with Indigenous Youth and Their Communities. In R. Iphofen & M. Tolich (Eds.), Handbook of Qualitative Research Ethics (pp. 339–353). London: Sage. Loader, B., Vromen, A., & Xenos, M. (2014). The Networked Young Citizen: Social Media, Political Participation and Civic Engagement. Information, Communication and Society, 17 (2), 143–150. https://doi.org/10.1080/136 9118x.2013.871571. Lundy, L. (2018). In Defence of Tokenism? Children’s Right to Participate in Collective Decision-Making. Childhood, 25 (3), 340–354. https://doi.org/ 10.1177/0907568218777292. Marin, K., & Shkreli, A. (2019). An Examination of Trauma Narratives: Narrative Rumination, Self-reflection and Identity in Young Adulthood. Journal of Adolescence, 76, 139–151. Mayall, B. (2015). The Sociology of Childhood and Children’s Rights. In W. Vandenhole, E. Desmet, D. Reynaert, & S. Lembrechts (Eds.), Routledge International Handbook of Children’s Rights Studies (pp. 93–109). London: Routledge. McDonnell, S. (2019). Nonsense and Possibility: Ambiguity, RUPTURE and Reproduction in Children’s Play/ful Narratives. Children’s Geographies, 17 (3), 251–265. McGregor, C., Devaney, C., & Moran, L. (2019). A Critical Overview of the Significance of Power and Power Relations in Practice with Children in Foster Care. Child Care in Practice. https://doi.org/10.1080/13575279. 2018.155135. McLeod, J. (2004). The Significance of Narrative and Storytelling in Post-psychological Counseling and Psychotherapy. In A. Lieblich, D. P. McAdams, & R. Josselson (Eds.), The Narrative Study of Lives. Healing plots: The Narrative Basis of Psychotherapy (pp. 11–27). American Psychological Association. https://doi.org/10.1037/10682-001. McNamara, P. (2013). Rights-Based Narrative Research with Children and Young People Conducted Over Time. Qualitative Social Work, 12(2), 135–152. Meister, J. C. (2014). Narratology. In P. Hühn (Ed.), The Living Handbook of Narratology. Hamburg: Interdisciplinary Centre for Narratology, Hamburg

1 Introduction: Narrative Research with Children and Young People

29

University. Downloaded via www.lhn.uni-hamburg.de/article/narratology. Last Accessed 2 December 2019. Moore, A. B., Nowostawski, M., Frantz, C., & Hulbe, C. (2018). Comic Strip Narratives in Time Geography. ISPRS International Journal of GeoInformation, 7 (7), 245. https://doi.org/10.3390/ijgi7070245. Moran, L., McGregor, C., & Devaney, C. (2019). Exploring the Multidimensionality of Permanence and Stability: Emotions, Experiences and Temporality in Young People’s Discourses About Long-Term Foster Care in Ireland. Qualitative Social Work. https://doi.org/10.1177/147332501987 1607. Moskal, M. (2015). ‘When I Think Home I Think Family Here and There’: Translocal and Social Ideas of Home in Narratives of Migrant Children and Young People. Geoforum, 58, 143–152. Neal, S., & Walters, S. (2006). Strangers Asking Strange Questions? A Methodological Narrative of Researching Belonging and Identity in English Rural Communities. Journal of Rural Studies, 22(2), 177–189. O’Grady, G., O’Toole, J., Clandinin, D. J., & Leavy, A. (2018). Engaging in Educational Narrative Inquiry: Making Visible Alternative Knowledge. Irish Educational Studies, 37 (2), 153–157. Peace, A. (2001). A World of Fine Difference: The Social Architecture of a Modern Irish Village. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Peta, C., Wengraf, T., & McKenzie, J. (2019). Facilitating the Voice of Disabled Women: The Biographic Narrative Interpretive Method (BNIM) in Action. Contemporary Social Science: Journal of the Academy of Social Sciences, 14 (3/4), 515–527. https://doi.org/10.1080/21582041.2018.1450520. Peterle, G. (2019). Carto-Fiction: Narrativising Maps Through Creative Writing. Social and Cultural Geography, 20 (8), 1070–1093. Phoenix, A. (2013). Analysing Narrative Contexts. In M. Andrews, C. Squire, & M. Tamboukou (Eds.), Doing Narrative Inquiry (pp. 72–87). London, Thousand Oaks, New Delhi and Singapore: Sage. Punch, S. (2002). Research with Children: The Same or Different from Research with Adults? Childhood, 9 (3), 321–341. https://doi.org/10.1177/ 0907568202009003005. Punday, D. (2003). Narrative Bodies: Towards a Corporeal Narratology. Houndsmills, Basingstoke and New York: Palgrave. Reeves, J. (2007). Tell Me Your Story: Applied Ethics in Narrative Research with Young Fathers. Children’s Geographies, 5(3), 253–265. Riessman, C. K. (2002). Doing Justice: Positioning the Interpreter in Narrative Work. In W. Patterson (Ed.), Strategic Narrative: New Perspectives on the

30

L. Moran et al.

Power of Personal and Cultural Storytelling (pp. 195–216). Lanham, MA and Oxford, UK: Lexington Books. Roberts, H. (2008). Listening to Children: And Hearing Them. In P. Christensen & A. James (Eds.), Research with Children (pp. 260–275). London: Routledge. Rustin, M. (2000). Reflections on the Biographical Turn in Social Science. In P. Chamberlayne, J. Bornat, & T. Wengraf (Eds.), The Turn to Biographical Methods in Social Science (pp. 33–52). London: Routledge. Rogers, T. L., & Anderson, V. R. (2019). Exploring Cambodian Schoolgirls’ Educational Persistence: A Community Cultural Wealth Perspective. Gender, Place and Culture, 26 (4), 533–558. https://doi.org/10.1080/096 6369x.2018.1555517. Sandelowski, M. (1991). Telling Stories: Narrative Approaches in Qualitative Research. Image: The Journal of Nursing Scholarship. https://doi.org/10. 1111/j.1547-5069.1991.tb00662.x. Sassen, S. (2002). Towards Sociology of Information Technology. Current Sociology, 50 (3), 365–388. Smith, C., & Greene, S. (2014). Key Thinkers in Childhood Studies. Bristol: Policy Press. Spreckels, J. (2008). Identity Negotiation in Small Stories among German Adolescent Girls. Narrative Inquiry, 18(2), 393–413. Spyrou, S. (2011). The Limits of Children’s Voices: From Authenticity to Critical, Reflexive Representation. Childhood, 18(2), 151–165. https://doi.org/ 10.1177/0907568210387834. Spyrou, S. (2016). Researching Children’s Silences: Exploring the Fullness of Voice in Childhood Research. Childhood, 23(1), 7–21. https://doi.org/10. 1177/0907568215571618. Squire, C., Andrews, M., & Tamboukou, M. (2013). What Is Narrative Inquiry? In M. Andrews, C. Squire, & M. Tamboukou (Eds.), Doing Narrative Inquiry (pp. 1–26). London, Thousand Oaks, New Delhi and Singapore: Sage. Strömqvist, S., & Verhoeven, L. (Eds.). (2004). Relating Events in Narrative Style. Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum. Tamboukou, M. (2010). Working with Stories as Multiplicities: Opening Up the Black Box of the Archive. Life Writing, 7 (1), 19–33. Thorne, B. (2003). From Silence to Voice: Bringing Children More Fully into Knowledge. Childhood, 9 (3), 251–254. Tomanovi´c, S. (2012). Agency in the Social Biographies of Young People in Belgrade. Journal of Youth Studies, 15 (5), 605–620.

1 Introduction: Narrative Research with Children and Young People

31

Tsouroufli, M. (2015). Hybridity, Identities and Inclusion of International PhD Students in England. Interdisciplinary Perspectives on Equality and Diversity, 1(1). Downloaded via http://journals.hw.ac.uk/index.php/IPED/article/vie w/11. Last accessed 7 May 2020. Tsouvalis, J., Seymour, S., & Watkins, C. (2000). Exploring KnowledgeCultures: Precision Farming, Yield Mapping, and the Expert-Farmer Interface. Environment and Planning A, 32(5), 909–924. Vanclay, F., & Enticott, G. (2011). The Role and Functioning of Cultural Scripts in Farming and Agriculture. Sociologia Ruralis, 51(3), 256–271. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-9523.2011.00537.x. Vanderbeck, R. M., & Morse Dunkley, C. (2010). Young People’s Narratives of Rural-Urban Difference. Children’s Geographies, 1(2), 241–259. Weber, Z., Rowling, L., & Scanlon, L. (2007). “It’s Like… a Confronting Issue”: Life-Changing Narratives of Young People. Qualitative Health Research, 17 (7), 945–953. Wengraf, T. (2011). Interviewing for Life Histories, Lived Situations and Ongoing Personal Experiences Using the Biographical Narrative Interpretive Method (BNIM). Downloaded via https://is.muni.cz/el/1423/podzim2014/ SOC932/um/Wengraf_manual.pdf. Last accessed 7 May 2020. Wengraf, T. (2001). Qualitative Research Interviewing: Biographic Narrative and Semi-Structured Methods. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Wyn, J., Lantz, S., & Harris, A. (2012). Beyond the ‘Transitions’ Metaphor: Family Relations and Young People in Late Modernity. Journal of Sociology, 48(1), 3–22.

Part I Narrations of Home, Care and Identity

2 Young People Narrating the Meaning of Homelessness and Home Paula Mayock and Sarah Parker

Introduction Homelessness is an extreme manifestation of poverty and social exclusion and, for young people, has particularly severe consequences for health and well-being (Hodgson et al. 2013; Kulik et al. 2011; Mayock et al. 2013; Quilgars et al. 2008). Research has long since established that homeless youth face dangers and experience multiple sources of stress, both before and after they become homeless, including the risk of physical and sexual assault and other types of victimisation (Bender et al. 2015; Coates and McKenzie-Mohr 2010; Mayock and O’Sullivan 2007; Rosenthal et al. 2006). Many do not feel safe in certain service settings, P. Mayock (B) · S. Parker School of Social Work and Social Policy, Trinity College Dublin, Dublin, Ireland e-mail: [email protected] S. Parker e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s) 2021 L. Moran et al. (eds.), Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People, Studies in Childhood and Youth, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-55647-1_2

35

36

P. Mayock and S. Parker

particularly in shelters and other types of emergency accommodation that serve older age groups (Mayock and Veki´c 2006; Mayock et al. 2014; Quilgars et al. 2008). Homelessness is also associated with a fracturing of young people’s social networks since they frequently have to move away from their previous home neighbourhoods to access housing and support services (Hawkins and Abrams 2007; Joly et al. 2014; Quilgars et al. 2008). This loss of social and emotional connectedness can lead to a ‘hollowed out’ sense of place (May 2000), which has implications for how youth make sense of both homelessness and ‘home’. Homelessness is, of course, not a static experience nor is it one that is experienced by all young people in the same way. There is mounting evidence to suggest that the transition time from homelessness to housing can be relatively short. For example, longitudinal studies of homeless youth (living in shelters, on the street, accessing drop-in or other services targeting ‘high risk’ unaccompanied youth) in the United States and Australia found that a large proportion exited homelessness quite quickly, frequently returning to the family home or to private rented accommodation (Braciszewski et al. 2016; Milburn et al. 2007, 2009). Thus, not all youth who become homeless lose contact with their (previous) home even in circumstances where the family home was a site of trauma or distress (Mallett et al. 2010; Mayock and Corr 2013; Mayock et al. 2011) and, particularly, if connections are maintained with family members (Milburn et al. 2007; Mayock and Corr 2013; Mayock et al. 2008; Parker and Mayock 2019). Many others for whom returning home is not an option reconnect with family and gradually resolve their home-based difficulties (Mallett et al. 2010; Mayock et al. 2011; Winland et al. 2011). It appears, therefore, that family and the family home continue to hold strong significance and meaning for youth who experience homelessness. Indeed, some studies suggest that when people are asked to reflect on what home means or what they hope it might mean in the future, they often describe family (Dupuis and Thorns 1998; Peled and Muzicant 2008). The importance of understanding and theorising home is increasingly recognised in the research literature (see Mallett 2004; Moore 2000, 2007; Somerville 1992). As Parsell (2012: 160) puts it, the notion of

2 Young People Narrating the Meaning of Homelessness and Home

37

home “provides a mechanism to identify and interrogate lived experiences”. A burgeoning body of scholarship has examined the meaning of home for individuals who experience homelessness, often highlighting the ambiguity of the concept, which has a variety of attributes and levels of meaning (Kellett and Moore 2003; Somerville 1992). However, much of the existing literature has examined the experiences of adults who are homeless, often focusing on people who are sleeping rough or on the street, which is the most severe form of homelessness (see, e.g., May 2000; Parsell 2012). As a result, much less is known about how homeless youth construct the meaning of home. This chapter examines homeless young people’s narratives of homelessness and home based on selected findings from a biographical longitudinal study of youth homelessness in Ireland. We explore the meanings ascribed by the study’s young people to home as they recount the experience of moving out of the family (or foster) home, through homelessness and, in some cases, into a (new) home. The analysis highlights the complexity and diversity of young people’s meaning-making strategies, which were intimately connected to biography and to the evolving nature and reality of their unfolding lives. The context and process of home emerge strongly from the young people’s narratives, with the family home and relationships continuing to have an ongoing presence in the lives of a large number.

Constructions of Home and Homelessness Home is an ambiguous concept but is generally recognised to carry meanings on social, emotional and material levels (Parsell 2012). There is broad consensus that when home is experienced positively, it is not simply a physical structure but rather a safe and secure place where people feel autonomy, control and a sense of privacy and comfort; home is also a space that provides a source of identity and belonging (Leith 2006; Mallett 2004; Manzo 2003; Moore 2007; Somerville 1992). Home provides people with ‘ontological security’, which has to do with “being or, in the terms of phenomenology, ‘being in the world’”

38

P. Mayock and S. Parker

(Giddens 1990, p. 92). According to Giddens, people work to maintain a framework of ontological security in their day-to-day lives, an aim or ‘project’ he describes as “an ongoing accomplishment” (Giddens 1976, p. 117). Arguing that home provides a locale in which people can work towards attaining a sense of ontological security, Dupuis and Thorns (1998, p. 29) suggest that the conditions of ontological security are met when: (1) home is a site of constancy; (2) home is a spatial context in which daily routines of human existence are performed; (3) home is a place where people feel control over their lives; and (4) home is a secure base around which identities are constructed. The findings of this research demonstrated that the meanings people attach to home are multidimensional, highlighting home as “neither naturally occurring nor instant” but rather “created over time” (Dupuis and Thorns 1998, p. 31). The multifaceted complexity of meaning attached to home has emerged strongly from the work of feminist scholars, who have documented the multiple ways in which women’s capacity to achieve and maintain ontological security is compromised in home contexts where they experience violence, abuse and/or other oppressions. These women—and their children—do not control the spaces where they live, an experience that has been described as ‘homeless at home’ (Wardhaugh 1999; Watson and Austerberry 1986). Thus, the relationship between home and homelessness is “more complex than a simple presence and absence of home” (Kellett and Moore 2003, p. 126). Home, therefore, should not be conflated with housing (Easthope 2004; Mallett 2004; Parsell 2012) since people may live in a physical structure or house where they do not feel at home and where their ability to exert control over their lives is extremely limited. Conversely, research has demonstrated that people defined as homeless may not always self-identify as actually homeless and instead liken their (homeless) accommodation to a home (McCarthy 2017; Robinson 2002; Veness 1993; Zufferey and Kerr 2004). While some individuals who are homeless may construct a home in the public spaces they occupy or in the places (shelters or other homeless service settings) where they reside (McCarthy 2017; Robinson 2002; Veness 1993), research has highlighted the distinct absence of a home, safety and security experienced by the homeless in their day-to-day

2 Young People Narrating the Meaning of Homelessness and Home

39

lives. For example, Parsell’s (2012) ethnographic study of people sleeping rough in Brisbane, Australia, which included interviews with twenty men and women who had experienced several continuous years of homelessness, demonstrated the extent to which they felt unsafe in street-based contexts where their ability to control and take charge of their lives was highly constrained. Study participants felt fear when living on the streets and “the public places where they resided were described as anything but their homes” (Parsell 2012, p. 165). Focusing on the lives and experiences of homeless youth in Canberra, Australia, Baker’s (2016) study documented the instabilities and uncertainties that characterised their daily lives. This “habitus of instability”, which was “shaped by precarious and unstable conditions of existence” (Baker 2016, p. 680), produced insecurity, fear and anxiety in young people. A smaller body of literature has examined the meaning of home for homeless young people. For example, Kellett and Moore’s (2003) research, which examined the relative meanings and experience of home among homeless young adults in London and Dublin, found that, for some, the hostels where they lived felt like home; for others, however, the hostel was not home because it was insecure and offered no privacy. For all participants, dominant themes to emerge from their accounts of a future home included independence and freedom, which were lacking in the current and previous places where they stayed, including the family home, where very many did not have a happy home life. Perhaps significantly, difficulties with social relationships “defined part of the problem of past homes” (Kellett and Moore 2003, p. 131) for many of the young people interviewed. Peled and Muzicant’s (2008) qualitative study of the meaning of home for runaway girls in Israel similarly documents the multiple home-based problems—including experiences of humiliation, infringements of privacy and violent encounters—which led them to leave home. For the girls in this study, “[t]he meaning of home as prison was anchored largely in [their] relationships with their parents” (Peled and Muzicant 2008, p. 440). However, this research also revealed that, despite the hardships they experienced in their previous homes, the girls did not wish to sever all ties with home. Home carried complex meanings as both existing and not existing, such that the meanings of home were strongly related to its absence. Finally, advancing a more diverse portrait

40

P. Mayock and S. Parker

of the meaning of home for young people sleeping rough in Sydney, Australia, Robinson’s (2002) research demonstrated ways in which at least some (homeless) youth made connections and experienced a sense of belonging in the context of homelessness. McCarthy’s (2017, p. 19) study of twelve homeless women in the North of England, half of them aged between 18 and 23 years, similarly described women finding ‘home’ in “unfixed dwellings and familiarity in unfamiliar environments”. While research to date that has focused specifically or partially on the experiences of youth has contributed numerous important insights, the meanings attached to home by young people who experience homelessness require far more detailed interrogation. Furthermore, irrespective of the populations under study, the experiences of homelessness and home have most often been researched (cross-sectionally) as static states (Kellett and Moore 2003) when, in fact, the meanings attached to both can be argued to be a process influenced by past and present experiences as well as by ‘imagined’ (home) futures. As Moore (2007, p. 15) puts it, “[p]eople arrive and leave home, make and develop home over a lifetime”. Adopting a temporal lens, and privileging the young people’s narratives, the analysis that follows aims to contribute to an emerging scholarship on the meaning of home for homeless youth by examining their experiences of home over time.

Methodological Approach The research, which is qualitative and longitudinal, was designed to capture temporal dimensions of youth homelessness, with specific attention to the dynamics that shape young people’s homeless and housing trajectories over time.1 Using a biographical approach, a core aim was to generate rich narrative data that would shed light on youths’ experiences of homelessness and housing instability. Forty young people, aged between 14 and 24 years, were recruited to the study over an eightmonth period between May 2013 and January 2014 (Phase 1).2 All were accessed through a range of statutory and non-statutory services targeting homeless or ‘at risk’ youth in the cities of Dublin (n = 34) and Cork (n = 6). While the research privileged the accounts of young

2 Young People Narrating the Meaning of Homelessness and Home

41

people, permission was sought, where appropriate, to make contact with a family member nominated by the young people (e.g. a parent, sibling or other relatives). The family ‘arm’ of the research yielded a further 10 interviews, including five with parents (all mothers) and five with siblings (all sisters) of participating young people.3 The follow-up phase of data collection was initiated in mid-July 2015—approximately two years after the conduct of baseline interviews—and extended over a tenmonth period. In total, 29 of the 40 young people and eight of the 10 family members were successfully ‘tracked’ and re-interviewed, yielding a retention rate of 74% for the sample as a whole.4 The life history interview was the study’s core method of data collection. The life story, as Atkinson (2002, p. 125) explains, is “the story a person chooses to tell about the life he or she has lived”. This biographical narration allows an individual to reconstruct their life—as expressed in lived and told stories—thus enabling the identification of salient patterns and experiences as well as interviewees’ personal interpretations of significant life events (Denzin 1989; Atkinson 1998). Perhaps the most valuable feature of life history interviewing in the conduct of research with marginalised youth is that it empowers them to speak for themselves and to tell their own story in their own words (Habermas and Bluck 2000). With an emphasis on subjective experience and understandings, narrative inquiry can also help to “disentangle multiple meanings of a single term” (Mayock and O’Sullivan 2007, p. 91), which is useful when seeking to unravel how young people understand and make sense of concepts such as ‘home’ and ‘homelessness’. Narrative research is multi-layered and marked by an emphasis on ‘place’ and temporality. Put differently, it is “not only concerned with life as it is experienced in the here and now but also with life as it is experienced on a continuum” (Clandinin and Connelly 2000, p. 19). Thus, each young person’s story is situated and understood both over time and within larger narrative context(s) (cultural, social, familial, institutional and so on) (Caine et al. 2013). Applying a longitudinal lens to biographical interviewing usefully brings to the fore the question of the ‘subject in process’ (Plumridge and Thomson 2003) in the sense that following young people through time permits the interrogation of transition, continuity and change.

42

P. Mayock and S. Parker

At baseline, biographical interviews commenced with an invitation to the young people (n = 40) to tell their ‘life story’ and, following this, several key topics were probed, including: their narratives of becoming and/or remaining homeless; family and/or peer relationships; experiences of education, training and employment; substance use (where relevant); physical and mental health; and their perspectives—whether negative or positive—on their situations, past, present and future. During the follow-up interviews, young people were asked to ‘update’ their life history narratives by detailing significant events that had occurred since Phase 1 in order to identify what had changed in their lives, what had stayed the same and their experiences more generally during the intervening period. In the case of the participating family members, in-depth interviews were conducted during both phases of the study. These interviews were conversational in style, encouraging participating family members to share their thoughts and perspectives on their son/daughter’s or sibling’s situation and to reflect on any significant events and developments in the young person’s life over the course of the study. Levels of contact and family relationships were discussed, as were their future hopes, concerns and expectations for their child or sibling. The collection of longitudinal biographical data resulted in a large volume of rich, textured narrative data.5 To manage these data, a comprehensive and conceptually based coding scheme was developed to facilitate the labelling, sorting and synthesis of data using the qualitative data analysis software package, NVivo. In order to bring the cumulative strands of experience collected into ‘conversation’ and to explore salient patterns and connections, a ‘case profile’ (Thomson 2007; Henderson et al. 2012) was prepared at baseline for all participants and this profile was updated following the second wave of data collection. Key transitions (such as those related to housing, identity, family relationships and so on), critical moments and future aspirations were documented in these case profiles to examine how young people responded to, and made sense of, these experiences over time. Data were analysed across time and through time, with the aim of exploring and documenting change—or the absence of change—and its impact on participants over the course of the study

2 Young People Narrating the Meaning of Homelessness and Home

43

(Thomson et al. 2003). This, in turn, served to illuminate the mechanisms and circumstances that shaped experiences and understandings of ‘home’ and ‘homelessness’ in the lives of young people.

Findings Young People Leaving Home When narrating their ‘life stories’, most of the study’s young people talked spontaneously about family and the family home. Almost all recounted stories that suggested some—and, in many cases, strong— elements of stress while a considerable number recounted traumatic experiences, often associated with exposure to, or direct experiences of, violence. Experiences such as these were central to what many described as a growing disconnect with ‘home’. Raphael, for example, told that he had supportive relationships with his mother and siblings but experienced violence perpetrated by his father over a sustained period. During interview, he reflected on his memories of leaving home at the age of sixteen and of feeling “lost ” at the point of moving to a foster home. It was not good me being there in my family home as my dad, he would get angry, you know … I was in contact with a social worker [and] I made the decision to leave the home and to stay in care. I felt kind of lost like, I didn’t know where I wanted to be living and staying with [foster] parents that I don’t even know and everything was hard. (Raphael, 22)

Sinéad similarly told that, during childhood, she had a positive relationship with her mother and sisters: “We were very close like, it was just the three of us”. However, her mother entered into an abusive relationship during her early teenage years from which point she was exposed to domestic violence and parental substance use. For Sinéad, being at home was “tough” and home was a site of anxiety and stress. Over time, her relationship with her mother deteriorated, culminating in her entry to foster care at the age of fifteen.

44

P. Mayock and S. Parker

Social workers have been involved with me all my life … and then I went into foster care when I was 15, em, it was my own choice. It was a bit tough being at home, too much stress and anxiety. (Sinéad, 19)

Sinéad subsequently experienced multiple residential transitions as she moved between State and relative care placements, returning periodically to the family home for short stays. Others also reported a pattern of moving back and forth between the family home and various formal or informal placements and/or situations of ‘hidden’ homelessness (i.e. staying with friends or members of their extended family). For these young people, ‘home’ was unpredictable, insecure and did not provide a sense of belonging. … as I grew up it was like I’d no structure, do you know, no stability or anything like, it was bad. (Sinéad, 19) My ma, you see it would always be, ‘Fiona come home’, and I’d come home and a few days later we’d be at each other [fighting] and then I’d be back down [to relatives’ houses] … It’s heart-breaking to say it but I can’t call a place home. (Fiona, 19)

Others told they had been “thrown” or “kicked” out of the family home: “I got kicked out of my da’s and then I was living on the streets” (Gary, 18); “He [step-father] didn’t want me living there [family home] in the first place but when I turned eighteen, he was legally allowed to throw me out ” (Ashley, 19). These young people often framed their home-leaving as involuntary or imposed. Turbulent and sometimes violent relationships with a parent(s) or step-parent meant that home was a place of constant emotional upheaval and not a place of safety. Yet, even when home-based problems were acute, several young people depicted the ‘moment’ of their departure as a shock. Alison had never imagined or anticipated “being homeless” and her entry to adult homeless hostels was a point of acute crisis. I never thought in my life I would ever spend a night in a [homeless] hostel, I never pictured myself even being homeless, I never, honestly, I never even

2 Young People Narrating the Meaning of Homelessness and Home

45

thought. I didn’t feel like talking, I didn’t feel like – I was upset, I was empty. (Alison, 20)

While many young people described the loss of home, there were others who perceived that they had never had a home or a sense of home, which they sometimes conflated with family. These young people tended to report lengthy histories of State care as well as multiple care placements, which resulted in high levels of disruption. Sam’s narrative strongly suggests a fractured sense of place and an absence of belonging. I feel I missed out on a family … I would have liked that, you know, to feel like I belonged somewhere. (Sam, 19)

Christopher, who had been placed in long-term foster care during early childhood, told that he felt “out of place” in his foster home, which he said was “not my home”. For Christopher, the notion of home was elusive and somewhat intangible. I always kind of felt like out of place there [foster home] because I called her [foster mother] ‘mam’ but I never really saw her as my mam. We just, like we never had a mother-son bond, you know … And my [birth] mother is nice now, she’s never mean, but I don’t know her as well because I didn’t live with her. That’s not my home like. [Interviewer] So is there any place you would consider your home now? No, not really, no. [Interviewer] What do you think makes a home? A home? Where you - I don’t know [pause]. Where you go to if there’s problems or where you go when you’re finished for the day, you know? (Christopher, 16)

Similarly, Michael, who had been adopted as an infant, struggled to articulate what home was, is or ought to be. [Interviewer] Where would be the last place that you have considered home?

46

P. Mayock and S. Parker

I don’t really know, I just see it [home] as somewhere to live and that’s probably one of the problems I have. [Interviewer] Do you feel like you’ve ever had a home? No. That’s probably, like that is one of the issues that I need to sort out. [Interviewer] In what way do you mean? Just like, to get my head around why I feel like that … I don’t know [pause]. [Interviewer] What do you think makes a home? I don’t know, I don’t know, that’s the thing. Yeah, I don’t know. (Michael, 24)

Young people like Michael, Christopher and Sam were drawing together gaps or perceived absences in their lives, which clearly impacted their understanding of home, what it represented and what it might mean in the future. Thus, following their departure from ‘home’, many of the study’s young people embarked on a complex ‘journey’ of meaningmaking that was intimately connected to their experiences and relationships in their previous homes. Others felt that they never had a (secure) home and struggled to imagine what ‘home’ might mean. All were simultaneously navigating the precarious landscape of homelessness.

From ‘Home’ to Homelessness On becoming homeless, young people entered into unfamiliar and often threatening environments where they encountered new people and places. For all, being homeless brought about a profound loss of security, stability and structure: “Once you’ve been there [homeless] it’s a constant feeling of uneasiness; you’re never quite secure” (Maria, 26). This loss or absence of place was particularly strong in the narratives of those who experienced high levels of transience as they moved between multiple forms of emergency or short-term accommodation: “I had nothing basically from moving from A to B to C, it was [pause], you lose everything along the way” (Sarah, 23). When interviewed at baseline, Michael told that he was “just existing ” when alternating between homeless hostels and sleeping rough while Paul felt “stuck in a circle” and could not envisage a route out of homelessness.

2 Young People Narrating the Meaning of Homelessness and Home

47

It’s hard to put structure on your life and be positive when you are homeless in emergency accommodation. Where am I going to end up? I don’t know, I’d like to be able to see a way out sometimes. I’m not really living, I’m just existing from day to day and they are long days. A day is like a week. (Michael, 24) I don’t want to feel like I’m stuck in a circle. If I move to [another emergency hostel] I’m just going to be even more depressed, I think, because I’m not moving forward, I’m staying in the same situation. I’m never going to get out of homelessness. (Paul, 21)

Young people described the experience of living in emergency accommodation in sharply negative terms, typically drawing attention to a whole host of uncertainties and anxieties associated with living in the shelter system. Alison talked about her fear of the unknown, following months of moving between emergency living situations; the shelter where she lived was not her “place”. I could lose my bed [in the shelter] any day and like, it’s not my place, you know like it’s not mine (Alison, 20)

Emergency service settings also exposed young people to a myriad of instabilities and risks, including experiences of bullying, intimidation and victimisation: “I think like in hostels someone should feel safe. It’s bad enough that you’re in there in the first place without feeling terrified for your life” (Rebecca, 18). The narratives of young people who were constantly cycling the adult shelter system particularly revealed their marginality, underpinned by a devalued sense of self and a perceived ‘otherness’ and exclusion: “It’s like you’re not even a human being or something, you know. It makes you feel [pause], it makes you feel empty, you know, just like you don’t even exist ” (Craig, 22). Over the course of the study, as these young people told their stories, it became clear that they felt very little control or say over their situations. Without a stable, secure base from which to ‘move on’ with other aspects of their lives, many felt that ‘home’ was simply out of reach. I just think to myself, you know, and tell myself, especially since I’ve got my move out date [in homeless hostel], I’ve been quite anxious and, you know,

48

P. Mayock and S. Parker

panicking. I just wish I could get a place somewhere. Sometimes I just, like I can’t see how things will ever turn good for me, you know, it just seems to be out of my hands sometimes. (Craig, 22)

A smaller number had spent time living in youth-oriented supported temporary accommodation (STA) that targeted 18–23-year-olds and permitted stays of up to six months. Perhaps significantly, several of these young people did not perceive themselves as homeless but, equally, did not feel that they had a home; rather, they occupied a space somewhere between ‘homeless’ and ‘home’: “I feel like I’m in a bit of a limbo like with it, a bit of an in-between and it’s hard to break out of that ” (Conor, 21). While these living situations provided a roof and some level of material and practical support, they did not engender feelings of independence, autonomy or belonging. [Interviewer] Would you consider yourself homeless at the moment? No. [Interviewer] Would you see this place [STA] as your home? It’s not my home but like I can’t call no where home, like the last place I could call home was my mam’s house and that’s not home any more. So like, no, I can’t call nowhere home really until I get my own place. [Interviewer] Ok and what do you think makes a home for you? It’d be mine, like my own bed, my own room like that would be my house. Like this isn’t, this is just accommodation. (Sinéad, 21) [Interviewer] When was the first time you felt homeless do you think? When I was walking the streets last year, I was like, ‘Well I’ve no home’ . [Interviewer] And do you still feel like that now? No not really, I have my own apartment [in STA] and all, I feel good about it, I don’t really think of it as a homeless place. [Interviewer] What kind of place do you see it as? Just like, like a house you know? Not a home or anything but like a house, a flat. Just there’s staff here all the time. (Patrick, 20) My home? I wouldn’t call it [STA] home, like, I’d say, ‘I’m going home’ but I wouldn’t [pause] it’s not home, it’s just the word for it I suppose. But I wouldn’t consider it my home, but I suppose it’s the place I stay. (Christopher, 16)

2 Young People Narrating the Meaning of Homelessness and Home

49

These narratives reveal the multifaceted and evolving meanings with which young people were engaged as they navigated the experience of homelessness. Sinéad did not consider herself to be homeless; her last home was her mother’s house, which was “not home any more” and she “can’t call nowhere home”. Patrick did not view his current accommodation as a “homeless place”—it was a house but “not a home”. Finally, Christopher had a place to stay, which was not a home but “just a word for it ”. He considered himself to be “going home”, an expression that evokes the notion of a process or journey ‘home’.

Young People Finding ‘Home’ At the time when follow-up interviews were conducted, only seven of the young people had transitioned to stable housing, even if many more had accessed housing at some stage but subsequently returned to the homeless service system. For those who had found housing stability, becoming housed marked a critical ‘turning point’ in their lives and had a profound transformative impact on their sense of identity and place. Secure housing engendered a sense of comfort, autonomy and belonging. It’s nice to able to bring people into your house, and … ‘Oh your house is lovely’, and I’d say, ‘Oh thanks’. It just feels good. I feel comfortable. Like I just feel so normal. (Paul, 23) Everything is normal. It’s how it should be like. A daily routine and when you close the door, you know, you can come back when you feel like it and there is nobody going to be telling you to be back at such and such a time. (Collette, 22) I’m happy renting, I’m happy having my own space … I feel more normal. You can kind of do your own thing, your own life. It’s a lot better. (Ashley, 21)

For these young people, the notion of home was closely connected to experiences of security and predictability which, in turn, provided them with a sense of privacy and personal freedom. Home brought a sense

50

P. Mayock and S. Parker

of ‘normality’ and was a place they could ‘call their own’ and just ‘be’ without the threat of being forced to move on: “I’m very happy. This [local authority housing] is going to be my home for the rest of my life really I suppose, my family home” (Sinéad, 22). Finding a home also enabled the discovery of a sense of independence, as Chloe explained. I’m a lot more independently able. Like I do everything on my own, like as in I don’t seek [services’] help for as much… So I feel like, I might be more of an adult in that sense that like I can kind of – I can deal with most things myself. (Chloe, 24)

Like Chloe, others talked about feeling more in control of their lives following the transition to housing and a majority spoke about feeling empowered because they no longer had to rely on service settings where their autonomy had been undermined: “I feel like I’m living my life now. I’m not being babied or I’m not having someone controlling every single thing I do” (Paul, 23). This renewed sense of ‘self ’, coupled with a stable residential base, meant that they could establish new social connections, build positive relationships and make decisions about the future. [Have] my own place, which is good. Name’s down for courses, I’m down volunteering to build a CV. It’s like a big change [going from] crime to volunteering, do you know what I mean? So it’s a lot to be happy about. (Oisín, 26)

While the narratives of young people who had acquired housing reveal important insights into the numerous ways in which ‘finding’ home positively impacted their lives, the accounts of those who remained homeless (a majority in the study) help to shed light on what they thought a future home could or might mean. These narratives of home tended to focus to a greater extent on an alternative position or place in the world than on the mere practical benefits of housing. Just a place where you can go, lock the door behind you. You know, somewhere where you can feel safe and just call your own, you know. (Craig, 22)

2 Young People Narrating the Meaning of Homelessness and Home

51

[Interviewer]What would you like to happen in the future in terms of housing? Just go back to a normal life, a bit of normality like, just be getting somewhere with a job, just a normal life really. (Michael, 25) Just my independence and just to like kind of be able to say, ‘Well this is my home’, like not that I’m bleeding fucking homeless. (Alison, 20)

Like those who were housed, home was more than a physical space or a roof over one’s head and carried symbolic meaning linked to safety, security, normality and independence. For a number, home also held meanings associated with a desired sense of family and family connectedness: “[Home is] where your heart is, plain and simple. Love, communication, structure, family” (Conor, 21); “I just, now, at this stage in my life, I just want to get my own place… so I can have my son and my own home like, do you know what I mean? ” (Warren, 23). When asked what she considered ‘makes a home’, Rebecca replied: “Where your family is” (Rebecca, 18). Whether homeless or housed, very many of the young people had maintained some level of contact with the family home and a considerable number told of having re-established connections with family members, particularly their mothers and siblings. Thus, while young people were seeking their own home, they were also negotiating the sometimes challenging task of resolving previously damaged family relationships. Sinéad told that she always felt “out of place” in the family home but that the distance created by her leaving had strengthened her relationship with her mother. Like we [referring to mother] always used to clash, like our personalities are the same, it was really hard and violent and stuff. Like I know I’m her daughter but that’s her family and that’s her home and I just felt out of place … But now that I moved out, we’re stronger than ever, the distance has made us way better. It was hard growing up with her but you know she’s still my mam so I still love her like. (Sinéad, 22)

Likewise, when we first met Paul, he had no contact with his family home because of ongoing conflict with his mother: “She [mother] didn’t

52

P. Mayock and S. Parker

want to have anything to do with me and I kind of felt like I had nobody to turn to” (Paul, 21). However, approximately two years later, he and his mother had started to rebuild their relationship. Paul reflected on this process of reconciliation, explaining that when homeless, speaking to his mother had been “negative” because “we’d nothing to talk about ”. He went on to describe their interactions in his new home. But now it’s not, it’s [pause] it’s grand, it’s nice and laid back, she can come up here [private rented accommodation where he lives] and have a cup of coffee and we’ll just chill out and chat away about stupid things, you know what I mean? It’s nice, it is. (Paul, 23)

Thus, as young people found or sought a (new) home, many were also (re)engaging with previous home spaces. Home had social, emotional and relational qualities and the process of home-making often involved renewed interactions and relationships with family. Young people were clear that returning to the family home was not a viable option or one that could provide a ‘solution’ to their homelessness but most wanted— and, indeed, worked to ensure—some level of contact with family.

Conclusion Qualitative longitudinal research that charts biography over time can illustrate the multidimensional and changing processes experienced by homeless youth, which impact their constructions of both homelessness and ‘home’. Young people have the capacity to articulate and make sense of experience and are capable of recounting their ‘stories’ (Habermas and Bluck 2000). When the experiences of homeless youth are ‘tracked’ over time through biographical narration, data generation is iterative, drawing on what was learnt previously to illuminate how meanings are lived, experienced and created. Using a temporal lens, the findings presented in this chapter aim to build and expand on what is known about the meanings attached to home by homeless youth, drawing particular attention to the evolving nature of their constructions of ‘home’.

2 Young People Narrating the Meaning of Homelessness and Home

53

Homelessness may be understood as a biographical event (Farrugia 2015), connected with the past, located in the present and sometimes extending into the future since homelessness is not necessarily easily or quickly resolved. For the young people in this study, the experience of homelessness was almost always preceded by the loss of a sense of emotional and/or physical safety in the context of their family home environments. This erosion of ‘ontological security’ involved complex relationships and interactions. In some cases, relationships (with their mothers, in particular) that had previously been positive were interrupted, leading to a growing disconnect with the family home. Irrespective of the circumstances and relational dynamics that preceded their home-leaving, becoming homeless was almost always framed as a sudden break from the familiar and as a critical biographical ‘moment’. While there was no single narrative of leaving home, the themes woven through young people’s ‘life stories’ included uncertainty and a loss of identification with home as a site of constancy, safety and security. At the point of leaving, young people found themselves negotiating homeless spaces and coming to terms with their removal from a position they previously occupied, which was ‘homed’, even if their (previous) home was depicted by them as a site of persistent struggle. Home, for many, had been a “hard” place to be but, at the point of their departure, most experienced a distinct loss of place or sense of ‘being in the world’ (Giddens 1990). Subsequently, a majority recounted a series of unpredictable and unstable living situations, where they felt little or no control over their lives and future, particularly with the passing of time. Thus, as they navigated the experience of homelessness, young people engaged with emerging forms of biographical work as they responded to new realities and challenges in their day-to-day lives. Contrasting with the findings of research that has documented ways in which young people create and engage with homeless spaces in ways that provide feelings of connectedness and even a sense of ‘home’ (McCarthy 2017; Robinson 2002), this study’s young people did not find relationships or places that made them feel ‘at home’ in homelessness contexts, even if some who lived in accommodation that offered some level of security (for relatively short periods) did not necessarily define or perceive themselves as ‘homeless’. Importantly, young people’s narratives of homelessness

54

P. Mayock and S. Parker

were not simply about absences but also incorporated people, places and relationships that they typically framed as precarious and, sometimes, as a destabilising presence or influence in their lives. Therefore, for a large number, homelessness was as much about negative constructions of relationships with place as about not having a home. Young people’s constructions of home were complex and multifaceted, strongly connected to past experiences and to the present context of their lives. Significantly, for those who became housed, home—with its meaning extending far beyond the boundaries of a dwelling—was relational and associated with “being placed in a particular social world” (Kellett and Moore, 203, p. 123) that provided safety, security, freedom and independence. As other studies on the meaning of home have identified (Dupuis and Thorns 1998; Kellett and Moore 2003; Parsell 2012; Tomas and Dittmar 1995), the themes of autonomy and control were central to these young people’s narratives. The extent to which they referenced the triumph or realisation of ‘normality’ was striking and strongly indicative of a perceived transition from a position of exclusion and ‘otherness’ to a place of belonging, participation and inclusion. Contrasting with the findings of recent research on homeless youth in other jurisdictions (Braciszewski et al. 2016; Milburn et al. 2007, 2009), a majority of the study’s young people had not found a home at the time of follow-up and continued to live in places characterised by transience and uncertainty (Mayock and Parker 2020). Furthermore, some could not clearly articulate or envisage ‘home’ because they had never felt anchored in the experience or meaning of home. There were others for whom home life had been interrupted from childhood but who, nonetheless, recounted stories and experiences that rendered the notion of home more tangible and within their reach. Despite the absence of a clear path out of homelessness, all held ambitions about ‘home’, albeit located in diverse biographies and also deeply embedded in the realities and contingencies of the present. These narratives of an ‘imagined’ home might be interpreted as assembled around powerful tropes of the ‘ideal’ home (Parsell 2012; Somerville 1992) but they were in fact remarkably similar to the narratives of young people who had found a home, typically emphasising a desire for safety, security, autonomy and independence.

2 Young People Narrating the Meaning of Homelessness and Home

55

Whether homeless or housed, the family home continued to have a presence in the lives of a large number of the study’s young people, who maintained some level of contact with family members despite having experienced past family and home ruptures. While for many, family ties had been suspended at various junctures, most did not want to make a permanent break from family. Thus, many were (re)negotiating a relationship with their past home, which they often conflated with ‘family’ (Peled and Muzicant 2008), while also looking towards the establishment of a new home—a “place of my own”, as so many expressed it. It appears, therefore, that young people wanted to maintain or reinstate rituals and routines of family life, perhaps in order to retain the sense of continuity that home frequently represents (Dupuis and Thorns 1998). When the meanings of home are interrogated, it permits a more nuanced understanding of the experience and consequences of homelessness by highlighting both the subtleties and perceived realities of ‘home’ and ‘homelessness’. The analysis presented here is, as stated earlier, derived from a longitudinal biographical study that privileged young people’s stories and their perspectives on their lives and situations as they emerged over the study period. In this context, it is important to emphasise that, for all of the study’s young people, ‘home’ and its meanings were evolving and that the young people’s journeys are unfinished. We have no way of asserting what the young people’s lives may ‘look like’ today but we would anticipate that their living situations, and their interpretations of their social worlds, have undergone further change. While much of the literature on the meaning of home emphasises ‘home’ as a site of constancy and predictability, for homeless youth, the realisation of ‘home’ is likely to involve multiple transitions, upheavals and uncertainties, as they navigate the uncertain and precarious landscape of homelessness and attempt to carve a route home. Acknowledgements We are very grateful to the participating young people without whom this research would not have been possible. Phase 1 of this research was funded by Focus Ireland and Phase 2 by Focus Ireland in collaboration with Simon Communities of Ireland, Threshold, Peter McVerry Trust and the Society of St Vincent de Paul.

56

P. Mayock and S. Parker

Notes 1. The study investigated the experiences of young people who were homeless and unaccompanied, that is, not part of a family unit. In Ireland, as elsewhere, the numbers of unaccompanied youth accessing homelessness services have increased quite dramatically, particularly since 2014 (Central Statistics Office 2012, 2017). Upward trends in youth homelessness have similarly been recorded in other European countries including the UK, the Netherlands and Denmark (Benjaminsen 2017; Benjaminsen and Lauritzen 2015; Clarke et al. 2015; FEANTSA 2017; Watts et al. 2015). Dramatic increases in family homelessness have also been recorded in Ireland during this same time period (Department of Housing, Planning and Local Government 2014, 2018). 2. Ethical approval for the conduct of this study was granted by the Research Ethics Committee, School of Social Work and Social Policy, Trinity College Dublin for both phases of the research. 3. The findings presented later in this chapter are drawn solely from the baseline and follow-up interviews conducted with the study’s young people. 4. See Mayock and Parker (2017) for a more detailed account of the study’s tracking strategies. 5. All interviews were first digitally recorded and transcribed verbatim.

References Atkinson, P. (1998). The Life Story Interview. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Atkinson, R. (2002). The Life Story Interview. In J. F. Gubrium & J. A. Holstein (Eds.), The Handbook of Interview Research: Context and Method (pp. 121–141). London: Sage. Baker, J. (2016). A Habitus of Instability: Youth Homelessness and Instability. Journal of Youth Studies, 19 (5), 665–683. Bender, K., Brown, S. M., Thompson, S. J., Ferguson, K. M., & Langenderfer, L. (2015). Multiple Victimizations Before and After Leaving Home Associated with PTSD, Depression, and Substance Use Disorder Among Homeless Youth. Child Maltreatment, 20 (2), 115–124.

2 Young People Narrating the Meaning of Homelessness and Home

57

Benjaminsen, L. (2017). Hjemløshed i Danmark 2017: National kortlægning. København: VIVE - Det Nationale Forsknings- og Analysecenter for Velfærd (SFI-Rapport). Benjaminsen, L., & Lauritzen, H. H. (2015). Hjemløshed i Danmark 2015: National Kortlægning, København: SFI - Det Nationale Forskningscenter for Velfærd (SFI-Rapport; Nr. 15:35). Braciszewski, J. M., Toro, P. A., & Stout, R. L. (2016). Understanding the Attainment of Stable Housing: A Seven-Year Longitudinal Analysis of Homeless Adolescents. Journal of Community Psychology, 44 (2), 358–366. Caine, V., Estefan, A., & Clandinin, D. J. (2013). A Return to Methodological Commitment: Reflections on Narrative Inquiry. Scandinavian Journal of Educational Research, 57 (6), 574–586. Central Statistics Office. (2012). Homeless Persons in Ireland: A Special Census Report. Accessed 19 November 2019 from: http://www.cso.ie/en/media/ csoie/census/documents/homelesspersonsinireland/Homeless_persons_in_I reland_A_special_Census_report.pdf. Central Statistics Office. (2017). Census of Population 2016—Profile 5: Homeless Persons in Ireland . Accessed 19 November 2019 from: http://www.cso. ie/en/csolatestnews/presspages/2017/census2016profile5-homelesspersonsini reland/. Clandinin, J., & Connelly, M. (2000). Narrative Inquiry: Experience and Story in Qualitative Research. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Clarke, A., Burgess, G., Morris, S., & Udagawa, C. (2015). Estimating the Scale of Youth Homelessness in the UK: Final Report. Cambridge: Cambridge Centre for Housing and Planning Research (CCHPR), University of Cambridge. Coates, J., & McKenzie-Mohr, S. (2010). Out of the Frying Pan, into the Fire: Trauma in the Lives of Homeless Youth Prior to and During Homelessness. Journal of Sociology and Social Welfare, XXXVII (4), 65–96. Denzin, N. (1989). Interpretive Biography. London: Sage. Department of the Environment, Community and Local Government. (2014). Homelessness Report 2014. Accessed 19 November 2019 from: http://www. housing.gov.ie/housing/homelessness/other/homelessness-data. Department of the Environment, Community and Local Government. (2018). Homelessness Report 2018. Accessed 19 November 2019 from: http://www. housing.gov.ie/housing/homelessness/other/homelessness-data. Dupuis, A., & Thorns, D. C. (1998). Home, Home Ownership and the Search for Ontological Security. The Sociological Review, 46 (1), 24–47.

58

P. Mayock and S. Parker

Easthope, H. (2004). A Place Called Home. Housing, Theory and Society, 21(3), 128–138. Farrugia, D. (2015). Youth Homelessness in Late Modernity: Reflexive Identities and Moral Worth. Singapore: Springer. FEANTSA. (2017). Second Overview of Housing Exclusion in Europe. Accessed 19 November 2019 from: https://ec.europa.eu/futurium/sites/futurium/ files/overview_housing_exclusion_2017_en_2.pdf. Giddens, A. (1976). New Rules of Sociological Method: A Positive Critique of Interpretative Sociologies. London: Hutchinson. Giddens, A. (1990). The Consequences of Modernity. Cambridge: Polity Press. Habermas, T., & Bluck, S. (2000). Getting a Life: The Emergence of the Life Story in Adolescence. Psychological Bulletin, 126 (5), 748–796. Hawkins, R. L., & Abrams, C. (2007). Disappearing Acts: The Social Networks of Homeless Individuals with Co-occurring Disorders. Social Science and Medicine, 65 (10), 2031–2042. Henderson, S., Holland, J., McGrellis, S., Sharpe, S., & Thomson, R. (2012). Storying Qualitative Longitudinal Research: Sequence, Voice and Motif. Qualitative Research, 12, 16–34. Hodgson, K. J., Shelton, K. H., van den Bree, M. B. M., & Los, F. J. (2013). Psychopathology in Young People Experiencing Homelessness: A Systematic Review. American Journal of Public Health, 103(6), e24–e37. Joly, L., Cornes, M., & Manthorpe, J. (2014). Supporting the Social Networks of Homeless People. Housing, Care and Support, 17 (4), 198–207. Kellett, P., & Moore, J. (2003). Routes to Home: Homelessness and HomeMaking in Contrasting Societies. Habitat International, 27 (1), 123–141. Kulik, D. M., Gaetz, S., Crowe, C., & Ford-Jones, E. L. (2011). Homeless Youth’s Overwhelming Health Burden: A Review of the Literature. Paediatrics Child Health, 16 (6), e43–e47. Leith, K. (2006). Home Is Where the Heart Is … or Is It? A Phenomenological Exploration of the Meaning of Home for Older Women in Congregate Housing. Journal of Aging Studies, 20 (4), 317–333. Mallett, S. (2004). Understanding Home: A Critical Review of the Literature. The Sociological Review, 52(1), 62–89. Mallett, S., Rosenthal, D., Keys, D., & Averill, R. (2010). Moving Out, Moving On: Young People’s Pathways in and Through Homelessness. London: Routledge. May, J. (2000). Of Nomads and Vagrants: Single Homelessness and Narratives of Home and Place. Environment and Planning D: Society and Space, 18(6), 737–759.

2 Young People Narrating the Meaning of Homelessness and Home

59

Mayock, P., & Corr, M. L. (2013). Young People’s Homeless and Housing Pathways: Key Findings from a Six-Year Qualitative Longitudinal Study. Dublin: Department of Children and Youth Affairs. Mayock, P., Corr, M. L., & O’Sullivan, E. (2008). Young People’s Homeless Pathways. Dublin: The Homeless Agency, Accessed 19 November 2019 from: http://www.drugsandalcohol.ie/4239/1/homeless_agency_Young-Peo ple-s-Homeless-Pathways.pdf. Mayock, P., Corr, M. L., & O’Sullivan, E. (2011). Homeless Young People, Families and Change: Family Support as a Facilitator to Exiting Homelessness. Child and Family Social Work, 16, 391–401. Mayock, P., Corr, M. L., & O’Sullivan, E. (2013). Moving on, Not Out: When Young People Remain Homeless. Journal of Youth Studies, 16 (4), 441–459. Mayock, P., & O’Sullivan, E. (2007). Lives in Crisis: Homeless Young People in Dublin City. Dublin: The Liffey Press. Mayock, P. & Parker, S. (2017). Living in Limbo: Homeless Young People’s Paths to Housing. Dublin: Focus Ireland in collaboration with Simon Communities of Ireland, Threshold, Peter McVerry Trust and Society of St Vincent de Paul. Accessed 19 November 2019 from: https://www.svp.ie/get attachment/d72dd825-dd09-4ab4-9f62-bf425d14cd32/Living-in-LimboHomeless-Young-People%E2%80%99s-Paths-(1).aspx. Mayock, P., & Parker, S. (2020). Homeless Young People ‘Strategizing’ a Route to Housing Stability: Service Fatigue, Exiting Attempts and Living ‘Off Grid’. Housing Studies, 35 (3), 459–483. Mayock, P., Parker, S., & Murphy, A. (2014). Young People, Homelessness and Housing Exclusion. Dublin: Focus Ireland. Accessed 19 November 2019 from: https://www.focusireland.ie/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/MayockParker-and-Murphy-2014-Young-People-Homelessness-and-Housing-Exc lusion-FULL-BOOK.pdf. Mayock, P., & Veki´c, K. (2006). Understanding Youth Homelessness in Dublin City: Key Findings from the First Phase of a Longitudinal Cohort Study. Dublin: Office of the Minister for Children. Manzo, L. (2003). Beyond House and Haven: Toward a Revisioning of Emotional Relationships with Places. Journal of Environmental Psychology, 23, 47–61. McCarthy, L. (2017). (Re)conceptualising the Boundaries Between Home and Homelessness: The Unheimlich. Housing Studies, 33(6), 960–985. Milburn, N. G., Rice, E., Rotheram-Borus, M. J., Mallett, S., Rosenthal, D., Batterham, P., et al. (2009). Adolescents Exiting Homelessness Over Two

60

P. Mayock and S. Parker

Years: The Risk Amplification and Abatement Model. Journal of Research on Adolescence, 19 (4), 762–785. Milburn, N. G., Rosenthal, D., Rotheram-Borus, M. J., Mallett, S., Batterham, P., Rice, E., et al. (2007). Newly Homeless Youth Typically Return Home. Journal of Adolescent Health, 40 (6), 574–576. Moore, J. (2000). Home in Context. Journal of Environmental Psychology, 20 (3), 207–218. Moore, J. (2007). Polarity or Integration? Towards a Fuller Understanding of Home and Homelessness. Journal of Architectural and Planning Research, 24 (2), 143–159. Parker, S., & Mayock, P. (2019). “They’re Always Complicated But that’s the Meaning of Family in My Eyes”: Homeless Youth Making Sense of “Family” and Family Relationships. Journal of Family Issues, 40 (4), 540–570. Parsell, C. (2012). Home Is Where the House Is: The Meaning of Home for People Sleeping Rough. Housing Studies, 27 (2), 159–173. Peled, E., & Muzicant, A. (2008). The Meaning of Home for Runaway Girls. Journal of Community Psychology, 36 (4), 434–451. Plumridge, L., & Thomson, R. (2003). Longitudinal Qualitative Studies and the Reflexive Self. International Journal of Social Research Methodology, 6 (3), 213–222. Quilgars, D., Johnsen, S., & Pleace, N. (2008). Youth Homelessness in the UK: A Decade of Progress? York: Joseph Rowntree Foundation. Robinson, C. (2002). I Think Home Is More Than a Building’: Young Home(Less) People on the Cusp of Home, Self and Something Else. Urban Policy and Research, 20 (1), 27–38. Rosenthal, D., Mallett, S., & Myers, P. (2006). Why Do Homeless Young People Leave Home? Australian and New Zealand Journal of Public Health, 30 (3), 281–285. Somerville, P. (1992). Homelessness and the Meaning of Home: Rooflessness or Rootlessness? International Journal of Urban and Regional Research, 16 (4), 529–539. Thomson, R. (2007). The Qualitative Longitudinal Case History: Practical, Methodological and Ethical Reflections. Social Policy and Society, 6 (4), 571– 582. Thomson, R., Plumridge, L., & Holland, J. (2003). Longitudinal Qualitative Research: A Developing Methodology. International Journal of Social Research Methodology, 6 (3), 185–187.

2 Young People Narrating the Meaning of Homelessness and Home

61

Tomas, A., & Dittmar, H. (1995). The Experience of Homeless Women: An Exploration of Housing Histories and the Meaning of Home. Housing Studies, 10 (4), 493–515. Veness, A. (1993). Neither Homed nor Homeless: Contested Definitions and the Personal Worlds of the Poor. Political Geography, 12(4), 319–340. Watson, S., & Austerberry, H. (1986). Housing and Homelessness: A Feminist Perspective. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Watts, B., Johnsen, S., & Sosenko, F. (2015). Youth Homelessness in the UK: A Review for the OVO Foundation. Edinburgh: Heriot-Watt University. Wardhaugh, J. (1999). The Unaccommodated Woman: Home, Homelessness and Identity. The Sociological Review, 47 (1), 91–109. Winland, D., Gaetz, S., & Patton, T. (2011). Family Matters: Homeless Youth and Eva’s Initiatives “Family Reconnect” Program. Toronto: The Canadian Homelessness Research Network Press. Zufferey, C., & Kerr, L. (2004). Identity and Everyday Experiences of Homelessness: Some Implications for Social Work. Australian Social Work, 57 (4), 343–353.

3 The Experiences of Young Carers in Northern Ireland: Negotiating Pathways to a Positive Sense of Self-Identity—Narratives of Resilience, Risk and Identity Marlene McGibbon

Introduction Over the past thirty years, there has been an increasing body of literature focusing on the roles of children and young people as informal care providers with the rubric ‘young carers’ establishing them as a welfare category in their own right. Within the UK, a policy shift initiated under New Labour has led to young carers being viewed as an ‘at risk’ group (Heyman and Heyman 2013). This has been paralleled by an increasing media focus which has tended to eulogise the caring roles of children and young people while depicting them as victims of the state used to shore up a particular form of health and social care provision often at the expense of their academic attainment and other aspects of their psychosocial development. M. McGibbon (B) Queen’s University Belfast, Belfast, Northern Ireland, UK e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s) 2021 L. Moran et al. (eds.), Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People, Studies in Childhood and Youth, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-55647-1_3

63

64

M. McGibbon

It can be suggested that this predilection to focus on risk and stereotypical images of young carers has had a twofold impact: firstly, it ascribes to children and young people a master identity constructed around caregiving responsibilities while accentuating their assumed vulnerability, and secondly, it homogenises potentially significant differences between sub-populations of young carers whose caring relationships can be very disparate and not necessarily risk inducing. In turn, this has largely left untouched the knowledge base as to why some children and young people experience greater psychosocial difficulties than others. This has been acknowledged by Becker and Becker (2008) who tentatively suggest that differential outcomes may be attributable to a capacity for resilience, while drawing attention to the fact that critical analysis of protective factors which could reduce the vulnerability of young carers remains under-developed. With an eye to this commentary, the overall purpose of the original study from which the following research findings are drawn was to generate knowledge regarding the protective and risk factors which might be instrumental in challenging or promoting the resilience of young carers. While the literature on resilience confirms it to be a complex, multifaceted concept, possessing a positive sense of identity is equated with healthy functioning and well-being, imbuing children and young people with feelings of self-esteem and self-efficacy and enhancing opportunities for social recognition all of which are regarded as positive correlates of resilience. Given the collective and largely negative identity ascribed to young carers founded on their caregiving responsibilities, this chapter focuses on how young carers attempted to negotiate and construct a positive sense of identity within the social contexts in which they were located. The findings suggest that young carers engaged in this process by trying to meet traditional normative expectations particularly in relation to educational attainment which when secured attested to their ‘normalcy’. Social acceptance by others was also critical to this process with young carers describing the mechanisms which enabled them to present an acceptable version of themselves to their peers. At times, this involved secrecy, establishing relationships with others also perceived as ‘different’, attempting to ‘normalise’ their family circumstances and adopting various personas depending on the demands of the moment. Overall, the findings suggest that young carers had a clear

3 The Experiences of Young Carers in Northern Ireland …

65

understanding of power differentials and were perhaps much more intuitive in their ability to negotiate paths to resilience that might otherwise be assumed. The chapter begins by reflecting upon individual and social ecological understandings of resilience. It then highlights the concept of risk and its associated power differentials and the role of identity development in building resilience. This is followed by a description of the methodology which outlines the importance of using a narrative approach in research with children and the use of thematic analysis to investigate and organise the study findings. Demographic details of the young carers who took part in the study are also included in this section. The findings which follow are subdivided into four domains which are introduced at the beginning of the section. The paper concludes by reflecting on the study findings and the need for a much broader understanding of young carers’ lives.

Resilience, Risk and Self Identity: Conceptual Issues The theoretical concept of resilience has not been without controversy but is nevertheless increasingly viewed as a valuable construct in understanding why some individuals appear to thrive despite experiencing significant personal adversity. Historically, within the field of developmental science, judgements regarding the capacity for resilience tended to place great emphasis on individual traits typical of mainstream populations which, in turn, were underpinned by a preordained set of arbitrary judgements in terms of what might be accepted as healthy functioning, positive adaptation, lack of psychopathology or mental illness. It was these early studies of resilience which enabled investigators to generate a shortlist of factors linked to the capacity for resilience which according to Masten (2009) has required very little adjustment over subsequent decades. These factors involve fundamental adaptive systems which enable the support of human development under many conditions and include both individual and contextual factors encompassing (amongst others) the child’s own cognitive abilities and capacity for regulating

66

M. McGibbon

emotion and stress and the resources available to the child through the family, community and culture (Wright and Masten 2015). For Masten (2009, p. 29), it is the apparent pervasiveness of these predictive factors which indicate that resilience does not require extraordinary resources, but instead is the result of what she terms ‘ordinary magic’. Beyond the issue of ordinary magic, there is increasing debate as to who should define the criteria for resilience, thus introducing the concept of power differentials into the discourse on how healthy functioning is determined (Ungar 2004) and judgements regarding external appraisals of resilience. For example, as Bottrell (2009) highlights, young people’s participation in activities such as substance abuse, truancy and involvement with negative peer groups, though normatively defined as delinquent, is from the perspective of the young people involved, the activities and relationships in which they find well-being, belonging and power. Thus, for Bottrell (2009, p. 331) ‘reframing resistances as resilience recognises the significance of social identities and collective experiences to young people’s positive adaptation’. This position is supported by Ungar (2004) who asserts that judgements made by researchers about what constitutes normalcy, deviance and health are not necessarily those held by individuals and that for many children, what seem to be patterns of deviance are healthy adaptations that permit them to survive unhealthy circumstances. In recent years, the discourse on resilience has become much more dynamic, with some commentators eschewing the concept of individualism in favour of a broader contextualised, social ecological approach. Within this perspective, combinations of social ecological factors including the family, school, neighbourhood, community services, cultural values and practices, state policy and economic factors are deemed to contribute to resilience or vulnerability under conditions of adversity. Ungar (2012, p. 27) refers to these factors as ‘opportunity structures’ which influence how people ‘navigate and negotiate for resources associated with well-being’ in the presence of some form of risk. Thus, ‘resilience is defined as a set of behaviours over time that reflect the interactions between individuals and their environments, in particular the opportunities for personal growth that are available and accessible’ (Ungar 2012, p. 14).

3 The Experiences of Young Carers in Northern Ireland …

67

Within this model, the locus of change is largely external to the individual with clusters of social ecological factors interacting with risk factors to produce changes in those most at risk. In other words, for those children exposed to higher levels of stress, it is the child’s environment which provides the resources necessary for well-being much more than individual factors (Ungar 2015). By the same token, Ungar (2012, p. 15) also contends that individual and ecological positions are not inharmonious or mutually exclusive but rather, simply accentuate different aspects of the processes associated with resilience with an emphasis on personal qualities retained as the ‘sine quo non’ of developmental science. Where these models do converge is in their agreement that resilience always occurs in the presence of risk and that if there is no evidence of recovery or positive adaptation, then there is no observed resilience unlike the study of strengths or assets which are promotive irrespective of the presence or absence of stress (Masten 2015; Ungar 2012). However, risk itself is a complex concept and according to Evans (2005) can lead to assumptions of generalised vulnerability and is often accompanied by risk anxiety about groups who are deemed especially vulnerable (young carers being a case in point). It is also described by Wright and Masten (2015, p. 5) as a probabilistic term which: …signifies an elevated probability of a negative outcome for members of a designated group, but it does not indicate the precise nature of the threat to an individual or differentiate which individuals in the risk group will demonstrate a negative outcome.

Further, the literature suggests that it is those children and young people whose family structures, values, behaviour and so forth do not reflect those of the dominant culture who are most likely to be labelled as vulnerable or at risk. According to Goffman (1963), this raises the potential for more privileged others to discredit and stigmatise identifiable groups wherein their own better circumstances and status are used as the basis for negative appraisal. Research on young carers appears to confirm these power differentials with children and young people describing how they felt unable to identify themselves as fulfilling caring roles for fear of ridicule or being regarded as different to their peers and having to cope

68

M. McGibbon

with the prejudices and reactions of the public to the person for whom they were caring (McDougall et al. 2018; Moore and McArthur 2007; Morgan 2006). Others have discussed feelings of embarrassment and shame with caring often depicted as an isolating, covert, unacknowledged and stigmatising experience (Aldridge 2018; Chikhradze et al. 2017; Cooklin 2009; Grove et al. 2017). Given these findings, it is perhaps not surprising that McDougall et al. (2018) have uncovered tensions between caring and the challenges which this presents to identity development. It is also important to note that cross-cultural and international studies have demonstrated that what may constitute risk in one cultural context may not apply to another, or elsewhere, may constitute a protective factor or process based on specific conditions, cultural values and norms (Ungar 2008). For example, Ungar (2012) highlights that although there is a general consensus that parentification and the inversion of family hierarchies may disadvantage or put children at risk, there is the potential for such relationships to imbue the child with a sense of positive self-worth and competence particularly when his or her role is acknowledged and valued by others. It also demonstrates that resilience can involve heterogeneous processes that are atypical of what we assume will be the normal developmental pathways of children (Ungar 2011). These observations are exemplified by the research of Skovdal et al. (2009) which explored the strategies used by children caring for ailing or ageing guardians in Western Kenya. These children dealt with the demands of everyday survival by mobilising social support and resources, engaging in work and income-generating activities and constructing positive identities around their caring responsibilities. According to Skovdal et al. (2009), these positive identities were supported by the acknowledgement of their value by adults in the local community and helped many children to view caring as a challenge, an opportunity for personal growth and a socially valued service rather than a hindrance or obstacle in their lives. Clearly, these experiences of caregiving underscore the importance of cultural context in developing a positive sense of self-identity and in defining risk. However, Earley et al. (2007) caution that there is the possibility for extensive caregiving to result in a self-identity constructed around caregiving responsibilities leading the child or young person to become

3 The Experiences of Young Carers in Northern Ireland …

69

trapped in what Gilligan (2009, p. 18) describes as ‘one master identity’ which can restrict various opportunities. Contrariwise, he considers that possessing a set of multiple role identities is protective of mental health in that it affords young people opportunities to enhance their social networks in the immediate and longer term, provides them with a sense of social recognition or enjoyment, enables them to test different ways of behaving and prevents them from being associated with only one potentially negative role. For Ungar (2012, 2015), it is these processes of co-construction and negotiation that provide us with a sense of who we are and our identity as resilient or vulnerable: the self is both what we learn from the statements of others in addition to self-generated meaning making with the ultimate aim of resilience to reveal ways to ‘inoculate’ children against personal, familial and acute environmental stressors (Ungar 2004, p. 343).

Methodology Perhaps as a result of the influence of positivism and the culturally dominant view of child development, children have until fairly recently been excluded from assuming the role of experts in their daily lives. This presents a challenge as to how childhood experiences can be represented in a way that is meaningful to both children and their audiences and how they can be empowered and facilitated to enter the discourse on their daily lives. According to Engel (2006, pp. 200 and 209), children’s narratives have the capacity to address these issues by accommodating an ‘intra- and interpersonal process through which children make sense of themselves in the world’ and provide ‘an invaluable source of insight into what children think and feel and also how they think and feel’. Thus, narratives enable children to construct and communicate a sense of self, to organise and articulate their experiences and, within the research domain, to determine how researchers are included in their interactions. As Emond (2006) observes, it is by these means that children’s views are given to us rather than extracted to fit into what we think we already know about what it means to be a child.

70

M. McGibbon

With this in mind and given young carers’ reservations about trust and privacy and the potential for a number of the study topics to become emotionally charged, it was concluded that using semi-structured narrative interviews was the most appropriate means by which to conduct the research. The questions for the interview schedule were developed from the pre-existing literature on resilience and young caring. Those exploring young carers’ identity focused upon aspects of their lives which they found enjoyable or positive, their experiences of friend and peer relationships, the attitudes of others regarding their caring roles and their sense of maturity. In an attempt to eschew traditional developmental indicators of resilience, questions on educational attainment were precluded from the interview schedule. The interviews were digitally audio-recorded and manually transcribed verbatim. Thematic analysis was used to identify, analyse and report patterns within the data. Data familiarisation was achieved through transcription and the iterative process of reading and re-reading the material which provided a sense of entirety of the interview content. While the process of analysis was inductive, salient issues identified by resilience theory and the extant literature on young carers proved useful in identifying the initial codes, which were then clustered together to create themes capturing ‘something important about the data in relation to the research question… represent[ing] some level of patterned response or meaning within the data set’ (Braun and Clarke 2006, cited in Castleberry and Nolen 2018, p. 809). These themes were then reviewed and refined and labelled in a manner best suited to capturing the essence of each theme (Gill et al. 2008). It was of note that within the findings as a whole, a small number of themes were identified as acting as both protective and risk factors (e.g. time spent caring for disabled siblings reduced opportunities for young carers to socialise with peers, but often strengthened their familial bonds), thus emphasising the interconnectivity and fluidity of thematic analysis.

3 The Experiences of Young Carers in Northern Ireland …

71

Study Participants A total of twenty-two young carers aged between eight and eighteen took part in the study and were drawn from eighteen households across rural and urban locations in Northern Ireland. Eighteen of the participants were female and four were male. With the exception of one young carer from Eastern Europe, all were from white Northern Irish backgrounds. Eleven of those interviewed were caring for more than one person (most often their mother and a sibling). Twelve young carers resided with both of their parents while the remainder lived in single-parent families. Typically, the majority had been involved with the provision of informal care for between seven and ten years. All of the participants were recruited from Barnardo’s Young Carers Project and Action for Children Young Carers Project. Ethical approval for the study was secured by the Research Ethics Committee of the School of Sociology, Social Policy and Social Work at Queen’s University Belfast and the Office for Research Ethics Committees Northern Ireland. Each young carer was invited to take part in a semi-structured narrative interview. Two sets of siblings were interviewed together. The assent of young carers and the consent of parents were secured prior to the interviews taking place. During each interview, assent was treated as an ‘ongoing process’ (Crane and Broome 2017, p. 204). In the findings discussed below, pseudonyms have been used in place of real names and locations.

Research Findings The findings which follow are subdivided into four domains: the first reflects upon young carers’ experiences of education, the second centres upon their interests, while the third explores their thoughts on stigma, peer affiliation and social acceptance. The final domain focuses upon young carers’ sense of maturity.

72

M. McGibbon

Young Carers’ Experiences of Education As outlined above, questions on educational attainment were precluded from the interview schedule. However, the majority of the research participants chose to focus on and discuss their various educational accomplishments which had imbued them with a sense of achievement. Their responses generated quite a comprehensive overview of their involvement in the education system with a number of findings typical of what might be expected of children’s and young people’s experiences of these institutions. The majority of young carers identified their academic accolades as a marker of self-worth with their achievements held in great regard given that they were often secured in the face of adversarial circumstances as the following comment illustrates: I got really good marks and I got into good GCSE classes, like I got into the highest English and highest Maths. I was really proud of myself. I couldn’t believe it because my Auntie was getting sick and my Uncle was getting sick before they died and stuff and I was like, in and out of school and I was missing a whole lot. I was like, upset and stuff - you know? So, my grades were going down and I wasn’t happy. But then at the summer, they all started getting back up and I was doing good. (Lisa, 14)

It appeared that such accomplishments were also valued by children and young people because they attracted public acknowledgement, represented an overt marker or confirmation of their abilities and provided concrete evidence of their ‘normality’, which, in turn, appeared to enhance their sense of self-identity and rendered them more socially acceptable to their peers. Understandably, research participants in the upper age range were those who attached the greatest importance to their academic achievements, outlining how the acquisition of a sound education would lead to a secure future, with one teen-aged girl describing it as a means ‘of getting out of the life…that I’ve lived…’ (Orla, aged sixteen). Several also discussed the acknowledgements they had received for producing specific pieces of written work and how they had been encouraged by teaching staff to enter external art, cookery and enterprise competitions

3 The Experiences of Young Carers in Northern Ireland …

73

which again enhanced their sense of achievement, afforded them social recognition and motivated them to further their existing talents. Most young carers became quite animated when they recollected their various successes in school and for three young carers in particular, seemed to represent what Brookes (1994, cited in Daniel and Wassell 2002, p. 38) describes as an ‘island of competence’ amid personal circumstances which were extremely challenging. In two households, it seemed there was little if any recognition of young carers’ achievements, academic or otherwise with one teen-aged girl commenting that her family were not inclined to ‘create a big fuss around that type of thing ’ (Sarah, aged sixteen). However, it was noteworthy that within these families, the nature of the conditions and disabilities experienced by care recipients was both chronic and extremely debilitating, thus engendering a sense that family members were perhaps so consumed by the demands of providing informal care, and that they had little if any time to devote to issues which were regarded as extraneous to meeting these needs other than those deemed essential to the daily maintenance of their households. For some children and young people, educational establishments provided the only opportunity to socialise and form friendships with other pupils or students; conversely, they were also institutions in which some felt themselves subject to a degree of censure by their peers with seven young carers reporting that they had either been bullied or were apprehensive about being bullied should other children and young people become aware they were involved with the provision of informal care. These experiences or perceptions generated feelings of isolation— leading to reluctance on the part of some children and young people to engage with their peers in other than a most cursory manner. For other young carers, the desire to secure some measure of social acceptance appeared to override these anxieties but led to them to be extremely guarded in whom they confided about their caring roles. They discussed these issues in terms of negative peer appraisal, the fear of being regarded as different or alternatively, being perceived as attention seekers. Several revealed that they were concerned others might ‘feel sorry’ for them and did not regard expressions of sympathy as particularly meaningful as this extract confirms:

74

M. McGibbon

I don’t kind of tell people in school like, I’ve two different sides to me, it’s just like a side they don’t know about. Like, they just know me for me - they don’t know me like for my Mum, my Mum being sick …it’s just, no one gets it and then everyone, like pities you and I just don’t like … because it’s not really going to change anything. If they’re like, oh, I’m sorry, it doesn’t really mean anything. It’s nice for like, a minute and then you’re like…. (Alana, 15)

Given that expressions of pity are often associated with negative evaluations of another’s situation—in this instance the family circumstances of young carers—it was not surprising to find that those involved were keen to distance themselves from what Ben-ze’ev (2001) describes as the spectator like responses of their peers and the accompanying sense of disempowerment which they seemed to experience as a result. During the course of the interviews, four young people indicated that they had experienced protracted periods of absence from school as a result of their caring roles. Within the resilience literature, such unauthorised absences have normatively been interpreted as indicative of delinquent behaviour, yet these young carers, while unable to identify the roles of those involved in assisting their return to school, appear to have been dealt with sympathetically thus avoiding the negative connotation, truant and its concomitant labelling. This suggests that perhaps the importance of context, structural factors and individual contexts are beginning to be considered by practitioners when making judgements about non-normative behaviour, risk and resilience or what Ungar (2004) refers to as healthy adaptations in the face of adversity.

Young Carers’ Interests The amount of time young carers spent providing informal care proved difficult to determine and depended on amongst other things, the nature of and fluctuations in care recipients’ illnesses or disabilities and the willingness of other household members to become involved in caring. In conjunction with the demands placed on children and young people by formal education, this limited the time which they had available to

3 The Experiences of Young Carers in Northern Ireland …

75

pursue other activities. Nevertheless, all but one of the study participants identified at least one interest which they enjoyed. In total, thirteen young carers discussed their interests as including one or more of the following: reading, writing, drawing, singing, playing musical instruments and caring for family pets. Some of these children and young people, along with the remainder of the sample, were also involved in sporting activities including cheerleading, football and Gaelic football, hockey, swimming and athletics. Eight children and young people also discussed attending youth or religious organisations on a regular basis which in some cases provided them with a sense belonging in addition to affording them the opportunity to socialise with their peers. The fact that a large number of young carers engaged in solitary pursuits is perhaps unsurprising given that many of those interviewed tended to spend protracted periods of time at home as a result of their caring responsibilities and their expressed need to remain vigilant. However, Aldridge and Sharpe (2007, p. 14) suggest that such activities can also be regarded as ‘active divertive strategies’ which can serve to alleviate physical and emotional stress and, according to Daniel and Wassell (2002), can become an invaluable personal source later in life in addition to enhancing feelings of self-esteem and self-worth, which are considered fundamental to resilience. While only two young carers directly discussed drawing and writing as a means of ‘escaping’ from their worries or stress, it was evident all of the children and young people derived pleasure and satisfaction from these activities. Given the constraints which caring responsibilities placed on young carers in terms of their opportunities to socialise outside the home, these limitations may have serendipitously led some children and young people to explore talents they may not have otherwise realised they possessed. Although the majority of young carers were able to identify the new skills or talents which they had learned as a direct result of their caring roles such as cooking and cleaning, knowledge of resuscitation or moving and handling techniques, it was noticeable that a number of young carers did not seem to attach any great sense of worth to these abilities but rather, appeared to view their contributions much more pragmatically. Several appeared to have no sense that the nature and extent of their roles were not necessarily what might be considered commensurate with

76

M. McGibbon

their age or level of emotional maturity. Whether these findings were attributable to the fact that in some cases, there was little or no acknowledgement of young carers’ contributions by care recipients or service providers or simply due to a belief that in general, there is very little value attached to informal care, was not made explicit during the interviews.

Stigma, Peer Affiliation and Social Acceptance While much has been written on the invisibility of young carers, and their willingness to engage in what has been described as a culture of secrecy in an effort to preserve their privacy and that of their families (Barnardo’s 2006), for those children and young people caring for siblings who attended the same school as themselves, it was often the case that they were unable to exercise any discretion as to whether or not they chose to explain their caring roles or the nature of their siblings’ conditions or disabilities to their friends or peers. Carol, aged seventeen, living in a single-parent household and caring for both her mother and younger sibling Judith, aged fourteen who had been diagnosed with autism, recounted how, in primary school, she and Judith had both been the subject of a relentless bullying campaign by other children seemingly as a result of her sister’s poor levels of hygiene and her inability to engage with her peers. As she progressed through secondary education, the bullying which Carol experienced appeared to abate, but had evidently impacted on her self-identity and her feelings of apprehension when attending a young carers project for the first time was very apparent as the excerpt below illustrates: I didn’t know what to expect, and I didn’t know if the kids would like me – or if maybe I was a bit too weird because I felt weird as it was…everybody knew I was different, everybody knew my little sister was different – so I got bullied because my little sister was different. (Carol, 17)

Other young carers shared similar stories, recounting experiences of being asked intrusive and personal questions about themselves and their parents particularly in instances where their parents were experiencing

3 The Experiences of Young Carers in Northern Ireland …

77

mental health difficulties. This behaviour was not simply confined to other children and young people but also involved adult members of the local communities in which young carers were residing and where they and their families appeared to be the subject of a great deal of censure and what could be described as social policing as the following extract demonstrates: You know, I think we just all want to be left alone. Like, we don’t want anybody bothering our family anymore because we don’t do anything wrong. My Mummy doesn’t leave the house but there’s still people talking about her… I think if I’d one wish in life, it would be for people to accept me and my family as we are and not to look at us or treat us any differently. (Orla, 16)

Rather than engaging in and expending energy on maintaining secrecy, several young carers were quite open about their caring roles describing how they had simply found this ‘easier’ than being continually guarded about their home lives. In addition, it was often the case that those caring for siblings living with pervasive developmental disorders appeared to be more concerned with trying to moderate or alter their behaviour in order for them to be regarded as more socially acceptable to their peers rather than attempting to conceal their conditions from others. Those with brothers or sisters living with physical and/or sensory limitations tried to encourage them to develop more self-confidence, to tackle tasks which they would usually shy away from and in some respects, took on what could be regarded as something of a mentoring role. Overall, they tended to emphasise the abilities and talents of their siblings rather than focusing on any limitations which they experienced as a result of their disabilities, with their successes often framed in terms of them having comparable skills to those whom they described as ‘normal’ people. Several also discussed how their siblings’ disabilities had imbued them with a sense of self-efficacy and determination with one young carer outlining that she had ‘no excuse’ not to make the best of her life, unlike her sister who was living with cerebral palsy and experienced great difficulties with her mobility.

78

M. McGibbon

These findings suggest that social acceptance not only for themselves but also for their families was extremely important to young carers and that their self-identities were influenced by and inextricably linked to those of other family members which for some, appeared to generate a sense of ‘affiliate stigma’ (Ting et al. 2018, p. 260), leading to marginalisation and social rejection by others. A number of young carers appeared to gravitate towards and establish friendships with other young people whose family dynamics and circumstances they perceived as more complex or extraordinary than their own and which engendered in them a sense of shared identity as the following excerpt illustrates: I’m the only carer in all my friends but I’m not the only one that lives just with their Mum or just with their Dad. I’m certainly not the worst cause one of my friends is adopted and she only found out when she turned thirteen. (Lana, 16)

Two other young carers revealed that they had rather serendipitously struck up friendships with young people whose siblings suffered from the same conditions as their own brothers and sisters and evidently felt more relaxed in their company: Heather, she’s my recent friend because she’s just moved out from Ballyveigh, ah, so yeah, we’ve got quite a lot in common cause her two brothers, ah, they’ve got the same condition as Tanya…so we’re like, really close. (Lauren, 17).

While these study findings do not neatly align with the more recent commentary on resilience, including Bottrell’s (2009) focus on what she refers to as resistance-based resilience, it can be suggested that they are somewhat analogous from the standpoint that, in order to access and secure positive relationships which imbue them with a sense of belonging and shared identity, young carers may be drawn towards those whom they regard as different to those considered part of the dominant culture.

3 The Experiences of Young Carers in Northern Ireland …

79

Young Carers’ Sense of Maturity When asked about their sense of maturity, almost half of those who took part in the study revealed that they felt more ‘mature’ or ‘grown up’ than their peers and often came to this determination by comparing the degree of responsibility which they had in the home to that of their friends. While most young carers attributed their emotional maturity solely to their caring roles, it was apparent that in a small number of cases, additional adverse life events including the death of a sibling or parent seemed to have enhanced not only their sense of maturity but also their self-efficacy. Three of the study participants discussed being unaware that they were young carers until they came into contact with practitioners from a young carers project, while a fourth commented that he had ‘always … had to have a sort of maturity [and] always felt [himself to have been] a helpful kind of person’ (Oliver, 17). However, rather than maintaining a continuous persona of maturity, several other young carers outlined how they portrayed themselves differently depending on the various social contexts in which they were located, describing how they altered their behaviour accordingly as the following quotes demonstrate: I do think I’m more grown up than all my friends, like. But I also know how to be childish. I only let the childish part of me come out when I’m with my friends. See, if I’m in the house and all, I’m the adult version of me. (Janette, 16) When I come home from school, I have to do my homework quickly, then, I have to get into my caring role. (Elizabeth, 13) I’d obviously have a kid’s side. When I’m in school, I’m very like, kiddish, but like when I’m at home, I’m very serious and responsible. (Lisa, 14)

One young carer was much more succinct in her description, referring to herself and other young carers as ‘part time kids’ (Lesley, aged seventeen). While these self-evaluations appear to represent something of a contradiction, Oyserman et al. (2012, p. 70) highlight that ‘Identities are not

80

M. McGibbon

the fixed markers people assume them to be but are instead dynamically constructed in the moment. Choices that feel identity-congruent in one situation do not necessarily feel identity-congruent in another situation’. These findings also appear to confirm Gilligan’s (2009) assertions outlined above regarding the relevance of multiple role identities and, according to Harter et al. (1997), represent part of a differentiation process in response to different relational contexts in order to secure a measure of social acceptance. Overall, there was little evidence to suggest that the majority of children and young people felt themselves to be involved in what is described in the literature by Byng-Hall (2008) as a process of parentification although two young carers Carol and Janette did appear to be completely immersed in their caring roles. Similarly to Carol, Janette also resided in a single-parent household, and in addition to caring for her mother and brother, she also undertook childcare responsibilities for her two young siblings. It was evident that her caring role was central to Janette’s selfidentity and she described herself as a ‘mother figure’ to both family and friends and as someone to whom others turned in times of difficulty. Moreover, in terms of her future employment prospects, it was clear that she also envisaged a career devoted to the care of others. At the same time, Janette did appear to recognise the potential for the anxiety which she felt as a result of her caring role to become overwhelming and tempered this by limiting the amount of knowledge she accessed in relation to her mother’s illness. Carol depicted herself in comparable terms describing how she enjoyed ‘looking after people’ and appeared to take pleasure in supporting other young carers whom she had met at the young carers project alluded to above—referring to them as ‘basically one big massive family’. Initially, Carol’s older sister had been the primary carer within the household but this responsibility had increasingly shifted onto Carol leaving her with deep-seated worries regarding her caring role and what the future would hold. However, a recently established relationship with a fellow student rather than her own capacity for self-regulation appeared to make her aware of how immersed she had become in caring for others as the following excerpt illustrates:

3 The Experiences of Young Carers in Northern Ireland …

81

My boyfriend’s a big thing in my life… and he accepts my family for who they are… he’s teaching me I need to care for myself as well as my family and friends. (Carol, 17)

The experiences of these two young carers mirror those of other children and young people discussed in the young carers literature and confirm the thoughts of Earley et al. (2007) outlined above in relation to the potential for caregiving to become an all-consuming self-identity. By the same token, while acknowledging there may be risks attached to developing a master identity steeped in caregiving, these may be the relationships in which some children and young people find a sense of belonging, attachment and fulfilment; to ignore this possibility is to impose an arbitrary judgement on how a positive sense of self-identity is established and maintained from the perspective of the social actor involved. A further two young carers Orla and Grace (aged eighteen) discussed having engaged in self-harm as a means of coping with the emotional distress and turmoil which they had experienced in their lives, while a third revealed she had attempted to take her own life at the age of twelve. In addition, six young carers revealed that they had in the past or, were at the time of interview, in receipt of counselling services. The decision to provide them with counselling was not predicated solely on the basis that they found their caring responsibilities singularly overwhelming but rather as a result of an additional number of cumulative adversarial events which, in combination, had undermined their resilience and ability to cope and at times, were manifested in what were perceived by others as behavioural difficulties. This underscores the fact that the impact of caring is not something which can readily be extricated from the multitudinous experiences which combine to influence the lives of young carers.

Concluding Thoughts This study attempted to move beyond the stereotypical portrayals of young carers which accentuate their vulnerability and the negative

82

M. McGibbon

outcomes associated with the demands of caring to centre on hitherto unexplored aspects of their daily lives. While the evidence presented here is limited by the small scale of the study and therefore cannot provide generalisations, it may nevertheless be transferable in nature. At a theoretical level, despite the parameters within which the discourse concerning risk and resilience is located having broadened considerably, it was evident that those who took part in the study evaluated their successes and sense of self largely in terms of traditional normative expectations thus supporting Masten’s (2015) assertions that older children and youth are quite aware of developmental task expectations and may evaluate their self-worth, success or failure on these terms. In addition, as outlined above, underpinning the majority of young carers’ narratives was an expressed desire to be regarded as belonging to ‘normal’ families, with the concealment of information about family members or the moderation of siblings’ behaviour, mechanisms by which some young carers tried to secure greater social acceptance. At the same time, the findings suggest that those young carers who participated in the study were perhaps much more intuitive in their ability to negotiate paths to resilience than might otherwise be assumed, had a clear understanding of power differentials and often brokered their self-identity according to social context. Given this capacity for intuition, it was perhaps unsurprising to find that some young carers established friendships with others whose family dynamics they considered unusual and where the ‘criteria’ for social acceptance was tempered by empathy and the potential for social rejection, less likely. The risk-laden coping mechanisms utilised by a small number of young carers involving self-harm coupled with the fact that others had received counselling after they had been identified as having behavioural difficulties demonstrate that evaluations of resilience whether predicated on traditional developmental indicators or those which include more contextual variables appear to rely on external validations of wellbeing. As such, they may not necessarily be adequately equipped to recognise when children and young people in general (especially those who are reluctant to speak out) might be experiencing serious and protracted psychological difficulties which, in turn, may represent a serious theoretical limitation to studies of resilience.

3 The Experiences of Young Carers in Northern Ireland …

83

That young carers spent the majority of their free time at home because of their expressed need to remain vigilant is very understandable. While such behaviour may be considered risk inducing because it can limit opportunities to socialise with peers, very little attention has been invested in determining what young carers do with this time. Yet, as this small study confirms, most engaged in a wide range of interests, developing various skills and talents using the time they had available in a constructive way and behaving as typical teenagers might. This is not to detract from the impact of caring, but rather to highlight that emphasising presumed collective difference and victimhood at the expense of other factorial opportunities on which resilience might be established may actually disempower young carers, thus increasing rather than reducing risk. Overall, the research suggests that we need to develop a much more comprehensive understanding of the intimacies of young carers’ lives in order to differentiate those who might be at risk and the best means by which to protect them from any potentially damaging aspects of caring. Securing a positive sense of self-identity appears to be one of the mechanisms by which this might be achieved and an appropriate step in this direction involves challenging the myth that a one-size-fits-all approach is adequate to understanding the needs of young carers and enhancing their resilience.

References Aldridge, J. (2018). Where Are We Now? Twenty-Five Years of Research, Policy and Practice on Young Carers. Critical Social Policy, 38(1), 155–165. Aldridge, J., & Sharpe, D. (2007). Pictures of Young Caring. Loughborough: Young Carers Research Group, Loughborough University. Barnardo’s. (2006). Hidden Lives: Unidentified Young Carers in the UK . Essex: Barnardo’s. Becker, S., & Becker, F. (2008). Service Needs and Delivery Following the Onset of Caring Amongst Children and Young Adults: Evidence Based Review.

84

M. McGibbon

Nottingham: Nottingham University, Commission for Rural Communities Tackling Rural Disadvantage, Prepared for the Commission for Rural Communities by Young Carers International Research Evaluation. Ben-ze’ve, A. (2001). The Subtlety of Emotions. Cammbridge, MA: MIT Press. Bottrell, D. (2009). Understanding ‘Marginal’ Perspectives: Towards a Social Theory of Resilience. Qualitative Social Work, 8(3), 321–339. Byng-Hall, J. (2008). The Significance of Children Fulfilling Parental Roles: Implications for Family Therapy. Journal of Family Therapy, 30, 147–163. Castleberry, A., & Nolen, A. (2018). Thematic Analysis of Qualitative Research Data: Is It as Easy as It Sounds? Currents in Pharmacy Teaching and Learning, 10 (6), 807–815. Chikhradze, N., Knecht, C., & Metzing, S. (2017). Young Carers: Growing Up with Chronic Illness in the Family—A Systematic Review 2007–2017. Journal of Compassionate Health Care, 4 (12), 1–16. Cooklin, A. (2009). Children as Carers of Parents with Mental Illness. Psychiatry, 8(1), 17–20. Crane, S., & Broome, M. E. (2017). Understanding Ethical Issues of Research Participation From the Perspective of Participating Children and Adolescents: A Systematic Review. Worldviews on Evidence Based Nursing, 14 (3), 200–209. Daniel, B., & Wassell, S. (2002). Adolescence: Assessing and Promoting Resilience in Vulnerable Children 3. London: Jessica Kingsley. Earley, L., Cushway, D., & Cassidy, T. (2007). Children’s Perceptions and Experiences of Care Giving: A Focus Group Study. Counselling Psychology Quarterly, 2(1), 69–80. Emond, R. (2006). Ethnographic Research Methods with Children and Young People. In S. Greene & D. Hogan (Eds.), Researching Children’s Experiences (pp. 123–139). London: Sage. Engel, S. (2006). Narrative Analysis of Children’s Experience. In S. Greene & D. Hogan (Eds.), Researching Children’s Experiences (pp. 199–216). London: Sage. Evans, R. M. C. (2005). Social Networks, Migration and Care in Tanzania. Journal of Children and Poverty, 11(2), 111–129. Gill, P., Stewart, K., Treasure, E., & Chadwick, B. (2008). Methods of Data Collection in Qualitative Research: Interviews and Focus Groups. British Dental Journal, 204, 291–295. Gilligan, R. (2009). Promoting Resilience: Supporting Children and Young People Who Are in Care, Adopted or in Need. London: British Association for Adoption and Fostering (BAAF).

3 The Experiences of Young Carers in Northern Ireland …

85

Goffman, E. (1963). Stigma: Notes on the Management of Spoiled Identity. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Grove, C., Riebschleger, J., Bosch, A., Cavanaugh, D., & van der Ende, P. C. (2017). Expert Views of Children’s Knowledge Needs Regarding Parental Mental Illness. Children and Youth Services Review, 79, 249–255. Harter, S., Bresnick, S., Bouchey, H. A., & Whitesell, N. R. (1997). The Development of Multiple Role Related Selves During Adolescence. Development and Psychopathology, 9 (04), 835–853. Heyman, A., & Heyman, B. (2013). The Sooner You Can Change Their Life Course the Better: The Time-Framing of Risks in Relationship to Being a Young Carer. Health, Risk & Society, 15 (6–7), 561–579. Masten, A. S. (2009). Lessons from Research on Resilience in Human Development: Ordinary Magic. Education Canada, 49 (3), 28–32. Masten, A. S. (2015). Ordinary Magic: Resilience in Development. New York: Guilford Press. McDougall, E., O’Connor, M., & Howell, J. (2018). Something That Happens at Home and Stays at Home: An Exploration of the Lived Experience of Young Carers in Western Australia. Health and Social Care in the Community, 26 (4), 572–580. Moore, T., & McArthur, M. (2007). We’re All in It Together: Supporting Young Carers and Their Families in Australia. Health and Social Care in the Community, 15 (6), 561–568. Morgan, R. (2006). Being a Young Carer: Views from a Young Carers’ Workshop. Newcastle upon Tyne: Commission for Social Care Inspection (CSCI). Oyserman, D., Elmore, K., & Smith, G. (2012). Self, Self-Concept and Identity. In M. Leary & J. Price Tangney (Eds.), Handbook of Self and Identity (p. 70). London: Guildford Press. Skovdal, M., Ogutu, V., Aoro, C., & Campbell, C. (2009). Young Carers as Social Actors: Coping Strategies of Children Caring for Ailing or Ageing Guardians in Western Kenya. Social Science and Medicine, 69 (4), 587–595. Ting, Z., Yiting, W., & Chunli, Y. (2018). Affiliate Stigma and Depression in Caregivers of Children with Autism Spectrum Disorders in China: Effects of Self-Esteem, Shame and Family Functioning. Psychiatry Research, 264, 260–265. Ungar, M. (2004). A Constructionist Discourse on Resilience: Multiple Contexts, Multiple Realities Among at-Risk Children and Youth. Youth & Society, 35 (3), 341–365. Ungar, M. (2008). Resilience Across Cultures. British Journal of Social Work, 38, 218–235.

86

M. McGibbon

Ungar, M. (2011). The Social Ecology of Resilience: Addressing Contextual and Cultural Ambiguity of a Nascent Construct. American Journal of Orthopsychiatry, 81, 1–17. Ungar, M. (2012). The Social Ecology of Resilience: A Handbook of Theory and Practice. New York: Springer. Ungar, M. (2015). Working with Children and Youth with Complex Needs: 20 Skills to Build Resilience. New York: Routledge. Wright, M. O., & Masten, A. S. (2015). Pathways to Resilience in Context. In L. C. Theron, L. Liebenberg, & M. Ungar (Eds.), Youth Resilience and Culture (pp. 3–22). Dordrecht: Springer.

4 Narrating Childhood in the Present: Growing Sideways with Emily Rachel Thomson

The Child in Time A key achievement of interdisciplinary childhood studies has been to engage critically with childhood temporalities, revealing both the ways that institutionalised practices of measurement have produced abstract notions and normative development (Lee and Motzkau 2011). As a body of scholarship, it has also encouraged us to think about the dynamism of the child as nonlinear, existing in an expanded present (James and Prout 1997; Christensen 2002; Uprichard 2008; Thomson and Baraitser 2018), growing sideways or turned with its back to the future—nostalgic for the past and unwilling or unable to realise a future thoroughly colonised by adult imagination (Stockton 2009). Historians and literary scholars have shown us how the figure of the child plays a crucial role in modernity—an enigmatic and romantic figure representing a R. Thomson (B) University of Sussex, Brighton, UK e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s) 2021 L. Moran et al. (eds.), Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People, Studies in Childhood and Youth, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-55647-1_4

87

88

R. Thomson

lost personal and collective innocence, but also a potentially damaged figure capable of mobilising philanthropy, pity and prurient fascination (Steedman 1995; Thurschwell, forthcoming). ‘For Caroline Steedman (1995) it was through the figure of ‘Mignon’—the damaged and ill-fated child—that the modern bourgeois subject was realised. In pitying the child a capacity for nostalgia and narration emerged as part of a new sense of human interiority.’ As modern reflexive subjects, we all have a child ‘within’ which can be connected with and mobilised by novelists, film-makers, politicians, advertisers and each other—giving rise to tensions and entanglements between culturally negotiated and abstracted understandings of childhood and the concrete experiences of actual children. The social sciences have been centrally involved in watching, measuring and narrating children and through these practices building accounts of childhood that speak to the preoccupations of their times: be that the relationship between developed and underdeveloped; between nature and nurture; between insecurity and attachment; and between changing definitions of them and us (Castenada 2010). Cultural studies has played a key role in analysing the relationship between popular and expert representations of ‘the child’, showing how these are mediated and deployed in different cultural moments. In late modern culture, it is argued that within political discourse the child comes to stand in for the future, the nation and associated fears of decline (Edelman 2004; Burman 2008). Scholars of popular culture suggest that preoccupations with teenage vampires, zombies and cancer victims arguably also reveal profound anxieties about social reproduction and the difficulties of becoming adult in a context of extended dependency and downward social mobility (Thurschwell, forthcoming). Others point to the compulsive documenting and sharing of children by parents in social media (Lupton and Williamson 2017), going so far as to suggest that children themselves can be understood as a resource, the value of which may be harvested and circulated within the social relations of communicative capitalism (Thomson et al. 2018; Dean 2005).

4 Narrating Childhood in the Present: Growing Sideways …

89

Narrating Childhoods Methodologically, we appear to be on the cusp of a move away from biographical methods, or at least a problematisation of what it is we learn from practices of storytelling and narration in social research. The narrative turn of the 1990s has been superseded by scholarly turns towards affect and towards practice, as well as a methodological turn from small to big data. Narratives are commonly problematised, understood to be a product or even mechanism of cultural capital (Skeggs 2004), as requiring excavations beneath the surface (Hollway 2005), needing to be scaled up into big data or broken down into speech acts. Yet at the same time, narrating the self has also become a democratic practice, as nonexperts realise the potential of DIY publishing and community archiving (Moore 2017). Academic researchers are challenged in this context to find ways of thinking with and about popular practices of storytelling in new ways, developing expansive understandings of research that implicate professionals and amateurs in projects of co-production. Key to this is understanding narratives as involving affective practices better encountered through ethnographic and multimedia approaches than the invitation to simply ‘tell me your story’ (see, e.g., Back and Puwar 2012; Wakeford and Lury 2012; MacLure 2013; Staunæs and Kofoed 2015). The kinds of creative methods that have been the hallmark of interdisciplinary childhood research have provided a model for methods that do not take narrative coherence for granted (Morrow 2005). Narrative research with children necessarily involves invention; the life history is by definition an adult and retrospective genre. Storytelling in childhood is associated with play, make-believe and pleasure as well as with pedagogy and homework (Corsaro 2012). Narrative forms will be shaped by age, culture and situation and are likely to be scaffolded by other practices including drawing, playing and other kinds of doing for younger children and with increasingly reflexive practices of self-making and display for teenagers (Marsh and Bishop 2014). In researching narratives with children and young people, we expect to discover stories in the making.

90

R. Thomson

Everyday Childhoods In this paper, I draw on a project that used a range of methods in order to document and reflect children’s everyday lives in and over time. The study built on my own experience of developing qualitative longitudinal research over a 20-year period and sought to find ways to capture and work with different temporalities. So, for example, we may think of the following temporalities as intersecting in a research encounter: the moment to moment unfolding of the day, the phases and stages of childhood as captured by particular toys or the ways that a room is laid out, and the slower and relational temporalities of generational time marked by changing positions within family configurations and corresponding changes in perspective.1 This study was carried out in the UK in the context of a rapidly developing mediascape characterised by the datafication of everyday lives—manifest in spaces of schooling, the home and shared public spaces that are both material and virtual (Thomson et al. 2018). Working with two small, yet diverse panels of children, one group aged 7–8 and another 10–15, the research team experimented with a range of methods for documentation including favourite thing interviews where participants are invited to narrate past and present through objects. The project used technology as a tool to document lives, but also understood practices of documentation as part of the fabric and practices of contemporary cultures. In this paper, I focus on a single encounter taken from the pilot stages of our research project, during which I spent a couple of hours with 7-year-old Emily as part of developing an appropriate methodology for a wider study. Emily was part of a group of an ‘extensive’ panel of children whose connection with the research project reaches back to a time before their birth through her mother’s involvement in a study of new motherhood in 2005. Emily was aware of this and entered the research relationship in a familiar mode—having trust in the researcher and the research process.

4 Narrating Childhood in the Present: Growing Sideways …

91

Materialising Time: Choosing Favourite Things In my own experience, pilot work can be profoundly generative. Entering the field for the first time, tentatively probing the world without abstract designs can result in an encounter that in a condensed and intense form encapsulates all that we will come to know through the research—yet which we will only understand retrospectively when we have assembled, disassembled and abstracted our documentation. My encounter with Emily was shaped by curiosity as to how it might be possible to explore questions of time, continuity and change with a seven-year-old. Building on an earlier project where we used objects to mediate life histories (Thomson et al. 2011), I wanted to find out whether the method of inviting Emily to choose and talk about objects that represented her past, present and future was a viable method for conducting research with a child. Biographical research has tended to rely on a notion of narrative as a developmental destination associated with the ability to abstract from the present and to project into the past and the future. While the methodologists of childhood studies have been careful not to denigrate the child as incompetent, they have also invested in developing methods that are appropriate to the modes of communication and engagement of their subject. Talking methods have tended to be supplemented by practices of doing (making, drawing, playing) that are likely to be familiar to children and through which their agency may be expressed and recognised. When undertaken with adult women, the ‘favourite thing’ method involved a sharing of responsibility for the focus and conduct of an interview—participants had the opportunity to think in advance of our meeting to compose the story that they would share in interview. Emily was also briefed in advance about my interests, and her parents were encouraged to talk with her about what she might choose to share as her favourite things. Armed with a camera and an audio recorder and with the permission and encouragement of Emily’s parents, I went with her to her bedroom. The first thing that Emily showed to me was a painted wooden winged horse that she called Pegasus. This was what she wanted to share as her ‘favourite thing’. I immediately acknowledged the beauty of Pegasus and

92

R. Thomson

carefully documented it by taking a photograph from several different angles (Fig. 4.1). This is my favourite. It was means to be like that but the head broke off Rachel : and that’s… Emily: and that’s superglued to stick it on R: Is that Pegasus? It’s beautiful E : Yeah R: Do you know where its from, how you got it? E : I think that I got it from somebody but I’ve forgotten who, R: You’ve had it as long as you can remember?

Fig. 4.1 Pegasus, a favourite thing

4 Narrating Childhood in the Present: Growing Sideways …

93

E : Yeah, I can’t remember who gave it to me. R: Why is it your favourite? E : Cos I had it since when I was really young and I/they (?) never let it go. But because the wing is damaged, it’s quite hard. Cos you got to… you see that so they can fly like that R: Can I take a picture of it? E : Um. But I might need to hold it, put it on the table. Can you take a picture of that? R: Did your mum explain to you that one of the things I am interested in is your favourite things (mm) and would this be one of your favourite things (YES) and would this be one of your favourite things about the past? E : Well yes, but I have lots of favourite things

Emily was not sure how the horse came into her possession. But it will have been a gift as everything in the room has a story and has come to her through people who are special for the family. We are soon looking through drawers to witness other precious items, a dolphin necklace with the bluest eyes, a china tea set that her mother nearly broke while turning over in bed, dolls made with special soft material that are good to touch and which always come with her on train journeys. I understand that my request for a favourite thing has drawn me into the dense web of materialised care and affection that is Emily’s bedroom, and her ability to treat objects with reverence and respect—wrapping and storing them away as well as animating them in play and integrating them into her routines and imaginative world. The bedroom is an accumulation of Emily’s seven years in the world but it also traces of the past long before her arrival. I was shown dolls that had been her mothers and even toys that had been played with by her grandmother. Emily understood that these objects needed to be handled with care, and I could feel how they surrounded her with intergenerational attachments connecting now and then, the dead and the living and different heres and theres. Scales of time and space are elastic in this room. I am shown a doll that is bigger than a baby and a dolls house which includes her home in microcosm. The scene is infused with complex and queer temporalities that reveal my classifications of the past

94

R. Thomson

and the future to be clumsy and simplistic. Yet Emily was also aware of a developmental time that seems to define the boundaries of her playworld. Technology has a complicated relationship with growing up. There are rules with which she has to comply. She is not allowed to answer the phone or to pick up that landline when someone is talking. She is not allowed to take her camera into school, and she is not supposed to take pictures of a particular girl (though she shows me several). She is not allowed on her mother’s computer as this is ‘for work’ . Yet she longs for access to a mobile phone, the Internet, an iPad, even just being allowed to use the landline—she performs for me the voice that she uses to implore her mother ‘Pleeeeeease…can I have…’. Yet these are things that make you older. When asked if she is looking forward to this, she explains ‘I really feel, OMG, I don’t want to do this’. She would rather be moving backwards, be 6 years old again instead of racing into teenagehood. Not all technologies have these strings attached: she can play CDs on her stereo, take photos and play games on her Vtech camera/computer, watch TV or DVDs on the television. As I close the interview, I ask her about the object that she would choose to represent her future—again she chooses Pegasus, before changing her mind asking for ‘everything ’. She cannot bear to let any of it go. R: You know what I’m impressed with, you’ve got some really old beautiful things that you take really good care of. Are you good at not breaking things. (yeah, specially when they are meant to be kept). Do you know that then (yeah, they tell me). This one doesn’t stand up so easily. So if you’ve got one thing that represents the future and growing up. One of your toys or possessions. What would it be? E : Well, I think it might be my horse I think (Pegasus, tell me why). Well actually it might be everything cos everything’s so precious to me. R: Do you every throw things away? E : Nope. I’m like ‘mum, don’t throw it away’ (in whining voice) and then I start crying. R: Are you like a hoarder? Like to keep hold of it all? E : Yeah!

I suggest that it can be hard to edit and sort belongings, divulging that my son (then 15) still searches through rubbish bins to see if any of his

4 Narrating Childhood in the Present: Growing Sideways …

95

precious items have been discarded—joking that I may need to wait until he leaves for university before I can really ‘deal’ with all his stuff. R: my son sometimes looks through the bins to see if I’ve been throwing away his stuff. He doesn’t want anything to go. E : Oh my God! Does he ever find anything? R: He did, he finds them and then he takes them back E : Does he find anything, what does he find? R: Things that I think are junk. He likes to collect things that he finds on the ground. And he’s got boxes and boxes of this stuff. And sometimes I try and throw it away and he goes through the bins. And says what’s this doing here. He’s got a lot of precious stuff. I’m just hoping that later on, maybe when he goes to university, do you think I will be able to get rid it then? E : Well if I were you I would do it very later on, when he is grown up and doesn’t care about it any more and search through the bin R: Speaking of which. If some of this stuff is from when your mum was a little girl, how come it is still here? Who kept hold if it? E : It was in the attic! R: Aha. It was just kept. Precious stuff was kept safe.

Making Memories Together Bedrooms are especially intimate spaces within homes, the focus of personalisation—a manifestation of identity and taste. Within the field of youth studies, attention has been given to bedrooms as one of the few spaces that children and young people may control—even though they may struggle with siblings and parents over this (Edwards et al. 2006). In the late 1970s, Angela McRobbie drew attention to bedroom culture as a creative space for young women (in contrast the more public spaces of the street and the youth club dominated by boys), and Sian Lincoln has followed the teenage bedroom through cultural and technological transition showing how bedrooms are styled by young people over time creating liminal spaces within which change can be accommodated (Lincoln 2012).

96

R. Thomson

So domestic spaces can be understood as canvases for identity creation, yet they may also be spaces of preservation and curation. Having and keeping objects, alongside practices of sorting and discarding, involves engaging with relationships to intimate others (past and present) as well as a wider consumer and material culture. Notions of ‘hoarding’ mark a boundary between ‘healthy’ and ‘unhealthy’ attachments (Orr et al. 2017), but also the recognition that the work of maintaining equilibrium in relation to our material environment is a material, moral and spiritual accomplishment. Anthropologist Danny Miller (2008) has developed a methodology for ‘reading’ our inner worlds from the surfaces of our domestic environments, using these accounts as a starting point exposing lives that are relatively ‘full’ or ‘empty’ of connection and relationship. Feminist scholarship has also been interested in domestic labour—including the distinction between the everyday work of cleaning and forging order from chaos and the preservative practices through which ‘women trace the family lines and keep safe the trinkets, china cups, jewellery, pins and photos of departed ancestors, ready to tell stories about them’ (Young 2005, p. 132). Feminist researchers have collected these stories using photo albums, souvenirs, heirlooms and mantle-pieces as starting points for the study of intimacies (Kuhn 2002; Spence 1986; Stewart 1984; Smart 2007; Hurdley 2013)—or their absence for the study of family secrets (Barnwell 2018). One of the important challenges associated with new parenthood is the material accommodation of a new body and associated equipment. In our study of women becoming mothers for the first time in 2005, we documented how space was made for the baby, and how key relationships and values were embedded within these spaces ‘working to create family bonds and maintain intergenerational connections became integrated into the preparatory project of decorating the nursery’ (Thomson et al. 2011). We concluded that new motherhood was a moment when women are repositioned in a market ‘operating not simply as consumers in their own right but as mediating a family economy and the relationship between the market and the child’ (p. 231). Longitudinal research helps us to understand the ways in which the material culture of babies and children demands constant attention as homes were overwhelmed

4 Narrating Childhood in the Present: Growing Sideways …

97

with toys, clothes and equipment are either reused, released or archived and nurseries are upgraded into bedrooms. I encountered Emily’s bedroom then as a ‘full’ space, created collaboratively between parents, child, family culture and market. Each item storied, and even though Emily has not yet mastered the telling, I sense that she is uniquely positioned to discern and recognise the who, what, why and how of each enchanted object. It is a space that has been curated for and by her and for which she is taking responsibility—the act of telling me the researcher about her environment is productive of this. Emily’s room is an incitement to remember. The recurrent theme of ‘preciousness’ captures her place in a family as a much loved only child, and a sense of the delicate fabric of intergenerational continuity, something to be played with and enjoyed, yet handled with care, stored safely and storied as part of a family’s oral culture (Bertaux and Bertaux-Wiame 1997). We may think of the invocation of ‘preciousness’ as one of the motifs of a family dialogue that in the words of Daniel Bertaux and Thompson (1993) ‘echoes down the generations’. Here we see a nexus of intergenerational exchange as well as a moment of representation—where narration is invited. So Emily is making memories with and through her family, connecting with their own childhoods through hand me down toys and marking the boundaries of family and friends through naming the people and places that the objects come to mark. She is actively involved in an intergenerational project of childhood, where objects are shared and recontextualised over time and space (Appurdurai 1986). And she plays with these toys, letting rip her magnificent imagination, passions and desires, folding the old into the new and vice versa. My invitation to talk exists within a landscape of play and ‘making-up’ that characterises the interactions in this space. The objects facilitate play and reflection in such a way that brings into symbolisation that which may not yet have been previously voiced (Vygotsky 1976). As the interview develops, I think that we begin to play together, following each other’s leads, blocking gambits that don’t feel right and admiring each other’s contributions. The environment is generative. As Emily shows me objects and toys, my mind is stimulated and I think aloud. New connections and insights

98

R. Thomson

come fast and thick. In my field notes, I observe that her lament about the landline …makes me realise how complicated a multiple phone networked landline is – let alone adding in mobile phones to the picture. Yet also clear message to Emily that this is not for her – boundary between adult/outside space and spaces that she can play freely within. Privacy for the adults from children listening in.

Our conversation about throwing things away provokes a note on ‘What it means to throw away in a material culture. Emily is interested in this and makes me reflect on why we are not more sympathetic to my son’s hoarding habits’.

Growing Sideways: Queer Childhoods and Queer Temporalities Developmental time coexists with the extended present of play, the cyclical time of generation, recursive ‘family time’ (Hareven 1993) and a linear historical time marked by technological change. Although much psychological discourse privileges an orientation towards the future, we can engage in other ways. Yes childhood is closely governed, measured and calibrated, circumscribed by rules. Yet drawing on the resources of queer theory, Kathryn Bond Stockton (2009) encourages us to think beyond the dominant imperative of ‘growing up’ to engage with various kinds of growing sideways. Starting with the figure of the gay child who cannot inhabit the normative profile of a reproductive heterosexual future, Bond Stockton demands that we expand our temporal vocabularies and develop curiosity about what it feels like to be a child. In keeping with the project of interdisciplinary childhood studies, the figure of the queer child turns her back to the future—if temporarily—in order to explore the potentialities of an accumulated and heterogeneous present. By queering time—by which she means disrupting the notion of a progressive, abstracted and linear trajectory—it becomes possible to

4 Narrating Childhood in the Present: Growing Sideways …

99

see childhood as an uncanny state that recursively connects us all, here and there, now and then. Sideways Swerve 1 An example of this kind of sideways movement can be found in our discussion of Babapapa—Emily’s nightlight (Fig. 4.2). E : Cos I used to be scared of the dark and I had this night light R: Really? Come in here and tell me about it E : Babapapa. He was one of my really good possessions. And I played with him (v animated) We played that game when my dad and mum would drop him and then his heart would fall out and we had to go to the hospital and he would have to say sorry bye, it was really funny

Fig. 4.2 Babapapa

100

R. Thomson

R: E: R: E: R: E: R: E: R: E:

So you would have him at night in your room See like that (turns on light) Are you still scared of the dark? Yeah, without him Do you still use him Yeah I’m like ‘aw I’m scared of the dark’ (in voice) Is that often nnnn not really. That’s interesting, like a part of you that has sort of changed Yeah but not really- I still am scared of the dark and want Babapapa and I call for my parents and they hear me… But sometimes my dad is working in his study, and I’m like ‘please can I have Babapapa’ cos I’m scared of the dark sometimes. Cos tonight, last night Pete came and switched out the light, cos I had the light down on the landing, and he switched it off. And I was like ‘Dad, don’t! Can you put the light back on’ and I was furious with him. R: But you’ve got older haven’t you Emily? (mm) Do you feel like you are getting quite old now? (Nope!) E : I feel like I’m 6 still R: And how old are you? E : Seven R: Is that weird being older than you feel? E : Well… this is really funny. You may not want to see it but it is really funny. (I want to see it). Look its ladies wigs. Look you see its them R: Can I take photos cos they are so interesting (mm) E : And there’s her (ohh her eyes are so blue) Ahah. And these are the wigs. (wow, where did you get them?). My mum gave them to me. (Where did she get them?) She got them from her dolls. (Ahh, are they her collection). I don’t like this one cos I don’t like it. (Can you put it on the doll?) I can put it one her and you’ll see how glum it is. (It doesn’t quite work does it) No. Look see. But these are. I like this one, look how curly it is. Two of the best here, in the universe. I like this one it’s really silly. R: What a wonderful thing, you keep it hidden away? E : I keep it in my drawer

Initially, Emily excavates the light from her father’s office as a marker of the past—the light that she used to need in order to go to sleep. Yet she immediately repudiates her autonomy, performing her pleading voice

4 Narrating Childhood in the Present: Growing Sideways …

101

to show how she has tried to persuade her parents that she still wants the comfort of Babapapa, especially when she has a babysitter rather than them at bedtime. My intervention as a researcher is to attempt to generalise the insight from the particular moment. Emily must choose: Does she want to grow up or not? And if she is seven years old, when she actually wants to still be six, isn’t this chronological awkwardness uncomfortable, or in my words ‘weird’? To which Emily swerves sideways and replies: ‘well… this is really funny. You may not want to see it but it is really funny’, before introducing me to the seriously weird sight of her mother’s collection of naked and bald Barbie type dolls with a set of interchangeable wigs. Point made. We experience the queerness of mashed-up childhoods, our parents’ childhoods within our own and the body of a doll standing in for past and future babies (Fig. 4.3). Sideways Swerve 2 A great deal of Emily’s play involved dressing dolls and creatures of various kinds. Miniature clothing was carefully folded and stored and detailed accounts were provided of how and when particular items were secured. The following swerve in our conversation felt important at the time and again on revisiting the material. During most of our time together, I asked Emily questions. However, she instigates a line of conversation about school uniform which seems to mark a future boundary into which Emily is in no hurry to cross. E : Do you think that I go to a school with a uniform? R: Ah, I think no E : You’re right. I get to go to Martletts School. Did you get to wear? When you went to school did you have to wear uniform? R: Well I had different ones. The first school I went to I didn’t have to wear uniform, but then the Head Teacher changed and you did have to wear uniform and then my mum said that we didn’t have to wear it but everyone else did and that was really embarrassing. And then I went to another school and no-one wore school uniform. And then I went to a secondary school where everyone wore a school uniform. E : And there was no big deal on that one was there? R: No. So what do you think about school uniform. E : Well I heard that every school now-a-days is um, every single one except for middle school all have to wear school uniform. And at secondary school everyone has to wear school uniform. (and what do you think of

102

R. Thomson

Fig. 4.3 Mum’s doll collection

that?) I think they should never ever ever ever ever ever let them. Cos I think that you should just wear what you want and be free and happy. Cos I’ve got 4 more years until I’m, 3 more years until I’m in year 6. So it’s kind of the difference. R: The clothes are the difference between primary and secondary school? E : Yes and I don’t like it. R: Do you like choosing what you wear these days (yeah) and how does that happen in a morning? Does it take ages to decide (no) Ok. E : I’d rather be happy and free

4 Narrating Childhood in the Present: Growing Sideways …

103

In my fieldnotes, I captured the significance of this moment of interaction terms of: Emily asks me a question About time, the future, change Sense of growing up as loss of freedom Awareness of lack of time Uniform as a marker of time and being ‘managed’ Moving between small world play and big world reflections.

This interpretation is consistent with the idea of the child turning her back to the future, naming and resisting the modes of management associated with schooling and becoming part of an institutionalised and collective developmental trajectory that is counterposed with both happiness and freedom. But looking at this moment again with the benefit of hindsight, I also see this as a reaching-out for reassurance and solidarity. I am asked to recount my own story of school uniform that by default involves a complicated inventory of school changes and precarity. Emily enquires yet assures me that it ‘was no big deal’. There is plenty of time still—three more years before she needs to be ready for the change symbolised by the uniform. And as my experience testifies, people have survived it before, and anyway, ‘nowadays’, it seems to be unavoidable. Until then, she can be in a ‘never, ever, ever’, dressing and undressing dolls, photographs, herself, her parents and her friends.

Beginnings, Endings and Methodological Practice My encounter with Emily took place as one of the first creative acts of a new research project—three years ago. Emily was seven, my son was 15. Now three years later, we are about to launch the book based on the research findings and I am talking with Emily about whether she would like to collaborate in the event and this piece of writing. Emily is now in year 6, facing the prospect of school uniform. My son is facing the prospect of university, leaving home and leaving his stuff behind. The questions explored in our conversation shared here are live for us, though

104

R. Thomson

we have also moved on. This ability to return to a moment in the past in such a vivid way illustrates how the research process itself produces queer temporalities, with biographical time outstripping the slow productivities of analysis and writing, and the liveness of past moments captured by recording devices and fieldnote scribbles (Thomson and McLeod 2009). Perhaps we can think of the interview as being like a doll, wrapped in tissue, stored in a drawer and taken out sometimes to be played with. And through these recursive acts of curation, reanimation and representation, stories are collaboratively forged, circulated, recycled and decorated. Research methods are shaped in part by the technologies that are drawn on. In the 1980s and 1990s, a particular kind of narrative research dominated, based on the kinds of close readings of talk made possible through newly accessible technologies of sound recording. A new kind of narrative research is emerging, shaped by digital modes of recording that enables a more ethnographic situated and intimate research practice characterised by a new materialism that enables us to see the research process as part of the document. In our writing on this project (Thomson et al. 2018), we have characterised these methods as ‘recursive’ contributing to an emergent live methods tradition described by Back and Puwar (2012), a form of inventive methodology (Wakeford and Lury 2012) which effectively breaks the fourth wall that distinguishes research practice from life as lived (see also MacLure 2013; Staunæs and Kofoed 2015). We see this approach as engaging in the materiality of research documentation practices ranging from the act of photographing through to practices of listening and note taking—fragmentary forms of documentation that allow us to name and narrate that which might otherwise be hard to articulate. The recursive interview draws participants into the research process, understanding ourselves as objectified and documented yet involved in interpretation. We might consider the possibilities of a new kind of narrating subject associated with the digital turn, through which temporal collisions between the past and present are easier to bear, as are the curious ways in which we are implicated in and through each other. This account of growing sideways with Emily is offered as contribution to this shift in perspective as well as honouring Emily’s contribution to a research project at its beginning and at its end.

4 Narrating Childhood in the Present: Growing Sideways …

105

Note 1. The Everyday Childhoods collection is a qualitative longitudinal dataset that was collected by researchers from the Universities of Sussex and Brighton and the Open University during 2013–2014. The initial project, called ‘Face 2 Face: Tracing the real and the mediated in children’s cultural worlds’ (F2F), was funded by an NCRM Methodology Innovation award (grant reference 512589109). The dataset comprises data from two research panels: firstly, a younger panel of children aged 7–8 years (n = 6) who had previously been involved with their families in an ESRC-funded study of new motherhood (grant reference RES-148-25-0057, see http://modernmothers. org/); secondly, an older panel of children aged 10–15 years (n = 7) who were recruited for the first time in this study. The project is fully documented in Thomson et al. (2018).

References Appurdurai, A. (1986). The Social Life of Things. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Burman, E. (2008). Developments: Child, Image, Nation. London: Routledge. Back, L., & Puwar, N. (2012). A Manifesto for Live Methods: Provocations and Capacities. Sociological Review, 60 (S1), 6–17. Barnwell, A. (2018). Hidden Heirlooms: Keeping Family Secrets Across Generations. Journal of Sociology, 54 (3), 446–460. Bertaux, D., & Bertaux-Wiame, I. (1997). Heritage and Its Lineage: A Case History of Transmission and Social Mobility Over Five Generations. In D. Bertaux & P. Thompson (Eds.), Pathways to Social Class: A Qualitative Approach to Social Mobility (pp. 62–97). Oxford: Clarendon Press. Bertaux, D., & Thompson, P. (1993). The Pull of Family Ties: Intergenerational Relationships and Life Paths. In D. Bertaux & P. Thompson (Eds.), Between Generations: Family Models, Myths and Memories (pp. 39–50). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Castenada, C. (2010). The Child as a Feminist Figuration: The Case for a Politics of Privilege. Feminist Theory, 2(1), 29–53.

106

R. Thomson

Christensen, P. (2002). Why More ‘Quality Time’ Is Not on the Top of Children’s Lists. Children and Society, 16, 1–16. Corsaro, W. (2012). Interpretive Reproduction in Children’s Play. American Journal of Play, 4 (4), 488–504. Dean, J. (2005). Communicative Capitalism: Circulation and the Foreclosure of Politics. Cultural Politics, 1(1), 57–74. Edelman, L. (2004). No Future: Queer Theory and the Death Drive. Durham and London: Duke University Press. Edwards, R., Hadfield, L., Lucey, H., & Mauthner, M. (2006). Sibling Identity and Relationships: Sisters and Brothers. London: Routledge. Freeman, E. (2010). Time Binds: Queer Temporalities, Queer Histories. Durham and London: Duke University Press. Hollway, W. (2005). Commentaries on Potter and Hepburn, ‘Qualitative Interviews in Psychology: Problems and Possibilities’—Commentary 2. Qualitative Research in Psychology, 2(4), 312–314. James, A., & Prout, A. (Eds.). (1997). Re-presenting Childhood: Time and Transition in the Study of Childhood. In Constructing and Reconstructing Childhood: Contemporary Issues in the Sociological Study of Childhood . Falmer Press. Hareven, T. (1993). Family Time and Industrial Time: The Relationship Between Family and Work in a New England Industrial Community. Lanham, New York, and London: University Press of America. Hurdley, R. (2013). Home, Materiality, Memory and Belonging: Keeping Culture. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Kuhn, A. (2002). Family Secrets: Acts of Memory and Imagination. London: Verso. Lee, N., & Motzkau, J. (2011). Navigating the Bio-Politics of Childhood. Childhood, 18(7), 7–19. Lincoln, S. (2012). Youth, Culture and Private Space. Basingstoke: Palgrave. Lupton, D., & Williamson, B. (2017). The Datafied Child: The Dataveillance of Children and Implications for Their Rights. New Media & Society, 19 (5), 780–794. Marsh, J. A., & Bishop, J. C. (2014). Changing Play: Play, Media And Commercial Culture from the 1950s to the Present Day. New York: McGraw Hill. MacLure, M. (2013). Researching Without Representation? Language and Materiality in Post-qualitative Methodology. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 26 (6), 658–667. Miller, D. (2008). The Comfort of Things. Cambridge: Polity Press.

4 Narrating Childhood in the Present: Growing Sideways …

107

Moore, N. (2017) Weaving Archival Imaginaries: Researching Community Archives. In N. Moore, A. Salter, L. Stanley & M. Tamboukou (Eds.), The Archive Project: Archival Research in the Social Sciences (pp. 129–152). London: Routledge. Morrow, V. (2005). Ethical Issues in Collaborative Research with Children. In A. Farrell (Ed.), Ethical Research with Children (pp. 150–165). Maidenhead: Open University Press. Orr, D., Preston-Shoot, M., & Braye, S. (2017). Meaning in Hoarding: Perspectives of People Who Hoard on Clutter, Consumption and Agency. Anthropology & Medicine. https://doi.org/10.1080/13648470.2017. 1391171. Skeggs, B. (2004). Class, Self, Culture. London: Psychology Press. Spence, J. (1986). Putting Myself in the Picture: A Political, Personal and Photographic Autobiography. London: Camden Press. Smart, C. (2007). Personal Life: New Directions in Sociological Thinking. Cambridge: Polity Press. Staunæs, D., & Kofoed, J. (2015). Producing Curious Affects: Visual Methodology as an Affecting and Conflictual Wunderkammer. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 28(10), 1229–1248. Steedman, C. (1995). Strange Dislocations: Childhood and the Idea of Human Interiority 1760–1930. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Stewart, S. (1984). On Longing: Narratives of the Miniature, the Gigantic, the Souvenir, the Collection. Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press. Stockton, K. B. (2009). The Queer Child, or Growing Up Sideways in the Twentieth Century. Durham and London: Duke University Press. Thomson, R., Kehily, M. J., Hadfield, L., & Sharpe, S. (2011). Making Modern Mothers. Bristol: Polity Press. Thomson, R., & Baraitser, L. (2018). Thinking Through Childhood and Maternal Studies: A Feminist Encounter. In R. Rosen & K. Twamley (Eds.), Feminism and the Politics of Childhood (pp. 66–82). London: UCL Press. Thomson, R., Berriman, L., & Bragg, S. (2018). Researching Everyday Childhoods: Time, Technology and Documentation. London: Bloomsbury Press. Thomson, R., & McLeod, J. (2009). Researching Social Change. London: Sage. Thurschwell, P. (forthcoming). Keep Your Back to the Future: Adolescence and Time Travel . Durham: Duke University Press. Uprichard, E. (2008). Children as Being and Becomings: Children, Childhood and Temporality. Children and Society, 22(4), 303–313. Vygotsky, L. S. (1976). Play and Its Role in the Mental Development of the Child. Soviet Psychology, 5, 6–18.

108

R. Thomson

Wakeford, N., & Lury, C. (2012). Inventive Methods: The Happening of the Social . London: Routledge. Young, I. M. (2005). On Female Body Experience: “Throwing Like a Girl and Other Essays” . Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Part II Recreation, Place and Community

5 Narratives of Recreation and Identity Development Among Muslim Teens Orla McGarry

Introduction Visual imagery has come to be a key element of the day-to-day lives of children and young people. The development of accessible technologies over the past decade, in particular digital and phone cameras, has resulted in an unprecedented escalation in the frequency with which young people are captured on camera. In tandem with this, the rise of online social networks, across which images and videos are shared, has seen visual rendering take a central position in the social repertoires of young people. The capturing of personal and social identities through photographs, video and other visual means of representation is a key element in the process of identity development of young people. These visual practices of children and youth, though frequently disconcerting to older generations, offer a host of new possibilities for the development O. McGarry (B) National University of Ireland Galway, Galway, Ireland e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s) 2021 L. Moran et al. (eds.), Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People, Studies in Childhood and Youth, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-55647-1_5

111

112

O. McGarry

of research that sheds light on youth experience and offers new opportunities for the engagement of youth in narrative research on identity development. Narrative inquiry provides a particularly robust means of understanding youth experience. As a methodological paradigm, narrative inquiry is based on the collection of stories that focus on the meanings that people attach to their experiences. It seeks to provide ‘insight that (befits) the complexity of human lives’ (Josselson 2006, p. 4, as cited in Trahar 2009). This relatively new mode of qualitative research is rooted in the belief that valuable understandings of de facto experiences are to be gained through narration of, and engagement with, stories (Andrews et al. 2008). As part of this participatory research movement, prioritizing sensitivity to cultural and social differences, narrative approaches represent a unique and innovative methodological development. In valorizing narratives as both the method and the phenomena of study, narrative inquiry positions the culturally and socially situated experiences of participants center stage through the research process (Pinnegar and Danes 2007, p. 4; Trahar 2009). The use of narrative inquiry is particularly compatible with research on identity development among children and youth as it affords an opportunity to narrate their experiences in their own terms. This approach offers clear advantages for the development of in-depth understandings of youth experience. As outlined by Etherington (2011), it offers the researcher insight into dynamic processes of identity formation. Rather than offering objective or authentic truths, knowledge gained in this way is ‘situated, transient, partial and provisional; characterized by multiple voices, perspectives, truths and meanings’ (Etherington 2011, p. 6). The use of narrative inquiry in youth research therefore necessitates the development of trusting research relationships and self-reflexive engagement on the part of the researcher and participants. Subjective meanings relating to the experiences of research participants are negotiated and developed as the stories unfold. Participants’ sense of ‘self and identity’ is communicated as a result of the choice of which stories should be told, and how these stories are told. Crucially, researchers must remain cognizant that these stories do not provide an objective account of ‘life

5 Narratives of Recreation and Identity Development …

113

as lived’ but rather are subjective representations of the lived experiences of research participants (Etherington 2011, p. 4). Narrative inquiry was selected as an insightful lens through which identity construction among Irish-based Muslim teens could be examined. The concept of identity has been subject to many varying definitions in the canon of sociological literature. This research project takes as its starting point the view that identity is recursively developed through interactions between individuals; it can best be understood as a process rather than as an end-point. This is highlighted by the use of the verb identification, rather than by the noun identity, in order to emphasize the processual nature of the concept (Jenkins 2008, p. 5). Crucially, identity formation involves ‘knowing who we are, knowing who others are, them knowing who we are, us knowing who they think we are, etc.’ (Jenkins 2008, p. 12). Identity formation is a process of social location and a fundamental product of social existence. Identities are developed through interactions with others in particular social contexts (James 1986; Woodward 1997). Crucially, narratives of belonging should situate the individual in terms of individual identity in concert with social and cultural identities (Anthias 2002, p. 499). As identities are constructed through interactions with other individuals, they are indelibly shaped by the cultural and social contexts in which these interactions take place (Lawler 2008). For younger members of an ethnic and religious minority community, identification is therefore a complex process that is punctuated by the social and cultural differences which they encounter (McGarry and McGrath 2013, p. 2). To reach an understanding of the processes through which participants situate themselves within contemporary pluralist society, it is therefore necessary to examine how they actively negotiate identities which are embedded within specific social contexts and associated with particular activities (McGarry 2016a).

Background to the Research Project A visual narrative was undertaken with a group of 33 Muslim teens in the west of Ireland in 2010 which aimed to investigate the process of identity formation among members of an ethnic and religious minority

114

O. McGarry

in contemporary Ireland. Given the complexity of the concept of identification, a visual narrative, which allowed participants to tell their stories using photographs, videos or physical objects, was used to enable participating young people to shape and direct the research on their own terms, providing in-depth and complex insights into their lives. The research took place in Ballyhaunis, a small rural town in the west of Ireland.1 Ballyhaunis has proportionally the highest immigrant population in Ireland, with 39.5% of the inhabitants of the town registered as non-Irish national in the census of 2016 (Central Statistics Office Ireland 2017). The Muslim population of Ballyhaunis is one of the longest established migrant populations in Ireland, dating from the early 1970s, and is a heterogeneous group in terms of ethnic background and socioeconomic status. The majority of Muslims in Ballyhaunis are of Pakistani origin with a sizeable minority coming from Middle Eastern and African countries. The Muslim population consists of both economic migrants, largely employed in local industries, and asylum seekers, living in the Direct Provision Centre situated in the town. This heterogeneity was reflected in the research sample; of the 33 teenaged Muslims who participated, the majority were of Pakistani origin, with six participants coming from Middle Eastern and African backgrounds. There was also some diversity in legal and socioeconomic status; six participants were in Ireland as asylum seekers, while the families of all other participants had moved to Ireland as economic migrants. The research design consisted of a multi-method enquiry, comprising a visual narrative, focus groups, individual interviews and the creation of an interactive research blog site. This multifaceted approach was adopted in the interest of affording nuanced and complex understandings of youth experience (Elden 2012; Mand 2012). As outlined in Fig. 5.1, participants were invited to take part in as many or as few aspects of the research methodology as they wished. In total, 33 participants attended and contributed to focus group sessions, 32 participated in individual interviews, with 15 contributing and discussing visual narratives during these interviews. The blog site received 16 uploads of visual narratives and multiple textual posts (for further discussion, see McGarry and McGrath 2013; McGarry 2016b). Ethical approval was granted for all aspects of the study.

5 Narratives of Recreation and Identity Development …

•Location: School Classroom •Interlocutors: Researcher & participants (33) •Format: •Phase 1. Ice-breaking games •Phase 2. Group discussion •Type of interaction: •Phase 1. Researcher directed •Phase 2. Participant directed

•Location: Online forum •Interlocutors: Co-participants (22) •Format: Online contributions and interactions posted by participants to blog site •Type of interaction: Participant directed

115

•Location: Compiled in home/community setting •Format: Visual narratives designed & compiled by participants (17) •Type of interaction: Participant directed

Focus Groups

Visual Narrative

Blog Site

Individual Interview •Location: Interview room •Interlocutors: Researcher & participants (32) •Format: Visual narratives displayed and explained by participant •Type of interaction: Participant directed

Fig. 5.1 Outline of methodological approach (Adapted from McGarry 2016b)

The visual narrative component of the research both functioned as a stand-alone source of insight into participants’ identity formation processes and provided cross-fertilization with the interview and blog site methodologies (see McGarry 2016b). Data collected from photographs and other visual materials are particularly valuable when accompanied by further information and narrative explanation provided by the participants. Photographs taken by youth participants can serve both as a direct source of information on the life experiences of the research participants and as a valuable conversation stimulus during a subsequent interview process2 (Thomas 2012). Participants designed and directed this element of the research being simply asked to ‘show me your story’ in the form of images (photographs or videos) or objects that they considered central to their identities. It was decided to include physical objects of importance in the research methodology to accommodate the diverse cultural and socioeconomic backgrounds of participants, some of whom would not have had regular access to a phone or camera. Preliminary discussions of

116

O. McGarry

the visual narrative approach took place toward the end of focus groups. The visual narratives compiled by participants were subsequently shared during individual interviews where participants displayed them to the researcher, on the research blog site or both. Visual narratives displayed during interviews formed the basis of interview discussions, while those visual narratives posted to the blog site received comments and excited discussion from co-participants (see also McGarry 2016b). This multi-method approach ensured that the rich insights and meanings behind the stories evoked by visual presentations and artifacts were explored (White et al. 2010). It also afforded research participants an opportunity to elaborate on the important events and characters that influenced their life stories. Studies of youth research have shown that traditional research situations can be daunting for younger research participants. Participants may feel intimidated and pressurized by being asked direct, personal questions. This can result in participants not expressing their views as thoroughly as they might do in a less formal and/or more comfortable situation (Greene and Hill 2005; Veale 2005). However, the incorporation of the visual narrative transformed the interview space into a platform where participants ‘showcased’ the aspects of their identity that they wished to share, facilitating them in directing and leading the interview discussion. Visual narratives also featured prominently on the research blog site. The Growing up in the Ballyhaunis Muslim Community Blog Site was set up in order to provide research participants with a stage on which to engage narrations of their identities (for a detailed discussion of this research method, see McGarry and McGrath 2013). The role of the Internet in identity formation processes of young people has been increasingly shown to be of paramount importance over the past decade (Beer 2008; boyd 2001; Siibak 2010; Livingstone 2008). Adolescent experience has been transformed by increased access to the internet and the development of new communication technologies which have come to play a crucial part in daily life. The amount of time spent engaging in online activities by contemporary adolescents suggests that a change has taken place in the manner in which identities are forged and enacted (Ellison et al. 2006). This freedom from the social contexts and constraints of the real world allows young people to explore identities

5 Narratives of Recreation and Identity Development …

117

and aspects of their personalities independent of their status in the ‘real world’ (Warfield 2014). The Internet essentially provided young people with a blank canvas onto which they can ‘type themselves into being’ (Beer 2008; boyd 2001). In the interest of participant security, the research blog site was set up as a closed site and could only be viewed by research participants or individuals invited to view the site by the moderator (the author). In total, 22 participants actively contributed to the blog site, uploading visual narratives and other textual posts, on a regular basis while the remaining ten participants simply registered as viewers. This research forum became a ‘virtual canvas’ on which participants could narrate their identities. The fact that the researcher was not physically present provided a particularly beneficial netnographic perspective (McGarry and McGrath 2013). This multi-method participatory approach, in compiling a variety of types and forms of narratives, provided a nuanced and complex perspective on identity formation in an intercultural setting. In particular, the visual narrative approach afforded access to aspects of participants’ lives and identities that would otherwise have been ‘out of bounds’ to a nonMuslim, non-adolescent, female researcher. Access has traditionally been a problematic issue in youth research. Areas that are of significance to the lives of research participants are often off bounds to the researcher as an adult. Traditional ethnographic approaches where the researcher observes the actions of research participants often fail to afford an accurate perspective on the lives of research participants. The presence of the researcher, even as a silent unobtrusive ethnographer, can often leave participants acting uncomfortably (McGarry 2016b). In conjunction with this, gaining access to the worlds of adolescents and youth research participants has always been fraught with ethical difficulties. However, the use of the visual narrative afforded crucial access to events and aspects of participants’ lives associated with independence and personal identity development that would not have been possible otherwise. This afforded insight into the importance of leisure activities and recreation in definitions of identity for adolescents.

118

O. McGarry

Recreation, Leisure and Youth Identity Leisure activities are of particular importance to adolescent development, given the centrality of independent explorations of identity during this life phase. As outlined by Erikson (1968), adolescence is characterized by a questioning of previously accepted learning and regulation by parent figures. It is hardly surprising, therefore, that leisure and recreational activities, over which adolescents exert more voluntary control than in other daily activities, are of pivotal importance to identity formation (Coatsworth et al. 2005). The positive effects of leisure activities for children and young people have long been noted as an area of sociological importance (Gillin 1914). However, the fragmentation of the sociology of leisure into various sub-disciplines, such as sports and tourism, has seen a lack of sociological commitment to the development of a holistic understanding of the role of leisure and recreation in day-to-day life (Roberts 2013). While a number of studies in the field of psychology have addressed this issue, few sociological studies have carried out indepth exploration of the effects of recreation and leisure on the identity development processes of adolescents. As adolescents engage in the process of identification, they are likely to identify a particular set of activities that fit with their abilities, talents and interests and therefore have a potent effect on identity development. Such self-defining activities are central to adolescent identity formation as they provide a sense of social identity as well as personalized identity formation and growth (Eccles and Barber 1999). The role of discretionary activities in promoting exploration and self-definition has been a crucial, though often overlooked, component of theories of identity development since Erikson’s seminal psychosocial model of identity formation (Coatsworth et al. 2006; Erikson 1968). Positive identity outcomes have been linked to opportunities for personal expressiveness, goal-directed development and opportunities to take part in activities in which one can feel entirely involved (Sharp and Coatsworth 2012; Waterman 2004). The following sections of this chapter draw on visual narratives contributed by research participants to reflect the importance of particular types of leisure activities in processes of identity formation.

5 Narratives of Recreation and Identity Development …

119

Recreation as a Key Element of Adolescents’ Identity Stories The diverse range of visual narratives displayed by participants highlights the multiple pathways of identity formation among adolescents. A total of 15 participants (10 females and 5 males) displayed visual narratives during interviews by compiling a range of visual artifacts relating to their leisure interests and hobbies. The form of contribution varied; seven participants brought in photographs, two compiled video footage, three displayed their writings and artwork and three participants brought in objects of personal significance. Visual narratives uploaded to the research blog site were also diverse in form, consisting of photographic posts, uploads of non-photographic visual images, video posts and uploads of poetry and writing. A gendered differential was to be observed in the manner in which participants constructed and displayed their visual narratives. Female participants were more likely to display photographs during interviews but were mainly precluded from uploading these to the blog site, as their parents did not wish them to place visual images of themselves on the Internet. In contrast, while video clips were displayed by two male participants during interviews, male participants were more likely to upload photographs to the blog site. The content of the visual narratives also reflected the gendered norms which shape and structure the leisure activities of participants as members of a Muslim community. While sports were a key focus in the visual narratives of males, females emphasized activities such as dressing up, artwork, writing and hanging out with friends at community or religious events (see also McGrath and McGarry 2014; McGarry and McGrath 2013). The emphasis on leisure activities conducted by participants during their spare time highlights the importance of discretionary leisure activities, as opposed to prescribed activities such as school attendance or work, in processes of identity formation. Self-definition is a key focus during the moratorium or exploratory phase of adolescence, where individuals seek to differentiate themselves from the emulation of adult role models, central to identity development during childhood (Erikson 1968). Indeed, participants’ contributions highlighted how multiple and

120

O. McGarry

diverse forms of teenage leisure activity play a vital role in self-definition and identity formation (Coatsworth et al. 2005). Visual narratives and resulting discussions in both interviews and on the blog site predominantly showcased community identity and personal identity development. While tensions between membership of the ethnic community and wider Irish society were discussed during focus groups and interviews, these were not a direct focus of visual narratives and ensuing discussions (for further discussion, see McGrath and McGarry 2014; McGarry 2016a). Analysis of participants’ visual narratives revealed the importance of both informal recreational and leisure activities and more formal and structured activities to processes of identification among participants. Visual narratives that portrayed or captured participants informally socializing or ‘hanging out’ with friends and family were seen as key to self-definition. In particular, these were linked to assertions of membership and belonging within the community. Visual narratives also highlighted the importance of skill development and goal-oriented recreational activities to participants. Interestingly, this was achieved through individual endeavor and solitary practice as well as through participation in formal and structured activities.

Photographic Narratives of Belonging Of the ten female participants who displayed visual narratives during interviews, seven contributed and displayed photographic narratives depicting participation in wedding celebrations and in other community and religious festivals such as Eid . Interview discussions acted as an opportunity to tell the stories behind these photographs, outlining the various characters featured in photographs and their relationships with the participants. Participants placed a special focus on the dresses of participants and family members when discussing their visual narratives, highlighting the importance of dress as a means of expressing ethnic identity for Muslim females (Killian 2003; Mohammad 2013). Dress provides an important means of both expressing social membership and appropriating individuality (James 1986). In particular, female members of immigrant populations have been shown to use dress as a

5 Narratives of Recreation and Identity Development …

121

means of appropriating their cultural identity while participating within the majority society. In all cases, these participants framed the rituals associated with dressing up as social events, central to bringing female members of the community together. The opportunity to show pictures of community events and to tell stories related to dressing up was treated by female participants as a mechanism to highlight their identities as members of the community, drawing attention to their ethnic origins as well as to religious and community practices (McGrath and McGarry 2014). For male participants, the posting of visual materials on the research blog site represented an opportunity to display the role of friendships in their lives and to socially locate themselves as community members (McGarry and McGrath 2013). The main page of the blog site received 18 posts of visual material from male participants, 16 of these featured friends and members of participants’ families casually socializing. By featuring pictures of themselves interacting with friends and family members, young people make a statement which helps locate for others their social identities and the types of social groups to which they belong (Livingstone 2008). The photographs of participants interacting with other members of the community demonstrate solidarity and highlight belonging and friendship as important elements of their identities. Many of the visual narrative posts and accompanying posts referred to participation in local sporting events, highlighting the importance of this type of cultural engagement to identity formation. Like the photographic contributions of females, casual socializing with co-members of the Muslim community accounted for many visual narrative uploads (see also McGarry and McGrath 2013). This is exemplified by a photographic post by a younger male participant socializing casually with nine of his friends outside the local Mosque during the Muslim religious holiday of Eid . The level of familiarity between the participant and his friends is demonstrated by the physical contact between the participants, with their arms around one other and jumping onto their friend’s backs, ‘piggyback’ style. The participants appear to be holding each other up as they are all laughing uncontrollably. The comments placed on the post and the laughter of the participants demonstrate how much fun they

122

O. McGarry

have in each other’s company and the enjoyment that they derive from their friendship: klass [class] day dat was [sic]. (Hadi) Haider make sure u dont strangle poor Habib … lol. (Ghaffar)

The use of the blog site as a platform for staging these visual narratives highlights the importance of casual and non-prescribed activities such as ‘hanging out’ to narratives of social belonging and identity formation.

Video Narratives of Belonging The production of video footage as a narrative device also highlighted the importance of recreation and leisure activities to identity discourses of adolescents. Video footage can offer an immersion into the everyday geographies of young people’s lives and a means of unraveling the relationships between people and spaces that shape their existence. My positionality as a non-Muslim, majority ethnicity female would have precluded me from physically gaining access to many community spaces. However, the use of video footage opened a window into aspects of participants’ lives that would have otherwise been inaccessible to me (McGarry 2016b). A male participant filmed seven minutes of footage of his neighborhood on his phone, which effectively acted as a walking tour of his neighborhood. This visual narrative conveyed the importance of community recreation as an element of daily life. The accompanying narrative drew explicit attention to the presence of children and adolescents playing in the area. The sharing of footballs and toys which were left out for common use was highlighted as a key feature of the community: Tabiq: You know our stuff [indicating bicycles and assorted sporting equipment shown lying on the ground], we leave it […] We know if it’s gone for a few days it will be come back. We know someone might have taken it and left it somewhere, so someone else will take it and bring it back. And we know that it will always come back. You know in that area, you know that nothing is gonna happen here, and everybody is going to take and look after each other.

5 Narratives of Recreation and Identity Development …

123

A second video narrative displayed by a male participant during an interview featured an impromptu game of football taking place in a nearby car park. This video featured co-participants and other male community members playing a competitive match. This participant pointed out the skills of the players with pride, highlighting the importance of sports as a defining element of community membership for males. Significantly, this male participant fast-forwarded the video beyond episodes during the interview stating that he did not wish me to hear his friends using bad language. This editing of the video narrative is illustrative of the manner in which narratives of identity and belonging are consciously constructed by adolescents (James 1986). Other videos, uploaded to the blog site, highlighted the importance of structured sporting activities, such as membership of the cricket club and participation on local Gaelic sports teams, to the identities of male participants. Both the video uploads and the banter between participants conveyed the central role of sports to the identities of these male participants: i like any sport that doesn’t involve me ‘rugby’ tackling anyone. (Maaz) U RUGBY TACKEL US EVEN IN FOOTBALL..WAT R U ON ABOUT. (Badar) hmm…good point but ah well. (Maaz).

These contributions emphasized the fun and sense of belonging that male participants experience as a result of sporting participation, highlighting the centrality of this type of recreational activity to their identity development.

Reenacting Belonging The crucial role of recreational and discretionary activities to identity formation was also demonstrated through visual narratives which consisted of objects and items that participants considered to be of significance to them. In some cases, participants entered recreations by defining and performing episodes in their identities rather than simply narrating their stories. This occurred with a young female member of the

124

O. McGarry

group who brought in five outfits to show me during an interview. She engaged me in a discussion of the color and the fabric of all the clothes explaining: ‘This is exactly what I do when I’m talking about clothes with my sister.’ Using the clothes as props, she turned the interview situation into a recreation of a dressing up party with her friends, even offering to do my makeup. The effect of this was that, rather than simply outlining the importance of clothes, and of dressing up in her life, she essentially reenacted a typical dressing up scene drawing me into the scene by eliciting the responses and actions normally provided by her friends and sisters. This narrative recreation provided me with a unique positionality as a researcher, enabling me to experience firsthand a central ritual of identification for this participant (McGarry 2016b, pp. 348–349). Non-structured activities such as ‘hanging out’ with friends and taking part in social events are frequently overlooked as an important element of adolescent identity negotiation. Indeed, these unstructured social activities are often linked to negative and anti-social youth behaviors. However, the depiction of community interactions through the visual narratives of participants powerfully conveyed the central role played by non-structured recreational engagement in daily life, drawing attention to the importance of casual activities to discourses of belonging and adolescent identity development.

Goal Setting & Skill Development Goal setting and skill development are key elements of leisure activity that play an essential role in identity formation. Skill development is often associated with participation in formal extra-curricular activities, such as music lessons or team sports. Youth growing up in rural communities are often seen as disadvantaged in terms of access to facilities and opportunities for this form of identity development (Sharp and Coatsworth 2012). However, visual narratives displayed by research participants highlighted the benefits of independent goal setting and personal skill development to discourses of identity in adolescence. Participants outlined that solitary activities such as writing and artwork were important elements of their repertoires. These activities, though not

5 Narratives of Recreation and Identity Development …

125

taking place in a structured setting, were key to narratives of personal development. Indeed, while many of the male participants regularly participated in structured sporting activities, these were framed as opportunities for social interaction and community engagement in contrast to the emphasis placed on self-motivation and skill development in non-structured activities. The ability to foster creativity during free time was a source of significant pride for many research participants. Creative outputs featured frequently in visual narratives. Qadir, a female participant, brought in examples of her writing and artwork which were discussed during the interview: Qadir: Yeah definitely, here are like two poems I wrote, two very different poems. That one was in the Christmas holidays when I was bored.

These contributions highlighted Qadir’s pride in her writing skills which she sees as a key aspect of her identity. They also provided a springboard for a broader discussion of her relationship with her parents and sense of frustration at her regulation in the home setting: I : When most people get bored they turn on the T.V. but you use your time to be really creative and I think that’s great. Qadir: Yeah because my Dad’s really strict about early mornings. He’ll try to make us go to sleep at eight or nine o clock.

Other participants similarly highlighted art as both a means of selfexpression and personal development. This was particularly prevalent among participants from the asylum-seeking group, who saw their opportunities as being particularly constrained by their legal status and personal circumstances. Tahira, a female member of the asylum-seeking group, brought in a photograph of a painting which she had recently completed: Tahira: Yeah, and that’s a picture because I love drawing. I : Did you draw that!? Tahira: No I painted it. I love art, I got a book to teach me so I can learn and get better in my spare time

126

O. McGarry

On moving to Ireland, Tahira’s parents had bought her a self-teach book on painting in order to help her develop her artistic skills. This allows her to develop her artistic skills within her own home, adapting to and overcoming the significant limitations imposed on her as a resident in a direct provision center. This is demonstrative of the importance of non-structured recreational activities for self-development and identity formation during the crucial adolescent years.

Online Creativity As previously outlined, many of the female participants outlined that their parents did not consider it appropriate for their daughters to place visual images of themselves on the Internet. As a result, their online visual narratives often showcased their creativity in abstract ways. Many of the participants uploaded downloaded pictures and images from the Internet which they felt were relevant to, and abstractedly portrayed, their identities. A female enthusiast of gothic novels posted a portrait of an eighteenth-century lady in black gothic dress and veil, gazing mysteriously from the portrait. Although it was clear that this picture was not of the participant, it successfully portrayed her interest in this genre which she believed to be an important aspect of her personality. Another participant posted a picture of a peaceful stream running through woods, stating in an accompanying text comment that this depicted her calm personality. A particularly striking example of the use of visual narratives to showcase recreational interests was provided by one of the older female participants. This participant, having outlined that her primary interest was writing, decided to showcase this by uploading her creative outputs to the blog site. Over the course of four months, she uploaded 22 chapters of a novel she had been working on in her free time. The use of her free time to develop her writing skills was a key element of her identity journey and an important means of defining herself. A clear sense of pride was apparent in the way she shared this key element of her identity with other research participants.

5 Narratives of Recreation and Identity Development …

127

Narration Through Performance The importance of goal setting and self-motivated learning and development to identity formation was also illustrated through a visual narrative based around objects of religious significance. A 15-year-old male participant appropriated the research setting, using the objects of his visual narrative as props to showcase the importance of his selfdirected theological learning to his identity. This participant explained that his ambition was to become a theological scholar and took control of the interview process by showing me the items of his visual narrative—a heavily embroidered Shalwar Chameez, three religious scrolls, two drawings of the family tree of David and four editions of the Qur’an. Using these items as props, Taab over the course of the 40-minute interview delivered a lecture to me on the similarities between the teachings of the Qur’an and the Bible. He placed emphasis on his writings and scholarship in producing theological scripts: Taab: There [shows a list of names in Arabic script and a list of names in Latin alphabet that he had compiled]. Look here, these are the names mentioned in the Qur’an and these are the names mentioned in the Bible. Many scholars say that they are not the same names but this proves that they are the same names.

This visual narrative performance provided a striking illustration of the way this participant saw self-motivated learning and scholarship as a key element of his identity as a Muslim teenager in rural Ireland (see also McGarry 2016b). Of significance is his highlighting the consistency and commonality between aspects of Islam and Christianity. This illustrated the importance of Taab’s theological study as both an example of personal skill development and of a crucial piece of identity work that reconciles the competing cultural influences in his daily life.

128

O. McGarry

Conclusion Recent technological developments have led to visual imageries occupying a prominent position in the lives of young people. Young people are constantly exposed to powerful visual images through the media and due to readily available smart phones, digital cameras and recording devices, are empowered to create powerful and meaningful visual images of their own. These developments are a source of immense potential to youth research where they can be used to overcome the challenges of access and unequal power relations which have traditionally hindered research with this group. The use of a visual narrative in researching identity development among Muslim teens living in rural Ireland has afforded insight into the role of recreation and leisure in the process of self-definition. Crucially, this research approach afforded access to otherwise inaccessible aspects and areas of the participants’ lives and at times enabled the researcher to ‘effectively walk in their shoes.’ It also facilitated research participants to take full ownership of the interview process and direct the content, even to the extent of reenacting important scenes from their lives. This unique and insightful perspective allows for the generation of important understandings of the role of leisure activities in the identity formation processes of adolescents. Of note is the importance of informal socializing to the identity construction and development of a sense of social belonging as conveyed by the high number of photographic, video and performative narratives reflecting this aspect of participants’ lives. Perhaps more surprising is the emphasis placed by participants on goal attainment and personal development through informal and solitary activities. This finding conflicts with established and current assumptions that skill development occurs predominantly in formal and structured settings. These findings are indicative of the need for a more nuanced consideration of the role recreation and leisure play in the lives of adolescents and young people. The chapter highlights the potential of visual narratives for engaging young people in the development of new and in-depth understandings of this issue.

5 Narratives of Recreation and Identity Development …

129

Notes 1. In line with ethical requirements, pseudonyms are used to protect the anonymity of individual participants. However, the name of the town where the research took place has not been altered in publications. 2. Participants who chose not to contribute visual narratives took part in semi-structured interviews, based on themes that had emerged in the focus groups.

References Andrews, M., Squire, C., & Tamboku, M. (2008). Doing Narrative Research. London, UK: Sage. Anthias, F. (2002). Beyond Feminism and Multiculturalism: Locating Difference and the Politics of Location. Women’s Studies International Forum, 25 (3), 275–286. Beer, D. (2008). Social Network(ing) Sites. Revisiting the Story So Far: A Response to danah boyd & Nicole Ellison. Journal of Computer-Mediated Communication, 13(2), 516–529. boyd, d. (2001). Faceted Id/entity: Managing Representation in a Digital World . Cambridge, MA: Brown University Press. Central Statistics Office Ireland. (2017). Census of Population 2016—Profile 7 Migration and Diversity. Available: http://www.cso.ie/en/releasesandpublica tions/ep/p-cp7md/p7md/p7anii/. Coatsworth, J. D., Hiley Sharp, E., Palen, L. A., Darling, N., Cumsillec, P., & Marta, E. (2005). Exploring Adolescent Self-defining Leisure Activities and Identity Experiences Across Three Countries. International Journal of Behavioral Development, 29 (5), 361–370. Coatsworth, J. D., Palen, L. A., Hiley Sharp, E., & Ferrer-Wreder, L. (2006). Self-defining Activities, Expressive Identity, and Adolescent Wellness. Applied Development Science, 10 (3), 157–170. Eccles, J. S., & Barber, B. L. (1999). Student Council, Volunteering, Basketball, or Marching Band: What Kind of Extracurricular Involvement Matters? Journal of Adolescent Research, 14 (1), 10–43.

130

O. McGarry

Elden, S. (2012). Inviting the Messy: Drawing Methods and ‘Children’s Voices’. Childhood, 20 (1), 66–81. Ellison, N., Heino, R., & Gibbs, J. (2006). Managing Impressions Online: Self-presentation Processes in Dating Environment. Journal of Computer Mediated Communication, 11(2), 415–441. Wiley [Online]. Available: www3.interscience.wiley.com/cgi-bin/fulltext/118554151/PDFSTART. Erikson, E. (1968). Identity, Youth, and Crisis. London, UK: Faber & Faber. Etherington, K. (2011). Narrative Approaches to Case Studies. 5th Annual Keele Counselling Psychology Conference, Keele University. Gillin, J. L. (1914). The Sociology of Recreation. American Journal of Sociology, 19, 825–834. Greene, S., & Hill, M. (2005). Researching Children’s Experience: Methods and Methodological Issues. London, UK: Sage. James, A. (1986). Learning to Belong: The Boundaries of Adolescence. In A. Cohen (Ed.), Symbolising Boundaries: Identity and Diversity in British Cultures (pp. 155–170). Manchester, UK: Manchester University Press. Jenkins, R. (2008). Rethinking Ethnicity (2nd ed.). London: Sage. Josselson, R. (2006). Narrative Research and the Challenge of Accumulating Knowledge. Narrative Inquiry, 16 (1), 3–10. Killian, C. (2003). The Other Side of the Veil: North African Women in France Respond to the Headscarf Affair. Gender and Society, 17 (4), 567–590. Lawler, S. (2008). Identity: Sociological Perspectives. Cambridge, UK: Polity Press. Livingstone, S. (2008). Taking Risky Opportunities in Youthful Content Creation: Teenagers’ Use of Social Networking Sites for Intimacy, Privacy and Self-expression. New Media and Society, 10 (3), 393–411. Mand, K. (2012). Giving Children a ‘Voice’: Arts-Based Participatory Research Activities and Representation. International Journal of Social Research Methodology, 15 (2), 149–160. McGarry, O. (2016a). Knowing ‘How to Go on’: Structuration Theory as an Analytical Prism in Studies of Intercultural Engagement. Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies, 42(12), 2067–2085. McGarry, O. (2016b). Repositioning the Research Encounter: Exploring Power Dynamics and Positionality in Youth Research. International Journal of Social Research Methodology, 19 (3), 339–354. McGarry, O., & Mc Grath, B. (2013). ‘A Virtual Canvas’—Designing a Blog Site to Research Young Muslims’ Friendships & Identities. Forum: Qualitative Research, 14 (1), 1–21.

5 Narratives of Recreation and Identity Development …

131

McGrath, B., & McGarry, O. (2014). The Religio-Cultural Dimensions of Life for Young Muslim Women in a Small Irish Town. Journal of Youth Studies, 17 (7), 948–964. Mohammad, R. (2013). Making Gender Ma(r)king Place: Youthful British Pakistani Muslim Women’s Narratives of Urban Space. Environment and Planning A, 45 (8), 1802–1822. Pinnegar, S., & Danes, J. G. (2007). Locating Narrative Inquiry Historically: Thematics in the Turn to Narrative. In J. D. Clandinnin (Ed.), Handbook of Narrative Inquiry: Mapping a Methodology (pp. 3–34). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Roberts, K. (2013). Sociology of Leisure. Sociopedia.isa. https://doi.org/10. 1177/205684601371. Available: https://pdfs.semanticscholar.org/a0ae/d01 5fa339690a45ad00cf31a0968df31e9d2.pdf. Sharp, H. E., & Coatsworth, J. D. (2012). Adolescent Future Orientation: The Role of Identity Discovery in Self-defining Activities and Context in Two Rural Samples. Identity, 12(2), 129–156. Siibak, A. (2010). Constructing Masculinity on a Social Networking Site: The Case-Study of Visual Self-presentations of Young Men on the Profile Images of SNS Rate1. Young: Nordic Journal of Youth Research, 18(4), 403–425. Thomas, S. (2012). Narrative Inquiry: Embracing the Possibilities. Qualitative Research Journal, 12(2), 206–221. Trahar, S. (2009). Beyond the Story Itself: Narrative Inquiry and Autoethnography in Intercultural Research in Higher Education. Forum: Qualitative Social Research, 10 (1), Art. 30. Veale, A. (2005). Creative Methodologies in Participatory Research with Children. In S. H. D. Greene (Ed.), Researching Children’s Experience: Approaches and Methods (pp. 253–272). London, UK: Sage. Warfield, K. (2014). Making Selfies/Making Self: Digital Subjectivities in the Selfie. Paper presented at the Fifth International Conference on the Image and the Image knowledge Community, Freie Universität, Berlin, Germany, October 29–30. Waterman, A. S. (2004). Finding Someone to Be: Studies on the Role of Intrinsic Motivation in Identity Formation. Identity, 4 (3), 209–228. White, A., Bushin, N., Carpena-Méndez, F., & Ní Laoire, C. (2010). Using Visual Methodologies to Explore Contemporary Irish Childhoods. Qualitative Research, 10 (2), 143–158. Woodward, K. (1997). Concepts of Identity and Difference. In K. Woodward (Ed.), Identity and Difference (pp. 7–62). London, UK: Sage.

6 The ‘Do-ers’ and the ‘Do Nothings’: (Non)Participation in Community, Recreation and Place amongst Young People in Manchester, UK Aimee Harragan

Introduction This chapter draws on qualitative empirical data to explore the everyday ways in which young people take part, in overt as well as latent forms, in a local community in the North of England. Based on ESRCfunded doctoral research in Manchester,1 UK, this chapter focuses on young people’s participation in various forms of activities categorised as: community and civic activities; general social and recreational activities; and non-participation, those young people who reported they do ‘nothing’ with their time. This participation, or non-participation as the case may be, is considered to be a gateway for understanding young people’s position as citizens in their locality and adds to the growing body of knowledge which considers young people real and competent citizens, even before the age of enfranchisement. A. Harragan (B) Manchester, UK © The Author(s) 2021 L. Moran et al. (eds.), Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People, Studies in Childhood and Youth, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-55647-1_6

133

134

A. Harragan

The project has a total sample size of 84 which includes 79 young people aged between 12 and 25 years who either lived and/or attended school, college or a community group in the area of Trafford, Manchester, plus 5 adult key workers. This sample size of 79 represents those young people who took part in an interview (n = 32) or focus group (n = 47). The gender breakdown of the sample is 44 females compared with 35 males, due to a focus group being conducted at an all-female school. 55 periods of observation were also undertaken with some of these 79 young people and others at 9 different sites in the local area including schools and youth organisations. This chapter draws on the whole sample of 79 young people, as all 79 reported participating in at least one type of category of activities. However, it focuses closely on a small subset of the sample, those who reported ‘doing nothing’ with their time. These nonparticipators could be considered an exception to the rule, as 4 males are recorded in the non-participation category. Nonetheless, their stories of ‘doing nothing’ and ‘non-participation’ are illuminating with regard to identity, community and place. This chapter provides insights into how young people define what it means to participate and be active in their communities. The barriers which young people face when attempting to participate are also explored and have implications for further marginalisation and the liminality of young people. This chapter contributes to the academic fields and policy areas which have long-standing interests in young people’s community and political participation (Harris et al. 2010; Furlong and Cartmel 2012; Henn and Foard 2012). In particular, it adds to an emerging and strengthening body of literature which works to challenge the concept of the young, deficient citizen (Checkoway et al. 2003; Smith et al. 2005; Clark and Percy-Smith 2006; Flanagan 2013; Wood 2014, 2016). In considering young people’s rationales for participation and non-participation in various activities in their communities, this chapter finds that young people construct meaningful definitions of participation and engagement which focus on their establishment of a stake in their local communities. In other words, place for young people is significant both in their experience of their physical surroundings as well as understanding where and how they fit, as individuals in their local communities. Narrative methodologies are appropriate, in this

6 The ‘Do-ers’ and the ‘Do Nothings’ …

135

chapter, both for the implications for a study of young people, yet also for embracing a broad, fluid but differentiated definition of the political, which recognises the latent, everyday ways in which young people’s status as citizens can be constructed. To begin, some details on the study on which this chapter is based will be provided. An explicit discussion of the narrative methodology will follow. Narrative methodologies are explored in this chapter for their benefits particularly in the case of studies involving young people. A particular methodological feature of the project on which this chapter is based is the fact that I, as the sole researcher, was a young youth researcher. This is reflected on in the methods section below. The chapter then turns to young people’s experiences. Engaging with young people directly, using specific narrative methods, finds young people’s rationales for taking part to be considered and meaningful, even in unconventional manners, and in the face of barriers to these engagements. Acknowledging this participation and the underlying rationale is important for raising awareness of the barriers which young people face in taking part in their communities and more broadly, how society can take seriously young people as valid and important contributors to their communities.

Lessons from the Literature The empirical findings in this chapter contribute to the growing body of contemporary work which calls for young people to be recognised as real citizens 2 (Checkoway et al. 2003; Smith et al. 2005; Clark and PercySmith 2006; Flanagan 2013; Wood 2014, 2016). This recognition of young people as real citizens must be supported by a broader, more inclusive definition of the political. Narrow interpretations of the political normally obstruct the view of the mundane and everyday (Harris et al. 2010). Limiting definitions of the political to those actions only related to, or directed towards the state (voting, protests, boycotts amongst others), results in a static understanding of what ‘the political’ potentially means to all people, but particularly the young. Reverting the framing of this approach, however, to one that understands the political as a lived experience, opens avenues for understanding the meanings that people

136

A. Harragan

associate with the political in an everyday context, beyond the ballot box (Marsh et al. 2007; Harris et al. 2010; McCaffrie and Marsh 2013; Heath et al. 2009). These must not be blocked by ‘discursive legitimacy’3 (Harris et al. 2010, p. 20; Tonge and Mycock 2010). In attempting to understand meanings of the political, studies need to ‘reflect the density and complexity of social practice’ (McNay 2014, p. 90), rather than searching for ‘purified political dynamics’ (McNay 2014, p. 2). Studies should be embedded within the social and appreciate context in order to avoid producing ‘socially weightless’ accounts (a term borrowed from Bourdieu 2000 in McNay 2014, p. 4). An understanding of the political which is particularly applicable to young people, even more so if they are below the age of enfranchisement, is presented by Flanagan (2013). Flanagan (2013) explores youth political actions and participations as contributions to one’s community. Community has a threefold meaning: local, relational and political (Flanagan 2013). Actions are significant to the political in cases where young people are working to determine and shape these communities, aiming to improve current or future conditions (Arendt 1998; Mouffe 2005; Flanagan 2013; Hay 2007). This chapter harnesses this inclusive conceptualisation of the political and finds young people’s everyday participation and engagements in their communities, recreational activities and their experience of place to have political significance and relevance (Putnam 1995; Bacon et al. 2013; Ballard 2014). This significance is further supported when considering the liminality4 (Turner 1969; Wood 2012) of young people and in particular, this study’s finding of young people’s experience of ‘limbo status’.5 This project found young people to describe themselves as suspended between various statuses: too old for certain activities; too young for other activities; on the spectrum between academic successes or troublemakers (Narin et al. 2006); not adult, but not child; concerned by issues but their opinions not taken seriously on account of being considered a child. This ‘in-betweenness’ is expressed as the experience of ‘limbo status’ in this chapter and aligns with Wood’s findings of the liminality of youth and young people’s ‘state of political in-betweenness’ (Wood 2012, p. 337). Liminality, in the context of young people’s political practices and engagements in this chapter, shows:

6 The ‘Do-ers’ and the ‘Do Nothings’ …

137

How young people’s stage in their life course (age) and status in society renders them neither completely ‘child’, nor completely ‘adult’ in their ability to operate as autonomous political agents or access the full entitlements of adult citizenship. (Wood 2012, p. 338)

This chapter argues that looking to young people’s rationales for everyday activities in their communities, their recreational activities and their nonparticipation is necessary to understanding the ways in which young people see their position in society, despite experiences of liminality, and is considered to be a gateway for understanding young people’s status as citizens. This adds to the growing body of knowledge which considers young people as real and competent citizens, even before the age of enfranchisement.

Setting the Scene The site of the research was Trafford, a suburb of Manchester, UK. Trafford provides a locality suitable for research on young people’s experiences of politics firstly because it is home to seven grammar schools. Schooling, as one of young people’s first experiences of political institutions, is an interesting facet of their understanding of such. Further, I was interested to understand the impact the type of school attended may have on young people’s identities in the area, especially since the Eleven Plus examination6 is still in operation in Trafford. Secondly, Trafford forms part of the Greater Manchester Combined Authority which has recently elected a Metropolitan Mayor, representing another development on the political landscape for young people. In particular, the recently established Greater Manchester Youth Assembly.7 Finally, Trafford stands as an interesting research site due to the disparity across the socio-economic profiles of its various wards and the potential impact this has on young people’s sense of place within their communities.

138

A. Harragan

The Sample The sample for this project was intended to reflect the diversity of the borough and capture the realities of how people spent time in their communities (Hammersley and Atkinson 2007, p. 32). The original sampling approach on a ward-by-ward basis soon proved impractical and unrealistic for a project of this scale and instead, youth-specific organisations were mapped and targeted (see more on access below). There was a concerted effort to access such organisations in different wards to represent the range of socio-economic profiles across the borough. I was interested in speaking to any young person who lived, worked, attended school or organisations in the borough, therefore the selection criteria for the sample were broad in this respect. The criteria for ‘young person’ were originally in line with the age bracket with the lowest turnout in General Elections in the UK, 18–24 years. However, shortly after commencing fieldwork I was asked directly by a young person, aged 12, ‘why don’t you want to interview me?’ No response based on ‘sample age-range limitations’ felt adequate or justified. Hence, the age range was expanded to 12–24 years, reflecting those of secondary school age and upwards. The final age range of the sample, in fact, was 12–25 years. The project has a total sample size of 84 which includes 79 young people aged between 12 and 25 years who either lived and or attended school, college or a community group in the area of Trafford, Manchester, plus 5 adult key workers. This sample size of 79 represents those young people who took part in a semi-structured interview (n = 32) or focus group (n = 47). The gender breakdown of the sample is 44 females compared with 35 males, due to a focus group being conducted at an all-female school. 55 periods of observation were also undertaken with some of these 79 young people and others at 9 different sites in Trafford which included: 2 open-access youth centres; 2 youth organisations (a Youth Cabinet and an arts group); and 5 secondary schools.

6 The ‘Do-ers’ and the ‘Do Nothings’ …

139

Access and Ethics Institutional ethical clearance was granted for this project base on the consideration of harm, risk and safety of the participants and researcher. In addition, I was granted clearance from the Disclosure Barring Service (DBS)8 to work with young people aged under 18 years. Information sheets were to be provided to all persons interesting in taking part in the project and consent was to be sought from relevant key workers, young people aged over 18 years or parents or carers in the case of young people aged under 18 years. Participants had the right to withdraw at any time and were given anonymity in the form of pseudonyms and consented to their stories being shared in the form of research dissemination. For 3 months prior to interviews commencing, time was spent in the borough, mapping organisations and other institutions such as schools and colleges. I looked to notice boards, websites, local press and media to try to establish the extent to which youth activity was present or obvious. I looked for local council events also. During this time, contact was made via emails and phone calls with relevant gatekeepers, such as teachers and youth workers to begin to negotiate access, which was much more protracted in the case of schools, than other organisations. Several visits were made to these organisations to discuss practical and ethical protocols prior to the interviews and observations beginning. The gatekeepers asked the young people at these organisations whether they would be happy to take part in the project, if so, appropriate consent forms were sought. Access was negotiated on a continuous basis as my research networks snowballed thanks to the generosity of the gatekeepers and the participants. In exchange for participants’ time and efforts, I helped out at a number of sessions in youth clubs. Sustained periods of time spent in the locality prior to direct interviewing taking place, on reflection, were something which helped the process of the data collection as a whole (McDonald and Marsh 2005 in Heath et al. 2009).

140

A. Harragan

Methods of Narration An ethnographic approach was embraced, as far as possible, using interviews and focus groups in tandem with observations at various fieldwork sites (Cortazzi 2001; Hammersley and Atkinson 2007). This ethnographic approach was limited given that the project was researching young people; the aims of ethnography, immersion in the community, had to be balanced with ethical youth research practices. This meant I had to work closely alongside gatekeepers throughout the project and only access the young participants in this way (Hammersley and Atkinson 2007; Heath et al. 2009). This approach was nonetheless deemed most appropriate for a project concerned with the everyday participation of young people, overlooked in many studies, and young people’s liminal experiences. This fore-fronting of youth voice is an acknowledgement that children and young people should be ‘seen as members of society too, with a legitimate and valuable voice and perspective’ (Roche 1999 in Bacon and Frankel 2014, p. 34; Heath et al. 2009). The everyday and socially embedded approach of this project is fundamental in capturing this ‘voice’ as it focuses on every day and mundane interactions (Bacon and Frankel 2014). The interactions of the semi-structured interviews were intended to be informal in style. These interviews were intended to feel like ‘conversations with a purpose’ (Burgess 1984 in Mason 2002, p. 62). The approach to interviews allowed capacity for open-ended questions, vital in narrative methodologies (Mason 2002; Reissman 2008). Discourse Analysis (DA) in the context of this chapter is understood as a collective term, encompassing both narrative and more specifically thematic analytic approaches (David and Sutton 2011). Fundamentally, in the context of this chapter these approaches sit staunchly in contrast with quantitative approaches which have dominated the field of youth political research to-date and continually marginalise and overlook young people’s political capacities (Phelps 2012). In this research, narratives ‘represent storied ways of knowing and communicating’ (Hinchman and Hinchman 1997 in Reissman 2005, p. 1). Importantly, ‘all talk and text is not narrative’ (Reissman 2008, p. 5), which implies that a number of analytical foci are of particular significance such as sequence, exchanges

6 The ‘Do-ers’ and the ‘Do Nothings’ …

141

and settings. Stories thus are fundamental to narrative and represent, in this chapter, the interpretative telling of linearity of events, occurrences and feelings as told by individuals (Mason 2002; Reissman 2008; Elliot 2005 in David and Sutton 2011). The stories of young people’s engagement and activities within their local spaces and broader communities form the foundations of the narrative of political and community engagement explored in this chapter.

Critical Narrative: Beyond Content to Context Narrative approaches are used specifically in this chapter for their reach beyond content to context, as ‘narrative has robust life beyond the individual’ (Reissman 2008, p. 7). In narrative methodologies, context must be acknowledged in two ways: from the perspective of the process of data collection itself and the broader social context within which the content of the data is collected. In the case of the former, a reflexive consideration of the process of data collection requires a critical awareness of the power relations present when researching young people. These can be considered in terms of sameness and difference (Narin et al. 2006; Heath et al. 2009). Differences between researchers and participants are said to become particularly prevalent ‘where a research topic is salient to the particular dimensions of difference’ (Heath et al. 2009, p. 40); age in the case of this chapter. At the time of the data collection for the project, I was in fact younger than the oldest participant, and older than others by a maximum of 13 years. Age as a potential inequality was a key undercurrent of this project from the outset. Therefore, my identity as a (young) adult researcher is one which cannot be ignored, particularly in terms of power dynamics, despite some shared characteristics with the participants. Related to the issue of power is the importance of the broader context within which the stories are set. This is particularly important when investigating notions of the political and for the avoidance of ‘socially weightless’ accounts (McNay 2014, p. 4). Fundamentally, the structured power relationships present within all forms of conversation and storytelling must be acknowledged. Discursive approaches have

142

A. Harragan

been criticised for depoliticising and neutralising accounts and experiences of the political (McNay 2014). Acknowledgement of the unequal social relationships within which these stories are told and embracing ‘an embodied, socially situated’ (McNay 2014, p. 41) approach is the spirit within which narrative approaches are critically understood and embraced in this chapter. Therefore, the analytical approach taken in this chapter overwhelmingly seeks to combine the content with the context of the stories told by young people. Analysis was conducted with the assistance of NVivo data management software. All interviews and focus groups were transcribed and uploaded to NVivo, as were all observational fieldnotes. The data was analysed thematically, and a series of common themes emerged across the data. These were eventually refined and the following dominant analytical themes emerged: ‘purpose’, ‘inclusion, ‘efficacy’ and ‘resistance’.

Stories from the Data: Bag Packing, Peer Leaders and the Park Having set the scene of the background literature, research site and data collection methods, young people’s stories will now be examined. These are stories of activities which have been categorised as: community and civic activities; general and social activities; and doing ‘nothing’. These categories have been derived from the rationales expressed by young people in conversation across interviews and focus groups at various research sites. Each type of activity, or non-participation, sheds light on the ways in which young people experience their place, in a physical sense and, or in terms of how they fit in their community and society, more broadly.

Community and Civic Activities Community, in terms of this chapter, has a threefold meaning: local, relational and political (Flanagan 2013). These meanings intersect when

6 The ‘Do-ers’ and the ‘Do Nothings’ …

143

considering the ways in which young people take part in their communities and resonates with the rationales expressed for these actions. Civic activities are considered those actions which young people undertake to improve the conditions of the community for others; again, this is highlighted through the reasons young people give for taking part. These are considered distinct from overtly political activities, as the focus of these activities was not specifically aligned to formal political systems or literacy. That said, community and civic activities are not devoid of political relevance (Putnam 1995; Bacon et al. 2013; Ballard 2014). Engagement and participation in community and civic activities are significant to the political in cases where young people are working to determine and shape these communities, aiming to improve current or future conditions (Mouffe 2005; Flanagan 2013; Hay 2007; Arendt 1998). This can be in a local capacity with a focus on the immediate environment, or in a relational capacity where young people address youth issues, or the priorities of other common, social groupings. The activities considered in this category include community-focused groups, volunteering, school and extra-curricular activities and open-access youth clubs.

General Community Activities These are activities which focused on either the local community or the relational community, examples include Army Cadets, Scouts and Explorers. Emily describes why she enjoys her activities with the Cadets: Emily: I’m a cadet […]We do remembrance parades and community services Int: What are the best things about that then? Emily: Doing the charity work, you know when you do collecting and Remembrance Day and everything, just stuff like that. And cleaning up the community when we’re on detachment […]I think it makes me feel better because I’m kind of giving back to where I live, rather than just taking from it (Emily, aged 14, high school).

144

A. Harragan

Emily enjoys engaging with the local community. She describes her activity as ‘giving back’, the feeling of contribution is clearly important to Emily and is significant for understanding her relationship with the political (McFarland and Thomas 2006; Quintelier 2008, 2013; Thomas and Mcfarland 2010; Keating and Janmaat 2015). As well as moral benefits of contributing to community life, Oliver explains the practical benefits of involvement in such community groups. He takes part in Explorers, which is the advanced branch of Scouts. I’ve been in Explorers, well the scouting community for as long as I can remember, when I was 5 – I just started when I was a kid and it just stuck with me ever since. You do your Duke of Edinburgh and Queen Scouts and stuff like that […] it’s a bit like Cadets, only a different branch and less militarised. (Oliver, aged 15, high school)

In addition to the enjoyment of the activities themselves, Oliver explains the lasting personal impact of the associated accreditations which the young people can take forward in future.

Voluntary Roles Through Schools Engagement with the local community was also discussed by young people from within a school setting. These young people were part of school councils and school action groups. The purpose of these groups was to address, not only school-relevant issues such as food choice and dinner queue lengths, but also to raise awareness of local, regional, sometimes national and international social issues. Accreditations were also associated with some of these activities, similar to those awarded in community groups. Enthusiasm was sparked around their community engagement work within school councils. Marcus explains what he enjoys about his two-year membership of the school council: I’ve really liked how we’ve helped lots of charities and how we’ve helped people in the school. […] We did was a bag pack […] and all the money that was donated would go to young carers. We stayed for the whole

6 The ‘Do-ers’ and the ‘Do Nothings’ …

145

day […] it was quite fun […] It was a good experience, something that you could write on your CV. […] It’s like experience working with the community and stuff […] I think it’s good to help the community in every way you can. (Marcus, aged 15, high school)

The examples Marcus gives above show that his personal involvement with community and charity work extended beyond the remit of the school council. Hence, he is contributing to his relational community of fellow students and to the local community environment. Aside from his enjoyment and commitment to helping the community in terms of raising charitable funds, he acknowledges that he has also gained practical skills and accreditations which he will be able to showcase on his CV. These rationales and benefits of participation balance altruism with personal and professional development. Another scheme of note to come from school council activity was raised by Nadine. She is a member of the same school council as Marcus and spoke with an observable sense of pride about her role as a mentor on a reading scheme. The school discovered a growing number of Year 7 pupils arriving with substandard levels of reading. The school council, along with some guidance from staff, decided to begin a peer mentor reading scheme which sees older pupils help younger students to read during lunchtimes. The scheme was discussed by participants as being successful beyond raising reading levels alone, as illustrated in Nadine’s story: Nadine: I bond with year 7s […] we don’t always read, but don’t tell anyone, but they just tell me how they feel and what’s been going on because they can’t tell teachers that, so they tell me. We just spend 10 minutes talking about it. […] We do do reading, but then if they’re upset […] they can talk to us more cos we actually listen to them. Int: How does that make you feel? Nadine: Really good cos I’m like their big sister and they can just come to me and speak to me (Nadine, aged 15, high school).

The sense from Nadine is of the enjoyment of sharing her experience, giving advice and guidance, not only practically in terms of reading skills, but building bonds and relationships. For Nadine, this scheme is an example of tangible impact she feels she and the school council

146

A. Harragan

have made to the school community. Nadine tells me she is involved in an extra-curricular activity every day, some days during both lunchtime and after school. Her mum says she does too much, she says: ‘I love fitting it in! I feel like a teacher with my diary walking around school ticking my appointments off! I feel like I’ve got power ’. The theme of power here represents a consequence of her actions and a notable impact on Nadine’s relational, school community. Nadine credits the reading scheme as giving her an advantage in her role as Sports Leader. The Sports Leader scheme relies on peer-to-peer engagement and involves distributing general reminders, coaching of younger pupils and assisting staff in the running of the clubs. This scheme was significant for Nadine as it represented a way in which the school community was impacted by her actions (Flanagan 2013; Keating and Janmaat 2015).

Voluntary Roles Outside of School Voluntary sports coaching also took place outside of school settings in addition to other voluntary roles. Matthew (aged 13, attends high school) reported that he volunteers at an animal sanctuary because he loves animals. Ansa (aged 19) volunteers at a hospice for the elderly whilst she is on a gap year, ahead of beginning her medical studies. Jake volunteers regularly at a performing arts scheme which he, alongside a group of other young people, designed and run in the community. These young people described the ways in which they combined an interest in the areas of focus for this volunteering, with a focus on contributing something to the community in which they are based, with the addition of building professional skills. A three-part rationale model of preference, purposeful and professional participation can be noted amongst these young people’s stories. That is to say that they enjoy the activity, it makes a difference in some way and offers a development opportunity for the individual who undertakes the activity. The National Citizen Service (NCS)9 is another volunteering scheme participated in by young people in Trafford. During the summer, young people (aged 15–17 years) were trained in several team-building and professional development exercises, culminating in a community-work

6 The ‘Do-ers’ and the ‘Do Nothings’ …

147

project. Those who participated emphasised the holistic approach of training and practical experience and reported particular enjoyment of the integration of different types of people, as individuals were organised into teams, forming strong friendships. NCS was really good! […] this one group […] created a community event […] and they got people from the local old people’s home […] put on a little picnic thing for them […] it just made such a difference to these people! […] We decorated the gardens, […] we painted the community centre […] we cleaned up the graveyard […] It was amazing because loads of the groups were community projects. […] it was just amazing getting involved having direct impact! (Isabelle, aged 16, grammar school)

As with the community participation schemes seen in school and the accreditations valued by the young people spoken to, the NCS was an ad hoc opportunity for young people to make a difference to their immediate environment. This stands as another example of their interaction with and impact on the community and how these can have a positive influence on their own personal development. Further, the notion of having an impact emerges as a theme for young people to establish a stake in their communities, a position from which they can contribute (Flanagan 2013). On the surface, the youth club is a general facility in the locality, quite apart from the targeted engagement with the community. All sorts of activities take place in these youth clubs; football, dodge ball, arts and crafts, music, TV and socialising. A notable activity was the Peer Leader Scheme in which, alongside the key workers, young people volunteered to be leaders for younger age groups. Becoming a Peer Leader is initiated generally by the key workers but is part of an organic process of maturing and taking responsibility, that is, a transition from member to leader. Two Peer Leaders Aaron (aged 25, sales assistant) and Liam (aged 21, manual labourer) had attended the Club as members for five years before becoming Peer Leaders. They began to take on more responsibility in the Club, eventually running their own ‘sub-club’ (Aaron), for younger members. At around 19 years old, Aaron said that his membership and leadership role began to take a back seat to other priorities in his life. For Liam, however, who works shifts (including nights), his Peer

148

A. Harragan

Leader role developed into a sustained commitment to volunteering. He runs the coffee bar at the Club as well as general supervision, including the occasional game of football with the members. They explained their transition from members to leaders and the personal impact of volunteering: Aaron: Just part of my growing up; just giving something back. Liam: Bit cliché ‘giving something back’! Aaron: It’s with [3 key workers] and that, it’s more about them. Liam: They become more your friends than anything. Aaron: When you’ve known them for so long and that, it’s just something clinging on! Liam: It’s like a family, it really is. The staff, even the kids, it’s like having another member of the family.

From their story, the intensity of the youth club’s connection with the local area and residents can be appreciated. The Club and their participation in it, both as members and leaders, had clear, impactful consequences and value for Aaron and Liam. The leadership schemes in the youth clubs stand as opportunities for the young people involved to build their leadership skills and execute certain levels of responsibility. The reasons for, and achievements of, these activities for the young people carry an undercurrent of meaningful engagement. These activities, in their various forms, are appreciated by these young people for the impact they have not only on themselves, but on their community. The theme of such engagements then is a contribution to both relational communities (schools and youth clubs) and to local communities (community groups and voluntary work). The community impact was shared as a priority across all those young people who took part in community and civic activities. In addition, they shared the added benefits of personal and professional development as well as, in general, the enjoyment of taking part in these activities. Through a narrative approach, the three-part rationale model is illuminated in all of the stories thus far; preference, professional and purposeful participation. Whilst the young people who participated in activities in this category did not explicitly describe their actions as political, their rationales shown

6 The ‘Do-ers’ and the ‘Do Nothings’ …

149

in the above stories evidence their efforts to contribute to their communities for the better, an expression of citizenship in contributing to their political communities and important actions with political content (Hay 2007; Flanagan 2013).

General and Social Activities General leisure and recreation activities are, of course, large parts of many people’s lives and the young people in this project were no exception. By far, this category of activities was talked about the most by the young people who took part. Included in this category are all sports, dance and performing arts clubs. These activities were recreational, as opposed to young people having a specific role in these groups. In many cases, young people took part in more than one of these activities. Also included are extra-curricular activities which again do not have any specific aim other than that activity itself. Finally, general leisure and recreation activities are also explored. Many young people attended local groups (sometimes regional) for sports such as football, rugby, cricket, martial arts, rowing, dance and swimming. Performing arts groups were also popular. It was common for those who attended performing arts groups to attend multiple groups, with a distinction made between one more ‘recreational’ and another more ‘professional’ group. The recreational groups tended to be those in the local area, and as Lola (aged 14) pointed out, they are ‘more welcoming ’ than some of the other, more professionally driven groups she had attended. This emphasises the relational communities which form around such activities, and the importance of such communities to the young people participating. The popularity of sports groups was questioned after it was discussed by some young people during interviews. It emerged that young people felt there were few alternatives to sports activities. At a focus group at an all-male high school, when asked how they spent their time in the local area, Elliot explained:

150

A. Harragan

There’s nothing major really like to go on at weekends and socialise. You’re a bit stuck if you don’t like sport, there’s nothing. (Elliot, aged 15, high school)

General recreational activities were talked of as alternatives, by the young people, if no school or community groups sparked their interest. However, many of these again revolved around sports such as leisure centres, football pitch complexes and outdoor sport activities. A large shopping centre and general green spaces were also talked about as locations for spending time and socialising with friends. Importantly, these were raised as activities which were not costly, as many of the leisure and recreation facilities in the area were described as too expensive by the young people, leaving them feeling excluded. In fact, the openaccess youth clubs and extra-curricular activities discussed above were the only free activities. The cost of leisure activities left many young people feeling limited in their use of local space and place. General social and recreational activities are important when considering how and where young people ‘fit’ in their communities. Being inherently locally situated, important identity work takes place as young people socialise with friends and take part in recreational activities in their locality (Harris and Wyn 2009). Young people report, in this project, the importance of these relational communities, and the difficulties associated with the experience of the limbo status. That is considering themselves too young or too old for certain recreational activities in the area and feeling marginalised by the expense of leisure and retail facilities. It is important to take note of these accounts of young people’s in-betweenness and acknowledge that this contributes to how young people fit into communities and society more broadly (Wood 2012). Similar themes emerged particularly in conversations with those young people who reported they do ‘nothing’ with their time.

6 The ‘Do-ers’ and the ‘Do Nothings’ …

151

Doing ‘Nothing’: Young People’s Constructions of ‘Being Active’ Through Community Participation Only four young people (out of 79) said they do ‘nothing’ with their time. These stories highlight the relationships between opportunities and identity, and relate to the ways in which young people construct themselves as active and contributing to their communities. It is indicative, also, of the ways in which participation is classed by young people themselves, and by others. The four participants, Kian, David, Nathan and Tom, whose stories are explored below, took part in three separate focus groups at the same, all-male high school.

Kian Listening to Kian’s (aged 15) description of his routine and activities, it seemed that he spent his time doing more than ‘nothing’ as he initially described. He described the ways in which he takes part in some general recreational activities. The local shopping centre is discussed as a place to socialise, where minimum amounts of money can be spent (McFarland and Thomas 2006; Gordon 2008; Butcher and Harris 2010). However, Kian and others talk about the stereotypical perceptions he and his friends come up against when spending time in groups in public spaces. Experiences of being asked to remove caps and being moved on from eating areas limit the time these young people can or wish to spend in such facilities. Kennelly’s (2011) study explores the ‘policing’ and moving of youth bodies in spaces reserved for ‘good and legitimate citizens’ (Kennelly 2011, p. 350). Additionally, Kian talks of no option, given lack of resources and weather conditions, but to resort to online gaming at home. This is defended by Riley (aged 15), another member of the focus group, as ‘still social though! ’ Kian further discussed the difficulty he felt young people find themselves in, given that many of the sustained sporting clubs in the community were targeted at younger children. At his age, he felt too old and

152

A. Harragan

overlooked by any provision of activity in the local area and others at the focus group agreed. Here the limbo status emerges, illustrated in the ways some young people feel themselves to be suspended between childhood and adulthood. The concept of liminality offers a useful lens through which to analyse the occurrence of the limbo status, which has been found to be a strong feature of young people’s experiences (Turner 1969; Wood 2012).

Concepts of ‘Nothingness’: David’s Perspective David : I’m David and I don’t really do anything. Joseph: [feigns coughing] Lazy!

In this brief exchange, David is mocked by his friend for not taking part in activities. Joseph, incidentally, takes part in many extra-curricular and mixed martial arts activities outside of school. However, as the conversation continues, it becomes clear that what David means by ‘nothing’ is no organised activities outside of school. He takes part in lunchtime clubs at school including history and robotics club, has taken part in the school play occasionally and is also a member of the school council. Another activity is highlighted during the conversation, as Joseph talks about one of his mixed martial arts classes. He was moved up to a higher ability bracket, however, moved down again as the group consisted of only adults and, for safety reasons, Joseph could not spar against adults. David talked of a similar scenario, hence he left the group. Again, we see the limbo status restricting access to activities (too able, but too young) but also, importantly, a definitional difference to take note of: ‘nothing’ for David means no organisational activities outside of school . Narrative approaches illuminated these nuances of definition.

6 The ‘Do-ers’ and the ‘Do Nothings’ …

153

Tom and Nathan Tom and Nathan also stated they spend their time doing ‘nothing’. Tom (aged 15) expands, saying he spends his time going into town with friends. Nathan (aged 15) expresses a similar sentiment: ‘I just chill ’. Both Tom and Nathan talk about their use of local leisure facilities being restricted by cost in the same way as Kian above. He and Nathan are agreed that employment, therefore money, would result in choice and status, with a freedom to participate in any activities they wished. From their perspective, their agency is limited due to the lack of employment. This in turn is reinforced by the limbo status caused by feeling abandoned between childhood and adulthood, with little opportunities in the meantime. Currently, their use of public space is policed and monitored, in much the same way as Kian describes (Kennelly 2011). Nathan shares his tactic of sitting and socialising in a local coffee shop, which sees him buy a 59 pence espresso to sit indoors, without being asked to ‘clear the table for paying customers’. He employs a similar method in McDonald’s with a Happy Meal. Nathan expresses a resistance to taking part in organised activities, stating: ‘I’d prefer to keep just doing what I’m doing ’. Despite this seeming commitment to non-participation, their engagement with the local area is very present in their conversations. Both Tom and Nathan discussed how many Police Community Support Officers operate in the area. They described how many times different parks had been renovated, how long a bike had been left in a pond and how long it took the council to collect a skip from a field. These examples give us a sense of the ways in which these young people, who spend recreational time with their friends, are inherently locally engaged (Harris and Wyn 2009). Their assessments of the local areas ‘stemmed from their liminal everyday socio-spatial experiences’ (Wood 2012, p. 343). It is important to consider the potential political impact being locally engaged could have. Tom and Nathan’s stories tell of their interest in, and attention to, what is happening in their local environment, and this impacts on the extent to which they enjoy the local space. The attention to local issues such as this is important in facilitating young people’s linking of personal and informal issues to ‘politics proper’ (Harris and Wyn 2009, p. 334; Berger 2009) as well

154

A. Harragan

as important sites for self-making (Harris and Wyn 2009). This notion of local engagement takes on greater significance when considering some of the ways in which these young people’s use of space, and agency, is compressed and monitored by adults (Kennelly 2011).

Active: To Be or Not to Be? The reasons given for a lack of participation need to be considered in conjunction with those given for participation in activities. Lack of opportunities, provisions and resources is intertwining reasons given for non-participation. The ‘nothings’ can be seen to be a manifestation of the limbo status. That is, not young enough for the provision of activities, not wealthy enough to exploit the leisure facilities, their participation is classed by themselves as not ‘active’ enough to be considered as doing something . Primarily there is a definitional difference in operation. What qualifies as activity, as participation and non-participation, varies across the participants. For some it relates to organisational activities, as in David’s example. An important note to consider when discussing those young people who felt they did ‘nothing’ with their time is that ‘nonparticipation’ in activities does not necessarily equate to a lack of engagement with key issues and concerns. Examples of such are seen above, as Nathan and Tom engage with their local area and take an interest in how their green spaces are maintained and how the locality is policed. They, in addition to Kian, also told stories of how stereotypes and their use of space interact with their identities as young people. Fundamental undercurrents of all of the above stories feature rationales for taking part (or not), as well as definitional distinctions of ‘active’. When asked how they spend their time in their communities, different young people categorised similar activities in different ways. Most commonly, recreational time and activities were those most broadly defined. It was found that those young people who described their recreation time as activity were those young people who took part in other organised activities of various types inside and outside of school. Those young people who described themselves as ‘doing nothing’

6 The ‘Do-ers’ and the ‘Do Nothings’ …

155

engaged either solely in recreational activities (time in parks and town centres socialising), or recreation and in-school activities. For these young people, their activities did not count as active. This is despite evident local engagement (Harris and Wyn 2009). Their agency and decisions on how to spend their time in their local area is blocked from the label as active, perhaps by ‘discursive legitimacy’ (Harris et al. 2010, p. 20). That is, formal and organised activities can be externally recognised and legitimised as active and taking part. More informal, everyday activities are less visible, yet through narrative approaches these nuances are highlighted and the importance to these young people shown.

Conclusions The narrative approach of this chapter acknowledges that young people ‘have a role to play in defining, constructing, reproducing and working with citizenship values at a very micro level’ (Bacon and Frankel 2014, p. 34). In the most immediate sense, this chapter focuses on where young people are present, as opposed to absent, a priority outlined in the literature on young people’s community and political engagement (O’Toole 2003; Flanagan 2013). The chapter, however, has also mapped more than this presence. It has mapped some important definitional differences in operation as young people define themselves as active and participating. Young people have told stories of how they take part in a variety of activities, across the categories above, including volunteering, social action groups, general sports and recreational activities. Importantly however, four young people reported they do nothing with their time. Considering these active and inactive young people alongside one another has outlined the ways in which participation can be understood as taking part in action, and engagement can be understood as paying attention and interest to an issue or topic (Berger 2009). This is seen in stories from Nathan and Tom who do ‘nothing’, but were inherently locally engaged (Harris and Wyn 2009). Added to the definition of participation can be a consideration of the extent to which these activities are organised, formally, found also in stories from David, another who reported he does ‘nothing’.

156

A. Harragan

Whatever the activity taken part in, all of these young people were found to report a rationale behind taking part. These fell into at least one, sometimes all, of a three-part rationale model of preference, professional and/or purposeful. The first, and most straightforward, found young people enjoyed or had an interest in the activity they take part in. All young people spoken to acknowledged their enjoyment in taking part, included under the ‘preference’ element of the rationale model. This taking part, being part of a group or a club, fostered feelings of pleasure and solidarity amongst these young people. The second related to a development element, such as the benefits of CV building of some activities. The final related to a contribution, identified by young people themselves, of their activities to their relational or local community. In the case of the latter, a strong emerging theme is found. In feeling that they have contributed to their communities, it is argued that this serves to establish a stake in their communities. An undercurrent of the three-part rationales found behind all these activities is the reoccurrence of the limbo status. Across activities, young people reported feeling suspended in some way or another: too young, too old, too able, activities too unaffordable. Encapsulated within the limbo status are notions of responsibility, choice and agency seen in the ways in which young people spoke of how they decide to use their time. Young people have found to be occupying both liminal statuses and spaces, this ‘in-betweenness which can be seen to be simultaneously sites of adult control and youthful agency’ (Wood 2012, p. 338). These stories from young people are crucial in understanding how young people fit into society, their place in their communities, both in a physical and conceptual sense and the extent to which we see young people as valid contributors to these communities. Time and again young people report their marginalisation and experiences of liminality, yet continue to make meaningful contributions to communities in everyday, latent ways which are observable if we look using appropriate methods. Narrative methods and analysis can be credited for acknowledging young people’s voice and agency, especially important for young people who are otherwise liminal. Engaging with young people’s stories directly highlights how young people have defined themselves and their identities, how others have seen them and how this contributes theoretically

6 The ‘Do-ers’ and the ‘Do Nothings’ …

157

and conceptually. Stories of sports clubs, volunteering and spending time in the park have contributed to narratives of community and political engagement and participation; seeing the political in the everyday and young people as citizens. Narrative approaches illuminates ‘what counts’ as everyday action in their communities, for these young people (Wood 2014). Narin and colleagues argue that ‘given that we do not have a culture of adults listening to young people, then adults listening to children and young people is a political act, and one that we need to continually improve’ (Narin et al. 2006 in Heath et al. 2009, p. 45). This statement represents the vital importance of the role of power and power dynamics in any qualitative project, but especially those relating to young people.

Notes 1. This chapter is based on the findings of a doctoral project ‘Political Engagement among Young People in Manchester’ which was funded by the Economic and Social Research Council, grant number: 1366840 conducted at the University of Manchester. 2. ‘Real citizen’ literature refers to the growing body of literature which challenges the once dominant ‘deficit model’ of citizenship (Osler and Starkey 2003 in Smith et al. 2005, p. 425) which was applied to young people in social policy and academic settings. In relation to political participation and civic activities more broadly, young people were considered as ‘citizens in waiting’, ‘citizens of tomorrow, not today’, ‘political apprentices’, ‘deficient’ or not whole, complete or sufficient in some way; with either being too young or if of voting age, not involved enough (Kennelly 2011; Checkoway et al. 2003; Smith et al. 2005; Clark and Percy-Smith 2006; Flanagan 2013; Wood 2014, 2016; Marsh et al. 2007; O’Toole 2003). 3. This term relates to a finding by Harris et al. (2010) that young people felt the need to translate their political concerns and activities into forms and expressions which would be recognisable to political authorities. In other words, there was a gap between these everyday concerns and activities of young people and the official language of ‘real’ politics. 4. The theory hails from the anthropological work of Arnold van Gennep (1909) and Victor Turner (1969) and has recently been extended to young

158

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

A. Harragan

people’s political participation and geographies (Wood 2012). Originally the term was used to describe transitional phases in relation to rites of passage and to describe ‘threshold people’ (Turner 1969, p. 95). Turner (1969) discusses a number of attributes of liminality: if people are liminal, they ‘elude or slip through the network of classifications that normally locate states and positions in cultural space’, further, ‘[l]iminal entities are neither here nor there; they are betwixt and between the positions assigned and arrayed by law, custom, convention, and ceremonial’ (Turner 1969, p. 95). Turner uses the very term ‘limbo’ in his discussions of liminality, finding that individuals and groups experience ‘a limbo of statuslessness’ (Turner 1969, p. 97). The Eleven Plus (11+) examination is administered to primary school pupils in England and Northern Ireland for academic selection to grammar schools and other secondary schools. The Greater Manchester Youth Assembly is a youth council which is run by young people, for young people and provides young people a voice and role in decision making in campaign work and policymaking in the Combined Authority http://www.manchesteryouthcouncil.co.uk/news/greater-manche ster-youth-assembly. The Disclosure and Barring Service (DBS) is a type of employment check in the UK. It checks for details such as past convictions, reprimands, cautions and warnings from police. The NCS is a youth development initiative across the UK. It focuses on youth empowerment, participation and political engagement.

References Arendt, H. (1998). The Human Condition (2nd origin.). Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Bacon, K., & Frankel, S. (2014). Rethinking Children’s Citizenship. The International Journal of Children’s Rights, 22(1), 21–42. http://booksandjournals. brillonline.com/content/journals/10.1163/15718182-55680003. Bacon, K., Frankel, S., & Faukes, K. (2013). Building the “Big Society”: Exploring Representations of Young People and Citizenship in the National Citizen Service. International Journal of Children’s Rights, 21, 488–509.

6 The ‘Do-ers’ and the ‘Do Nothings’ …

159

Ballard, P. J. (2014). What Motivates Youth Civic Involvement? Journal of Adolescent Research, 29 (4), 439–463. https://doi.org/10.1177/074355841 3520224. Berger, B. (2009). Political Theory, Political Science and the End of Civic Engagement. Perspectives on Politics, 7 (2), 335–350. Available at: http://journals.cambridge.org/abstract_S153759270909080X%5Cnpap ers3://publication/uuid/902CC04E-425A-4704-AD96-1ABCF1B437DF. Butcher, M., & Harris, A. (2010). Pedestrian Crossings: Young People and Everyday Multiculturalism. Journal of Intercultural Studies, 31(5), 449–453. https://doi.org/10.1080/07256868.2010.513080. Checkoway, B., Richards-Schuster, K., Abdullah, S., Aragon, M., Facio, E., Figueora, L., et al. (2003). Young People as Competent Citizens. Community Development Journal, 38(4), 298–309. https://doi.org/10.1093/cdj/38. 4.298. Clark, A., & Percy-Smith, B. (2006). Beyond Consultation: Participatory Practices in Everyday Spaces. Environments, 16 (2), 1–9. https://doi.org/10. 7721/chilyoutenvi.16.2.0001. Cortazzi, M. (2001). Narrative Analysis in Ethnography. In P. Atkinson et al. (Eds.), Handbook of Ethnography (pp. 384–394). London: Sage. https://doi. org/10.1017/cbo9781107415324.004. David, M., & Sutton, C. D. (2011). Social Research: The Basics. London: Sage. Flanagan, C. A. (2013). Teenage Citizens: The Political Theories of the Young. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Furlong, A., & Cartmel, F. (2012). Social Change and Political Engagement Among Young People: Generation and the 2009/2010 British Election Survey. Parliamentary Affairs, 65 (1), 13–28. https://doi.org/10.1093/pa/ gsr045. Gordon, H. R. (2008). Gendered Paths to Teenage Political Participation: Parental Power, Civic Mobility, and Youth Activism. Gender & Society, 22(1), 31–55. https://doi.org/10.1177/0891243207311046. Hammersley, P., & Atkinson, M. (2007). Ethnography: Principles in Practice (3rd ed.). London: Routledge. Harris, A., & Wyn, J. (2009). Young People’s Politics and the Micro-territories of the Local. Australian Journal of Political Science, 44 (2), 327–344. https:// doi.org/10.1080/10361140902865308. Harris, A., Wyn, J., & Younes, S. (2010). Beyond Apathetic or Activist Youth: “Ordinary” Young People and Contemporary Forms of Participation. Young, 18(1), 9–32. https://doi.org/10.1177/110330880901800103. Hay, C. (2007). Why We Hate Politics. Cambridge: Polity Press.

160

A. Harragan

Heath, S., et al. (2009). Researching Young People’s Lives. London: Sage. Henn, M., & Foard, N. (2012). Young People, Political Participation and Trust in Britain. Parliamentary Affairs, 65 (1), 47–67. https://doi.org/10.1093/pa/ gsr046. Keating, A., & Janmaat, J. G. (2015). Education Through Citizenship at School: Do School Activities Have a Lasting Impact on Youth Political Engagement? Parliamentary Affairs, 69 (2), 409–429. https://doi.org/10. 1093/pa/gsv017. Kennelly, J. (2011). Policing Young People as Citizens-In-Waiting: Legitimacy, Spatiality and Governance. British Journal of Criminology, 51(2), 336–354. https://doi.org/10.1093/bjc/azr017. Marsh, D., O’Toole, T., & Jones, S. (2007). Young People and Politics in the UK: Apathy or Alienation (1st ed.). London, UK: Palgrave Macmillan. Mason, J. (2002). Qualitative Researching (2nd ed.). London: Sage. McCaffrie, B., & Marsh, D. (2013). Beyond Mainstream Approaches to Political Participation: A Response to Aaron Martin. Australian Journal of Political Science, 48(1), 112–117. http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/103 61146.2012.759903. McFarland, D. A., & Thomas, R. J. (2006). Bowling Young: How Youth Voluntary Associations Influence Adult Political Participation. American Sociological Review, 71(3), 401–425. https://doi.org/10.1177/000312240 607100303. McNay, L. (2014). The Misguided Search for the Political: Social Weightlessness in Radical Democratic Theory. Cambridge: Polity Press. Mouffe, C. (2005). On the Political . Abingdon: Routledge. Narin, K., Sligo, J., & Freeman, C. (2006). Polarizing Participation in Local Government: Which Young People Are Included and Excluded? Children Youth and Environments, 16 (2), 248–271. https://doi.org/10.7721/chilyoute nvi.16.2.0248. O’Toole, T. (2003). Engaging with Young People’s Conceptions of the Political. Children’s Geographies, 1(1), 71–90. http://www.tandfonline.com.are. uab.cat/doi/abs/10.1080/14733280302179. Phelps, E. (2012). Understanding Electoral Turnout Among British Young People: A Review of the Literature. Parliamentary Affairs, 65 (1), 281–299. https://doi.org/10.1093/pa/gsr056. Putnam, R. D. (1995). Bowling Alone: America’s Declining Social Capital. Journal of Democracy, 6 (1), 65–78.

6 The ‘Do-ers’ and the ‘Do Nothings’ …

161

Quintelier, E. (2008). Who Is Politically Active: The Athlete, the Scout Member or the Environmental Activist?: Young People, Voluntary Engagement and Political Participation. Acta Sociologica, 51(4), 355–370. https:// doi.org/10.1177/0001699308097378. Quintelier, E. (2013). Engaging Adolescents in Politics: The Longitudinal Effect of Political Socialization Agents. Youth & Society, 20 (10), 1–19. https://doi.org/10.1177/0044118X13507295. Reissman, K. C. (2005). Narrative Analysis. In Narrative, Memory & Everyday Life (pp. 1–7). Available at: http://www2.hud.ac.uk/hhs/nme/books/2005/ Chapter_1_-_Catherine_Kohler_Riessman.pdf. Reissman, K. C. (2008). Narrative Methods for the Human Sciences. London: Sage. Smith, N., et al. (2005). Young People as Real Citizens: Towards an Inclusionary Understanding of Citizenship. Journal of Youth Studies, 8(4), 425–443. https://doi.org/10.1080/13676260500431743. Thomas, R. J., & McFarland, D. A. (2010). Joining Young, Voting Young: The Effects of Youth Voluntary Associations on Early Adult Voting. In The Centre for Information and Research on Civic Learning and Engagement (CIRCLE). Medford, MA: Tufts University. Available at: https://files.eric.ed.gov/fulltext/ ED512250.pdf. Accessed 22 November 2019. Tonge, J., & Mycock, A. (2010). Citizenship and Political Engagement Among Young People: The Workings and Findings of the Youth Citizenship Commission. Parliamentary Affairs, 63(1), 182–200. Turner, V. (1969). The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-structure. New York: Cornell University Press. van Gennep, A. (1909). The Rites of Passage. Chicago: Chicago University Press. Wood, B. E. (2012). Crafted Within Liminal Spaces: Young People’s Everyday Politics. Political Geography, 31(6), 337–346. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.pol geo.2012.05.003. Wood, B. E. (2014). Researching the Everyday: Young People’s Experiences and Expressions of Citizenship. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 27 (2), 214–232. https://doi.org/10.1080/09518398.2012. 737047. Wood, B. E. (2016). Excluded Citizens? Participatory Research with Young People from a “Failing” School Community. Children’s Geographies, 14 (3), 310–324. https://doi.org/10.1080/14733285.2015.1043515.

7 Understanding Community, Culture and Recreation as Resilience Resources for Indigenous Young People Darlene Wall, Linda Liebenberg, Janice Ikeda, Doreen Davis-Ward, and Youth Participants from Spaces & Places, Port Hope Simpson

Indigenous young people in Canada continue to live within the socio-economic and political legacy of colonisation and marginalisation, confronted by environments harmful to their psychological and social development (Fleming and Ledogar 2008; Pollock et al. 2016). Poorly resourced communities amplify social exclusion, reducing positive outcomes for young people (Adelson 2005; Galabuzi 2004). The result of these conditions includes poverty and high unemployment D. Wall (B) NunatuKavut Community Council (NCC), Happy Valley-Goose Bay, NL, Canada e-mail: [email protected] L. Liebenberg Dalhousie University, Halifax, NS, Canada e-mail: [email protected] J. Ikeda Halifax, NS, Canada

© The Author(s) 2021 L. Moran et al. (eds.), Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People, Studies in Childhood and Youth, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-55647-1_7

163

164

D. Wall et al.

rates (Macdonald and Wilson 2013), overrepresentation in child welfare and justice systems (CCCYA 2010; Munch 2010), and mental health concerns (Mignone and O’Neil 2005) including substance abuse and suicide (CCCYA 2010; Pollock et al. 2016). Increasingly, however, research is pointing to the mitigating effects of resilience in high-risk contexts for young people exposed to poverty, cultural dislocation, marginalisation and other such risks (Masten 2014). Understood as an interactive ecological process drawing on personal capacities (self-efficacy, self-confidence, etc.) as well as physical and relational resources situated amongst families, schools and communities (Liebenberg 2020), resilience includes meaningful connection to community and culture. Indigenous resilience research is highlighting the importance of relational resources located within personal ecologies, including relationships to land, in promoting positive psychosocial outcomes (Fleming and Ledogar 2008; Kirmayer et al. 2011). Importantly, research is demonstrating that increased cultural engagement by Indigenous young people is linked to significantly reduced rates of suicide (Chandler and Lalonde 1998; Mignone and O’Neil 2005; Wilkinson and Marmot 2003). Accordingly, cultural continuity (the systemic sharing of culture across generations through formal and informal community structures) and the community engagement that supports it are seen as important contributors to resilience. What we understand less well is how communities can facilitate this engagement. Without a critical examination of the conditions that lead to young people’s alienation from or connection to their culture and communities, attempts at fostering these connections will be largely unsuccessful. Spaces & Places (S&P; www.youthspacesandplaces.org) responds to this gap in our knowledge, exploring the contextually embedded processes that bolster community connection and cultural engagement. Image-based methods were used in a Participatory Action Research D. Davis-Ward Port Hope Simpson, NL, Canada Youth Participants from Spaces & Places, Port Hope Simpson Port Hope Simpson Youth Group, Port Hope Simpson, NL, Canada

7 Understanding Community, Culture and Recreation …

165

(PAR) study to facilitate richer narratives of young people’s lived experiences, where narration aligned with traditional Indigenous storytelling (Liebenberg et al. 2018). This chapter seeks to highlight ways in which communities (in remote Southern Labrador especially) can better support the civic and related cultural engagement of young people living there as a means of promoting healthy psychosocial outcomes. Drawing on young people’s narratives from one of the sites, this chapter elucidates the ways in which participants understand their support needs in relation to recreation and related cultural engagement within their physical landscape.

The Importance of Community Engagement as a Resilience Resource in Supporting Indigenous Young People Indigenous young people navigate numerous risks daily. Intergenerational trauma (the ways in which the impact of trauma stemming from mechanisms of cultural genocide is transmitted across generations; Bombay et al. 2009), loss of language and culture and lowsocio-economic status contribute to the significant challenges they face (Adelson 2005; Greenwood; 2005; Lalonde 2005; Loppie Reading and Wien 2009). In contexts such as those of the current study, industry collapse combined with climate change and resulting increased financial insecurity compound these challenges (Hood et al. 2013; MacDonald et al. 2013). Collectively, these challenges place Indigenous young people at risk of poor outcomes including disengagement from school, substance abuse, engagement with the criminal justice system and unemployment (Adelson 2005; Galabuzi 2004; Loppie Reading and Wien 2009). Understanding the components of resilience that would aid young people in successfully navigating these challenges is a priority. As previously stated, resilience refers to an interactive process comprising personal capacities and relevant physical and relational resources situated within social contexts (Liebenberg 2020; Masten 2014). The

166

D. Wall et al.

later components include access to recreational resources (Barnes 2016; Obradovic and Masten 2007) and connection to culture (Fleming and Ledogar 2008; Kirmayer et al. 2011; Theron and Liebenberg 2015). Research has demonstrated that Indigenous culture is inextricably linked to land/place, and that a collectivist sense of community and self emerges from this place-based framework. Unsurprisingly, Indigenous understandings of resilience are also strongly connected to space and place (Fleming and Ledogar 2008; Lalonde 2005). As McGuire (2010) explains, “Knowing who I am and where I came from gives me a solid foundation in my life … this is the base that nurtures, heals, and is nourishing me” (p. 119). In their work around youth suicide, Chandler and Lalonde (1998) demonstrated the need for cultural continuity as a central component of improving Indigenous youth identity, self-esteem and sense of hope and future (see also Kirmayer et al. 2003; Lalonde 2005; Lalonde and Chandler 2004). Meaningful connections to culture and community are key to positive outcomes for the most marginalised of Indigenous young people (Caldwell 2008; Kirmayer et al. 2003). While the resources that may facilitate these connections in rural and remote communities seem scarce, resources such as the structuring of recreational spaces, or access to the natural environment surrounding these communities, can profoundly impact positive outcomes (Martin and Marsh 2008; Wilson and Peters 2005). The question remains, however, what does connection to culture and community look like for Indigenous young people and how can this be meaningfully fostered.

Spaces & Places S&P explored the cultural continuity and civic engagement of Indigenous young people living in two remote communities of Labrador (n 1 = 9; n 2 = 8), and one rural community in Nova Scotia (n 3 = 8), Canada. The study made use of resilience theory as discussed above, to (1) explore how young people interact with their community resources as well as what resources they felt were missing in their lives; (2) how these resources and related interactions impact on where and how they spend their free time; and consequently, (3) how they connect with their culture

7 Understanding Community, Culture and Recreation …

167

and community as well as feel they are prevented from connecting with these. Ethics approval was obtained for the study from Dalhousie University, the Health Research Ethics Authority (HREA) of Newfoundland & Labrador (NL) and each of the participating communities. This chapter reports on the findings from one of the three sites, Port Hope Simpson. Port Hope Simpson was founded in the 1930s and is a remote town located on the southeastern Labrador coast. Of the 412 people living there in 2016, 85 were under the age of 19 (Statistics Canada). The region is officially considered part of the Canadian Far North. The community falls within the NunatuKavut region of the NunatuKavut Community Council, and the population is predominantly Southern Inuit. The local school is overseen by the NL English School District School Board. Nine young people from Port Hope Simpson participated in the study. Five of these participants were young women (Suzanne1 and Raya, both aged 12, Ava 14 and Sandra and Kaylee, both 17), and four young men (Dale and Evan aged 12, Tony, 14 and John, 17). All young people and their families negotiate the complexities of a remote Indigenous community daily. Despite these challenges, all young people invited to participate in the study were considered by their community to be doing well. In addition to the young people, our team included Janice (Project Manager), Doreen (Site Researcher), Darlene (Co-PI) and Linda (PI).

Methods S&P made use of visual elicitation methods situated within a PAR framework. Developed through a collaboration of community-based service providers and researchers (Liebenberg et al. 2017; Liebenberg et al. 2018), once young people agreed to participate, they collaborated on data gathering, analysis and dissemination. First, young people produced photographs over seven days of spaces and places in their community that made them feel they belong, and spaces and places that made them feel they do not belong. Additionally, as much of a day in each young person’s life was video recorded by two researchers, after which thirty-minute compilations were made

168

D. Wall et al.

of each young person’s day. Two individual elicitation interviews were then conducted with each of the young people, one focused on their photographs and the other on their video (Liebenberg et al. 2014). A focus group interview was then conducted with all young people at each site. Data analysis workshops took place over a weekend and were developed around the principles of thematic analysis (Guest et al. 2012; Liebenberg et al. 2020). Rather than working directly with interview transcripts, young people were asked to draw from memory on what they had shared in their interviews while working together as a group, through a series of activities. These were designed to elucidate cross-cutting themes from which findings could emerge and included collage work with photographs, community mapping and body mapping (drawing large images of young people to explore what a happy healthy young person looks like and what supports are needed for young people to achieve this) (Liebenberg et al. 2020). A findings framework at each site formed the basis of further collaborative dissemination projects. The data used in this chapter was gathered and analysed over a period of four months. The narrative-based methods used in this study, align with the decolonisation of research and a move to embrace transformative and Indigenous ways of knowing (Castleden et al. 2008; Mitchell et al. 2017), centring youth voices in a broader discussion of social ecologies. In order to be meaningful, knowledge must be rooted in the realities it is trying to explain, emerging from those with lived expertise— in this case young people (Kana’iaupuni 2005). Elicitation interviews incorporating participant-made photographs enable researchers to access marginalised voices, overcome power imbalances and facilitate richer narratives and more meaningful dialogue (Liebenberg 2009; Castleden et al. 2008). The focus of interviews is not so much the content of the image, but how the content is given meaning by participants. This approach offers marginalised groups including young people an opportunity to re-produce and understand their world in opposition to dominant discourses and representations (Mitchell et al. 2017). These methods position participants as authorities on their own lives, directing the tone and focus of their narratives (Liebenberg 2009). This study’s design also acknowledges the difficulty of understanding obscured processes in the

7 Understanding Community, Culture and Recreation …

169

lives of young people, by incorporating interviews of video-observation data. Previous research has demonstrated the value of this process in enhancing the richness of young people’s narratives when exploring hidden processes (Liebenberg et al. 2014). As this chapter shares findings that emerged from this data analysis workshop, excerpts presented are taken from transcripts of the workshops rather than individual interviews.

Findings Young people identified three core themes: Entertainment, Lifestyle and Culture. The cultural activities that young people engage in are ones they enjoy and do for entertainment. By contrast, their parents did these activities to survive. Consequently, these activities formed an integral part of their lifestyle. Reflecting on how to integrate cultural activities into their lives more meaningfully, young people realise that their own lived realities interfere with their capacity to engage with these activities in traditional ways. There is a lack of opportunities for them to engage in cultural activities and that this stems in part from a disconnect between their parents and themselves in terms of socio-economic life requirements, and the way in which cultural activities are relatedly positioned in their lives. Reflecting critically on their analysis, young people realised that their voices need to be heard in order to make meaningful change for young people’s engagement. These findings are expanded on here.

What We Do, and Don’t Do Young people identified numerous activities that they engage in. Indoor activities included watching TV, playing video games and “hanging out ” on social media. Outdoor activities involved hiking, skidooing (i.e. riding on a snowmobile), snowshoeing, skiing, camping, swimming, fishing, hunting, sledding, hauling wood, as well as having bonfires (i.e. traditional activity burning unwanted brush and wood that provides entertainment and celebration) and boil-ups (i.e. small fires used for

170

D. Wall et al.

cooking and boiling water for tea/coffee/hot chocolate, a tradition social familial practice rooted in trapping and hunting). Young people noted how they engage in these activities mostly in informal ways, but that formal programming facilitated more regular engagement. This programming is arranged predominantly by the Junior Canadian Rangers (JCR), a programme run by National Defence and the Canadian Forces. The aim of JCR is to promote traditional cultures and lifestyles by offering a variety of structured activities to young people aged 12–18 living in remote and isolated communities. Young people concluded that they did not engage informally in traditional land-based activities often enough and that of all activities, they engage in skidooing and indoor activities most. During winter, skidooing is a primary form of transportation in the town, as well as a source of recreation. With regard to indoor technology-based activities, young people explained that while they do these activities often, they are “repetitive [and] boring ” (Evan) and that they “do them when I’m bored ” (Raya). In fact, when asked “when you play [video games] how do you feel? ” Evan responded that he felt “nothing really, I just play”. He explains that “It used to be entertaining ” but now “it’s boring ”. Of importance to understanding cultural components of resilience, these indoor activities are far removed from the land-based culturally connected activities flagged as promotive of positive outcomes for Indigenous young people. Underscoring their ambivalent engagement with tech-based activities as boring is the young people’s discussion around new and exciting activities. They explain that these activities would mean “possibly not [spending] as much [time on the] internet ” (Raya). Discussing activities they see others engage because of related boredom, young people believe there would be “less drinking. A lot less” (Sandra). Extending the focus to health, young people go on to say that they need “more exercise” (Suzanne) but that they don’t get it “because we’re lazy” (Suzanne), “because of technology” (Dale). Indeed, young people’s experience of their community is profoundly shaped by a sense of boredom: Very boring” (Suzanne) “It’s remote” (Tony) “I wish there was more stuff to do … It gets old if you’ve only got a few things to do (Raya).

7 Understanding Community, Culture and Recreation …

171

Young people initially explain that this is because “this is a small community” and “there’s not much to do around here” (Raya). They explain that they don’t engage in some of the activities because they are boring, and they are “repetitive”: “There’s actually a lot of stuff to do. We just get bored of it because we just do it so much” (Suzanne). Consequently, young people spend much of their time online: on the internet, on Facebook, and playing video games. As Raya explains: “I only watch things on the internet when there’s nothing else to do, and if I always had something to do, then I wouldn’t use the internet as much”. In comparing their community to urban settings, young people recognise that in a bigger community, their activities would be largely indoors (an indoor arena for skating and swimming, more shops). Young people realise that their community affords them a lot of freedom that would be lost in larger settings: “More movement freedom” (Tony) because “there’s a lot less crime here than there would be in a bigger area” (John). There would be “less walking and running ” (John) and the “Hunting wouldn’t be there. Hunting and fishing and that ” (Tony). Young people conclude that “it wouldn’t be as easy” (Sandra), “I guess if we had more people, the town would look a lot different ” (John). Accessibility to the outdoors as facilitated by their small community is important to young people. Activities related to the outdoors are “physical ” (Tony) and keep you “fit ” and “healthy” (Ava), notions echoed in other research on Indigenous resilience resources (Kirmayer et al. 2011). Additionally, they regard these outdoor activities as “fun” and “exciting ” (Raya). Young people explain that growing up in a small town has made them more “independent … [because I] … have to do things on my own” (Raya). They also believe that “you appreciate things a lot more” (Sandra) because “things don’t just get handed to you … you have to work for the things you get, you actually deserve them” (Raya). As Carla says while working on a body map, “I’m going to draw some flowers around because in this town there’s a lot of really pretty scenery and nice things. … Especially at night time because you can see stars and everything. If we were in the city, there would be too much light pollution and smog and stuff ”.

172

D. Wall et al.

The Outdoors and Its Connection to Culture Young people define culture as something “you’ve been doing all your life” (Dale) and as “something identifying who you are” (Raya). Young people believe they are able to express Indigenous values in their daily lives through outdoor activities such as hunting, fishing, hauling wood and so forth. For example, young people share experiences that highlight the importance of heritage and connection with ancestors (see Fig. 7.1): Janice: So what does Inukshuk2 mean to you guys? Raya: Well, there’s a lot around here. … Tony: I’ve built them myself. Raya: I have too. I’m not sure where it is now, my dad would know the name of the place, but my great, great grandparents, … and also my dad when he was a little boy, he and his brother used to go out to

Fig. 7.1 Inukshuk (Spaces & Places Hopedale Youth Participants)

7 Understanding Community, Culture and Recreation …

173

this place and there’s an Inukshuk built, and it’s really special because my great, great grandparents helped build it too, and they’re not here anymore. And, I think it was last winter, we went out to the place to see the Inukshuk, and I got to add a piece to it. Janice: That’s really special. Raya: Yeah.

Young people also underscore the intergenerational aspect of culture where Elders and family form a strong link between young people and engagement in traditional land-based activities: Janice: What does culture mean to you? Dale: Hunting Janice: And why is hunting important to you? Dale: Survival! Janice: … why do you think that family fits under the theme of culture? Suzanne: They help. They teach us how to hunt and fish and stuff like that.

Supporting existing findings (Fleming and Ledogar 2008; Kirmayer et al. 2011; Lalonde 2005), culture for young people in Port Hope Simpson is clearly reflected in land-based activities. Culture is also clearly connected to the landscape. When drawing a body map, Raya for example says “Maybe in the legs we could have some trees and that, or something. You know what I mean? We could have a snowshoe on the other foot. That could represent the culture”. Later in the same session she reiterates, “We should draw trees and an axe. … That’s part of our culture”.

Dualities and Contradictions As reflected in the findings presented so far, there are dualities and contradictions in young people’s experiences. While there appears to be a lot to do in the community, young people complain they are bored and that there is very little, if anying to do. While young people believe they

174

D. Wall et al.

have limited entertainment options because they live in a small community, they appreciate and value their community in part precisely because of its small size. Young people express an interest in outdoor activities and their culture; yet believe they are not engaging in these activities. Rather, they spend most of their time “on-line”, something they regard as boring. Reviewing these aspects in more detail amplifies the dualities and contradictions. The ambivalent relationship young people have with technology belies two important roles that it does fill in their lives (separate from entertainment). First, the internet provides an important point of connection within the community, where social media facilitates communication. Similarly, social media provides young people with access to others beyond the community. In discussing their body map, the younger group of youth explain: Janice: What do you do when there’s nothing to do? Dale: Technology, usually. Suzanne: Everybody likes technology. Janice: So what are you drawing now? Suzanne: Showing that she’s friends with everyone. Janice: Okay, good. And so she’s… connected to the rest of the world. Even though she lives in a small community, she’s connected to the world through Facebook.

Second, despite the negative connotations in their narratives regarding technology, it supports a sense of community and belonging. This is seen in the previous transcript as well as in other statements such as: Janice: So how does having the Xbox make you who you are? Kris: Well, it’s pretty popular I guess, so a lot of guys is used to it. Janice: Okay, so it’s popular with boys and girls here. … So what does that mean to you, that it’s popular with everybody? How does that impact you? Kris: It makes you feel like you belong…

However, young people state that they would rather be outdoors than indoors, engaged with technology:

7 Understanding Community, Culture and Recreation …

175

Janice: What you were saying … is that you would rather be outdoors skidooing with friends than on the internet. Is that correct? Young people: Yeah, that’s correct!

These discussions suggest that in the absence of other options, technology facilitates social connection and belonging. They also suggest that using technology for entertainment, in-and-of-itself is not the attraction, but rather the fact that other activities and resources that create a sense of community and provide entertainment are not as accessible and/or prevalent as young people would like them to be. Indeed, the narrative that emerges, while exploring what activities young people believe they would find engaging, highlights this. Young people begin by saying that the community needs an arena where they could swim without being pestered by flies, skate without getting cold, and play laser tag and paintball. Interestingly, as they discussed paintball, the activities—that reflected connection to traditional activities—shifted from indoor to outdoor: John: Maybe if you had a paintball arena outdoors, in the wilderness, that would be way cooler than just inside a building. Raya: Yeah, it would. Like the trees and everything. John: You’d just get the overall feeling of the game. Irene: It would be cool. John: It would make the game so much more of an experience. … Janice: But would [these activities] not also get old? Sandra: … I’d say paintball around here would be pretty good because even like the older people, … would have a field day with it. … … Raya: Yeah, it wouldn’t be the same thing over and over again. Tony: Yeah, if they changed the course every now and then, maybe every week they’d change the game a bit. That’d be pretty good.

Faced with the seeming contradictions of having nothing to do because “things are repetitive” and “get old ”, yet enjoying the outdoors and having an apparent abundance of outdoor activities, more complex dynamics emerge. Of note in the previous section of narrative, are the

176

D. Wall et al.

intergenerational relationships in the community. Young people want to engage in outdoor activities with their parents, grandparents and other adults in the community—relational connections embedded in landbased activities. Young people also identify barriers to these types of connections. While discussing the frequency of doing more traditional activities like hauling wood, the following emerges: Janice: Okay, now how many of you would say your dad or your grandparents go often? Tony: Oh my god! Raya: Like, every day! Janice: Okay, so why aren’t you guys going often? John: Because we don’t like labour. Tony: We’d rather be at home, sleep, eat food, be on the internet. Go on skidoos, be with our friends. … Raya: Dad loves hauling wood. Tony: I’m not sure if our dad loves it, but he does it a lot. … Janice: … What are some [of the] reasons why your parents might haul wood often, but you don’t? Raya: My dad used to go in the mornings, but I’m at school. Tony: We might slow them down. Janice: How might you slow them down. M : Because we won’t be as good at it as they are, because they’ve been doing it for a long time, and then bringing us into it, even if they were willing to teach us how to do it, we’d be willing to work with it, we’d still be slowing them down. … Suzanne: My dad’s afraid I might get hurt. … Evan: We might be asleep.

Exploring reasons for engaging in traditional activities exposes complex generational dynamics: Janice: So … when your parents were your age … do you think they might have been sleeping? [Their parents] might have been worried that

7 Understanding Community, Culture and Recreation …

177

they were hurt? [Your parents] might have wanted to be with their friends? They may have slowed down their dads? Suzanne: I think when my parents were younger they were more used to wooding. Janice: Okay, why do you think they’re more used to working and you’re not? Suzanne: Well, maybe they had to work for money. Because they needed to help out. John: Yeah, money was a big issue. Janice: Okay, so the young people needed to work for money to help pay for things with the adults? Young people: Yeah. Janice: Okay, and you don’t need to do that? John: They never had … as many job opportunities as we do. So [now] there are other ways to get money and provide for yourself or your family. Janice: Okay, so … how do you think hauling wood lead to money? John: Well, not just money, but it keeps you warm in the winters, it builds your house, it is your sheds. All these small necessities… Janice: Aha. So they hauled wood because they had to? Is that what you’re saying: your grandparents and your parents hauled wood because they had to? They needed to, to survive. John: Yeah. Janice: So what do you guys need to do to survive? Evan: Nothing. [Laughing] … Open the fridge.

Young people identify this same pattern with skidooing, hunting and fishing. These “generation gaps” between young people and Elders and their differing motivations to engage in outdoor activities result in decreased youth engagement. Reflecting on their disengagement from outdoor activities, young people state: Janice: So, looking at all these activities, why aren’t … doing all of these things? Tony: The opportunities to do each of those things come very, in small amounts. We don’t get much opportunity to go fishing or go to JCR’s, do indoor sports, boil ups.

178

D. Wall et al.

Exploring why this is, young people note that people’s “personal lives interfere with group activities” as does “lack of communication” (Janice) between young people and between organisations and young people. At other times, a lack of “money might be an issue” (Evan) compounded by “having a job” (Suzanne) and/or “Busy parents” (Janice). Young people explain, Raya: It’s not like we have to go hunting to survive, like they did before. Tony: Yeah. … You don’t need to do that to survive, but it’s just some things are a priority over hunting.

Supporting Engagement Young people recognise that these patterns of intergenerational disconnect and in particular youth disengagement need to change if they are to retain connection to their culture. They feel that communication needs to be improved and that more organised events are needed. Finding ways of improving young people’s recreational and social context in such a remote community is especially important given the connection of these activities to culture. As is reiterated in the following exchange: Janice: How connected do you feel to your culture? Raya: Well, we don’t get… Tony: Organized social activities could help a lot more.

Young people also say: Raya: WE could get more involved. Tony: Like if we had our own winter games sort of thing within the community. Raya: Yeah, and learned more about our culture. Tony: Yeah. Raya: We don’t have many opportunities to do much with our culture. Tony: But not the boring kind of activities where you just sit down and listen to someone talk for six hours in a slump. That’s not going to get people anywhere learning about their culture. You need to make inventive ways to get people interested.

7 Understanding Community, Culture and Recreation …

179

The young people conclude that ultimately, “We all need to take initiative and step out and we all just need to help and get these kinds of activities, and get these social events running ” (Tony). Specifically: Tony: Everyone. Everyone can help. Families, individuals and the community. Raya: Our society. Tony: We can all pitch in to get these kinds of activities on the go and make more opportunities for us to turn these activities into ours. Doreen: You work now as individuals, it’s your voice. So whose responsibility is it to make that voice heard? Raya: I was thinking that maybe the people all around us don’t know that we are interested in learning these things. So its our responsibility to get our voice heard. Janice: [And] once you get your voice heard, then whose responsibility is it? Raya: Us to keep interested and want to do it, and our community and society in helping us do it. … before I thought that we were all antisocial because we needed to wait for our community and family and society to help us change, but really we’re the ones that need to start change because our voices need to be heard. Janice: Right on. Tony: I didn’t realize what little change is going on in between everything. That it’s repetition and the same events going on over and over. Same mindset, same thinking. Everything’s the same. It doesn’t change much. It’s a small community, so big change doesn’t happen very often.

Discussion The young people’s analysis of their interviews highlights the ways in which lifestyle shapes connection to culture within their community. For their parents and grandparents, engagement in cultural activities was a necessity, ensuring survival. For young people, however, the changing socio-economic landscape in which they find themselves prioritises education and employment opportunities. These components of

180

D. Wall et al.

their contemporary lifestyle shape their connection to culture, changing it from a necessity to entertainment. Ultimately, findings show that young people are caught between a traditional world that shaped the experiences and interactions of their parents and grandparents, and a contemporary world that shapes their own experiences. In this contemporary world, attending school, having part-time work and so forth informs time use. Within this transitional space, young people recognise their desire to remain connected to their cultural, community and family traditions. Simultaneously, they recognise that because they have a “lack of opportunities this [music, internet, friends, ski-doing, outdoor physical activity, and family] is what our culture is” (Raya) rather than “hunting, JCRs, hauling wood, organised social activities, peers, boil -ups and fishing ” (see Fig. 7.2). Consequently, young people find themselves at a veritable crossroad. They want to find ways of adapting cultural activities that were once engaged in as a matter of survival, into recreational spaces. As the young people say, they need to find a way of making these activities “become a priority” even if they are not “a necessity … something that we would value over something like the internet ” (Tony). Furthermore, young people analysis of the data elucidates the ways in which they envision this happening, allowing cultural activities to become “a priority” (Tony) in the lives of young people. Specifically, while young people identify many activities that they are engaged in, and many that they would like to be engaged in, ultimately, it is social engagement, facilitated through organised social events, that form the mechanism to establish the relational spaces. Activities are the mechanisms that facilitate (1) intergenerational connections and (2) connection to culturally related activities. So, while young people began by identifying very specific changes linked to physical resources that they felt were necessary (like building an arena or a zip line), they conclude that they actually require socially based activities that are organised more formally at a community-wide level, that will facilitate these types of informal interactions. In contrast to current organised activities (such as JCR which targets adolescents, negating intergenerational engagement), they are looking for events that while formally arranged are more informal and that are intergenerational: they want their parents and grandparents to

7 Understanding Community, Culture and Recreation …

181

Fig. 7.2 Staying connected to culture (Current versus ideal cultural engagement activities)

teach them traditional cultural activities and then to spend time engaged in these activities with young people. These types of organised, yet informal, intergenerational social events would facilitate cultural engagement, making traditional activities like hauling wood a priority, even though they are not a necessity. Simultaneously, there is a need for adults to make a space for young people to explore their own ways of integrating

182

D. Wall et al.

traditional activities into their current contexts, all the while being relationally and physically present to provide encouragement, support and where necessary, guidance. Importantly, young people recognise their agency in these processes: they want recreational opportunities and related cultural engagement to change in their community, but they realise that they need to be a part of this change. It cannot be up to adults alone (who are not living the lives young people are), and it cannot be up to young people alone (who don’t hold the cultural knowledge adults do, and are simultaneously dependent on their parents). It is only by working together that meaningful options to recreational and cultural engagement can be found. Echoing the role of their voice in community change, the use of reflective narrative in this study ensured that young people lived experience was at the centre of our developing understanding of the role of recreation in facilitating connection to community and culture as core resilience components in Indigenous youth outcomes (see also Liebenberg 2009; Liebenberg et al. 2014). Additionally, asking young people to analyse their own data ensured that findings stayed closer to their lived experiences and the stories they shared of these experiences (Liebenberg et al. 2020). In our understanding of how to facilitate cultural engagement in an effort to support positive mental health outcomes, it is the rich narratives young people shared of how they value their natural environment (connection to the land), and the traditional activities that can be engaged with intergenerationally in that space as acts of recreation (connection to Elders and tradition) that serve to direct how and where communities and policymakers better allocate resources. Other research approaches may have belied the complex ways in which generational change creates a disconnect between young people and adults, and related engagement. The group storytelling process (i.e. the focus group and data analysis) also created a space within which young people could realise their own agency in bridging these generational divides and finding ways in which to facilitate greater youth engagement in land-based and traditional activities as recreation, and across generations.

7 Understanding Community, Culture and Recreation …

183

Conclusion Findings from this study, link to an interactive ecological understanding of resilience (Liebenberg 2020). In particular, the reflective narrative research process combined with the interactive analysis of their data brought to the fore for young people, the role of their own agency in facilitating their access to cultural activities within larger relational resilience process. Simultaneously, their narratives and the interrogation thereof highlighted a very clear desire to draw on community relationships and physical resources in accessing and engaging in traditional activities. Furthermore, their findings align with Indigenous models of resilience (Fleming and Ledogar 2008; Kirmayer et al. 2011). Young people want to engage in cultural land-based activities, recognising the ways in which specifically intergenerational relationships would bring meaning to this engagement. Underlying these resilience resources is a traditional relational framework: the meaningful and respectful connections between living creatures (including people) and the land (Wilson 2008). Similarly, they are eager to have physical resources developed in the community that will facilitate these intergenerational connections and related land-based activities. Importantly, the awareness of their own agency in establishing intergenerational social opportunities that would in turn facilitate cultural connection underscores the need for cultural continuity. Chandler and Lalonde’s (1998) findings highlighted the value of community control over governance of community structures and services. In their own analysis of the data, young people uncover the importance of including their voices in this governance and the structuring of local recreational resources. As Doreen reflects on the final day of the data analysis, “I learned that of course the responsibility is with the young people and that we as the adults and the community don’t pay as much attention to the young people as we should”. These findings point to the value of including youth voices in local governance. Such cultural continuity as it relates to young people would allow for young people’s experiences and perspectives to be accounted for, bridging traditional activities situated in traditional lifestyles with the integration of traditional activities in contemporary lifestyle contexts. As the young people realised through the

184

D. Wall et al.

research, “young people in this generation need to be heard, and young people need to be a voice not an echo” because “strong voices open up windows to a better future”. Funding Information Funding for this project was received from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada (Grants No. 890-20110023).

Notes 1. All youth names are pseudonyms, selected by youth themselves. 2. A human-made stone marker used by peoples of the Arctic region including the Inuit for navigation, indicator of travel routes, fishing places, hunting grounds and so forth.

References Adelson, N. (2005). The Embodiment of Inequity: Health Disparities in Aboriginal Canada. Canadian Journal of Public Health, 96 (Supplement 2), S45–S61. Barnes, A. J. (2016). Childhood Stress and Resilience. In M. R. Korin (Ed.), Health Promotion for Children and Adolescents (pp. 85–98). New York: Springer. Bombay, A., Matheson, K., & Anisman, H. (2009, November). Intergenerational Trauma: Convergence of Multiple Processes Among First Nations Peoples in Canada. Journal of Aboriginal Health, 6–47. Caldwell, D. (2008). The Suicide Prevention Continuum. Pimatisiwin, 6 (2), 145–153. Castleden, H., Garvin, T., & Huu-ay-aht First Nation. (2008). Modifying Photovoice for Community-Based Participatory Indigenous Research. Social Science and Medicine, 66, 1393–1405. Canadian Council of Provincial Child and Youth Advocates (CCCYA). (2010). Aboriginal Children and Youth in Canada: Canada Must Do Better. Accessed

7 Understanding Community, Culture and Recreation …

185

19 November 2019 at: http://www.cccya.ca/images/english/pdf/aboriginal_c hildren_youth_advocates_position_paper_2010.pdf. Chandler, M. J., & Lalonde, C. (1998). Cultural Continuity as a Hedge Against Suicide in Canada’s First Nations. Transcultural Psychiatry, 35 (2), 191–219. Fleming, J., & Ledogar, R. J. (2008). Resilience, an Evolving Concept: A Review of the Literature Relevant to Aboriginal Research. Pimatisiwin, 6 (2), 7–23. Galabuzi, G. (2004). Social Exclusion. In D. Raphael (Ed.), Social Determinants of Health: Canadian Perspectives. Toronto, ON: Canadian Scholars’ Press. Greenwood, M. (2005). Children as Citizens of First Nations: Linking Indigenous Health to Early Childhood Development. Paediatric Child Health, 10 (9), 553–555. Guest, G., MacQueen, K. M., & Namey, E. E. (2012). Applied Thematic Analysis. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Hood, R., Martin, D., Mclaren, B., & Jackson, L. A. (2013). Youth Views on Environmental Changes, the Future of the Environment, and Stewardship: The Case of a Canadian Coastal Community. Society & Natural Resources: An International Journal, 24 (6), 616–625. Kana’iaupuni, S. M. (2005). Ka’akalai Ku Kanaka: A Call for Strengths-Based Approaches from a Native Hawaiian Perspective. Educational Researcher, 34 (5), 32–38. Kirmayer, L. J., Simpson, C., & Cargo, M. (2003). Healing Traditions: Culture, Community and Mental Health Promotion with Canadian Aboriginal Peoples. Australasian Psychiatry, 11, S15–S23. Kirmayer, L. J., Dandeneau, S., Marshall, E., Phillips, M. K., & Williamson, K. J. (2011). Rethinking Resilience from Indigenous Perspectives. The Canadian Journal of Psychiatry, 56 (2), 84–91. Lalonde, C. E., & Chandler, M. J. (2004). Culture, Selves and Time: Theories of Personal Persistence in Native and Non-Native Youth. In C. Lightfoot, C. E. Lalonde, & M. J. Chandler (Eds.), Changing Conceptions of Psychological Life (pp. 207–229). Laurence Erlbaum & Associates: Mahwah, NJ. Lalonde, C. E. (2005). Identity Formation and Cultural Resilience in Aboriginal Communities. In R. J. Flynn, P. M. Dudding, & J. G. Barber (Eds.), Promoting Resilience in Child Welfare (pp. 52–71). Ottawa, ON: University of Ottawa Press.

186

D. Wall et al.

Liebenberg, L. (2009). The Visual Image as Discussion Point: Increasing Validity in Boundary Crossing Research. Qualitative Research, 9 (4), 441– 467. Liebenberg, L. (2020). Reconsidering Interactive Resilience Processes in Mental Health: Implications for Child and Youth Services. Journal of Community Psychology, 1–16. https://doi.org/10.1002/jcop.22331. Liebenberg, L., Jamal, A., & Ikeda, J. (2020). Extending Youth Voices in a Participatory Thematic Analysis Approach. International Journal of Qualitative Methods, 19, 1–13. https://doi.org/10.1177/1609406920934614. Liebenberg, L., Sylliboy, A., Davis-Ward, D., & Vincent, A. (2017). Meaningful Engagement of Indigenous Youth in PAR: The Role of Community Partnerships. International Journal of Qualitative Methods, 16, 1–16. Liebenberg, L., Ungar, M., & Theron, L. (2014). Using Video Observation and Photo Elicitation Interviews to Understand Obscured Processes in the Lives of Resilient Youth. Childhood, 21(4), 532–547. Liebenberg, L., Wood, M., & Wall, D. (2018). Participatory Action Research with Indigenous Youth and Their Communities. In R. Iphofen & M. Tolich (Eds.), Handbook of Qualitative Research Ethics (pp. 339–353). London: Sage. Loppie Reading, C., & Wien, F. (2009). Health Inequities and Social Determinants of Aboriginal People’s Health. Prince George, BC: National Collaborating Centre for Aboriginal Health. Macdonald, D., & Wilson, D. (2013). Poverty or Prosperity: Indigenous Children in Canada. Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives. Accessed 19 November 2019 at: https://www.policyalternatives.ca/publications/reports/poverty-orprosperity. MacDonald, J. P., Harper, S. L., Cunsolo-Willox, A., Edge, V. L., & Rigolet Inuit Community Government. (2013). A Necessary Voice: Climate Change and Lived Experiences of Youth in Rigolet, Nunatsiavut, Canada. Global Environmental Change, 23, 360–371. Martin, A. J., & Marsh, H. W. (2008). Academic Buoyancy: Towards an Understanding of Students’ Everyday Academic Resilience. Journal of School Psychology, 46 (1), 53–83. Masten, A. S. (2014). Ordinary Magic: Resilience in Development. New York, NY: Guilford Press. McGuire, P. D. (2010). Exploring Resilience and Indigenous Ways of Knowing. Pimatisiwin, 8(2), 117–131.

7 Understanding Community, Culture and Recreation …

187

Mignone, J., & O’Neil, J. (2005). Social Capital and Youth Suicide Risk Factors in First Nations Communities. Canadian Journal of Public Health, 96 (1), S51–S54. Mitchell, C., De Lange, N., & Moletsane, R. (2017). Participatory Visual Methodologies. London: Sage. Munch, C. (2010). Youth Correctional Statistics in Canada. Ottawa: Statistics Canada. Obradovic, J., & Masten, A. S. (2007). Developmental Antecedents of Young Adult Civic Engagement. Applied Developmental Science, 11(1), 2–19. Pollock, N. J., Mulay, S., Valcour, J., & Jong, M. (2016). Suicide Rates in Aboriginal Communities in Labrador, Canada. American Journal of Public Health, 106 (7), 1309–1315. Theron, L., & Liebenberg, L. (2015). Understanding Cultural Contexts and Their Relationship to Resilience Processes. In L. Theron, L. Liebenberg, & M. Ungar (Eds.), Youth Resilience and Culture: Commonalities and complexities (pp. 23–36). New York: Springer. Wilkinson, R., & Marmot, M. (Eds.). (2003). Social Determinants of Health: The Solid Facts (2nd ed.). Copenhagen, Denmark: World Health Organisation. Wilson, K., & Peters, E. J. (2005). “You Can Make a Place for It”: Remapping Urban First Nations Spaces of Identity. Environment and Planning D: Society and Space, 23(3), 395–413. Wilson, S. (2008). Research Is Ceremony: Indigenous Research Methods. Blackpoint, NS: Fernwood Publishing.

8 Exploring Childhood in Ireland: Narrating the Places and Spaces of Everyday Life Kathy Reilly and T. J. Hughes

Introduction: Critical Children’s Geographies The extant literature in the field of critical geographies of children, young people and families has served to centrally re-position children’s discourse within a contemporary geographic research agenda. Similar to the contextual milieu of feminist geographies, the struggle to give voice, and acknowledge the legitimacy of children’s voices, has emerged as a well-documented and accepted theme (e.g. James 1990; Matthews and Limb 1999; Valentine 2000). Children’s geographers have critiqued patriarchal interpretations that conceptualise children as adults in waiting (Ansell 2005; Skelton 2009; Wyn et al. 2012), recognising K. Reilly (B) School of Geography, Archaeology and Irish Studies, National University of Ireland, Galway, Ireland e-mail: [email protected] T. J. Hughes National University of Ireland, Galway, Ireland e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s) 2021 L. Moran et al. (eds.), Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People, Studies in Childhood and Youth, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-55647-1_8

189

190

K. Reilly and T. J. Hughes

that children are much more than social actors within the familial environment and that such positioning demands that the agency they possess be subject to academic attention (e.g. James 1990; Holt 2011). Drawing from the Places and Spaces of Childhood in Ireland Project (PSCP) archive, this chapter explores how children narrate their experience of place, unpacking the everyday where and how of childhood through themes of risk, mobility and liminality. The archive was constructed using a combined qualitative methodology, incorporating 90 story-maps from children aged 8–10 years old. Each archived story-map includes a mental map and transcribed interview contributed by participating children (further details below). Through the prioritisation of children’s voices, the PSCP archive facilitates an exploration of local knowledges, considering participants’ perceptions of, and engagements with, everyday places. Central to this is an adherence to James’ (1990, p. 283) call insisting that ‘geography must view reality through the eyes of both children and adults’, thus exploring with greater depth the tacit influence of hegemonic social values and institutional structures on the lives of children. Critical children’s geographies research has long committed to repositioning the child’s voice as central to contemporary inquiry in the sub-discipline. This is well accepted within the methodological practice of children’s geographers (for further discussion, see Aitken 2017, 2019) and is characterised by a diverse array of qualitative approaches. In making space to acknowledge the importance of the child’s voice, children’s perspectives become situated in relation to hegemonic discourses of adulthood rather than in opposition to it (Valentine 2000, p. 257). The resulting perspectives exemplify a thematic richness of research emerging from this field of study (Kraftl 2019; Kraftl and Horton 2018). The PSCP is a further example of this type of work, combining qualitative narrative approaches to understand children’s perception of place, unpacking experiences of mobility, relative to children’s emotive responses to spending time in life’s everyday places (e.g. school, home, play spaces). In following this trajectory, the chapter has a dual focus; firstly, we reflect on the methodological complexities of using a storymapping methodology with children aged 8–10 and outline the steps taken as part of the data collection process. Secondly, the chapter draws

8 Exploring Childhood in Ireland …

191

from the PSCP archive to examine themes of environmental perception, risk and vulnerability discourses, and the geographies of friendship emerging throughout children’s narratives. We also discuss children’s articulation of adult projections, whereby participating children identify freedom from spatial constraints linked with ‘growing-up’ and ‘getting big’. In exploring the chapter’s core themes, our discussion is sensitive to contributions advocating to incorporate children’s perspectives of the built environment (e.g. Matthews and Limb 1999). This work is often framed by a critique of hegemonic and adultist perspectives (e.g. Smith and Ansell 2009) as to what the built environment ‘should’ look like, limiting, and at times even excluding, children’s participation (for further examples, see Woolley 2008; Cele and van der Burgt 2015). In positioning the child’s voice at the centre of our understanding of the (built) environment, and in particular with children spending more and more time in institutionalised settings (Collins and Coleman 2008), there emerges an opportunity to better understand children’s spatial perspectives (Nayak 2003). The need to better understand these perspectives underpins the PSCP, providing an opportunity to reflect on the views of children and their lived experiences in a more meaningful way. Cresswell (2004) suggests that representations informing perceptions of place are both culturally driven and socially constructed. In advocating for deeper social and philosophical understandings of children’s places, we are particularly interested in examining the ‘un-choreographed [and] yet ordered practice’ (Cresswell 2004, p. 175) that make ‘place’ from a child’s perspective. Merriman (2009, p. 138) indicates that ‘places are constantly performed through the gathering of materials and movement ’, pointing towards the changing nature of place. As a result of such transience, places change over time and are contextual in terms of how meaning is made by those who enter and occupy them. Taken together in this chapter, these approaches have implications for how children interpret places important to the context of their own lived experience. Through story-mapping, the PSCP allows for an interpretation of place through children’s sense of belonging, considering the anchor places of participating children’s everyday lives (for further discussion on the relationship

192

K. Reilly and T. J. Hughes

between place and belonging in children’s geographies, see Probyn 1996; den Besten 2010). Holloway and Valentine (2000) support the idea of childhood places as temporally specific (related, for example, to a period of time in a child’s day or life), and ultimately situated (e.g. in urban or rural areas). Furthermore, childhood encounters within places have also been explored through the lens of gender, mobility and play (Skelton 2009). In the context of this chapter, we examine perceptions of the environment with a focus on narrations of risk and vulnerability, in addition to the geographies of friendship that emerge through the development of the story-map. Reflecting work by others in this area (e.g. Freeman 2010; Gillespie 2010), the impact of spatial boundaries emerge, providing insight into the social autonomy of children contributing to the project. The PSCP then provides understanding as to where children like to spend their time, in addition to explicating their knowledge of place through demonstrating spatial literacy on the maps they draw (for a discussion on spatial literacy, see Jarvis et al. 2017).

Story-Mapping: Collaborative Methods and the Places and Spaces of Childhood Project Beginning in 2011, the central aim of the Places and Spaces of Childhood in Ireland Project (PSCP) was to contribute to work on children’s geographies in Ireland. Through the collection of children’s narratives of everyday life, the PSCP explores children’s knowledge and experience of their lived environment, in addition to their sense of belonging within this environment. The project’s focus was primarily on those places and spaces that children engage on a daily basis. Methodologically, this engagement was considered important for a number of reasons. Firstly, in the Irish context research exploring the everyday places and spaces of childhood through the lens of children’s geographies is quite sparse. Some exceptions here include Ní Laoire (2008) and White and Bushin (2011), and on the theme of geographies of education work by

8 Exploring Childhood in Ireland …

193

Ledwith and Reilly (2012, 2013, 2014). Secondly, and as highlighted elsewhere in this chapter, there has been a renewed effort to centralise the voice of the child in research with, on, and about children, legitimising and giving weight to the child’s perspective of, and on, their environment. Thirdly, some studies detail geographic perspectives of childhood in specific locations or on particular demographic cohorts in Ireland (e.g. work emerging from the Growing Up in Ireland1 survey data). There is very little qualitative data providing a snapshot account of broader crosscountry childhood spaces and places. Finally, it was envisaged that the collected data would highlight issues relating to children’s agency and spatial autonomy, providing a visual discourse through a story-mapping methodology of childhood mobility, pointing towards places deemed significant by participating children. Empirically, the project incorporates the story-map narratives of 90 children from across the Republic of Ireland. Each participating child has a story-map including a mental-map produced by a participating child, and this is coupled with a semistructured interview recording, with each child telling the story of their everyday places and spaces as inscribed on the maps they draw during the course of data collection. The project was conceptualised and implemented as a participatory learning project that sought to transcend students’ classroom learning through the development of field-based research skills (reflecting fieldbased learning principles outlined in Reilly et al. 2016). As a result, the PSCP draws together three core elements: university staff (the project Principal Investigator (PI), Dr Reilly in this instance), final year BA students (from St Patrick’s College, Dublin and National University of Ireland, Galway) and children aged 8–10 from across Ireland. To begin, over the course of the project 120 final year BA students were trained by the PI during a series of workshops and tutorials in a story-mapping methodology, particularly focusing on how this type of research design could be used to record children’s stories of everyday life. Students identified a child aged 8—10 in their own social network who would be willing to spend one–to-two hours drawing a map and who would consent to this process being recorded. In this instance, consent was received from both the participating child and a parent or guardian. In addition to constructing a picture of childhood in Ireland, this participatory

194

K. Reilly and T. J. Hughes

project evaluated student performance in field-based contexts, reviewing students’ effectiveness in co-creating geographic knowledge. By extension, the project explores the relationship between theory and practice, whereby classroom learning becomes practised in a field-based (and realworld) context (Morrissey et al. 2013; Reilly et al. 2016). Given that the students were attending universities in Dublin and Galway, there are significantly more participants from Dublin, eastern and western counties, representative of student recruitment and enrolment patterns in Irish universities. The project received institutional ethical approval and was in place as a form of assessment in two Irish universities from 2011 to 2015. Further to institutional requirements regarding ethical approval, there is much written within children’s geographies relating to the importance of establishing an ethical practice framework while researching with children and young people (Skelton 2008; Horton 2008). This was particularly important given that final year BA students were collecting data for the project. Participating students took part in ethics workshops exploring contributions and emerging issues through an introduction to ethics in geography and by examining a series of vignettes stemming from literature in the area of children’s geographies (e.g. Skelton 2008; Horton 2008). In particular, challenges arose in the context of recruiting children to participate in the PSCP; to address this issue, a layered consent approach was implemented. Firstly, final year BA students approached the parent(s)/guardian(s) of a child in their social network to seek permission for the child to participate. To support this activity, a Project Information Sheet was provided to parent(s)/guardian(s) with the relevant information related to the research. If parent(s)/guardian(s) were willing to allow their child to participate, then a consent form was completed. Following this, the child received a Project Information Sheet which allowed them to become more familiar with the project and more specifically, their role in the research process. If the child agreed to participate they also signed the consent form. At any stage in the data collection process either parent(s)/guardian(s) or participating child could withdraw from the research process. Students could also withdraw and avail of an alternative assignment if required. A parent/guardian was required to be present during the data collection process. This provided

8 Exploring Childhood in Ireland …

195

a transparent series of participation expectations (for BA students as data collectors, for children as project participants and parent(s)/guardian(s) as overseer). As Holloway and Valentine (2000) indicate establishing mechanisms to collect data in the arena of children’s geographies holds a myriad of challenges for researchers. In the context of this project, the use of story-mapping is central. This reflects work by Gillespie (2010) focusing on how culture and familiarity directly inform how children establish meaning in a specific society. In particular, she found that by using mental-maps2 she was allowed to break through certain cultural boundaries within Amish communities and establish a clearer understanding of the lived experiences of children across these communities. In the context of the PSCP, we also recorded the conversations with children while they drew their map, as this dialogue provided an opportunity to further enhance researcher understanding on how children negotiate and makemeaning in a particular place. Trell and van Hoven (2010) add to this perspective in advocating for combining qualitative research methods. In the context of the PSCP by using interviews in conjunction with mentalmaps, there arises an opportunity to further enhance an understanding of how children negotiate and make-meaning in a particular place. For this reason, this project has used a combination of both mental-mapping and accompanying interview methods to explore children’s perspectives of their environment. The use of mental-mapping in tandem with interviews allowed the children to tell the stories of their everyday lives, giving detail on why certain places symbolised greater value. Taken together, the resulting maps and interviews construct a picture of the child’s world and are referred to for the purpose of this project as a story-map (Halseth and Doddridge 2000; further examples include Young and Barrett 2001; Loebach and Gilliland 2010). At the beginning of the data collection process, children were asked to draw a map from their home to their school; they were then asked to include other places they visit. At this stage, onto their maps, participating children included babysitters, after school clubs and other activities such as sports team practices and music lessons. They also included places like the church, local shops and shopping centres, and play spaces. They were then asked to place symbols on the map outlining

196

K. Reilly and T. J. Hughes

how they felt when they spent time in these places. Finally, participating children were asked if there was anything else they felt should be included on their maps. Depending on the child, the process was usually completed in one-to-two hours and the drawing of the map and the discussion that occurred during this drawing was recorded and transcribed by the final year BA student. As part of the evaluation process students submitted the collected map, a transcription of the interview and a critical self-reflection of the process. As a methodological practice mental-mapping is not without its disadvantages, there are difficulties when attempting to code the produced data. Over time various models have emerged, and in this paper, we incorporate the interpretive framework advocated by Gillespie (2010) to examine the archive’s story-maps. Specifically, Gillespie (2010) incorporates a double rubric approach drawing from the work of Lynch (1960) and Matthews (1984). Essentially, these two models, designative (Lynch 1960) and appraisive (Matthews 1984), are supported by two strands of sub-code categories. In the context of the PSCP, the designative criterion was designed to examine practical elements found in the children’s maps and interviews. This consisted of five elements: paths; edges; districts; landmarks; and social. While the appraisive model was based on emotional and recreational themes including: function; recreation; human; animal; and transport/mobility. These categories provided a means of encapsulating multiple and complex elements of the children’s maps. They also provide an understanding of the prominent places of children’s everyday lives and an overview of where children are spending time. In spite of the aesthetic qualities of the maps, the recorded interviews were vital in the analysis phase, allowing for themes to emerge and providing greater depth and understanding of children’s lived experiences, beyond a frequency of how often an element appears across the map archive. The structure of the conversation, using stories of everyday life, represents an effective way of collecting data, with participating children indicating that they enjoyed the process and even asking why their perspective was deemed important. In using a narrative arc, asking children to tell the story of their everyday life, every child was confident that they could take part and appeared familiar with the genre. The richness

8 Exploring Childhood in Ireland …

197

of the resulting story-maps demonstrates the effectiveness of narrative and storytelling as a methodological approach when researching with children.

Story-Mapping: Narrating Environmental Risk and Everyday Vulnerabilities Through an analysis of the story-maps, a number of key themes and frames for critique emerge; for the purpose of this chapter, we centre on three core discursive frames. Firstly, we explore how children identify and construct vulnerability through narrations of environmental risk, safety and the idea of growing up. Secondly, we provide an insight into the ordinary and ‘everydayness’ of life described by participating children, contributing to understandings of mobility in relation to friendship and extra-curricular activities. Finally, and inherent to the previous discussion, we point towards how centring on the voice of the child provides an alternative insight, moving beyond adult projections of how children ‘should’ experience the world and acknowledging children as important social actors in and of themselves (Ansell 2009). We acknowledge that these themes are not mutually exclusive but intersect in complex and multifaceted ways throughout each story-map. In legitimising children’s perceptions of their everyday lived experiences, the importance of place holds a central focus (Freeman 2010). Throughout the analysis, considerations of specific places narrated through the maps of participating children are framed by ideas of belonging and emotional attachment. Reflecting den Besten’s (2010) approach, insight focused on themes of belonging and emotional attachment are communicated through the interviews and provide a discourse unpacking how particular spatial knowledges (Golledge 1992) make-meaning in the everyday places of children’s lives (Lim and Barton 2010). Children’s story-maps identify multiple functional elements of the built environment, representing many sites of everyday life one would expect from a child’s daily routine. These places included the home, school and supermarket, in addition to other sites like the park and playground. Children’s discourses represented a variety of perspectives

198

K. Reilly and T. J. Hughes

including stories around why participants liked and disliked visiting and spending time in certain places. Children provide details of who they spend time with in these places, many of whom also appear and are discussed throughout the story-map archive (e.g. the homes of extended family members and friends). Across the story-map archive, an ambiguous relationship emerges when children talk about nature and their engagement with the environment. Engagements with such places are represented by woods, river walkways, lay paths and similar (often liminal) places not designated as a park or green. In the context of woods, children who talk about this place as part of their story-map indicate that if they travel to the woods, then it is usually with a parent or guardian or as part of an organised school trip referred to as nature walks. Participating children indicate that they are not allowed to visit these places unless they are accompanied by an adult. This restriction is couched in a discourse of risk. For example, Seamus3 (participating child, aged 9) outlines ‘There’s a forest over there but mam doesn’t let me go into it because it’s dangerous’. In the instance where woodland is identified on a child’s story-map, there are multiple risks outlined; these include the risk posed by the landscape itself, in addition to the risk the child is perceived to pose to themselves while spending time in the woodland area. In his description of the wood, Seamus highlights the influence of an adult, in this instance his mother, on his entry. This reflects work focused on examining perceived dangers to children from an adult perspective (Woolley and Griffin 2015; van der Burgt 2015; Foster et al. 2014) and demonstrates how children project this perspective on woodlands in this case. Reflecting findings from Linzmayer and Halpenny (2014), this forms part of an emerging picture where participating children associate greater mobility with growing up and getting older. Throughout the story-maps, the influences of technology, the legacy of increased prosperity and the materiality that accompanied it continually shone through children’s discourse. As is to be expected, there emerges a strong emphasis on the home and community (Christensen et al. 2000; Joelsson 2019). Repeatedly, the theme of togetherness and the family unit arise from initial readings of the data. In particular, the home holds centre stage for most, if not all, the children. Of note here is the importance of extended family members such as aunts, uncles,

8 Exploring Childhood in Ireland …

199

cousins and grandparents who live close to participating families, and who emerged very prominently. In the maze of the built environment, the home setting holds the most revered and emotive connections for participating children. Reasons for this ranged from feeling safe in the family environment, to wanting to stay close to friends and play areas. Indeed, play areas, as is to be expected from children aged between 8 and 10 years old, hold a high degree of importance in the everyday lived experiences of participants. Children mention everything from gardens, parks, fields, greens and squares as places where they meet friends and play together; interviews indicate that while these designated play areas are used, there seems to be a desire among some children to go ‘off the map’ and carve out their own environments external to the norm. For example, Sean (participating child, aged 8) indicates he’d ‘love to go to the forest and build a hut for friends to play in’. Moreover, normative assumptions relating to what play activity is and where it should take place, varies a great deal between the children. Churches, the Gaelic Athletic Association (GAA),4 community centres, cinemas, motorways, Traveller halting sites and pubs are generically mentioned in the interviews as part of everyday play spaces. Regarding the built environment, children identify a series of perceived risks associated with particular places. These perceptions are reportedly informed by two gatekeepers, the first are parents and/or guardians and the second are perceptions informed by the television. Children identify many types of boundaries that prevent them from entering certain places; these ranged from fenced to barbed wire areas and were especially prominent in the story-maps of children living in Dublin City and County. Children clearly articulated the places where they felt they belonged and by extension where they felt they did not belong. For example, Emma’s story-map highlights a number of clear boundaries that have inherent and associated risk values. Emma (participating child, aged 8) illustrates on her map (Fig. 8.1 top right hand corner of map) that she is not permitted to enter the local woods (Santry Woods) on her own; she is required to have her mother with her. Emma lives in Ballymun (a suburb of Dublin) and her house is in close proximity to the woods. Further to this boundary, Emma is also constrained as to where she plays and articulates clear risk associated with adjacent

200

K. Reilly and T. J. Hughes

streets to her house. She states: ‘I’m only allowed play on me road, and sometimes the park with mam; there’s another road that’s closed – they’re always robbin’ there’. On her map (Fig. 8.1 bottom left of map), Emma also includes rows of houses that are completely fenced-off to the public due to the risks posed by pyrite contamination. Emma lives in an area of Dublin long associated with economic and social disadvantage. Over the course of Emma’s story, she articulates the greatest number of spatial constraints, while also demonstrating phenomenal knowledge of some of the safety issues associated with her locality. Emma has clear boundaries and understands where she can and cannot go, though at times she is unclear as to why. The constraints articulated by Emma, and demonstrated on her map below, are multiple and result from perceived and actual risks within her locality. She identifies a series of risks associated with both the natural (woods) and built environment (pyrite contamination), with her construction of risk both informed and influenced by an adult, her mother in this instance. Building on the work of Cresswell (2004) and Merriman (2009), for Emma her understanding of the risks associated with these places makes-meaning not only through her constrained access (i.e. with adult accompaniment) but also through prohibited access. Emma should never enter the site of pyrite contamination, but nonetheless the site holds specific meaning on her map (Fig. 8.1). The majority of participating children were clear on the fact that they liked where they lived, but also had clear ideas about where they did not want to live. Living in Dublin (either City or County) was perceived negatively by those living outside of the capital. Children associated a series of lacks in the lives of Dubliners; these included a lack of mobility (e.g. too little space to play, a lack of access to places and proximity to more dangerous places) and also a lack of particular freedoms such as owning a dog (for discussion on the importance of child and animal relationships, see Tipper 2011). A similar distinctive series of lacks is not associated with living in an urban or a rural area; though in geography often presented in binary terms, an urban/rural divide does not emerge across the children’s story-map archive. Instead, the landscapes of children’s maps were more fluid, with the car or the school bus often appearing central in negotiating mobility, ensuring children get to where

8 Exploring Childhood in Ireland …

201

Fig. 8.1 Emma, participating child, aged 8

they need to be (for an example of this, see Fig. 8.2) and blurring the lines between town and country. This is exemplified in Fig. 8.2, Sinead’s map, where two cars occupy the centre of the map and are articulated as the key to moving between and across the places of her everyday life. Across the story-map archive, there are instances where the car is replaced by a bus, however, the children do not associate transportation needs with particular urban or rural settings, reflecting instead on the places they visit as a result of these journeys. Restricted mobility was perceived by the majority of participating children as being overcome through the process of ‘getting older’, ‘growing-up’ or ‘getting big’. Children associated increased age, and sometimes size, with increased mobility and by extension less spatial constraints. For example, Martin (participating child, aged 10) includes an alleyway where he outlines that he can go ‘when he’s older ’. Similarly, Sharon (participating child, aged 9) indicates an alleyway on her map: ‘This is where my friends’ big brother and my big brother go on the weekends, they drink and meet girls there, and Mum says I am not

202

K. Reilly and T. J. Hughes

Fig. 8.2 Sinead, participating child, aged 8

allowed there until I’m older ’. Maria (participating child, aged 8) on the other hand outlines: ‘I’m not allowed down the walkway beside the river at night because teenagers drink there and it’s dangerous’. This highlights two reasons causing restrictions for children; the first outlines how they have been told by adults that they are ‘too small’, a projection that they discursively link to growing older and aspirations of greater freedom and mobility. The second relates to perceived dangers presented by older children, teenagers in this instance (reflecting discussion by Valentine and McKendrick 1997; Joelsson 2019). Maria associates the river walk with teenagers and anti-social behaviour; in this instance, she does not communicate a desire to engage in this type of activity when older. There are considerable tensions in these representations. On the one hand, participating children indicate that they wish to be part of such teenage ‘alleyway scenes’ (however described through the story-map archive), yet on the other hand the teenagers occupying these places are also seen as a threat by and to smaller participating children. Therefore, although ‘growing-up’ and ‘getting big’ are associated with greater

8 Exploring Childhood in Ireland …

203

spatial freedoms, there is an ambiguity in the discourse where the act of transitioning to teenage life is not considered in relation to becoming a perceived threat to other younger children.

Concluding Comment: Multiple Voices and Methodological Reflections The PSCP documents children’s stories of everyday life. In centring on the voice of the child, the archive details the complexity and diversity across children’s experiences. The archive provides rich data on the places identified by children, but more importantly the collection of story-maps provides an insight into how children make-meaning within these places through ideas of belonging. In articulating where they felt they belong, children also point towards barriers to belonging. For the most part, barriers to belonging became tied to two key elements throughout the data; the first relates to risk associated with the natural environment. Woodlands and river walkways, for participating children, required the presence of an adult to ensure safety. A further barrier to belonging related to age, with greater mobility afforded to children who are generally bigger and older than participants. In articulating spatial constraint, the children’s narratives incorporate adult projections governing ideas of safety; the constraint is often premised by comments such as ‘mam says’ or ‘dad says’ ‘I can go there when I’m older ’; some children also indicate that they can only go to a particular place when accompanied by an adult. A further noticeable absence throughout children’s narrations of their maps is the lack of binaries. In particular, children did not necessarily talk about their lives in terms of urban and rural settings, but instead focused on communities and counties in relation to others across Ireland (e.g. Dublin is described in relation to a specific series of perceived lacks). The level of detail included across the storymap archive is also surprising with children demonstrating a significant degree of spatial literacy, both in relation to the direction and location of places they are permitted to spend time and to places where they are not yet permitted to go. This reflects work by Rose (2003, p. 213) who asserts that ‘particular visualities structure certain kinds of

204

K. Reilly and T. J. Hughes

geographical knowledges’. The story-maps provide insight on how children make connections within and across their everyday places. Through the process of story-mapping, participating children have produced a snapshot understanding of the dynamic and diverse experience of childhood in Ireland today. From a methodological perspective, there are a number of key reflections stemming from the PSCP. These can be considered in relation to final year BA students, participating children, parents/guardians and the project PI. The project provided final year BA students with experience of field-based learning, providing a space for students to operationalise a narrative methodology discussed in the classroom during the process of data collection. This was not without challenge; over the project’s time frame, more than 120 students opted for this assessment, however only 90 story-maps were useable. This was largely due to two key factors: incomplete interview transcriptions and/or a failure to follow methodological instructions and training. A small number of students opted for an alternative assessment. From the perspective of the child, many participating children were surprised that there was interest in their opinion, and more interestingly, many were concerned that their responses (and sometimes even their maps) were incorrect. This is indicative of Ansell’s (2005) work highlighting that more often than not the voice of the child, including the child’s ability to choose where they spend time and how long they spend in certain places, is often overlooked in favour of adult-centred life-rhythms and routines. Feedback from participating children was positive with the majority indicating that they would take part in a similar exercise in the future. The impact of the project on parents and guardians was an unanticipated outcome. In following ethical practice guidelines, a parent or guardian was in the room during the data collection process. A number of final year BA students indicated that during conversations with parents and guardians following the development of story-maps, many commented (with surprise) on the level of spatial knowledge provided by the participating child. More importantly, the parents and guardians commented on the insight the process had provided relating to where their children liked and disliked spending time, some identified the impact of their own perspectives on the perspective of the child.

8 Exploring Childhood in Ireland …

205

The PSCP was conceived initially as an assessment for students with potential to construct an archive of usable data. What the project has developed is a clear and replicable blueprint for data collection that does not require significant funding but does require time and precision in design, training and implementation. The project’s narrative approach was specifically incorporated to provide a mechanism for data collection that was both rigorous and replicable by multiple researchers, across multiple contexts. The development of this archive provides considerable scope for further research in the sub-field of children’s geographies and beyond, establishing a blueprint for qualitative data collection, with a focus on storytelling, that includes an element of student fieldwork experience. More importantly, the PSCP archive can be added to over time to provide a longitudinal perspective, therefore adding longevity to the utility of the data. Central to the development of the archive for all those involved in the project is the advantage of a narrative approach, using storytelling through story-mapping as an important mechanism in understanding the everyday lived experiences of children in Ireland.

Notes 1. Growing Up in Ireland is a national longitudinal study in Ireland focusing on the lives of more than 20,000 children and young people. The 11th national Growing Up in Ireland Conference took place in November 2019. 2. Gillespie (2010) specifically calls this method mental-mapping, the authors of this chapter prefer story-map as each child’s contribution includes both the map and the recording of the child’s explanation. Taken together (map and the description of what is included on that map), the child essentially tells a story of their everyday life. 3. Please note: the names of all participating children have been changed in line with institutional ethical practice expectations. 4. The GAA refers to Ireland’s Gaelic Athletic Association, a prominent organisation committed to preserving Irish sport and culture. The GAA has a vibrant underage set-up that allows children of all ages to learn and develop Gaelic football, hurling and Camogie skills. Most communities in Ireland have an active GAA club.

206

K. Reilly and T. J. Hughes

References Aitken, S. C. (2017). Children’s Geographies: Tracing the Evolution and Involution of a Concept. Geographical Review, 108(1), 3–23. Aitken, S. C. (2019). Coloring Outwith the Lines of the Map: Children’s Geographies as Contested Subfield and Practical Global Force. In T. Skelton & S. Aitken (Eds.), Establishing Geographies of Children and Young People (pp. 1–33). Singapore: Springer. Ansell, N. (2005). Children, Youth and Development. London: Routledge. Ansell, N. (2009). Childhood and the Politics of Scale: Descaling Children’s Geographies? Progress in Human Geography, 33(2), 190–209. Cele, S., & van der Burgt, D. (2015). Participation, Consultation, Confusion: Professionals’ Understandings of Children’s Participation in Physical Planning. Children’s Geographies, 13(1), 14–29. Christensen, P. H., James, A., & Jenks, C. (2000). Home and Movement. In S. Holloway & G. Valentine (Eds.), Children’s Geographies: Playing, Living, Learning (pp. 139–155). London: Routledge. Collins, D., & Coleman, T. (2008). Social Geographies of Education: Looking Within, and Beyond, School Boundaries. Geography Compass, 2(1), 281– 299. Cresswell, T. (2004). Place: A Short Introduction. London: Blackwell. den Besten, O. (2010). Local Belonging and ‘Geographies of Emotions’: Immigrant Children’s Experience of Their Neighbourhoods in Paris and Berlin. Childhood, 17 (2), 181–195. Foster, S., Villanueva, K., Wood, L., Christian, H., & Giles-Corti, B. (2014). The Impact of Parents’ Fear of Strangers and Perceptions of Informal Social Control on Children’s Independent Mobility. Health & Place, 26, 60–68. Freeman, C. (2010). Children’s Neighbourhoods, Social Centres to ‘Terra Incognita. Children’s Geographies, 8(2), 157–176. Gillespie, C. A. (2010). How Culture Constructs Our Sense of Neighborhood: Mental Maps and Children’s Perceptions of Place. Journal of Geography, 109 (1), 18–29. Golledge, G. (1992). Place Recognition and Wayfinding: Making sense of Space. Geoforum, 23(2), 199–214. Halseth, G., & Doddridge, J. (2000). Children’s Cognitive Mapping: A Potential Tool for Neighbourhood Planning. Environment and Planning B: Planning and Design, 27 (4), 565–582.

8 Exploring Childhood in Ireland …

207

Holloway, S., & Valentine, G. (2000). Children’s Geographies: Playing. Living, Learning, London: Routledge. Holt, L. (2011). Geographies of Children, Youth and Families: An International Perspective. London and New York: Routledge. Horton, J. (2008). A ‘Sense of Failure’? Everydayness and Research Ethics. Children’s Geographies, 6 (4), 363–383. James, S. (1990). Is There a ‘Place’ for Children in Geography? Area, 22(3), 278–283. Jarvis, C. H., Kraftl, P., & Dickie, J. (2017). (Re)Connecting Spatial Literacy with Children’s Geographies: GPS, Google Earth and Children’s Everyday Lives. Geoforum, 81, 22–31. Joelsson, T. (2019). ‘So That We Don’t Spoil Them’: Understanding Children’s Everyday Mobility Through Parents’ Affective Practices. Children’s Geographies, 17 (5), 591–602. Kraftl, P. (2019). Children’s Geographies: Encounters and Experiences. In T. Schwanen & R. van Kempen (Eds.), Handbook of Urban Geography (pp. 354–367). Norhampton, MA: Edward Elgar. Kraftl, P., & Horton, J. (2018). Children’s Geographies and the ‘New Wave’ of Childhood Studies. In S. Spyrou, R. Rosen, & D. T. Cook (Eds.), Reimaging Childhood Studies (pp. 105–122). London: Bloomsbury Academic Publishing. Ledwith, V., & Reilly, K. (2012). Two Tiers Emerging? School Choice and Educational Achievement Disparities among Young Migrants and Nonmigrants in Galway City and Urban Fringe. Population, Space and Place, 19 (1), 46–59. Ledwith, V., & Reilly, K. (2013). Accommodating All Applicants? School Choice and the Regulation Of Enrolment in Ireland. The Canadian Geographer, 57 (3), 318–326. Ledwith, V., & Reilly, K. (2014). Fringe Benefits? Educational Experiences of Migrant and Non-migrant Youth in the Urban-Rural Fringe of Galway City, Ireland. Journal of Rural Studies, 36, 219–225. Lim, M., & Barton, A. C. (2010). Exploring Insideness in Urban Children’s Sense of Place. Journal of Environmental Psychology, 30, 328–337. Linzmayer, C. D., & Halpenny, E. A. (2014). ‘I Might Know When I’m an Adult’: Making Sense of Children’s Relationships with Nature. Children’s Geographies, 12(4), 412–428. Loebach, J., & Gilliland, J. (2010). Child-Led Tours to Uncover Children’s Perceptions and Use of Neighborhood Environments. Children, Youth and Environments, 20 (1), 52–90.

208

K. Reilly and T. J. Hughes

Lynch, K. (1960). The Image of the City. Cambridge and London, UK: MIT Press. Matthews, H. (1984). Cognitive Mapping Abilities of Young Boys and Girls. Geoforum, 30 (2), 135–144. Matthews, H., & Limb, M. (1999). Defining an Agenda for the Geography of Children: Review and Prospect. Progress in Human Geography, 23(1), 61–90. Merriman, P. (2009). Mobility. In R. Kitchin & N. Thrift (Eds.), International Encyclopedia of Human Geography (Vol. 7, pp. 134–143). Amsterdam: Elsevier. Morrissey, J., Clavin, A., & Reilly, K. (2013). Field-Based Learning: the Challenge of Practising Participatory Knowledge. Journal of Geography in Higher Education, 37 (4), 619–627. Nayak, A. (2003). ‘Through Children’s Eyes’: Childhood, Place and the Fear of Crime. Geoforum, 32(3), 303–315. Ní Laoire, C. (2008). ‘Settling Back’? A Biographical and Life-Course Perspective on Ireland’s Recent Return Migration. Irish Geography, 41(2), 195–210. Probyn, E. (1996). Outside Belongings. New York: Routledge. Reilly, K., Clavin, A., & Morrissey, J. (2016). Participative Critical Enquiry in Graduate Field-Based Learning. Journal of Geography in Higher Education, 40 (1), 104–116. Rose, G. (2003). On the Need to Ask How, Exactly, Is Geography “Visual”? Antipode, 35, 212–221. Skelton, T. (2008). Research with Children and Young People: Exploring the Tensions Between Ethics. Competence and Participation. Children’s Geographies, 6 (1), 21–36. Skelton, T. (2009). Children’s Geographies/Geographies of Children: Play, Work, Mobilities and Migration. Geography Compass, 3(4), 1430–1448. Smith, F., & Ansell, N. (2009). International Encyclopedia of Human Geography. Amsterdam: Elsevier. Tipper, B. (2011). ‘A Dog Who I Know Quite Well’: Everyday Relationships Between Children and Animals. Children’s Geographies, 9 (2), 145–165. Trell, E. M., & van Hoven, B. (2010). Making Sense of Place: Exploring Creative and (Inter)Active Research Methods with Young People. Fennia: International Journal of Geography, 188(1), 91–104. Valentine, G. (2000). Exploring Children & Young People’s Narratives of Identity. Geoforum, 31, 257–267. Valentine, G., & McKendrick, J. (1997). Children’s Outdoor Play: Exploring Parental Concerns about Children’s Safety and the Changing Nature of Childhood. Geoforum, 28(2), 219–235.

8 Exploring Childhood in Ireland …

209

van der Burgt, D. (2015). Spatial Avoidance or Spatial Confidence? Young People’s Agency in the Active Negotiation of Risk and Safety in Public Space. Children’s Geographies, 13(2), 181–195. White, A., & Bushin, N. (2011). More Than Methods: Learning from Research with Children Seeking Asylum in Ireland. Population, Space and Place, 17 (4), 326–337. Woolley, H. (2008). Watch This Space! Designing for Children’s Play in Public Open Spaces. Geography Compass, 2, 495–512. Woolley, H. E., & Griffin, E. (2015). Decreasing Experiences of Home Range, Outdoor Spaces, Activities and Companions: Changes Across Three Generations in Sheffield in North England. Children’s Geographies, 13(6), 677–691. Wyn, J., Lantz, S., & Harris, A. (2012). Beyond the ‘Transitions’ Metaphor: Family Relations and Young People in Late Modernity. Journal of Sociology, 48(1), 3–22. Young, L., & Barrett, H. (2001). Adapting Visual Methods: Action Research with Kampala Street Children. Area, 33, 141–152.

Part III Narrative and Educational Spaces

9 Queering Understandings of How Matter Comes to Matter in the Baby Room Jayne Osgood

Introduction The earliest years of a child’s life are now widely recognised as the time when prejudice and bias emerge in how they experience and make sense of the world (Glover 2016). The damaging effects of stereotyping, prejudice, bias and discrimination have been the subject of decades of research in early childhood education which, in turn, has informed pedagogical practices in early childhood settings that endeavour to foreground inclusivity, fairness and equity. However, equity discourses have been called into question because of the (often unintentional) effects they have to effectively invisibilise difference (Robinson and Jones-Diaz 2016). Where ‘we treat all children the same ’ becomes the mantra shaping nursery practice, educators become excused from dealing with difficult differences. J. Osgood (B) Centre for Education Research and Scholarship, Middlesex University, London, UK e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s) 2021 L. Moran et al. (eds.), Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People, Studies in Childhood and Youth, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-55647-1_9

213

214

J. Osgood

This approach effectively sets up normative and normalising ideas about childhood. There are traces of this within the Early Years Foundation Stage Curriculum (EYFSC), which states: Children should be treated fairly regardless of race, religion or abilities. This applies no matter what they think or say; what type of family they come from; what language(s) they speak; what their parents do; whether they are girls or boys; whether they have a disability or whether they are rich or poor. (DfES, Key Elements of Effective Practice 2007)

The ‘regardless’ in the above quote is problematic as it provides justification to leave difficult differences unaddressed on the basis that they are unimportant, following the logic that if all children are treated fairly/the same then difficult differences fall out of view. Children’s experiences of themselves as gendered, raced, classed and so on are crucially important and very real, to fail to meaningfully engage with differences that matter is ultimately disrespectful to children as knowing, sensing, active citizens. The ‘unique child’ enshrined within the Early Years Foundation Stage Curriculum (EYFSC) focuses attention on the individualised child, a child expected to perform against standardised, developmental ideas about what children should be, and do, at different ages and stages (i.e. what is ‘normal’). So, uniqueness becomes overshadowed by a concern for normativity (Osgood 2017). Within this discourse, children are constructed as a broadly homogenous population, yet a look around the London nursery where this study was undertaken tells a very different story. There is diversity in terms of children’s performances of gender, ethnicity, language, cultural heritage, age, dis/abilities and social class. Children notice and are interested in differences and furthermore ascribe value to the differences they observe, embody, experience and are told about. The nursery featured in this study offered an interesting site in which to explore and rework ideas about diversity and difficult differences in early childhood.1 As mentioned, the intake of children is diverse in terms of age, ethnicity, gender and social class background. The nursery was rated Outstanding in its most recent Inspection and was especially praised for demonstrating: ‘an excellent knowledge of the needs of every

9 Queering Understandings of How Matter Comes …

215

child to assist them in becoming confident learners’ as a result ‘children become deeply engrossed in practical and creative tasks, and are encouraged to take risks and to assess the risks themselves’. The inspection report also noted that the nursery effectively engages parents. As Early Years Careers (EYC 2016) stress: Parents are fundamental in supporting the development and culturally diverse needs of all children in the setting. Parents are usually the ones who decide which religion their child will follow and embed their culture and beliefs into their learning. Ensuring a strong partnership with parents can support the practitioner in correctly meeting these needs while the child is attending the setting. Parents can help practitioners by offering an in-depth knowledge of their religion and culture. This, in turn, can be shared with the children to show that all beliefs are respected and will be shared of all equal importance. (Early Years Careers: Enabling Environments 2016)

One powerful illustration of this type of engagement was through celebrations and festivals, which are a regular feature of nursery life, carefully mapped against the EYFSC, with a specific underlying objective to address diversity and inclusivity, and in which parents are invited to contribute stories, artefacts and knowledge. For this reason, the (K)not-knowing Diversity in Early Childhood study took festivals and celebrations as the context in which to undertake research which sought to foreground how children are materially-discursively entangled with diversity and difference throughout their everyday early childhood experiences in complex, sometimes troubling, but generative ways. The ease and familiarity of putting celebrations to pedagogical use in early childhood settings is well established, although there remains concern that settings should exercise critical reflexivity in how it is undertaken (Dau and Jones 2016). Choices about which festivals to include must recognise the potentially marginalising effects of including some religious festivals and not others, and the fetishisation and exotic othering of cultural groups that can unwittingly occur (Osgood 2012; Osgood et al. 2013; Robinson and Jones-Diaz 2016). Notwithstanding these concerns, as EYC (2016) stress:

216

J. Osgood

Festivals are a great way for children, parents and practitioners to celebrate their beliefs and share their culture and religion with others. Many settings celebrate festivals or events such as Christmas, Diwali and Hanukkah, providing many activities based around the celebration for all children to access. It is important that practitioners use the celebrations to talk about the meaning behind it and talk about the different religions. Many children will enjoy activities to celebrate different religions but do not understand why they are doing it. This is vital in fully promoting an inclusive environment and enabling children to respect and learn about a range of religions. (EYC 2016)

This concern to verbalise and reason the significance of different festivals offers an interesting point of departure which will be developed throughout this chapter. It is important to note here that the research was undertaken in the baby room, with pre-verbal children and so presents a rich and complex assemblage in which to explore the affects and embodiment of Chinese New Year—as materialised figuration (Haraway 1994).

Difficult Differences: The Prevent Duty and Fundamental British Values Complicating the discursive landscape in which diversity and difficult differences play out further is the Prevent Duty, which became law in 2015. Simply, the Duty (HM Govt. 2015) requires that all schools and registered early years providers must show due regard to prevent people being drawn into terrorism. In order to protect children, early years providers must be alert to any cause for concern in a child’s life at home or elsewhere, including expression of extremist views. Where a cause for concern is noted, the early years provider is required to refer the child/family to a local safeguarding team (HM Government 2015). The introduction of the Duty has been met with controversy within the media, generated academic debate and caused outrage amongst human rights groups. The Duty (Ibid.) is criticised for disproportionately targeting Muslims, and generating and deepening racial tensions. Teacher

9 Queering Understandings of How Matter Comes …

217

Unions have been amongst some of the most vociferous about the inappropriateness and damaging implications of the Duty for teachers, children and local communities. Within the specific context of early childhood education though, the Duty (HM Govt. 2015) is particularly troubling since it presents young children in contradictory ways: as vulnerable and in need of protection; but also, as potential terrorists-in-the-making. Within Prevent: ‘Vulnerability’ describes the condition of being capable of being injured; difficult to defend; open to moral or ideological attack. Within Prevent, the word describes factors and characteristics associated with being susceptible to radicalisation. (HM Govt. 2015)

The Duty has generated considerable tension and anxiety for early years educators in their everyday practices, particularly where their work is driven by concerns for social justice and inclusion. The Prevent Duty (HM Govt. 2015) provides a disquieting backdrop against which nurseries are endeavouring to pursue child-centred pedagogies that are attuned and sensitive to difficult differences. The Duty states: 60. Early years providers serve arguably the most vulnerable and impressionable members of society. The Early Years Foundation Stage (EYFS) accordingly places clear duties on providers to keep children safe and promote their welfare. It makes clear that to protect children in their care, providers must be alert to any safeguarding and child protection issues in the child’s life at home or elsewhere (paragraph 3.4 EYFS). Early years providers must take action to protect children from harm and should be alert to harmful behaviour by other adults in the child’s life. (HM Govt. 2015)

Since its introduction, nurseries have been offered advice and reassurance from sector organisations such as the Professional Association for Childcare and Early Years (PACEY) on how to implement the Prevent Duty.2 The resounding message is that Prevent, and concomitant Fundamental British Values (HM Govt. 2014) represent nothing especially new. Rather they are a mere re-articulation of the Personal, Social and

218

J. Osgood

Emotional Development goals within the EYFSC. However, the ideological framework underpinning the Prevent Duty (HM Govt. 2015) and Fundamental British Values (HM Govt. 2014) is deeply problematic for nurseries since it poses a direct threat to the prevailing theories and philosophies underpinning so much early childhood education and care (ECEC) practice that constructs childhood as a time for playful experimentation, discovery, subversion and exploration. Young children, and specifically young, Muslim boys are constructed as worthy of suspicion, and inevitably subject to greater censure and judgement (an example of this in action is ‘The Cucumber Case’ where a four-year-old Asian boy was referred to Prevent by a nursery on the grounds of his mispronunciation of ‘cucumber’, heard as ‘cooker bomb’).3 Furthermore, the Duty (HM Govt. 2015) and Fundamental British Values (HM Govt. 2014) places an ever-greater emphasis upon adult-educators to orchestrate learning environments and pedagogical opportunities to cultivate very narrowly specific messages about diversity; messages that privilege certain cultural values and practices over others. In response to the Prevent Duty (HM Govt. 2015) registered, early years providers are offered a wealth of guidance from sector organisations, training providers and local authorities on how to create ‘a cultural diversity environment’ in which the diverse needs of all children can be met: The learning environment is fundamental in the development of all children. It helps to shape their experience and build on their knowledge of the world around them. Creating a cultural diversity environment is important in meeting the needs of all children within the setting. Children that attend Early Years settings often come from a wide range of cultures and backgrounds. Practitioners must support the beliefs and values of each child through a diverse environment. This can be achieved through a range of ways. (Early Years Careers 2016)

Quickly though, this ‘cultural diversity’ environment, that enables the needs of all children from diverse cultures and backgrounds to be met, becomes co-opted as a space to promote Fundamental British Values (HM Govt. 2014):

9 Queering Understandings of How Matter Comes …

219

Ofsted now requires all settings to promote actively the British Values and embed these into practice. The four fundamental values are: democracy; the rule of law; individual liberty and mutual respect; and tolerance for those with different faiths and beliefs. Although named ‘British’ values, these values are inclusive of all religions, cultures, and ethnic backgrounds. They aim to teach children about the importance of selfesteem, managing their own behaviour and respect for others. The British Values are embedded into the Early Years Foundation Stage (EYFS) through Personal, Social and Emotional Development and important in promoting a cultural diversity environment, where all children belong. (Early Years Careers 2016)

So far, this chapter has sought to map the discursive landscape about diversity in early childhood as it is articulated through policy, media and curriculum texts. The deep political motivations and ideological agendas that course through these texts, and hence shape early childhood practices, are traceable and unsettling but it is my contention that by keeping a hold of these matters of concern it is possible to pursue generative possibilities when attention is paid to the ways in which diversity manifests differently through routine events and everyday happenings within a London nursery during a specific festival. This chapter moves to address the following questions: • How else might we engage with ideas about diversity in early childhood? • What happens if we make space for other, non-anthropocentric, stories about diversity in early childhood to find expression? • What if we make our starting place matter, materiality and think deeply about how matter matters in early childhood and what it can teach us about diversity? • What happens if we take matter seriously, as co-producing diversity in early childhood? • Can diversity be experienced as processes, as little becomings that manifest through entanglements? That are sensed and felt? • If so, what generative possibilities are there to view diversity as constantly on the move? As shifting, sliding, mutating? Not attached to the individual human subject?

220

J. Osgood

As a way into addressing these questions, I briefly return to the Ofsted Report that praises staff at the nursery for: encouraging children to develop skills in manipulating and exploring objects and materials from a very early age. They enjoy exploring materials first-hand. For example, younger children learn how to foam-up bubbles in a water tray, while older children use mud to build homes for toy insects. In the outdoor ‘mud kitchen’, children mix water with mud to change its consistency. Staff pay close attention to each child’s understanding and are quick to adjust teaching to meet children’s needs. Staff promote swift progress and take appropriate action to close gaps in children’s learning.

Within this extract of the inspection report, it is possible to trace a range of dominant discourses from child-centredness, scaffolding pedagogy, the development of fine-motor skills and so on. All of which foreground a humanist view of early childhood education, that what unfolds within the nursery necessarily rests upon human intentionality (of both teacher and child) (i.e. it is the teacher who selects the materials that will be manipulated, and the children who change the consistency of the water). I want to dwell on what else might be at play. How do the materials and the water shape experiences and ideas about diversity? And how are policies, frameworks and legal requirements materially-discursively circulating in the ‘mud kitchen’? What else is going on here other than a narrow concern with children’s acquisition of skills and abilities? In what ways can ordinary events, such as the water-mud-moment, offer us other ways to tell different stories about childhood and difficult differences? It is to these other stories that I want to turn attention throughout the remainder of this chapter.

Cultivating Response-Ability Through Research As I have stressed, the objective of this chapter is to tell different stories, stories that take matter seriously so that ideas about diversity can be

9 Queering Understandings of How Matter Comes …

221

rethought. It involves a mode of enquiry that invites curiosity and experimentation, and an investment in world-making: ‘The point is to get at how worlds are made and unmade, in order to participate in the processes, in order to foster some forms of life and not others’ (Haraway 1994, p. 59). Hence, the researcher is implicated, infected and affected by what unfolds in the research encounter. Most recently, Haraway (2016) warns against thoughtlessness and instead urges the practice of tentacular thinking, deep thoughtfulness, that invites researchers to become wayfarers and recognise themselves as entangled. The task becomes to track lines, and cultivate response-ability in the ‘muddle of thinking’. For Haraway, cultivating responsibility is: high stakes training of the mind and imagination to go visiting, to venture off the beaten path to meet unexpected, non-natal kin, and to strike up conversations, to pose and respond to interesting questions, to propose together something unanticipated, to take up the unasked-for obligations of having met. (Haraway 2016, p. 130)

In an urgent need to change the story, researchers need to narrate and to think—outside human-centric accounts of the world. Storytelling nurtures, or invents or discovers, or it can ‘be cobbling together ways for living and dying well’ (Haraway 2016, p. 130).

The Study: (K)not-Knowing Diversity in Early Childhood Inspired by Haraway’s situated feminism philosophy this study is in search of ways to creatively find fissures between discourses, frameworks and practices, so that other stories about diversity in early childhood might find expression. Endeavouring to enact Tsing’s (2015) radical curiosity invites wonder at the everyday, unremarkable and mundane, where diversity manifests in unanticipated ways. The task is to think, to figure and to story—to that end I seek to translate curiosity into unconventional, unfamiliar, experimental and uncertain practices to reach potentially more generative ways to see and be in the world and to reassess entrenched ideas about diversity and difficult differences.

222

J. Osgood

What other stories can be told from the ‘enabling environment’ of the ‘inclusive’ baby room? In a quest for other stories, critique must remain in play; taken-forgranted assumptions must be unsettled, problematised and challenged. The Prevent Duty (HM Govt. 2015) and Fundamental British Values (HM Govt. 2014) are shaped by political agendas which actively inform ideas about normativity and deviance, what (and who) is safe or fearful. It remains imperative that discourses that position nurseries (staff, families and children) within regulatory regimes and subject them to the terrors of performativity (Ball 2003) are named and dismantled. At the same time, it is important to be open to multiple and experimental ways of (k)not-knowing that formulate collectively shared problems. As Lenz Taguchi (2017) urges, we need ways, multiple ways, to avoid getting stuck in familiar ways of thinking and doing. So, attempts to reconfigure how we might approach diversity in early childhood contexts are helpful; by charting the terrain, experimenting and resisting the comforts of recognition, reflection and identification, we might go beyond what we think we know. Reconfiguring goes beyond critiquing the Prevent Duty (HM Govt. 2015) and Fundamental British Values (HM Govt. 2014) to a deep, tentacular immersion; a curious practice that allows for looking at the world-with rather than at (Haraway 2016, p. 129). Haraway’s practices of deep thoughtfulness and off-the-beaten-path method require that we then move beyond identifying discourses and work towards cultivating a heightened awareness to the conditions of possibility in which we are located. Of ‘off-the-beaten path practices’, Haraway (2016, p. 127) stresses: An approach that assumes that beings have pre-established natures and abilities that are simply put into play in an encounter. Rather…holding open the possibility that surprises are in store, that something interesting is about to happen, but only if one cultivates the virtue of letting those one visits intra-actively shape what occurs. They are not who/what we expected to visit, and we are not who/what were anticipated either. Visiting is a subject- and object-making dance, and the choreographer is a trickster. Asking questions comes to mean both asking what another finds intriguing and also how learning to engage that changes everybody in unforeseeable ways. …With good questions, even or especially mistakes

9 Queering Understandings of How Matter Comes …

223

and misunderstandings can become interesting…this is a question of epistemology and ontology, and of method alert to off-the-beaten-path practices.

‘Visiting’ for feminist new materialism invites adventures in diffractive reconfiguring and opportunities to reassemble what we think we see, what we think we know—to generate new knowledges and ways of viewing the world and our place within it. The generative potential available to reconfigure ‘diversity’ as sensed, enacted, embodied and constantly transformed is an exciting departure from naming and deconstructing discourses that can be found in textual representations such as policies, laws/duties, verbal accounts of what diversity is, and/or should be. This mode of enquiry privileges wayfaring, visiting and creative experimentation over critique but commitments to interrogating power and inequity remain in play. This chapter reports upon attempts to embrace off-the-beaten-path, wayfaring methods that invite the researcher to embrace (k)not-knowing and being open to surprises. Such an approach demands that anthropocentric concerns with child-centred pedagogies and educator subjectivities are displaced; instead, embracing flattened ontologies insist that all elements in a research assemblage: space, place, environment, movement within spaces, materials, sounds, smells, textures and temperatures, as well as the circulation (and material enactment) of discourses share equal emphasis and inform understandings of children (and ourselves) as entangled. When this framework is taken up, ‘diversity’ manifests in unexpected ways. When diversity is approached from a position of (k)not-knowing, it allows for the world and young children’s place in the world to be considered more expansively. Haraway (2016) urges that we engage in ‘deep hanging out’ which alongside deep thoughtfulness allows for tentacular thinkingfeelingdoing within research encounters. Feminist new materialists urge us to focus on the small stuff, the intra-actions between humans, non-human and morethan-human; as researchers, it is imperative that we get caught up in the movements and processes, sense the multiple intensities that coalesce in events.

224

J. Osgood

The theoretical framing outlined above insists that attention is paid to micro-events, ordinary routines and mundane situations, sensing intensities and what MacLure (2013) terms ‘glow’ moments and ‘uncomfortable affects’. It is an invitation to re-imagine, reencounter, re-sense ‘diversity’ from the practice of ‘deep hanging out’ (Haraway 2016) in the nursery. Going into the field with a sense of knot-knowing, embracing openness and being willing to let go of a sense of expertise represents disquieting challenges to the wizened researcher. However, it is only by surrendering to the unanticipated, the not-known and not-yet-known that other stories become available. I could not know what might be generated from the entanglement of camera, more-than-child-sized-researcher, right-angled cushions, glass thresholds, health and safety regulations, Chinese New Year, noodles, London, building site, Muslim educators, Cantonese music, the Prevent Duty (HM Govt. 2015), early afternoon, treasure cushion, weather conditions, EYFSC, bathmat, nappy change and, and, and… The task though becomes to take account of the entanglements and what they produce.

Becoming-Monkey-Spit-Camera-Cube Inspired by Kind (2013), Hultman and Lenz Taguchi (2010) and Nordstrom (2015), I wanted to find ways to register photographic equipment as agentic and to allow for creative experimentation away from the usual practice of capturing evidence and visual representations of children through documentation and research (Figs. 9.1 and 9.2). The Polaroid Cube® was selected to participate in the fieldwork. It is a robust device that can withstand water/spit, being dropped/thrown and it captures both instant-still and video-action recordings. The device comes with additional accessories, including a ‘monkey stand’ which participated in significant ways in research encounters. The nursery embraced the educative potential of Chinese New Year in pronounced ways. Greeted by an invitation to the baby room where ‘Something really Chinese-y is going on’, upon condition that the ‘plastic covers over outdoor shoe’ policy was adhered to ‘for health and safety reasons’ . Sifting through though, all the blue plastic covers were holey or torn from frequent

9 Queering Understandings of How Matter Comes …

Fig. 9.1 The Polaroid Cube

®

1

Fig. 9.2 The Polaroid Cube

®

2

225

use, hence shoes are removed and the room is entered in socks. Crossing the threshold, confronted by an intensely, multisensory Chinese-themed experience: posters, soft furnishings, lanterns, calendars, menus, horoscopes, various textures of red materials, Chinese music and the smell of recently cooked egg noodles (Figs. 9.3 and 9.4).

226

J. Osgood

Fig. 9.3 Taken by Polaroid Cube

®

1

Fig. 9.4 Taken by Polaroid Cube

®

2

A welcome to BumbleBee Room was extended by a female, mature, South Indian (possibly Muslim) educator. At the level -of the child, on the floor, sat on one of three bath mats which had been set down to capture noodle mess. Animated and prolonged engagement in the multi-sensory noodlechopstick-wok-bathmat exploration. Babies upright; right angled cushions

9 Queering Understandings of How Matter Comes …

227

behind to cushion a flip backwards—a risk when bodies become sitting bodies). Corporeal, prolonged immersion, grabbing, lasooing, teasing and pulling the noodles, handfuls of noodles sensed in the mouth, hands, ears, hair—cold sticky bits of noodle embedded in sock yarn and bathmat fibres. Enabling environment, cultural diversity environment Child-centred pedagogy Scaffolding practices Sensory play, fine-motor skills Food waste Domestic labour Animated giggling, audible, embodied enjoyment… ‘children become deeply engrossed in practical and creative tasks, and are encouraged to take risks and to assess the risks themselves’

Quickly the monkey-camera-cube hailed the attention of two seven-monthold babies. The cube was greeted with animated: ‘Ooh-ooh, ahh-ahh, ooh-ooh’, clapping and burbling. The adult-educators instinctively made connections between the monkey-stand -camera-cube, with the monkey-like noises. They further assumed that Year of the Monkey was intentionally represented by the monkey-camera. The Polaroid monkey-cube took a series of shots of two noodle-playing babies. One baby grabbed the monkey, realising that the ‘head’ was attached to the ‘body’ by a magnet began enjoying the pull of the magnetic force and the clicking sound of metal on metal. He then began mouthing the stand and subsequently the ‘head’ i.e. the camera cube. I had imagined that I might find video footage of the inside of his mouth but his four teeth had deactivated the camera, however spitting remnants of his oral exploration were left imprinted on the monkey-head -cube-camera. The babies: white, English, boys; greet me with their entire bodies, gravitate towards my crossed legs, leaning further towards me, smile enthusiastically, grab my hands, pass me noodles and giggle animatedly, fingering the sticky and slimy noodles sticking them to my trousers and socks. Pointed wooden chopsticks, anchored in chubby fists, orbit the air in sometimes controlled, intentional ways (to poke the noodles) and at other times less controlled ways. Professional confidence, experience, wisdom enables: freedom to test boundaries, investigate and become-with the materials.

228

J. Osgood

Contentment adhesive noodles attentive adults enabling environment entangled, engrossed, …lost in the moment.

A second eduator in BumbleBee room, also South Asian in her early 30 s enters the noodle event. Both eduators have worked at the nursery for over a decade; sense a companionable ease, warmth, familiarity which produces comfortable affective charges framed by casual conversation and laughter. An easy ebb and flow to the tempo of the room; Chinese music proclaimed to: ‘have a calming effect’; declared similar to ‘music played in spa treatment rooms’, laughter, shared by noodle-babies. Affective pull of the threshold The visible thresholds between BumbleBee and Ladybird rooms demarcated the space, the materials, the humans, yet evoked an affective charge of longing and curiosity. Doors with full length windows, some partially covered with posters and signs, magnetically drew toddlers to the window, faces squashed against the cold glass, pressing noses, snot, sticky hands, exposed tummies suckered against the cold pain of glass in a bid to reconnect with the space (baby room) and the educators, the smells, the textures, the memories. Pushing noses up against the glass and tonguing the cold glass pane induces collective laughter on either side of the threshold (but not audible to those in the other room but visible through the glass). I am told that when children transition from one room to the next the doors are left open for a short period (couple of weeks) to allow the children to adjust to their new space (Figs. 9.5 and 9.6). A cradle moves in the corner of the room, animated by a waking infant (Black, British boy, 6 months old). Still dozy from a nap, the scene is surveyed. With enthusiastic encouragement, roused from slumber by a makeshift spinning top assembled from the large, transparent wok lid and a nearby ball. Hailed by the whirring, gliding, accelerated rotation of the spinning top—transfixed, senses consumed by the sound and motion. Meanwhile I notice the unconscious reconfiguration of my own body, taking me back to another time and place, as one of the noodle-babies topples forward, a soft landing provided by bathmats and cushion, but left beached due to

9 Queering Understandings of How Matter Comes …

Fig. 9.5 Assemblage of affective thresholds 1

229

230

J. Osgood

Fig. 9.6 Assemblage of affective thresholds 2

adult:child ratios. The toppled baby finds a way to my crossed -legs, my body contorts to provide a frame, the space provided by adult crossed legs acts in the same way as the right-angled cushions. I am reminded how time, space, place, experience is etched corporeally—the maternal is inscribed in and on the body in ways that are largely imperceptible, I unconsciously and instinctively move around the needs of the baby and become with the space. My senses are further transported back in time, to re-experience my body becoming a frame for a pre-walking baby to stand and dance a tottering jig—the inability to stand unaided transformed my upper body—notably my arms became a frame to support this pursuit. An unwillingness/disinterest in sitting any longer was felt through corporeal strength and determination to continue to stand upright, transferred to my biceps. Wilful, determined, intuitive action reliant upon my compliance. Noodle flipping and lassoing continues just out of view; meanwhile I encountered the baby I had becomewith articulating ‘noodle’ moves with his entire body. What do noodles make possible? What intensities do they induce, negate, condone? The Polaroid Cube captured video footage of the spinning-top-wok-lid ball and its affective charges in a precise moment. An educator abruptly interrupts the whirring, accelerated rotation of the spinning top. Bash, bash,

9 Queering Understandings of How Matter Comes …

231

bash…. abrupt, intrusive, brutal, disrupting sound of chopstick on spinning top. The chopstick audibly jars, and ultimately the motion and sound and the baby’s mesmerised immersion with it, is extinguished. Each time I revisit the video clip4 I physically wince. Why does it produce that affective charge? What work was the spinning top doing? What more do the children learn from the adult orchestration and demonstration of how things work/sound? What drives a human-centric compulsion to intervene? What might happen if matter, space and the emergent affective intensities acted as pedagogue? Pedagogical imperatives, curriculum frameworks and dominant discourses about children are circulating in these micro-moments. Taking up new materialist practices of off-the-beaten-path method and tentacular thought might allow for a curious practice for looking at the world-with (children and their entanglements) rather than at (Haraway 2016, p. 129) them. With a new materialist sensibility in play, educators might engage in worldly practices that allow a deep immersion into the lives of children and how they engage with situations, matter and relational entanglements to reach other more expansive but less certain ideas about diversity. Taking the noodles, or the wok-lid, or the bathmat, or in fact any, seemingly unremarkable and routine material, within an ‘enabling’, ‘cultural diversity environment’ invites questions that agitate deep thoughtfulness and tentacular, wayfaring practices. Such as: Who has touched it? What has touched it? Where has it been? Where was it manufactured? Who manufactured it? What materials is it made from? How many miles has it travelled? How did it make its way into the nursery? What is the evidence-base to support its existence in early childhood contexts—as a learning device? as a safe toy? Where does matter take us? How does matter come to matter? What can we do with the mattering that matter does? Deep hanging out, off-the-beaten-path practices and tentacular thinking allow these material-discursive entanglements to tell different stories, to open out where Chinese New Year might take us. The materials are more than objects, more than symbolic representations, and the children’s entanglements with them are multiple and interconnected at so many levels from history, to colonialism, to capitalism and globalisation, to gender inequalities, and manufacturing practices, to food waste

232

J. Osgood

and the environment, to spa treatments and domestic labour. Presenting us with boundless trouble, but trouble that we must stay with—it is not enough to seek quick fixes and easy solutions—we do not face problems, we face matters of concern (Haraway 2016). Considering the material-semiotic-discursive and affective entanglement of noodles, chopsticks, oversized cushions, legal duties, the human body, spit, music, glass thresholds, cameras, bathmats and dried-on food, daily routines, curriculum frameworks, pedagogical observations, food practices, insists that associations and traceable attachments are accounted for, so that early education can be understood as more than an exclusively human endeavour, and through which ‘diversity’ can be understood as multiple processes, of multi-layered becomings. The possibilities that emerge allow Chinese New Year to be thought, figured, felt in more sustained and immersed ways, where response-ability can be exercised towards all elements in an assemblage. The materialised reconfiguration of diversity offered in this chapter, as sensed and storied is of course open to multiple interpretations. I fought hard against an immediate instinct to deconstruct and critique what was represented; however, resisting the urge to go to familiar places theoretically and politically opened up generative possibilities. For example, I reflect upon how social class, gender and race are playing out in this scenario—the analysis that I could make of gendered labour—female educators, the domestic cleaning that will be necessary to pick the dried noodles from the bathmats, the intense physical labour involved in this form of ‘women’s work’, the maternal discourses that circulate and frame the nature of the work (Osgood 2012). The primacy of risk discourses— demands for health and safety that undermine the trust in and autonomy of the educator. The Prevent Duty (HM Govt. 2015) omnipresent, hanging the air and inflecting the practices of these South Asian educators in imperceptible ways. That is not to claim that these foci of analyses fall out of view, they are the matters of concern that must be kept in view, but by working with feminist new materialist approaches the starting point becomes materiality and entanglements rather than the human subject—which invites other stories, opportunities to figure through the event, the entanglement, the assemblage as fleeting, fluid, shifting, coconstituted rather than fixed. Diversity, cultural identity, ‘race’, ethnicity

9 Queering Understandings of How Matter Comes …

233

do not reside in the human subject; instead, diversity can be understood as more confederate, distributed and worldly. Resisting the urge to stop at critical deconstruction of what is represented (gender asymmetries, social class, race, age differentials, pedagogical shortcomings, imposition of curriculum, regulation of working practices) creates opportunities to reconfigure diversity more expansively by using the multiple and interwoven material-semiotic-discursive entanglements as something to think with.

(In)-Conclusion Working with feminist new materialist onto-epistemologies opens up possibilities to map curriculum frameworks, legal duties and research methods against what unfolds in routine, everyday events in nursery environments. It is possible to identify fissures between dominant discourses and practice. So here the dominant discourses that are readily perceptible include child development, multi-culturalism, scaffolding pedagogies, free flow, social interaction, sensory play, enabling environments and so on. But Haraway’s practices of becoming-worldly-with, off-the-beaten-path, tentacular and deep thoughtfulness beg that we consider the inter- and intra-relationality between human, non-human, more-than-human and everyday life and how it is situated politically, historically and geographically. Bennet (2010) shifts her focus from the human experience of things to things themselves. She explores how political analyses might change if we acknowledge that agency always emerges in the ad hoc configurations of human and non-human forces. Recognising that agency is distributed in this way, and that it is not solely the province of humans, might spur the cultivation of a more responsible, ecologically sound politics: a politics less devoted to blaming and condemning individuals than to discerning the web of forces affecting situations and events. Put to work Bennett’s (2010) ‘thing power’ and vital materialism in early childhood contexts we might ask: What do the glass threshold, the noodles, the spinning top make possible? How do they function and connect with other

234

J. Osgood

things? What do the entanglements transmit? What intensities/affects do these materialities induce or condone or negate? This questioning can prompt investigations into the assemblages of relational entanglements within the event itself but also attend to what informs the agents within the assemblages and where they might take us. These complex assemblages of relational entanglements offer another story with which to consider the politics of seemingly inconsequential events and everyday occurrences within nurseries. In order that educators and researchers might persistently grapple-with, to produce alternative and more expansive understandings that might offer the space to collectively identify and re-imagine matters of concern and shared problems in early childhood contexts. Educators are offered the chance to become entangled with the materiality of their practice in ways that enable a critical engagement with the structures of policy, curriculum with which they are expected to work and which they in turn shape.

Notes 1. This study received ethical approval from the Education Ethics Committee at Middlesex University and adhered the BERA 2018 Ethics Code of Conduct. 2. See: https://www.pacey.org.uk/news-and-views/pacey-blog/2015/septem ber-2015/fundamental-british-values-in-the-early-years/. 3. See: http://www.preventwatch.org/the-cucumber-case/. 4. The study involved a series of observations across the nursery over a period of 18 months at times when events, festivals and celebrations were underway. Detailed notes were made, photographs taken—by humans (children and me as researcher), and the Polaroid Cube also captured footage.

9 Queering Understandings of How Matter Comes …

235

References Ball, S. J. (2003). The Teacher’s Soul and the Terrors of Performativity. Journal of Education Policy, 18(2), 215–228. Bennett, J. (2010). Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things. Durham, CA: Duke University Press. Dau, E., & Jones, K. (2016). Revisiting Celebrations with Young Children. In E. Dau (Ed.), The Anti-Bias Approach in Early Childhood (pp. 135–144). Sydney: MultiVerse Publishing. Department for Children, Schools and Families. (2007). A Unique Child: Inclusive Practice. London: HMSO. Early Years Careers. (2016). The Importance of a Cultural Diversity Environment. http://www.earlyyearscareers.com/eyc/enabling-environment/ creating-culturally-diverse-environment/. Accessed 16 November 2017. Glover, A. (2016). Children and Bias. In E. Dau (Ed.), The Anti-Bias Approach in Early Childhood (pp. 3–15). Sydney: MultiVerse Publishing. Haraway, D. (2016). Staying with the Trouble: Making Kin in the Chthulucene. London: Duke University Press. Haraway, D. J. (1994). A Game of Cat’s Cradle: Science Studies, Feminist Theory, Cultural Studies. Configurations, 2(1), 59–71. HM Government. (2015). Prevent Duty Guidance. London: HMSO. http:// www.legislation.gov.uk/ukdsi/2015/9780111133309/pdfs/ukdsiod_9780 111133309_en.pdf. HM Government. (2014). Fundamental British Values. London: HMSO. Hultman, K., & Taguchi, H. L. (2010). Challenging Anthropocentric Analysis of Visual Data: A Relational Materialist Methodological Approach to Educational Research. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 23(5), 525–542. Kind, S. (2013). Lively Entanglements: The Doings, Movements and Enactments of Photography. Global Studies of Childhood, 3(4), 427–441. Lenz Taguchi, H. (2017) ‘This is not a Photograph of a Fetus’: A Feminist Reconfiguration of the Concept of Posthumanism as the Ultrasound Fetus Image. Qualitative Inquiry, 23(9), 671–687. MacLure, M. (2013). The Wonder of Data. Cultural Studies ↔ Critical Methodologies, 13(4), 228–232. Nordstrom, S. N. (2015). Not So Innocent Anymore: Making Recording Devices Matter in Qualitative Interviews. Qualitative Inquiry, 21(4), 388– 401.

236

J. Osgood

Osgood, J. (2017, June 21–23rd). Unique Unicorn or Normal Norman? Playing with Gender in Early Childhood Contexts. Paper presented at the Gender and Education Association Conference, Middlesex University. Osgood, J., Albon, D., Allen, K., & Hollingworth, S. (2013). Hard to Reach’ or Nomadic Resistance? Families ‘Choosing Not to Participate in Early Childhood Services. Global Studies of Childhood, 3(3), 208–220. Osgood, J. (2012). Narratives from the Nursery: Negotiating Professional Identities in Early Childhood . London: Routledge. Robinson, K., & Jones-Diaz, C. (2016). Diversity and Difference in Childhood: Issues for Theory and Practice (2nd ed.). London: Routledge. Tsing, A. (2015). The Mushroom at the End of the World: On the Possibility of Life in Capitalist Ruins. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

10 Authoring Imaginative Selves Through Digital Narratives in the Science Classroom Elizabeth M. Walsh

Introduction Since the conceptualization of western science, inequities have persisted in the scientific community, limiting the diversity of voices that are present in the construction and dissemination of scientific knowledge (Bang and Medin 2010). These inequities are both a consequence of and a precursor to the narrowing of the possibilities of who can do science and, ultimately, the allowable kinds of activities that can be understood as scientific (Bang et al. 2012). The historical homogeneity of western science and the repression of non-dominant knowledge systems has led to marginalization of certain values, ways of knowing and practices, as existing power structures continually reproduce dominant systems (Giroux and Giroux 2006). A narrow view of science, combined with devaluing of non-dominant ways of knowing, continues to perpetuate E. M. Walsh (B) San José State University, San Jose, CA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s) 2021 L. Moran et al. (eds.), Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People, Studies in Childhood and Youth, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-55647-1_10

237

238

E. M. Walsh

a circumstance in which only a few voices and a few ways of understanding the world are heard both in scientific work and science-related decision-making. Current efforts in science education have sought to desettle these dominant ideas of science to allow for a greater diversity of voices to be heard (Bang et al. 2012). One promising avenue for this work is to foreground youth and learner narratives related to personally consequential science. These approaches have the dual benefit of revealing and promoting perspectives and understandings from outside the dominant scientific communities in order to push social change, as well as supporting science learning by making content matter relevant to learners’ lives and supporting science identity work. In this chapter, I review the role of story and narrative in science practices and science education and the role of identity in science learning. I then present findings from a curricular development effort to promote the learning of climate change science through digital storytelling. I examine how young people’s voice and experience was leveraged in the creation of digital narratives as they imagined, explored and enacted possible futures through their narratives.

Stories and Filmmaking for Equitable Science Education Scientific accounts are shaped by the values, practices and ways of knowing of the existing scientific community (Pickering 1992); these in turn interact with complex sociopolitical contexts that can use scientific information to argue for various policies or possible futures. This idea of science as a cultural practice has superseded historical understandings of science as the careful, seemingly objective, exploration, experimentation and documentation processes by which facts are uncovered, refined and coalesced into an increasingly complex and robust description of the world around us. Over thirty years ago, Latour and Woolgar (1986) argued that scientists ultimately were engaged in the task of persuasion, of convincing themselves and each other of the veracity of theories and interpretations of data through artful “transformations” as science is negotiated through collaboration, communication

10 Authoring Imaginative Selves Through Digital …

239

and further exploration. From determining the validity of particular data points to attributing observations to specific theories, from this perspective scientists engage in constructing compelling storied accounts of the world through development of rigorous scientific arguments and coherent scientific explanations. They share their stories with colleagues verbally and in print; these stories are then judged, revised and retold. Story plays a critical role in the processes of science, as we use story to make sense of phenomena, to share these sense-makings with others, and finally, to establish a consensus understanding of truth and reality. Research has suggested that in some cases scientific articles with a narrative style are more highly cited than other articles, emphasizing the importance of story in communicating new findings and understandings (Hiller et al. 2016). Story also plays a role in carrying scientific ideas and understandings into the broader public realm through science communication endeavors that support young and old science learners in making sense of scientific information (Dahlstrom 2014). This includes the use of story in science education; research has demonstrated that narrative can facilitate learning processes, by supporting young people’s memory, identity development and sense-making (Avraamidou and Osborne 2009; Engel et al. 2018). Storytelling has been recognized as an important sense-making mechanism that can help learners organize and remember knowledge (Schank 1990). Digital storytelling is gaining traction in the science classroom for its cognitive benefits (Burmark 2004; Robin 2008), its supporting of engagement and identity work (Staley and Freeman 2017; Rooney-Varga et al. 2014; Gold et al. 2015), and as a tool for youth agency (Gachago et al. 2014). For example, Calabrese Barton and Tan (2010) utilized documentary filmmaking in a “third space” afterschool program as part of a culturally responsive approach to learning that blended students’ social and scientific worlds through connections between energy usage and the health of their urban environment. Giving students a voice through filmmaking increased their agency, positioned them as experts in their personal and scientific communities and supported their science learning (ibid.). These narrative techniques have been used in educational research and curricular interventions to support youth voice, empower students and engage young people in science. Researchers

240

E. M. Walsh

have used digital storytelling to empower young people labeled as “unengaged” by their schools (Staley and Freeman 2017), engage university students (Rooney-Varga et al. 2014) and make science personally consequential (Gold et al. 2015). Lambert (2013) has argued that the proliferation and increasing accessibility of digital media has further promoted youth voice in ways that can support social change. As research methods become more visual, from video observations to photographs to satellite images, who supplies and interprets these visual products, and the geographic locations from where they are taken, becomes important. Digital storytelling provides an avenue to better understand young people’s learning pathways by placing the instrument of research directly in young people’s hands and allowing them to leverage their experiences to create imaginative narratives that reflect their ideas of possible futures (Cook et al. 2016). While many actions to solve socio-scientific problems related to climate science take a top-down approach, these participant-led, visual and narrative approaches provide spaces for the perspectives of those most impacted by the current and potential changes to come to the foreground. Furthermore, in the United States specifically, recent shifts in education standards at the primary and secondary level have made it a particularly advantageous moment for incorporating storytelling and filmmaking into science classrooms. The recently developed Next Generation Science Standards (NGSS), currently being implemented with the majority of young people in the United States, have an unprecedented resonance with existing English Language Arts standards and also emphasize real-world, contextualized learning (NGSS Lead States 2013). The NGSS foreground “knowledge in practice” that engage young people in utilizing scientific content knowledge in conjunction with scientific practices and cross-cutting scientific concepts. This shift in standards to reward multidisciplinarity marks a potential opportunity to broaden science education learning environments to support not only youth participation in scientific institutions but also youth agency in constructing scientifically grounded societal transformation. Here, I examine the potential for a standards-aligned, multidisciplinary curriculum focused on climate storytelling to support youth science identity work and agency.

10 Authoring Imaginative Selves Through Digital …

241

Beyond Facts: The Interaction of Science Identity and Science Learning Consensus research reports on science learning emphasize the multiple dimensions of scientific learning and scientific work (National Academies of Science, Engineering & Medicine 2018; National Research Council [NRC] 2007, 2009). These include not only understanding and using conceptual knowledge, but also participation in, and reflection on, practices and processes that lead to the creation and communication of new knowledge, and development of an identity as someone who can use and contribute to science (NRC 2009). Over the past two decades, the importance of science identity has become a more prominent focus of science education research, as being able to imagine oneself as a productive producer or user of scientific knowledge has been shown to have significant implications for ones’ participation in science learning environments (e.g., Brickhouse et al. 2000; Carlone and Johnson 2007; DeWitt and Archer 2015). Science identity can be conceptualized as how young people see themselves in relation to science and how the interactions they have, and believe they can have, shape who they become in science (NRC 2009). Science identity work is complex, and recent research has highlighted the importance of considering identity work across time, across spaces and as mediated by sociocultural processes and contexts. Theorists of learning have attempted to describe how learning and identity work occurs throughout space and time, through constructs such as cultural learning pathways (Bell et al. 2012) or learning ecosystems (Barron 2006; Penuel et al. 2014). Identity work can be considered as an eco-social process that occurs across timescales from moments in a classroom to cultural movement over generations; these timescales are connected by artifacts that can support identity construction over time (Lemke 2000). Holland and Leander (2004) similarly consider how identity work happens over time; they theorize identity development processes as occurring through laminations that affect changes in mind and body. Over time, laminations can solidify particular identities through the accumulation of instances of either self-positioning or being positioned by others as particular kinds of people; this accrual of

242

E. M. Walsh

positionings shape mind and body and may leave behind artifacts that further instantiate and bolster these positionings and identities. Importantly, science identity work is culturally situated and therefore inherently intertwined with sociocultural understandings of and structures related to gender, racial and ethnic identities, among others. Dissonance between cultural identities, practices and values with traditional western scientific identities (e.g., that of a middle- to uppersocioeconomic status White male) can provide a barrier to science identity work and thus ultimately participation in scientific communities (Nasir et al. 2006; Tan and Calabrese Barton 2010; Fradd and Lee 1999; Aikenhead 1996). Identity work, then, involves negotiation between multiple communities that may be at odds as learners move throughout the spaces of their lives. Identity has further been theorized as related to and recognized through discourse, as individuals leverage socially recognizable resources, such as language and other signifiers, to bid for particular identities (Gee 2011). Ultimately, this identity work is a social process, as bids can either be recognized or rejected supporting or hindering the lamination of identities. Thus, identity work can be considered as the improvisation of bids for particular positionings using available cultural resources (Gee 2011). This is closely connected to the construct of human agency, which Holland et al. (2001, p. 272) describe as authoring responses to the world by “arranging the identifiable discourses/practices that are one’s resources…in order to craft a response in a time and space.” Agency depends on available discourses and practices in one’s toolbox and the scope of an individual to instantiate particular identity bids. The greater extent to which one is able to leverage particular cultural discourses and practices, the better able one is to respond in a socially recognized way with increased agency in a space—and thus successfully bid for a recognized identity. For young people from cultural backgrounds that are historically underrepresented or marginalized in dominant scientific institutions, this work may be more fraught. The dissonance between communities can be considered a “colliding of worlds” (Gutiérrez 2008). To address this, education researchers have advocated for creating bridges between learners’ home and school contexts. One promising avenue for aiding in this boundary-crossing, bringing young

10 Authoring Imaginative Selves Through Digital …

243

people’s cultural assets and identities into science classrooms, is through the use of narrative and story. By providing open-ended, creative spaces, young people are able to leverage their existing expertise, practices and values as well as scientific understandings to improvise and play with possible identities and futures through storytelling. These stories can further serve to create an artifact that bolsters science identities by creating a shareable product that can be recognized as valuable in both home and school contexts.

Science Through Story Curriculum Design In the design of the science through story curriculum, not all communities will experience climate impacts to the same degree and in the same ways. Anthropologists Crate and Nuttall (2009) describe the risks and opportunities associated with a changing climate and shifting resource availability as an issue of cultural survival. Historically, and today, marginalized communities (e.g., low socioeconomic status, communities of color) disproportionately experience the impacts of climate-influenced environmental changes. The science through story curriculum aimed to support diverse young people’s voices to tell creative stories of a changing climate and climate action. We work in a socioeconomically and ethnically diverse area and encourage young people to consider how to affect positive change in their communities. In the San Francisco Bay Area, the site of the work, prosperous communities co-exist with extreme poverty, and these two groups have varied constraints and affordances that inform their ability to participate in the resources of the community (Maharawal 2017). Digital storytelling for climate science and climate action learning in science classrooms has been implemented through several research projects since 2012, often in conjunction with the Green Ninja Project. In the late 2000s, a team of climate scientists, animators and filmmakers created the character of the Green Ninja as a climate action superhero to engage middle school young people in climate science and climate change. This group created a YouTube series of short, humorous videos that could be used as hooks in science classrooms. Young people

244

E. M. Walsh

were challenged in the classroom to create their own video that told a story about climate change and climate action after learning about climate science. In 2012, I began working with the Green Ninja team to systematically study the impact and design of Green Ninja and science through story materials. To that end, my graduate students and I have used design-based research methods and qualitative case study methodologies to understand the impact of incorporating filmmaking into the classroom on various dimensions of science learning, on science identity and agency with respect to climate change, and to understand the relationship between curricular materials and various learning outcomes. The implementation of science and storytelling curricula has varied greatly across time and in each individual school context. What I describe here, then, is not meant to imply specific causality or be generalizable to large populations; rather, I explore major observations and themes across the project that have implications for the use of digital storytelling to support identity and agency work with respect to science. Generally, a curriculum implementation will take six weeks of instruction, including two or three weeks on scientific content and practices, one or two weeks of learning about story construction and writing stories, and two weeks of shooting, editing and revising student films. In some early implementations, as described below, young people were instructed to explicitly include the Green Ninja as a character in their films; over time this requirement was dropped. At the end of the implementation, young people screen their films for their classrooms and schools, often during evening parties that parents and families attend. Student films can also be submitted to the annual Green Ninja Film Festival; young people, families and community members attend, awards are given out and all films nominated for awards are screened. The example films described below come from four contexts that combined climate science learning with filmmaking: (a) an afterschool program for 4th- and 5th-grade students (~9–11 years old) at a predominately Spanish-speaking school in 2013, (b) an early pilot of science through story curriculum in a high school science course in 2013, (c) a project-based science classroom from the first instantiation of a more comprehensive science through story curriculum in a middle school course in 2016 as part of a government-funded design-based

10 Authoring Imaginative Selves Through Digital …

245

research project and (d) a K-8 inclusive sixth-grade classroom from the second instantiation of the design-based research project in 2017. In each case, data collection and analysis underwent an ethical review and approval by the university Institutional Review Board, and all names used in reporting findings are pseudonyms to ensure confidentiality. We collected student work from each project (including films and early story materials), observed students using video and audio recordings as well as qualitative field notes, and interviewed young people individually or in groups at the end of the implementation. This diversity of contexts and of implementation has provided a window into how young people take on the role of storytellers, how they capture their world, and the identity negotiations that take place as young people position themselves and take agency through film.

Agency Through Role One of the earliest lines of inquiry in digital science storytelling studies related to the role(s) that young people chose to take on, why they chose those roles and what some of the possible constraints or affordances of those roles might be. The early aim in the creation of the Green Ninja was to inspire young people to also take on active (or even heroic) roles in their own lives, with the films as a means to live out this agentic side of themselves. However, unsurprisingly we found it to be much less straightforward—roles were being used in unexpected ways, and young people used roles to bid for particular positions and express particular identities not only for themselves but also for their peers. Importantly, how young people were positioning themselves and others into particular roles was clearly intertwined with cultural expectations and racial, gender and ethnic identities. For example, in context (b), one of the first contexts we studied, a requirement was for the Green Ninja to be a character in the film. However, this was revealed to have consequences as to who could take on the role of the Green Ninja, a character depicted in the YouTube films as male and Asian (McVay Walukiewicz and Walsh 2015). This positioning of that role as male and Asian was reinforced by the classroom teacher, who pre-positioned the

246

E. M. Walsh

role during instruction by referring to the character as “he,” and in all mixed-gender teams a boy played the role of the Green Ninja. In one case study of an all-girl team, Lizzie, who was chosen to play the Green Ninja, was made fun of by her teammates and positioned as less-successfully feminine than her teammates. In this case, taking on the superhero role in some ways led to a decrease in agency because it positioned Lizzie in a male space that was seen as a space for ridicule by her teammates. Even in mixed-gender teams, the roles that young people took on, or were positioned into, were informed by traditional gender constructs. For example, in one mixed-gender group, when Michaela, a girl who had taken the lead on directing their film attempted to step into the role of lead anchor in their news show, a male group member pushed back telling her she had to be his co-host and he was the lead anchor. Michaela quickly acquiesced, saying, “I’m a girl so– I don’t care.” This strongly signals the extent to which existing and available cultural values and positions—in this case related to gender—impacted how young people were able to engage with the story, and the meaning that those roles had within the group and for individuals. Because of these findings, the Green Ninja team sought to find ways to ameliorate the constraint that the Green Ninja character might play on young people. The requirement for the Green Ninja to be a character in the film was removed and YouTube episodes and curricular materials now feature female Green Ninjas, Green Ninjas from a variety of ethnic and racial backgrounds, and includes messaging around how everyone is and can be the Green Ninja. While in many films, young people do use superhero or fanatastical elements, others tell compelling stories grounded in current events in which young people take on heroic roles. For example, the Spanishlanguage film Juniper School Noticias told the story of a corrupt presidential candidate who accepts a bribe from an oil company and holds a press conference denying climate change. The corrupt presidential candidate is a spoof of Donald Trump, who was in the midst of an ultimately successful presidential campaign in the spring of 2016 when this film was made. In the film, however, this corrupt candidate is exposed as a fraud by Latino newscasters on a Spanish-language television station. These newscasters then report the truth about climate change. The structure of

10 Authoring Imaginative Selves Through Digital …

247

the film emulated popular Latino news programs, leveraging the voice of the main news source for many Spanish-speaking American communities, a news source that is often marginalized in the English-language media landscape. Casting the Latino newscasters as the heroes positioned these characters, who strongly resonated with the young people who created them, with the agency to affect significant change. The film also connected to themes of corruption and politics that the students saw as very relevant to society and as consequential to their everyday life. While in Juniper School Noticias, young people took agency by portraying a hero, for 4th-grader Didi, taking on the role of the villain provided her with an opportunity for self-expression in the film Furious Fur: Revenge of the Lonesome Penguin (Walsh and Dominguez 2016). In this film, Didi played the Lonesome Penguin whose nefarious plot to destroy the polar bears is thwarted by the Green Ninja. Furious Fur leveraged action movie norms, pitting the hero Green Ninja character against the Lonesome Penguin villain in a showdown fight sequence. Didi was the only girl in her group, which also included four boys. When we first observed their group, Didi appeared to be the group leader. However, upon reviewing recorded observations after the fact it became apparent that Didi was often talked-over, overruled, teased or in other ways sidelined by her group. When her group decided she should play the villain, Didi created a representation of herself that had power over the other members of her group—the Lonesome Penguin. In her interview, when asked why she had created this character, Didi stated “I’m lonely.” She imbued her villain character with one of her own experiences, but also used this negative experience to provide this villain with great power. Thus, through the Lonesome Penguin, Didi explored her own experiences and used them figuratively (and literally in the film) to challenge and fight her peers. This provided her with a space to consider, reframe and instantiate a negative experience as a powerful one. While ostensibly about climate change, Didi actually wove a hidden narrative into the film about herself, her position and her feelings of loneliness.

248

E. M. Walsh

Connecting Science to Social and Cultural Experiences One key aim of the science through story curricula was for the openended narrative structure of the project to provide a context for young people to foreground experiences, values and ideas that were of consequence to them, their families and their communities. We found that young people foregrounded these cultural assets in a variety of ways, including modeling, emulating or parodying media types to engage particular audiences, weaving other social issues of consequence into their storyline, and drawing on impactful personal experiences in the plots of their stories. Narratives were often constructed by drawing heavily on established media types and structures, including drawing on cultural media that they felt would entertain their audience. Many youth participants spoke a language other than English in the home (most commonly Spanish and Vietnamese) and young people were encouraged to create films in their home language (with English subtitles) as a way of connecting to home language and culture and increasing the accessibility of their films to their families and communities. As seen in Juniper School Noticias, which revolved around Spanish-language news programs, using home language opened up possibilities for young people to leverage media outside of dominant English-speaking genres. One example of this was another Spanish-language film, Los Mariachias, created by four female 7th- and 8th-grade filmmakers who called their group Las Chicas Mexicanas (the Mexican girls). This film parodied Latino television shows including sitcom El Chavo del Ocho and telenovela La Rosa de Guadalupe by incorporating recognizable characters, plot devices and humor. In this highly comedic, loosely plotted film, four mariachis arrive home from work and watch television. The programs— parodies of existing programs—incorporate aspects of climate change and climate actions that teach the mariachis (and thus the audience) about climate change. This film was notable in that it did not have a tight storyline or narrative, and followed an episodic structure that didn’t align closely to the story structures introduced in the curriculum. However,

10 Authoring Imaginative Selves Through Digital …

249

in discussing their film, Las Chicas Mexicanas noted that they specifically choose this format because they thought it would be funny and entertaining for their parents and might interest them in climate change. Other youth films drew from a variety of genres, including everything from video games and comic books, to the reality TV program and social media empire of Keeping Up With the Kardashians. In addition to drawing from a variety of culturally relevant media sources, young people also incorporated other social issues into their films. In the Vietnamese-language film Back to Pollution, the protagonist, Mai, is bullied for trying to tell her peers about climate change. A scene in the aftermath of this bullying depicting a crying Mai is shot stylistically in black and white with a loud pop music score, emphasizing the emotional impact. In the film’s plot, the magical Lady Gaea sends Mai forward in time to the year 3035 where she visits a climate refugee camp and meets two leaders who promise to help her go back in time to change the future. In this film, the filmmakers considered a social consequence of taking action on climate change, connecting it to bullying, which was an often-discussed and very prevalent concern in their school lives. Like Didi, whose climate story wrestled with themes of loneliness, the story also explored themes of socialization. This digital storytelling space provided an opportunity for young people to explore and express struggles and experiences beyond what would be considered relevant to a science curriculum. These consequential connections also included personal experiences. For example, 6th-grade student Naomi used her aunt’s battle with cancer as a starting place for her climate story. Naomi discussed how her aunt’s cancer diagnosis had caused her aunt to reconsider her lifestyle and had changed her from a negative, “gossipy” person into someone who became positive and began to care for herself, others and her garden. This served as the inspiration for Naomi’s story, in which a woman gains superpowers as she helps the environment and is able to travel back in time to stop the worst impacts of climate change. In other stories, student interests such as robotics or animals became key drivers of character development and plot.

250

E. M. Walsh

Collectives, Individuals and the Narrative One ongoing theme of both student films and their film construction processes was the negotiation of, and at times tension between, individual and collective agency. This most obviously appeared in films that considered the role of an individual in climate action versus that of a group or community. This is noteworthy as it echoes ongoing discussions in the realm of climate action, which consider who or what has the responsibility and ability to affect meaningful change on climate, and what actions have impact at the individual, government or corporate level. In some films, this manifested as a seeming inversion of a traditional hero’s journey story arc. The film Astoria’s Adventure draws on fantasy tropes and cinematography from movies and video games to tell the story of Astoria, who lives in a land ruled by an evil queen. This film is nearly completely silent, with all characters’ dialogue presented on intertitles except for that of a prophet who instructs Astoria on how to save the realm by defying the queen and making environmentally sustainable choices. Unlike many “chosen one” narratives, Astoria’s decision to take on the role of hero is an active one that arises out of her concern for the future. Additionally, instead of highlighting the individuality and exceptionality of the main hero character, in this film victory required the collective action of all citizens of the realm. In this way, the filmmakers created a positioning not only of an individual with agency, but also of agency facilitated through positioning the individual within a larger social whole. In some ways this is the mirror image of Back to Pollution—Mai is ostracized for her climate action by her peers, while Astoria is a leader and hero who can rally her peers. In both films, however, addressing climate change required the coming together of large groups, and this was a theme commonly seen throughout the films. The narratives young people told were about more than just themselves, but inherently demonstrated the roles the young people felt others needed to take on in order to achieve a just climate future. This negotiation between the individual and the group also appeared in the behind-the-scenes negotiation of the stories themselves (Walsh, Smullen and Cordero 2018). This raised the question of whose voice got heard through the film—an individual’s or a collective’s. In some

10 Authoring Imaginative Selves Through Digital …

251

cases, this process was fraught, as young people made bids for authorship and for roles in the films and filmmaking process. In Naomi’s group, for example, both Naomi and another student, Lena, wanted their story to be the main plot of the film. They decided to combine stories, but throughout that process Lena felt that her story was being “demolished,” and she struggled to successfully bid for a leadership identity in her group, being continually labeled and dismissed as inappropriately “bossy.” In addition to Naomi and Lena, three other students in the group contributed very little to the actual plotline. In some cases, these students’ voices were seen in guiding the shape of the film through directing and editing. Group member Alexis, however, ultimately felt like she had no voice in the final product. Alexis was often absent, a circumstance that the teacher attributed to a difficult home life (the teacher reported that she had experienced periods of homelessness and substantial upheaval in her life). As a consequence, Alexis missed the initial plotting discussions; following this, her bid to be the film director failed as another group member took over that role, and she was positioned by her group into less valued roles. As researchers, we were concerned in this group both by the exclusion of Alexis’ voice and the social difficulty Lena had with being positioned as “bossy” (an often gendered label (LangerOsuna 2011)). This raised questions about how inequitable structures could be reproduced during filmmaking and demonstrated that not all voices were being heard in the narrative film products created. If Alexis, who had experienced homelessness and thus was at some points in her life a member of an extremely marginalized community, was denied her voice in the film, what were the implications of the filmmaking project’s ability to truly foreground experiences and stories of climate change of vulnerable and marginalized groups? In many ways, this reflected the larger-scale social context in which climate action occurs; even in efforts to promote climate justice, those who are most marginalized within highimpact communities are still potentially the least likely to have a voice. It then appears critical to consider how film and narrative projects like this one can best understand this relationship between individual and collective voice, and how to ensure that all young people feel their voice is represented.

252

E. M. Walsh

Conclusion As digital media takes over as a dominant form of information sharing and social experience, its role in learning and societal decision-making will only become more pronounced. For young people growing up in a markedly more technological age in which every moment can be captured, shared, commented upon, reacted to and stored in realtime, film and storytelling become a more and more critical part of youth sense-making about themselves and the world. Movements toward multidisciplinary curricula that combine science learning with language, writing, history and the arts are opening doors to self- and community expression that is scientifically situated. These avenues have the potential to not only engage young people in conceptual and practice-based science learning, but to also position them as change-makers in their communities. In the films described here, young people used a variety of tools to give voice to their concerns, their experiences, their values and, often, their sense(s) of humor. They played with taking on various roles both on- and off-screen, leveraged personally significant cultural resources that may not be part of high-profile policy discussions or traditional scientific institutions, and considered their position within the scientific communities and collective social change movements. If we consider science identity work as that which allows young people to come to see themselves as able to participate in or use science, these films appeared to have promise as instruments of identity construction. These outcomes are consistent with other work that touts the possibility of digital storytelling to support identity work and agency with respect to science and social issues (Gold et al. 2015; Rooney-Varga et al. 2014). However, these culturally situated youth narratives and the filmmaking processes, revealed complexity and tensions arising from an entrenched sexist, racist and classist cultural context. For example, in creating their films, young people both struggled to align to and subvert traditional gender roles. In some cases, films were not representative of the entire group, and some young voices were left unheard. Young people’s films also addressed the intersection of climate action with other social issues and wrestled with the impact a single person could make on such a large problem. Despite these challenges, in many cases young

10 Authoring Imaginative Selves Through Digital …

253

people chose to take on heroic roles as agents of change, to incorporate genres, characters and plots that were engaging and meaningful to themselves and their communities, and were able to contextualize scientific information in creative and scientifically appropriate ways. Importantly, in the films young people created, we heard stories not only of where they had come from and where they were now, but also of who they might become and what possible environmental futures would mediate that becoming. In this way, these scientific stories transcended the realm of science learning to provide windows into who young people are, who they want to be, and what future will facilitate that becoming.

References Aikenhead, G. S. (1996). Science Education: Border Crossing into the Subculture of Science. Studies in Science Education, 27 (1), 1–52. Avraamidou, L., & Osborne, J. (2009). The Role of Narrative in Communicating Science. International Journal of Science Education, 31(12), 1–25. Bang, M., & Medin, D. (2010). Cultural Processes in Science Education: Supporting the Navigation of Multiple Epistemologies. Science Education, 94 (6), 1008–1026. Bang, M., Warren, B., Rosebery, A., & Medin, D. (2012). Desettling Expectations in Science Education. Human Development, 55 (5–6), 302–318. https://doi.org/10.1159/000345322. Barron, B. (2006). Interest and Self-Sustained Learning as Catalysts of Development: A Learning Ecologies Perspective. Human Development, 49 (4), 193–224. https://doi.org/10.1159/000094368. Bell, P., Tzou, C., Bricker, L., & Baines, A. (2012). Learning in Diversities of Structures of Social Practice: Accounting for How, Why and Where People Learn Science. Human Development, 55 (5–6), 269–284. https://doi.org/10. 1159/000345315. Brickhouse, N., Lowery, P., & Schulz, K. (2000). What Kind of a Girl Does Science? The Construction of School Science Identities. Journal of Research in Science Teaching, 37 (5), 441–458. Burmark, L. (2004). Visual Presentations That Prompt, Flash & Transform. Media and Methods, 40 (6), 4–5.

254

E. M. Walsh

Calabrese Barton, A., & Tan, E. (2010). We Be Burnin! Agency, Identity, and Science Learning. Journal of the Learning Sciences, 19 (2), 187–229. Carlone, H., & Johnson, A. (2007). Understanding the Science Experiences of Successful Women of Color: Science Identity as an Analytic Lens. Journal of Research in Science Teaching, 44 (8), 1187–1218. Cook, K., Brown, A., & Ballard, G. (2016). Using Photovoice to Explore Environmental Sustainability Across Languages and Cultures. Discourse and Communication for Sustainable Education, 7 (1), 49–67. Crate, S. A., & Nuttall, M. (2009). Introduction: Anthropology and Climate Change. In S. A. Crate & M. Nuttall (Eds.), Anthropology and Climate Change: From Encounters to Actions Left Coast Press Inc (pp. 9–36). CA: Walnut Creek. Dahlstrom, M. F. (2014). Using Narratives and Storytelling to Communicate Science with Nonexpert Audiences. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, 111(S4), 13614–13620. DeWitt, J., & Archer, L. (2015). Who Aspires to a Science Career? A Comparison of Survey Responses from Primary and Secondary School Students. International Journal of Science Education, 37 (13), 2170–2192. Engel, A., Lucido, K., & Cook, K. (2018). Rethinking Narrative: Leveraging Storytelling for Science Learning. Childhood Education, 94 (6), 4–12. https://doi.org/10.1080/00094056.2018.1540189. Fradd, S., & Lee, O. (1999). Teachers’ Roles in Promoting Science Inquiry with Students from Diverse Language Backgrounds. Educational Researcher, 28(6), 14–42. Gachago, D., Condy, J., Ivala, E., & Chigona, A. (2014). ‘All Stories Bring Hope Because Stories Bring Awareness’: Students’ Perceptions of Digital Storytelling for Social Justice Education. South African Journal of Education, 34 (4), 1–14. Gee, J. P. (2011). An Introduction to Discourse Analysis: Theory and Method (3rd ed.). New York, NY: Routledge. Giroux, H. A., & Giroux, S. S. (2006). Challenging Neoliberalism’s New World Order: The Promise of Critical Pedagogy. Cultural Studies↔Critical Methodologies, 6 (1), 21–32. Gold, A., Oonk, D., Smith, L., Boykoff, M., Osnes, B., & Sullivan, S. (2015). Lens on Climate Change: Making Climate Meaningful Through StudentProduced Videos. Journal of Geography, 114 (6), 235–246. Gutiérrez, K. D. (2008). Developing a Sociocritical Literacy in the Third Space. Reading Research Quarterly, 43(2), 148–164. https://doi.org/10.1598/RRQ. 43.2.3.

10 Authoring Imaginative Selves Through Digital …

255

Hiller, A., Kelley, R. P., & Klinger, T. (2016). Narrative Style Influences Citation Frequency in Climate Change Science. PLoS One, 11(12). https://doi. org/10.1371/journal.pone.0167983. Holland, D., & Leander, K. (2004). Ethnographic Studies of Positioning and Subjectivity: An Introduction. Ethos, 32(2), 127–139. Holland, D., Skinner, D., Lachiotte, W., & Cain, C. (2001). Identity and Agency in Cultural Worlds. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Lambert, J. (2013). Digital Storytelling: Capturing Lives, Creating Community. New York, NY: Routledge. Langer-Osuna, J. M. (2011). How Brianna Became Bossy and Kofi Came Out Smart: Understanding the Trajectories of Engagement for Two Group Leaders in a Project-Based Mathematics Classroom. Canadian Journal of Science, Mathematics and Technology Education, 11(3), 207–225. Latour, B., & Woolgar, S. (1986). Laboratory Life: The Construction of Scientific Facts. Princeton, NJ: University Press, Princeton. Lemke, J. L. (2000). Across the Scales of Time: Artifacts, Activities, and Meanings in Ecosocial Systems. Mind, Culture and Activity, 7 (4), 273–290. https://doi.org/10.1207/S15327884MCA0704. Maharawal, M. (2017). San Francisco’s Tech-Led Gentrification: Public Space, Protest and the Urban Commons. In J. Hou & S. Knierbein (Eds.), City Unsilenced: Urban Resistance and Public Space in the Age of Shrinking Democracy (pp. 30–43). London and New York: Routledge. McVay Walukiewicz, J., & Walsh, E. M. (2015, April 15–21). The Space Between: Girls and Positioning in the Context of Climate Action Superheroes. Paper Presented at Conference of the American Educational Research Association (Session: The Impact of Multimodal Composing on Youth Transformative Disciplinary Identity Work Across Settings), Chicago, IL. Nasir, N. S., Rosebery, A. S., Warren, B., & Lee, C. D. (2006). Learning as a Cultural Process: Achieving Equity through Diversity. In R. K. Sawyer (Ed.), The Cambridge Handbook of the Learning Sciences (pp. 489–504). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. National Academies of Science, Engineering & Medicine. (2018). How People Learn II: Learners, Contexts, and Cultures. Washington, DC: The National Academies Press. National Research Council. (2009). Learning Science in Informal Environments: People, Places, and Pursuits. Committee on Learning Science in Informal Environments. In P. Bell, B. Lewenstein, A. W. Shouse & M.

256

E. M. Walsh

A. Feder (Eds.), Board on Science Education, Center for Education, Division of Behavioral and Social Sciences and Education. Washington, DC: The National Academies Press. National Research Council. (2007). Taking Science to School: Learning and Teaching Science in Grades K-8. In R. A. Duschl, H. A. Schweingruber, & A. W. Shouse (Eds.), Board on Science Education, Center for Education, Division of Behavioral and Social Sciences and Education. Washington, DC: The National Academies Press. NGSS Lead States. (2013). Generation Science Standards: For States, By States. Washington, DC: The National Academies Press. Penuel, W., Lee, T., & Bevan, B. (2014). Designing and Building Infrastructures to Support Equitable STEM Learning Across Settings: Research Synthesis. Research + Practice Collaboratory. Pickering, A. (1992). Science as Practice and Culture. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Robin, B. R. (2008). Digital Storytelling: A Powerful Technology Tool for the 21st Century Classroom. Theory into Practice, 47 (3), 220–228. Rooney-Varga, J., Brisk, A., Adams, E., Shuldman, M., & Rath, K. (2014). Student Media Production to Meet Challenges in Climate Change Science Education. Journal of Geoscience Education, 62(4), 598–608. Schank, R. C. (1990). Tell Me a Story: A New Look at Real and Artificial Memory. Chicago, IL: Northwestern University Press. Staley, B., & Freeman, L. (2017). Digital Storytelling as Student-Centered Pedagogy: Empowering High School Students to Frame Their Futures. Research and Practice in Technology Enhanced Learning, 12(21), 1–17. https://doi.org/10.1186/s41039-017-0061-9. Tan, E., & Calabrese Barton, A. (2010). Transforming Science Learning and Student Participation in Sixth Grade Science: A Case Study of a Low-Income, Urban, Racial Minority Classroom. Equity & Excellence in Education, 43(1), 38–55. Walsh, E. M. & Dominguez, K. (2016). The Lonesome Penguin: Unraveling Youth Voice, Agency and Identity in Climate Action Filmmaking. Proceedings of the International Conference of the Learning Science, Singapore. Walsh, E. M., Smullen, E., & Cordero, E. (2018). “My Favorite Part Is When We Tell the Truth”: Identity and Agency in Middle School Youth’s Climate Science Digital Storytelling. Proceedings of the International Conference of the Learning Science, London, UK.

11 Narrating the Learning Ecosystem: Knowledge, Environment and Relationships for Participatory and Principled Design of Educational Technology for Childhood and Youth Tony Hall, Cornelia Connolly, Gerry Mac Ruairc, Sally McHugh, Ann Marie Wade, Eílis Flanagan, Paul Flynn, and Bonnie Thompson Long

Introduction—The Emergence of Design in Education One of our primary research interests centres on educational technology and optimising its impact on learning and teaching in formal educaT. Hall (B) · C. Connolly · G. Mac Ruairc · S. McHugh · P. Flynn School of Education, National University of Ireland Galway, Galway, Ireland e-mail: [email protected] C. Connolly e-mail: [email protected] G. Mac Ruairc e-mail: [email protected] P. Flynn e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s) 2021 L. Moran et al. (eds.), Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People, Studies in Childhood and Youth, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-55647-1_11

257

258

T. Hall et al.

tional settings, e.g. secondary classrooms, and in informal environments, e.g. museums. Therefore, a major research question in our work is: How can we conceptualise, create, introduce, implement and evaluate innovations with technology to enhance children’s and young people’s learning experience in educational settings? Furthermore, how can we do this in a way that is methodical and systematic, and potentially transforms and improves educational outcomes for learners? As a consequence, we have become increasingly interested in the concept of design, as it applies to trying to change and improve inclusively and systematically educational experiences for young people in different learning environments, formal and informal. In the early 1990s, Ann Brown, University of California, Berkeley, and colleagues in the United States and internationally, began to explore how they could take engineering-style methods and approaches, and potentially apply these to innovation with technology-enhanced learning, and moreover in structured and impactful ways. Furthermore, they considered how they could apply these approaches in a fashion that was context-sensitive, and impacted learners positively, in terms of their engagement in personally meaningful learning. Iterative development, collaborative design with learners and ethnographic evaluation methods thus became more popular in a field, which Brown (1992) originally termed design experiments. While there can be methodological variation, (to meet the bespoke needs of specific learning environments), the goal of educational design has remained the same: to improve outcomes for all learners.

A. M. Wade St. Columba’s College, Stranorlar, County Donegal, Ireland e-mail: [email protected] E. Flanagan Department of Teaching and Learning, Letterkenny Institute of Technology, Letterkenny, Ireland e-mail: [email protected] P. Flynn National University of Ireland Galway, Galway, Ireland

11 Narrating the Learning Ecosystem: Knowledge, Environment …

259

In recent years, new nomenclature has emerged to describe the broad field of design in education, including: design-based research (DBR); design-based implementation research (DBIR); and educational design research (EDR) (McKenney and Reeves 2018). All of these cognate research domains speak to and seek to address the design of educational innovations and technologies in ways that enhance learning in diverse settings. This is the broad field in which our work is positioned, and we hope in this chapter to outline—through examples of some of our educational design work over seventeen years—key issues and themes that can emerge in endeavours to design educational innovations and technologies to enhance the learning experience of children and young people. Before we exemplify our research and findings, and to establish the background to the work, it is important first to outline some of the particular, key challenges faced in educational design.

The Complexity of Educational Design Designing educational innovations and technologies is a complicated endeavour, the impact and success of which is contingent on myriad different actors and factors. Barab and Squire (2004) noted how there are multiple dependent variables that affect any learning innovation. In recent years, much is being written about the scale of complexity we potentially have to deal with, in undertaking to design successfully for change in education. Murgatrotd (2010) and Martin and Dismuke (2018) for example have used lenses from complexity theory in an effort to explicate aspects of design and technology in the domain of teaching and learning. Penuel (2019), in describing design-based implementation research (DBIR), increasingly highlights the multilevel nature of B. T. Long Adult Learning and Professional Development, National University of Ireland Galway, Galway, Ireland e-mail: [email protected]

260

T. Hall et al.

design for change in education, and the resultant infrastructuring that is imperative to sustain innovation: Rather, infrastructuring efforts demand that we also re-design educational infrastructures that influence implementation to be more equitable (Penuel, 2015). When we “design across levels” in this way, we are engaged in a special kind of design research my colleagues and I call Design-Based Implementation Research (DBIR; Fishman, Penuel, Allen, Cheng, & Sabelli, 2013), so named because we are concerned with developing knowledge, tools, and practices related to equitable implementation of innovations and the capacity of partnerships to improve outcomes through inclusive research and development processes.

Recent curricular innovations, in Ireland and internationally, have highlighted again the challenges faced in trying to infrastructure and provide ownership of educational reform, involving key stakeholders meaningfully and effectively in processes of pedagogical change. The potential offered by educational design research and related methodologies, including design-based research (DBR), is they aim to support the development of new learning designs—technologies, curricula, learning spaces and experiences—in a collaborative fashion, where key stakeholders can be involved throughout the design process. However, how do we effectively engage children and younger learners in collaborative design of educational innovations and technologies? What practical design methods can we employ, and how are they best deployed? Further, Barab and Squire (2004) note how theory must have utility in the design process—it must help the educational designer in their practical work to change positively and enhance the learning experience in context. This is an added rationale for why we are interested in design-based research approaches to educational innovation and technology; educational design methods aim to bridge the gap between practice and theory, and address the salient question: Can we use theory to help ensure our practical designs are conceptually well-founded and principled? However, what theories of learning best inform educational design, with and for children and younger learners—within the multi-site ecosystem that characterises children’s learning across multiple

11 Narrating the Learning Ecosystem: Knowledge, Environment …

261

contexts? Emerging from the authors’ experiences and expertise in educational design in a range of contexts and settings, this chapter discusses key aspects and features of educational design research methodologies. In particular, we explore the design of technologies with and for children and youth, and how educational design can be undertaken in both a participatory and principled fashion. Firstly, a signature, supporting theme throughout our research is the concept of narrative, and the central importance of storytelling in mediating educational design and interactive learning.

Narrative as a Sociocultural Foundation of Education Narrative concepts and methods have become established as important and powerful research methodology in their own right. The most recent special issue of the journal, Irish Educational Studies, titled: “Engaging in narrative inquiry: Making visible alternative knowledge”, highlights the increasing salience and popularity of narrative philosophies and methodologies in the social and educational sciences. It illustrates how we can draw on the potential of narrative to give voice and authentic insight to our lives, ourselves and our communities, disrupting problematic, hegemonic perspectives. As the editors eloquently put it: Narrative Inquiry, in challenging inherited dominant understandings of subjectivity and research methodologies as well as proposing emancipatory alternatives has the potential to give voice to often silenced knowledge. A critical research methodology that works towards unveiling oppression and transforming praxis has ‘the potential to implement new visions of dignity, care democracy and other postcolonial ways of being in the world’ (Finley 2005, 689). (O’ Grady et al. 2018, p. 156)

The special issue also highlights the diversity of perspectives that can be obtained in the conceptualisation and discussion of narrative, and

262

T. Hall et al.

the value and power of different narrative approaches across sociocultural and educational contexts. Engaging with vulnerable youth and their families, the research reported in one of the papers highlights the deployment of narrative to empower communities by disrupting prevailing, marginalising views: “Lessard, Caine and Clandinin show that narrative inquiry is a way of making people visible in the research and, consequently, to make their stories matter. Resistance to viewing the experience of the youth and their families from within a single story of vulnerability is central to their work as narrative inquirers” (O’ Grady et al. 2018, p. 156). This research demonstrates the power of narrative in mediating authentic and owned subjectivity, where the research gives voice to participants in an inclusive and emancipatory process. We focus specifically in this chapter on what we call the dual design dividend of narrative—how storytelling can aid us as a generative tool in the collaborative design process while at the same time affording a creative context to mediate children’s learning through educational innovations and technologies. We will now explore in further detail the definition of narrative that we employ in our educational design research. For the purposes of our research and theorisation of design, we subscribe predominantly to an approach to narrative predicated on the ideas of one of the leading theorists of narrative in education, Jerome Bruner (2002, 2007, 2012).

Design: A Narrative Approach Among the most significant and foundational influences in contemporary education, especially in the second half of the twentieth century and into the twenty-first century, has been the writing and thinking of the educational psychologist, Jerome Bruner (1915–2016). Bruner’s work is firmly rooted in the social constructivist tradition of educational psychology, and that we learn through a spiral curriculum (1960): in an emergent, increasingly complex fashion, through our shared interactions and understandings with others, mediated through the Zone of Proximal Development (ZoPD) (Vygotsky 1978). Vygotsky’s ZoPD is a prevailing theory of learning today, which refers to the difference between what

11 Narrating the Learning Ecosystem: Knowledge, Environment …

263

we can achieve individually, on our own, and what we can learn when working with an expert other(s), e.g. parent, teacher and friend. At the heart of this sociocultural view of learning is one of Bruner’s key ideas respecting education and the psychology of life generally: the concept of narrative (2002). As Bruner’s work and insight into human development and learning progressed, narrative emerged in his thinking and writing as one of the most powerful means by which children and young people develop their identity, literacy and creative and communicative talents. Indeed, for Bruner (2002, 2007, 2012), narrative extends beyond the subjective, enabling whole cultures and societies to cohere, sustain and grow. Essentially, this is an explicitly inclusive trajectory. According to Bruner, narrative represents one of the most important cultural, social and educational resources we have available to us as human beings. These ‘capitals’ are available to all even if all are not currently of equal value or of equal use in terms of enhancing educational outcomes. The potential here of narrative with respect to creating inclusive classroom cultures is very significant. One of the core outcomes of foregrounding it in the design process is to ensure that learning includes all as a fundamental imperative. The Brunerian perspective of narrative is sometimes called the functional view, by which is meant: we use narrative in a functional way, each and every day of our lives. In both our private and shared discourses, narrative serves a crucial dual purpose of making the complex world in which we live intelligible and understandable, while at the same time bringing exceptionality and imagination to the so-called, commonplace experience of day-to-day life. Modern social media technologies are predicated on the powerful autobiographical potential of narrative, e.g. Facebook, which enables users to construct stories and share vignettes of their lives. Indeed, changes in Facebook’s design—away from news items and more towards personal interests and events in users’ timelines (The New York Times 2016)—can be seen as a return to the original autobiographical design of the technology. According to Bruner, this dynamic of moving between the everyday and the exceptional instils in us a ‘lively sense of the possible’ (Bruner 2007), which prompts and inspires our imagination. Consequently, according to the Brunerian perspective, narrative is an essential, creative and educational tool.

264

T. Hall et al.

For example, if we take the Harry Potter novels as a case in point, Harry Potter’s story is conventional in many respects—he is a young boy making his way in life. But he is no ordinary young person—he is also a wizard. This is significantly why we find the novels and films compelling and enjoyable. It is a bildungsroman (educational novel) that we can all relate to—the universal process of growing up. However, the narrative is exciting and intriguing exactly because the protagonist lives an extraordinary life and embarks on exceptional and thrilling adventures. Bruner’s thinking on this dynamic duality of narrative and storytelling was influenced significantly by the Russian Formalist poets of the early twentieth century, particularly Viktor Shklovsky, and Aristotle’s prototypical discussion of narrative in the Poetics (c.335 BC) (Berlina 2017). Aristotle conceptualised the dynamic quality of narrative, which he called its peripeteia, or ‘twist in the tale’, when a story follows a different plot direction—and the excitement and creative possibilities this engenders. Shklovsky and the Russian formalists believed that poetry’s and literature’s function was to inspire us to see the world differently, by reminding us through the defamiliarisation of metaphor, or ostranenie, of the inherent strangeness of human existence and the complex world in which we live. From an educational perspective, narrative also serves what we might call an auto-pedagogical function—stories can teach us and they can also include us—in that they can help us vicariously to experience the impact of actions, decisions and interactions on people and society in both the fictional and experiential domains. Take, for example, Shakespeare’s Tragedies; these were written partly as propaganda plays, intended to instruct people how they should behave, especially in respect of authority. The tacit but powerful message of plays like Macbeth and Hamlet is that you do not challenge the divinely anointed monarchy; otherwise, you and your country are doomed to destruction and servitude. Therefore, stories can inspire us; they help us find meaning; and they instruct or teach us. Narrative thus plays a significant role in fostering imagination, and in mediating learning and understanding. Bruner argued that narrative assumes an importance throughout our lives, helping us crucially to make sense of our experiences, construct our identity and communicate with others: “it is our preferred, perhaps even

11 Narrating the Learning Ecosystem: Knowledge, Environment …

265

our obligatory medium for expressing human aspirations and their vicissitudes, our own and those of others. Our stories also impose a structure, a compelling reality on what we experience, even a philosophical stance” (2002, p. 89). Following from Bruner’s foundational analysis and positioning of narrative in education, we can see how storytelling can serve both a pedagogical role in inspiring creativity and imaginative possibility, while also providing an intelligible context for us to understand our identities and the world in which we live. It is precisely these two salient potentialities of narrative that we can draw on in our collaborative design of educational innovations and technologies.

Practitioner-Based Educational Design One of the key themes and orientations in our design-based research (DBR) over the last seventeen years has been to explore the potential of information and communications technologies (ICTs)—today increasingly mobile and ubiquitous in the world in which we live—to support children’s creativity with narrative. We have purposefully selected practitioner-oriented methods and DBR as our orienting methodology because these approaches afford possibilities to impact upon, change and improve directly pedagogical culture and practice. DBR enables educational designers, practitioners and technologists to work collaboratively—in a principled and participatory fashion—with learners, in situ, in inherently complex educational environments. DBR is now a wellestablished, ubiquitous methodology in technology design and learning sciences programmes internationally (Sommerhoff et al. 2018). We will presently outline key features of how design-oriented practitioner research methodologies, including DBR, can be deployed in the design of technologies to enhance children’s education in multiple contexts. Research has shown that one of the major obstacles to the effective pedagogical use of ICTs is the predominant, unintended overemphasis on children’s consumption of , rather than creativity with technology. This has resulted in the problematic, suboptimal use of powerful narrative media and digital storytelling, both in and outside of schools.

266

T. Hall et al.

Our chapter exemplifies our experiences designing educational technology to shift the emphasis towards pupils’ creative engagement with ICTs, where the learner draws generatively on different digital media and tools to design personally meaningful, multimodal narratives. In this chapter, we trace key moments in the story of our experiences as teachers using educational technology to mediate and augment children’s creative engagement with narrative. Synthesising our experiences as researchers and teachers, we provide the reader pedagogical ideas, guidelines and resources, to support the practical use of educational technology—as a powerful narrative technology—in classrooms and informal educational settings. As current and former school teachers, the authors hope to offer practical insight—developed through principled and participatory design with children and learners—on how educational technology can be used to narrate key, foundational aspects of children’s education, particularly their creative engagement with narrative.

Educational Design Research—The Imperative to Innovate Assessment Any shift in pedagogical approach or emphasis will require a fundamental reconceptualising of how we assess the outcomes of this pedagogy on student learning. The legacy of neoliberal reform has now sedimented the need to be explicit about the impact of any change on assessment in discourse and practices among teachers. Failure to detail both the forms of assessment that will accompany innovation and the impact that these developments exert on the high stakes assessment culture will significantly limit the impact of change as evidenced by recent attempts in Ireland with respect to reform at Junior Cycle. In this regard there is a need for design-based approaches that move away from traditional orthodoxies that prevail. During a recent visit to Ireland, Sir Ken Robinson, the preeminent scholar, speaker and thinker on creativity in education, again emphasised how we need to consider a broader and more inclusive set of values in education, and de-privilege traditional ‘academics’— embodied in terminal examinations—as the predominant measurement of success in our educational systems (O’Brien 2018). The problem

11 Narrating the Learning Ecosystem: Knowledge, Environment …

267

of too-narrow a focus on particular types of intelligence overstates the importance of certain kinds of learning, which insufficiently reflects the broad and diverse aptitudes, skills and talents that children and young people possess, and which we need to encourage and nurture throughout our education system. Research demonstrates there are myriad forms and modalities of intelligence (e.g. Gardner’s Multiple Intelligences [1999]), and we need to change our assessment ethos and practice to reflect the fundamentally continuous, diverse, formative and emergent nature of most learning. Indeed, too narrow a focus on summative, ‘productoriented’ assessment may stymie the creativity we need in the twenty-first century, which can have detrimental effects on our culture, economy and society. A further key issue in the reform of education broadly is digital assessment and supporting effectively the use of ICT in classrooms and informal learning settings. For example, in Ireland, there have been seminal developments recently in the advancement of technology in Irish schools. The recent ‘School Excellence Fund – Digital’ for schools; the short courses (100 hours) on ‘Coding’ and ‘Digital Media Design’ at the Junior Cycle (post-primary school, ages 12–15); alongside the historic development of an assessed Leaving Certificate Computer Science subject all represent significant advancements in our educational system, and how we might support and valorise our young people’s learning, especially as it is mediated through digital technologies. However, notwithstanding these timely and potentially transformative innovations in Irish education, their impact is likely to be constrained and limited unless we start to value a wider set of creative skills (including digital) in our assessment of children’s learning, which is necessarily broader and more encompassing than terminal, summative assessments, which at present typically focus on a very narrow set of competences and aptitudes.

268

T. Hall et al.

Narrating the Learning Ecosystem: Examples from Design Practice Cognisant of the constraints of a book chapter, we have decided to select and focus in our discussion on two scenarios where children have been engaged in the creative design of educational technology. Both exemplars illustrate the importance of narrative as a key construct in positioning the knowledge, relationships and environments of participatory and principled educational design. It is not possible to enumerate in detail all aspects of the two substantive design innovations we have chosen; what we hope to express instead are vignettes that exemplify the important role that narrative can play in the design of learning across educational contexts. It is also important to highlight how the research instanced in this chapter followed the BERA Guidelines for Ethical Research. Our first scenario looks at the design of children’s educational experience in the informal setting of an interactive museum exhibition, and the second explores children’s collaborative design of digital poetry with their teacher in school.

Digital Narrative Design in a Museum Context The focus of this innovation was to develop a whole and integrated interactive learning environment for children within a traditional museum setting. Museums can invariably be considered as quiet places, which espouse an ethos of ‘look, but don’t touch’. The museum in which we developed the exhibition predominantly houses traditional, display-cases, with objects safely encased behind glass. There are very good reasons as to why museums store their precious artefacts and collections within protected glass displays; our material culture has to be preserved and safeguarded. However, contrariwise, it does present a challenge in terms of engaging children, learners and visitors generally with their material culture, as the typical glass display creates a physical barrier to close interpretation by children and other learners/visitors. However, having noted that, this particular museum was the first in Ireland to pioneer a number of innovations, which are now seen as groundbreaking and,

11 Narrating the Learning Ecosystem: Knowledge, Environment …

269

looking back, prescient at the time. Curators and specialist guides, called docents, developed a simulated archaeology dig for children to embody the narrative of being archaeologists: unearthing, handling, studying and documenting replica museum artefacts. The museum also introduced handling sessions for teachers and other visitors, which enabled them (under supervision and wearing gloves) to handle some of the real, precious objects in the collection. The museum thus has a tradition of innovation, even though it is restricted by the need to protect its priceless artefacts by encasing them in glass displays. Much research in museum interactivity has been to ameliorate the problems of visitors not being able to touch physically historical artefacts, and lessen the disjuncture between the visitor and material culture in museums, and other cultural heritage settings. Furthermore, alongside the interactive exhibition, through designing pre- and post-visit lessons in schools with children and teachers, we wanted to connect the children’s learning experience in the technologyenhanced environment of the interactive museum exhibition with their learning in the classroom. What was especially interesting about the design of the interactive, technology-enhanced exhibition was the narrative theme of the experience. Bruner (2007) outlined how narrative allows us to make sense of our identity and place in the world—it provides us a mediating structure to deal with what might otherwise be intractably complex experiences and phenomena. In developing the interactive museum exhibition, we employed imaginative, narrativebased design methods, or scenario-based design (SBD) to scope out; share among the design team; and decide our different ideas for an optimal overall design of the exhibition’s learning space. Scenario-based design entails developing a script of how a user or users might interact with a given technology in context. In scenarios, one can also use personas for the users, where a user is even assigned a name, and where other key characteristics of the imagined user(s) are provided. Therefore, SBD can develop to become quite a detailed narrative of how we envision a technology potentially being used in situ. In developing the interactive museum exhibition, the design team generated diverse scenarios for how children might experience and

270

T. Hall et al.

engage with the interactive exhibition. Inspired by the museum’s extant simulated archaeology dig, the design team settled on a final design for the interactive exhibition, which centred on the idea of developing an archaeologist’s study room, where children could collect clues about objects of mysterious provenance, and afterwards contribute their own ideas and theories about what the objects might actually be. A key aspect of the design was our use of narrative to provide a framework for children’s interactions in the museum. The story that was used to organise the interactive exhibition design was that of an archaeologist’s study room, and the children’s task was to help the archaeologist figure out the provenance and ownership of the mystery artefacts, firstly by collecting clues about the objects, and subsequently by generating and hypothesising theories about who had made, owned and used the artefacts, and what their purpose was. It is important, however, to note that what was also salient about the narrative design of the experience was that children were encouraged to synthesise their own ideas about the objects, based on their imagination and the clues collected; this was particularly novel, in that the interpretation of museum artefacts and objects is normally fixed, e.g. through authoritative and didactic, explanatory labels and descriptions affixed to museum display cases. Therefore, while we employed the narrative or script of the archaeologist’s quest to inspire children to be interactive in the museum and collect clues and investigate the mystery objects, by keeping the narrative open-ended we encouraged them to generate their own opinions and share them, something that children might not normatively be invited to do, especially in traditional museum settings. Narrative thus provided us a structure to invite and encourage the children to be interactive and exploratory, one they readily understood: an archaeologist’s assistant, while also giving voice to children’s creativity through the open interpretation facilitated through the incomplete narrative design, where children were encouraged to provide their opinions and theories about objects. The exhibition design proved very successful with children, because it embodied the dual design dividend of narrative within the Brunerian functional perspective (2007)—combining the everyday narrative of a study room, which children could relate easily to, with the exceptional possibilities of exploring

11 Narrating the Learning Ecosystem: Knowledge, Environment …

271

museum artefacts interactively and generating their own ideas about historical objects and the past. A further key aspect of the narrative was the design of physical and material properties of the museum exhibition space. Inspired by the simulated archaeology dig, the exhibition team had replica artefacts designed, which children could physically handle and explore. The exhibition space was designed to look like an old archaeologist’s study room—containing antique furniture and furnishings; this helped considerably to evoke the narrative of the archaeologist’s quest. The physical design of the space thus helped to contribute to the overall narrative experience for the children—they could suspend disbelief and engage creatively in the exploration of the mystery artefacts. The physical design of the interactive exhibition space highlighted in particular the importance of embodiment and the material and physical properties of learning settings—alongside the salience of narrative—in the design of children’s learning across educational contexts.

Digital Poetry in the School Context The second scenario entails an innovation that adapted an existing model for technology-enhanced reflective practice through digital storytelling, engaging pupils in the collaborative design and development of a digital story based on a famous, canonical Modernist poem. The poem selected was W.H. Auden’s Funeral Blues, or Stop all the clocks, as it is also sometimes called. The poem is very visual and has a strong, central theme and imagery that imbue the poem with a very poignant and affecting narrative. The poem was made famous in the Richard Curtis film, Four Weddings and a Funeral ; it was read as a eulogy at the funeral. Bruner (2007) described the powerful structural role that narrative plays in our lives, helping us to bring completeness to otherwise intractably complex and unwieldy experience. The strong story and imagery characterising a poem such as Funeral Blues mean that it lends itself very well to transposition to a digital narrative format. As Bruner argued, while stories allow us to mediate and deal with experiential

272

T. Hall et al.

complexity, they also inspire us—through their surprising images and plots—to imagine creative possibilities. The pupils in school used low-threshold applications (Gilbert 2002) in developing their collaborative digital poem; they used software that is generally, readily and widely available, and furthermore, technology that is highly usable (easy-to-use). Pupils worked as a group to turn the text of the poem into the format of a digital story. They had to source emblematic visuals and images to represent key lines, tropes and moments in the poem. One of the main genres of digital story is the assemblage of representative or metaphorical images into a short but focused thoughtpiece, which also typically includes a voiceover (by the storyteller) and music. Pupils in the poetry-based digital story project took a line each and narrated it. Their reading of a line of the poem was sequenced to match the images, which appeared (faded in/faded out) as they were speaking the line. Coordinated expertly by their teacher, pupils produced a compelling class/group version of the famous Auden poem, mediated and enhanced by ICT. The convergence of narrative, poetry in this scenario and digital storytelling technology provided the pupils a creative and engaging context to explore interactively the metaphors and messages of Auden’s beautiful poem, and also to develop their ICT skills in class. Furthermore, no expensive or proprietary technology was required; the teacher and pupils used software that is widely available, and which often comes installed free on desktop and laptop computers. The poetry-based project represented—within the school context—a highly innovative adaption of digital storytelling technology. It demonstrated the simple but powerful combination of storytelling and technology in education, and how this can be deployed to enhance engagement and learning, in this case in the poetry classroom. The scenarios reported in this chapter suggest the powerful synergies possible when combining narrative, design and technology—where the focus is on students’ creativity—illustrating the potential of digital storytelling, both as a medium for reflective practice and also as an interactive pedagogical tool.

11 Narrating the Learning Ecosystem: Knowledge, Environment …

273

Discussion Effective design for learning is a complex endeavour, involving many different actors and factors, agendas and perspectives. When we apply powerful interaction design concepts and techniques within education, it presents us with two contiguous challenges. On the one hand, we are seeking to understand the given learning setting beyond a superficial conceptualisation, which necessitates looking at multiple dependent variables. This broad set of empirical concerns helps us to characterise educational processes in their inherent complexity (Barab and Squire 2004). In addition, using multi-ontological frameworks, drawing on different theoretical orientations and perspectives, can support us to understand these multiple dependent variables in a way that is cogent and comprehensive, and moreover helpful for design. They enable us to valorise the many different elements that are important in any learning design. Set amidst this complexity, in educational design, we are also trying to remain open to the possibilities of new technology, while at the same time aiming to be guided by what we know to be pedagogically sound. In sum, we are seeking to deploy interaction design—in complex educational settings—to help us conceptualise, develop and evaluate innovative, hybrid designs that synergistically combine pedagogy and technology. Working in this creative domain across several educational design projects, and in a range of learning settings, formal and informal, this chapter presents a synthesis of the authors’ emerging insights in respect of multi-ontological design, and how we might theorise the knowledge, environment and relationships of participatory and principled educational design. In particular, we locate the embodied and narrative impacts of design, and what we have learned about the process in terms of effective educational design for children’s learning.

Prototyping a Design Model Drawing from our experience of educational design in different educational settings—formal and informal—we contend it is important to

274

T. Hall et al.

start systematically, with a prototype design model. Beginning in this manner helps to provide a ‘touchstone’ for understanding and evaluating the design as it emerges, changes and matures over time. This prototype concept design is normatively comprised of four key contributions. Firstly, the biographical motivation of the researchers and situational analysis identifying a problem to be solved or improved upon play a pivotal role in the provenance of the research. As a consequence, the design will ordinarily focus on improving a specific aspect of learning, and thus a deep engagement with the theoretical literature on this topic is warranted. As in all research, a literature review of salient policy and educational technology research literature is a key dimension of the initial prototype design model. The next crucial aspect of the nascent model is the multi-ontological framework. In our experience, this invariably comprises key themes, particularly narrative. Once the prototype design model has been conceptualised, it is possible to derive from it key principles to guide the design, and structure reflection on data and feedback elicited from the stakeholders (children, parents, teachers), thus informing critically the evaluation and constructive redesign with and for children.

Design as an Iterative Participatory Process Effective educational design is not only principled—undergirded by a cogent multi-ontological prototype design model—it is also fundamentally participatory. Ideally, the user is involved ab initio in the design process, or their inputs are systematically phased and staged, and included at the most opportune time. Furthermore, design is normatively, most effectively undertaken with learners in iterative, interventional cycles that accrete and build upon each other as the implementation matures. In our experience, we would contend that it is preferable if design follows the adage of ‘start small, grow tall’, where the process scales over time. Ideally, the educational design should span at least three interconnected, contiguous cycles/iterations of design, development and evaluation.

11 Narrating the Learning Ecosystem: Knowledge, Environment …

275

The pilot deployment and intervention helps to establish the potential of the innovative design with children, and whether further development of the approach is merited. The mainstream cycle constitutes the scaling up of the design, usually where it is extended to a greater number of learners. This mainstreaming of the innovation is—in our experience— often the point at which the most meaningful learning happens for the educational designer. It can also represent the most difficult phase in the educational design process, especially where contradictory or prima facie, uninteresting data emerge in the evaluation of the pilot intervention. However, this is precisely where the prototype design model plays a crucial role, in helping the designer to pattern and sift the data systematically. This helps us to evaluate and make sense of the impact of the innovation, and decide on and prioritise the key design changes and redesigns to be implemented as we proceed to extend the innovation to a larger number of learners. Typically, we have found that the third large-scale intervention, the capstone implementation, serves to corroborate the key design changes made between the pilot and mainstream phases, helping to validate/verify the educational design process overall. Of course, more than three significant cycles of design, development and evaluation can be undertaken. In our experience, an educational design based on at least three contiguous interconnected cycles of design has much to commend it. Furthermore, overall, when considered together, the three interlinked cycles of design represent an important contribution to our understanding of bespoke design in context. As a whole, they serve as a potentially powerful illustration and enumeration of how a design can be implemented and sustained over time to enhance children’s learning. This is crucial as it exemplifies for others interested to adopt and adapt the innovation in their own contexts, specifically how the design can be made to work and indeed how it can be finessed and improved in situ.

Design as an Iterative, Systematic Process Key questions in educational design across contexts centre on: What are the impacts of innovation, and how can we effect change in deploying

276

T. Hall et al.

technology-enhanced learning? The outputs of educational design can be framed and outlined in terms of three axes of impact: proximal (local), medial (resource) and distal (theoretical). In our experience in terms of understanding the complexity of design, it is instructive to relate the role of the user to these three impacts of the interaction design process overall. In this, we are inspired by the work of McKenney and Reeves (2018), particularly their framing and positioning of the outputs of educational design research. They outlined two key impact areas— proximal and distal . The proximal is the sustained, ongoing impact of the implementation in context, as it matures over time. The distal is the ontological contribution of the design and how its systematic development shapes our understanding of design in general, and what we can learn from the design theoretically. To the proximal and distal, we would add an intermediary set of impacts—medial. Increasingly, in the educational design community, the development of resources, rubrics, software, toolkits, even timetables, etc. are gaining increased prominence as a key constituent of the totality of outputs that emerge from systematic and effective educational design innovation. These medial outputs serve as key mediating resources between the high-level theory of design and the empirical exigencies of practical implementation. Other learning designers can repurpose, adopt and adapt them for their respective educational contexts. A further hallmark of good design is that it is lasting and sustained— that it is not a ‘boutique intervention’—fleeting or minimal in its impact. Sustainability and legacy are key concerns, with the combined proximal, medial and distal outputs highly important for the contribution of a specific innovation to educational design in general.

Multi-ontological Educational Design Multi-ontological frameworks are centrally important to ensure participatory educational design proceeds in a principled, sufficiently complex fashion, through the pilot and mainstream to the final capstone intervention. We now outline and reflect on two key themes, embodiment and narrative, key foundations for the multi-ontological frameworks that

11 Narrating the Learning Ecosystem: Knowledge, Environment …

277

have undergirded our diverse educational design projects, across multiple learning contexts.

Dual Design Dividend of Narrative Narrative and storytelling are considered foundational in education, learning and human development. For Bruner, narrative represents a predominant, if not the definitive means by which children and all learners make sense of their world. We have found narrative plays a key dual role in our educational design projects. Firstly, narrative affords a structure through which children can make sense of innovative learning designs, especially where the purpose of the experience is emergent, loosely sequestered or novel in orientation. The purposefulness of the narrative structuring of a design can also serve to enhance children’s motivation to engage, for example: the story of the archaeologist in the museum context helped children to make sense of the novel exhibition and also excited their curiosity. Interestingly, we have also found that narrative and storytelling open up generative possibilities for creativity in learning, especially where children are encouraged to pursue non-literal, non-linear and creative narrative interpretations. In the museum design project, children used the technology to construct personally meaningful interpretations of the past. We did not constrain children’s stories only that they synthesise their interests and ideas and information about museum objects and the local histories they symbolise. In our interaction design for children’s education, narrative has consistently served a powerful dual role. We have deployed and used narratives and stories to give shape to children’s interaction and also as a goal for their engagement; supporting children to create and share narratives and stories is a powerful pedagogical activity in its own right.

278

T. Hall et al.

Embodiment and the Material Properties of Learning Design In the innovative pedagogical approach of the Reggio Emilia Schools, the physical and material learning environment is considered so essential to children’s engagement and learning that it is conceived of as the third teacher (Strong-Wilson and Ellis 2007). Educational design in the ‘Reggio Approach’ proceeds from the foundational ontological notion that there is a close, mutual interdependence between the physical environment of learning and the pedagogies enacted within it. In the ‘Reggio Approach’, children are also encouraged to engage in authentic, projectbased learning, assuming the role of protegazzione (or active protagonist) in their own learning. In our experience, the design of the physical environment is essential; however, this is an aspect that can invariably be overlooked in mainstream design for learning. Educational design, we contend, should be regarded as an inherently participatory, socio-material process—affecting and affected by the space in which learning is happening, and the formative interactions of learners, their peers and teachers within the designed environment. The physical embodiment of learning, hands-on activity, spatial design and pedagogical activity is thus seen as mutually interdependent and enhancing.

Concluding Note From our experiences of designing education and technology for children and youth across diverse settings, key themes have emerged. Narrative helps designers to develop inspirational spaces for children to learn in and also to maintain an emphasis on emergent structure. As a prevailing means by which children make sense of the world, narrative is critically important to consider in educational design, especially the deployment of technology to enhance children’s storytelling. Furthermore, the embodied aspects of learning and the materiality of the physical space in which innovative pedagogies are enacted also need much more systematic attention in educational design generally. This chapter has aimed to

11 Narrating the Learning Ecosystem: Knowledge, Environment …

279

contribute to theoretically motivated arguments regarding educational design, and key themes that underpin design processes within education, particularly the powerful mediating constructs of embodiment and narrative.

References Barab, S., & Squire, K. (2004). Design–Based Research: Putting a Stake in the Ground. In J. Kolodner, S. Barab, & M. Eisenberg. (Eds.), Journal of the Learning Sciences, 13(1), 1–14 (Special Issue: Design-based research: clarifying the terms). Berlina, A. (Ed.). (2017). Shklovsky, Viktor: A Reader. London, UK: Bloomsbury. Brown, Ann L. (1992). Design Experiments: Theoretical and Methodological Challenges in Creating Complex Interventions in Classroom Settings. Journal of the Learning Sciences, 2(2), 141–178. https://doi.org/10.1207/s15 327809jls0202_2. Bruner, J. (1960). The Process of Education. Cambridge, MA: The President and Fellows of Harvard College. Bruner, J. (2002). Making Stories: Law, Literature, Life. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Bruner, J. (2007, March 13). Cultivating the Possible. Public Lecture, Oxford University. Available at: http://www.education.ox.ac.uk/about-us/video-arc hive/. Gardner, H. (1999). Intelligence Reframed: Multiple Intelligences for the 21st Century. New York: Basic Books. Gilbert, S. W. (2002). The Beauty of Low-Threshold Applications. Campus Technology. Accessed on 22 November 2019 at: http://campustechnology.com/ articles/2002/02/the-beauty-of-low-threshold-applications.aspx. Martin, S. D., & Dismuke, S. (2018). Investigating Differences in Teacher Practices Through a Complexity Theory Lens: The Influence of Teacher Education. Journal of Teacher Education, 69 (1), 22–39. Murgatrotd, S. (2010). Wicked Problems’ and the Work of the School. European Journal of Education, 45, 259–279. McKenney, S., & Reeves, T. (2018). Conducting Educational Design Research (2nd ed.). London: Routledge. O’Brien, C. (2018). Parents Warned of Obsession With Sending Children to University. The Irish Times. Accessed on 21 November 2019

280

T. Hall et al.

from: https://www.irishtimes.com/news/education/parents-warned-of-obsess ion-with-sending-children-to-university-1.3402361. O’ Grady, G., Clandinin, D. J., & O’ Toole, J. (2018). Engaging in Educational Narrative Inquiry: Making Visible Alternative Knowledge. Irish Educational Studies, 37 (2), 153–157. Penuel, W. R. (2019). Co-Design as Infrastructuring with Attention to Power: Building Collective Capacity for Equitable Teaching and Learning through Design-Based Implementation Research. In J. Pieters, J. Voogt, & N. Pareja Roblin (Eds.), Collaborative Curriculum Design: Sustainable Curriculum Innovation and Teacher Learning. Cham: Springer. Sommerhoff, D., Szameitat, A., Vogel, F., Chernikova, O., Loderer, K., & Fischer, F. (2018). What Do We Teach When We Teach the Learning Sciences? A Document Analysis of 75 Graduate Programs. Journal of the Learning Sciences. https://doi.org/10.1080/10508406.2018.144035. Strong-Wilson, T., & Ellis, J. (2007). Children and Place: Reggio Emilia’s Environment as third Teacher. Theory into Practice, 46 (1), 40–44. The New York Times. (2016). Facebook to Change News Feed to Focus on Friends and Family. Accessed on 30 August 2020 at: https://www.nytimes. com/2016/06/30/technology/facebook-to-change-news-feed-to-focus-on-fri ends-and-family.html. Vygotsky, L. (1978). Mind in Society: The Development of Higher Psychological Processes. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Part IV Methods for Narrating Childhoods: Reflexivity, Environment and Biographies

12 ‘I’d Keep Them Tidy’: Domesticity, Work and Nostalgia in Girls’ Imagined Futures Described in Essays Written by 11 Year Olds in 1969 Virginia Morrow and Jane Elliott

Introduction One of the most common questions that English children are asked by adults is ‘what do you want to be when you grow up?’ Much research has explored children’s aspirations, mostly focusing upon their educational choices and work orientations after leaving school, and often using structured questions requiring brief responses. This reflects mainstream sociological or developmental psychological conceptualisations of ‘the child’ as a socialisation project, where children are understood as ‘becomings’ rather than as ‘beings’ (Qvortrup 1985). Children’s lives in the here and now (or even their pasts) are not paid much attention. A V. Morrow (B) UCL Social Research Institute, UCL, London, UK e-mail: [email protected] J. Elliott University of Exeter, Exeter, UK e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s) 2021 L. Moran et al. (eds.), Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People, Studies in Childhood and Youth, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-55647-1_12

283

284

V. Morrow and J. Elliott

smaller body of research has looked at children’s hopes for their future family lives and, in some cases, asked children to provide more detailed accounts of their imagined futures. This chapter adopts this more narrative perspective to analyse girls’ imagined futures, described in essays written in 1969 by children who were part of the 1958 British birth cohort study—the National Child Development Study (NCDS).1 Our focus is on the ways that the girls in this sample imagined how they would assume responsibility for childcare and domestic work. The rich material generated points to the methodological strengths of using the technique of eliciting essays about the future. The essays are understood as narratives, broadly defined—narratives that ‘carry traces of human lives that we want to understand’ (Squire et al. 2013, p. 2). The essays were written towards the end of a period of economic boom, and the broader socio-economic context in relation to women’s roles needs to be borne in mind when reading them. The role of ‘housewife’ had been (re-) emphasised following the Second World War as one way of removing women from the labour force (Wilson 1977) and the period also coincided with the advent of new domestic technologies during the 1950s and 1960s (Silva 1998), as well as increasing feminist awareness of domestic labour as a form of work (e.g. Gavron 1966; Comer 1974; Oakley 1974). This period in British history has been explored from a social historical perspective by Angela Davis, using oral histories of women’s experiences of motherhood 1945–1970. Davis notes that: The 1950s are often considered as a ‘golden age’ for the family, while in contrast the late 1960s are seen as years of dramatic change, with rising illegitimacy and divorce rates, and critiques of the family by second-wave feminists stressing the family could in fact be a source of harm to women. However, continuity existed alongside these changes. Throughout the period women were encouraged to stay at home with young children and the nuclear family was considered the ideal. (Davis 2006, p. 1)

Thus, it could be argued that children were writing the essays at a turning point in British social history—from the brief ‘golden age’ of the nuclear family, at the cusp of major changes in family life that were to take place

12 ‘I’d Keep Them Tidy’: Domesticity, Work …

285

during the 1970s. The chapter suggests that children’s narratives can only be understood with reference to the social and historical context in which they were produced.2 The next section briefly reviews literature on children’s aspirations, some of which has used children’s writing as data. The chapter then describes our methods and approach to analysis, before focusing on domestic labour and girls’ imagined domestic lives within the essays. We find that girls’ narratives reflect context, time, values, norms and expectations, and the assumption that women will undertake care with lives firmly located in the domestic sphere. The chapter concludes with some reflections about what can be learnt about children’s lives by using children’s writing as a source of data.

Background Literature Much existing research on children’s aspirations falls within the paradigm of socialisation theory and pays little attention to children’s lives and experiences at the time of data collection (e.g. McCallion and Trew 2000; Watson et al. 2002). Bold claims have been made about the predictive power of aspirations expressed by children at age 11 for later outcomes (see, e.g., Schoon and Parsons 2002). Some studies, however, have used children’s writing as a source of data about children’s future hopes. An early cross-cultural example is Goodman’s (1957) study conducted in Japan and USA in the mid-1950s, in which 1250 Japanese children and 3750 US children in grades 1–8 (age range 6–13) were asked to write ‘topic essays’ on ‘What I want to be when I grow up, and why’. Goodman (1957, p. 984) noted that for girls: Interest in ‘housewife’ and ‘mother’ roles declines from younger to older groups in both countries…. There may have been a good many girls who felt, without making it explicit, as did an American sixth-grader: “I want to be a housewife, but if I have to go to work I will be a social worker”.

286

V. Morrow and J. Elliott

Within British sociology, Joseph (1961) reported on a study carried out in 1956 with 1300 14–17 year olds, asking them ‘to write an autobiographical essay imagining they were near the end of the lives and to write their life stories from the time that they left school’, as well as to complete questionnaires directly asking about occupational choices and expectations for the future (Joseph 1961, p. 176). Her paper analyses girls’ accounts and is remarkable for the poignant finding that over a third of the girls who married record the death of their husbands, the majority well before old age (Joseph 1961, p. 182). This alerts us to the historically situated nature of knowledge production—the girls would have been born during the Second World War, and several accounts imagine violent deaths, or husbands with amputated limbs. Joseph also found most of the girls imagined ‘home-making as their vocation, and full-time or part-time work outside the home as a secondary interest’ (Joseph 1961, p. 183). Prendergast and Prout (1980), in a qualitative interview-based study conducted in 1979 with 15 year olds about their health knowledge, asked girls to describe their views of motherhood. They emphasise ‘the active role that children play in the construction of their own views and futures, rather than a more straightforwardly deterministic model which would see children as products of a social culture’ (p. 517). They also found that many girls: gave accounts of how mothers experience their lives which were far richer, more detailed and certainly less normative than expected. Most children’s accounts were dominated by… negative aspects of motherhood – for example, isolation, boredom and depression. This knowledge seemed to emanate from the children’s own observations and judgements and sometimes… their own direct experience of extended childcare. (Prendergast and Prout 1980, p. 519)

Two influential examples of research that used children’s writing about the future to explore their identities are Steedman’s (1982) study ‘The Tidy House’, and Halldén’s (1994, 1998) studies with Swedish children. Steedman analysed a freely written narrative produced by three 8-yearold working-class girls in school in 1976. The narratives were about two couples, their romance, their children and childcare. From this, she

12 ‘I’d Keep Them Tidy’: Domesticity, Work …

287

explored the ways in girls are socialised into adult feminine identity. Steedman suggested that: ‘The tidy house is the house that the three children will live in one day; their characters walk to the shops and the nursery school through the streets of the children’s own decaying urban housing estate’ (Steedman 1982, p. 17). She indicated several ways of reading the children’s text: It makes most sense to read ‘The Tidy House’ as a kind of historical document, a fragment of a life that cannot now be resurrected, which is open to interpretation by what we know from other sources about childhood, working-class life and female socialisation. (Steedman 1982, p. 26)

She argues that the children’s writing illuminates ‘the recent historical experience of working-class childhood’ (Steedman 1982, p. 26). The Swedish educational psychologist Gunilla Halldén conducted two studies with children, based on their writing about their imagined future families (1994, 1997, 1998, 1999, 2001, 2003; with 31 children aged 8–10, and subsequently with 141 children aged 13–14). The research was conducted in cooperation with teachers, so she knew a good deal about the context in which the children generated their stories. Teachers asked children to write about ‘my future family’, over the course of two months. Halldén notes that: …the data consist of children’s fiction mediated through a language and written in a particular tradition. What is being presented …are the children’s perspectives, fictions and stereotypes’. (Halldén 1994, p. 65)

The narratives can be looked upon as a version of reality—we can thus talk about identity as created through narratives, and cultural artefacts and media products influence these narratives (Halldén 2007). For Halldén, children’s narratives give an insight into children’s ideas about family life, gender and generation, and the social positioning of adults they identify. Tinklin et al. (2005) describe research with 200 14–16 year olds in Scotland conducted in 2000 on their anticipated work and family

288

V. Morrow and J. Elliott

roles, based on questionnaires and group interviews. They found that the young people were ‘almost unanimous’ that responsibility for childcare should be shared. However, in discussions: Some girls said that they thought that it was more likely to be the woman who cares for the children, however, because she carries them and forms a stronger bond with them and that few men take primary responsibility. (Tinklin et al. 2005, p. 135)

Younger children’s notions of themselves in time have also been explored by Allison James (2005) with 10-year-old English children. This focuses on time passing and the life course. She argued for the need to ‘reclaim for children their subjectivity, an ability to be reflexive about their lives and their identities and to articulate this to themselves as well as to others’ (p. 248). She points out that, despite shifts in thinking and theorising about children and childhood, ‘children are still rarely credited with this kind of agency’, and suggests that ‘although the concepts of autobiography or of life history have been most often used by social scientists with respect to adults, they are also pertinent to the discussion of children’s lives, despite the relative shortness of the time children have lived’ (p. 249). Berry Mayall, in research with 9–10 year olds and 12– 13 year olds in London exploring understandings of childhood, noted that children are acutely aware that ‘they must work on the project of their own life – how best to juggle possibilities and constraints in the here and now. And they must learn at home and school what they need for adult life’ (Mayall 2002, p. 47). Most recently, Zartler explored imagined future families with 10 year olds in Austria, using photography and interviews, emphasising that children’s future imaginations: give an impression of how they perceive the social world surrounding them. Listening carefully to the stories children construct … opens a window onto their perceptions of society. (Zartler 2015, p. 532)

Social historians Barron and Langhamer (2017b) analysed essays written by 12–16-year-old boys in 1937, collected as part of Mass Observation, on the topic of ‘When I leave school’. They emphasise that that the

12 ‘I’d Keep Them Tidy’: Domesticity, Work …

289

essays reveal the ‘boys’ own understandings of the worlds they inhabited’ (p. 367). In summary, these studies point to the importance of social and historical context and the richness of the material produced by children when asked to write about their imagined futures. They also illustrate the persistence over time of gendered assumptions about domestic work and childcare.

Methods When the NCDS children were eleven years old (in 1969), they were given a short questionnaire to complete at school about their interests, favourite subjects and aspirations. In addition, they were asked to write an essay about what they thought their life would be like at age 25. The instructions given were as follows: Imagine you are now 25 years old. Write about the life you are leading, your interests, your home life and your work at the age of 25 (You have 30 minutes to do this).

Of the 14,757 children who participated in the age 11 sweep, a total of 13,669 completed the essay task.3 The essays present a unique opportunity to contextualise the children’s writings in relation to other data from them, and their parents, within the NCDS sample. We know from statistical information, for example, that 61% of mothers in the sample as a whole (n = 14,757) reported being in work at some time since the child was seven (only 3.2% n = 268 were in professional or managerial occupations, compared with 20% n = 3090 of fathers), and 66% n = 8551 of mothers reported that the father took an equal role in ‘managing’ the child and a further 24% described the father as having a significant role (Elliott and Morrow 2007; Joshi and Hinde 1993). Attempting to analyse the whole sample of over 13,000 essays would be a daunting task, so an initial sub-sample of 500 essays were selected. To ensure enough numbers in subgroups to facilitate some simple comparisons to be made, the selection was stratified according to three

290

V. Morrow and J. Elliott

key variables: child’s gender; social class and family structure; and the child’s ability (as measured using a general ability test, like an IQ test, at age 11). Essays were transcribed and coded for frequency of mention of various themes in the writing, and further coded using NVivo for in-depth qualitative analysis (see Elliott and Morrow 2007 for further details). Utilising archived research data raises specific ethics questions, particularly in relation to informed consent (Alderson 1998; see also Parry and Mauthner 2004).4 This chapter focuses on girls’ accounts only (see Elliott 2010, which also includes boys’ imagined futures).

Approaches to Coding and Analysing the Essays Initial descriptive analysis of the content of the essays is presented elsewhere (Elliott and Morrow 2007). This was based on developing a coding frame for the essays that aimed to capture the main themes discussed by the children. Some elements of the coding frame were shaped by the instructions given to the children to write about their ‘interests, home life and work’, while others emerged from recurrent topics introduced by the children themselves. For example, it was striking how many boys mentioned football, and that a substantial minority of children described the type of house they would like to live in. It was also noticeable that pets and animals were mentioned relatively frequently. In this chapter, we focus on a close analysis of the sub-sample of essays transcribed in 2007, with attention to the way that girls wrote about their future lives and responsibility for children and domestic tasks. This type of detailed descriptive qualitative analysis can help to generate insights and ideas that could be further explored with the whole sample of over 11,000 essays if innovative machine learning techniques are developed for use with the textual material. The essays produced by the children will have been shaped both by the context in which they were produced (i.e. at school, with a time limit of 30 minutes) and by the fact that the children knew they were part of a longitudinal study. Thus, the essays should be understood as externally required narratives rather than as the product of a spontaneous or

12 ‘I’d Keep Them Tidy’: Domesticity, Work …

291

inner felt need to provide an autobiographical account of the self (Stanley 2000, p. 41). The aim here is therefore to take what the children wrote very much at face value. Inevitably, the themes identified are a product of our understandings of the texts. The intention is not to interpret the essays from a psychological or psychoanalytic standpoint, nor to speculate about what is not written about. A sociological approach takes children’s writing to be equivalent to a snippet of conversation, which needs to be contextualised and used with other data collection methods. One useful heuristic device is to imagine the person whose words are being analysed ‘looking over the researcher’s shoulder’—how would they feel about what has been produced from the analysis of their essays? This approach to analysis also reflects an ethical concern not to exploit or degrade the individuals who have provided the data in the first place. In analysis of young Swedish children’s narrations in words and pictures, Änggård (2005) uses West and Zimmerman’s (1987) classic work on ‘doing gender’. She emphasises that children are co-constructors of gender: ‘they are actively involved in constructing their own childhoods and identities’ (Änggård 2005, p. 540). We will draw on Änggård’s analysis later in the chapter.

Children’s Activities Within NCDS Before the children wrote the essays, they completed a questionnaire about activities outside school and this gives some insight to their daily lives. In the total essay sample (n = 13,669), it is notable that as many as 45% boys (n = 3116) and 64% girls (n = 4236) described helping at home ‘most days’; 7.5% boys (n = 515) and 20% of girls (n = 1307) described cooking ‘most days’; and 33% of girls (n = 2182) mentioned sewing or knitting outside school hours compared to 2.5% of boys (n = 168). There were no large differences according to social class or family structure though girls with ‘no father figure’ were slightly more likely to report helping at home (69% n = 232 cf. 60% n = 1172 girls in non-manual households).

292

V. Morrow and J. Elliott

General Findings About Imagined Family Life: Gendered Futures Across the NCDS sample, most girls (90%) imagined themselves having some form of paid work. 8% (n = 543) imagined themselves being housewives (see Elliott and Morrow 2007, for further details: about 2.6% [n = 135] of girls did not mention work or were unclassifiable [n = 38]). For the essay sub-sample, just under half of the children made some mention of having their own children, mostly within nuclear family norm of two (but some children mentioned adopting or fostering children); a proportion mentioned some kind of domestic labour, far more girls than boys; girls were more likely to describe childcare together with cooking and cleaning or multiple tasks; and girls with non-manual fathers slightly more likely to write about domestic tasks, in particular sewing, knitting or needlework. There were few differences in relation to girls’ job aspirations, in that girls who wanted to become teachers or other professionals were as likely to write about domestic work as were girls who aspired to be clerical workers or shop assistants. Girls who wanted to be housewives (n = 22) overwhelmingly (n = 20) wrote about domestic tasks. Although boys and girls were equally likely to write about childcare in isolation from other tasks (2.5% [n = 6] of boys and 2.0% [n = 5] of girls), girls were much more likely than boys to write about childcare together with cooking and cleaning or to write about multiple tasks that might include childcare (4.5% n = 11 of boys cf. 22% n = 55 of girls). Gender differences were much more marked than social class or ability differences. Relationships with ‘significant others’ were frequently mentioned, and children were slightly more likely to mention their mother than their father; pet animals were mentioned frequently by both boys and girls, though girls were more likely to mention close relationships with family members. Halldén (1994, p. 66) also found that the theme of relationships ‘is more clearly in evidence in the girls’ writings than in the writings of the boys’ (see also Änggård 2005). Social class made a small difference in whether children mentioned their father, in that non-manual fathers were more likely to be mentioned than manual. Gender differences in expectations of getting married and having children were not particularly

12 ‘I’d Keep Them Tidy’: Domesticity, Work …

293

marked, and social class differences were only small, in that children from non-manual backgrounds were slightly more likely to say they would not be married. Indeed, other aspects of the essays are not so markedly differentiated by gender, and it would be misleading to overstate the case.

Categories of Domestic Work Within the sociology of work literature, domestic labour has been divided into three interrelated categories: housework, which involves the routine daily tasks necessary to the running of the home; childcare and other caring activities; and ‘household work’, which includes ‘selfprovisioning’, such as growing vegetables, house maintenance and repair, car maintenance and so on. These vary according to the local economy (Pahl 1984). While the study of children’s work in majority world countries usually includes an analysis of children’s domestic contributions (Punch 2001), in the UK context, children’s involvement in domestic tasks has not been the focus of study and what little data there are on children’s housework ‘seem to be presented in passing, as a side issue in the discussion of the sexual division of labour between spouses’ (Morris 1990, p. 150). Several themes related to domestic labour were identified within the essays. Children, mostly girls, wrote variously about the following: the characteristics of their imagined children (such as their physical appearance, managing children who are ‘difficult to look after’; ‘mischievous’; ‘they greet me with smiles’; ‘energetic’). They included names of their imagined children, often explaining that these were the names of their current friends at school (thus linking present and future). Some described complicated arrangement for managing childcare, involving babysitters, their mothers or other family members, neighbours, friends and reciprocal childcare arrangements. There were graphic accounts of how babies will affect their lives: ‘crying ’ and ‘a battle to get them to go to sleep’. The organisation of daily life features in many accounts: getting their children ready for school, bathing them and getting them ready for bed, and telling bedtime stories (with specific detail given for bed times). There were descriptions of time spent with children,

294

V. Morrow and J. Elliott

playing with children, going on trips, picnics and on holidays. Girls described helping their children and being generous to them: ‘I give them anything they want ’. They also described homework; taking children to church, being a childminder as well as looking after their own children; and in one example a girl described how ‘my children help me’. Domestic tasks included accounts of preparing food, helping with cooking, feeding babies and pets. Housework included descriptions of washing up, washing clothes, ironing, cleaning, spring cleaning, often with specific days of the week mentioned for doing these things. As will be seen below what is striking is the variety of tasks and level of detail provided. Boys were more likely to mention gardening and outdoor jobs, such as allotments, describing specific tasks, such as planting seeds and bushes, weeding, and cleaning or washing the car, reflecting clearly the domestic division of labour at the time. Shopping, doing the shopping, ‘waiting for my wife while she does the shopping ’, having a day or an afternoon off to shop (again on a specific day of the week). Paying the bills and budgeting was mentioned in some detail by one child. Self-provisioning in the form of sewing was mentioned only by girls, as was knitting, making clothes for specific people (sister, children, husband); mending clothes and darning was also described. DIY (though it wasn’t called this at the time) was mostly described by boys and included making furniture, putting up fences, painting and decorating, ‘mending things we need ’, and odd jobs. However, boys and girls described helping others with housework: helping their parents, and for example one boy imagines how he visits his parents ‘once a week to mow the grass’. Some children imagined they were still living with their parents and described helping with housework. Others described helping neighbours, looking after younger siblings, and helping them with homework. Life choices were linked with family composition, and one boy mentioned that he would choose a specific job so that he will see more of his family; another boy mentioned that he will be a doctor but anticipated such long hours at work that ‘I hardly see my children’. A perhaps surprisingly large number of girls anticipated combining work and childcare.

12 ‘I’d Keep Them Tidy’: Domesticity, Work …

295

Girls Combining Paid and Domestic Work We now focus on a small selection of essays by girls, particularly on how they imagine combining domestic and paid labour and how they describe daily life. The examples chosen are not strictly representative of the whole sample but have been selected to illustrate some of the richness and diversity of the data and the possibilities for further analysis. In the final section, two exceptional examples where girls write nostalgically about their childhoods, making links between their present childhood and future adulthood, are discussed.5

Managing Childcare Several girls give detailed descriptions of managing childcare, describing babysitters, family, neighbours, friends and reciprocal childcare arrangements. In the following example, a girl imagines sharing childcare with her husband: I work in a factory. I have to get out of bed at six o’clock and make breakfast for three. Then I put on my coat and catch the 7.30 bus to Nottingham. When I’m working my husband dresses Sally and takes her to play school and at 1.30 in the afternoon I come from work and fetch Sally from play school and get her dinner. My husband has his dinner then goes to work. I stop at home and do the washing and jobs at home I usually sew and make clothes. I earn £20 a week my husband earns £25.

One girl imagined herself being a childminder, as well as looking after her own children. This was common as a form of childcare at the time (see also Hughes et al. 1980): I’d like teaching ballet. In my spare time I’d be knitting or playing the piano. I’d like to be married with three girls and three boys. I’d give them nice clothes to wear and keep them tidy but not spoil them. I’d send them to ballet if they wanted to go… … when my children go to school I’d look after some little babies while their mothers go to work. …

296

V. Morrow and J. Elliott

There were several descriptions of reciprocal childcare, for example: ‘The lady along the street looks after Jonathan when I’m out then sometimes I look after her children’. Other girls imagined their own mothers looking after their children for them: …. When I am about 28, I will get a job and let my mother look after my child… I would like to knit and sew things for my children and husband… I would like to go abroad in the summer for my holidays, sometimes take my mother.

In the following extract, a girl imagines herself with twin daughters and describes her mother helping to care for her children: My job is a child’s governess and when I am not with my children my mother is always ready to come and nurse them. I have a five day week. I have all afternoons off. My mother lives three doors away with my father. … I do my housework in the afternoons and spend a thoroughly happy life at 25 years old.

The imagined commitment of mothers described in this example could be interpreted as examples of children’s worldviews and how they understood their own lives. Joseph’s essays collected in 1956 also report closeness between family members: 47% of the 600 girls imagined they ‘lived with their children or close by so that they lives revolved around their children and grandchildren’ (Joseph 1961, p. 182). Other girls described paying for childcare and domestic help. The following example includes very specific details of everyday life and work for a girl who imagines she will be a teacher, but in a rural-idyllic setting (the rural idyll was a recurrent theme in around a fifth of the essays but is not discussed here). I am now 25 and my job is as a teacher. I do not have many children in my class as it is in the country, and there are not many children there. I live on Applegate farm with my husband, Mary and Paul, (my two children). Mary is four and Paul is three. Early in the morning I check that the babysitter and the charlady are coming then my husband drives me to work, which is five miles away.

12 ‘I’d Keep Them Tidy’: Domesticity, Work …

297

I teach a class of 10-11 year olds and they respect me and I find no reason to punish them. At three thirty school ends and I wait till four o’clock when my husband collects me. When I get home I pay the ladies and get the tea ready. My husband (John) has a hot meal while the children and I have just bread and butter and cakes During tea my husband tells me about the farm. After tea I let the children play till 5.45 pm, then they come in and watch “The Magic Roundabout” and then go to bed after a glass of hot milk and a “bikkie”. I flop down exhausted in the armchair and watch the news Later in the evening I do some washing and ironing. At about 8 o’clock John and I see the money situation and write cheques to pay the bills. By 8 30 we have finished and I take my red pen and mark the tidy books of class 1. A little later I go to bed as John has to get up at five a.m. to feed the chicks, milk the cows and do all the other farm jobs

In the following example, the author imagines how she will have no time for a job, because of children, but imagines herself planning to return to work when children start at school: I am 25 years old and I’m married and have two children whose ages are one and five. Every morning, I make the breakfast and send my five year old child off to school. Then I have the task of looking after my other child, and this is quite difficult, because he is rather mischievous. When the morning is over the shopping has to be done. I usually take my child with me unless I can get him minded by a neighbour or friend. We normally go to a supermarket, for I find this easier and quicker. When I say my child is mischievous I mean it, because when I take him into a supermarket he goes perfectly wild and grabs anything he can get his hands on to which is usually tin foods. …. When my child of one is five, I am going to work and earn a bit more money to buy more food and more clothes for myself. Altogether my life is completely full up and I have no time to get bored, and I fully enjoy my life.

This example also demonstrates a complex and nuanced awareness of the ebb and flow of family life, with an awareness of time passing and the dynamic processes involved in bringing up children, as she projects herself even further into the future, imagining returning to work ‘when my child of one is five’.

298

V. Morrow and J. Elliott

A small number of essays are written in a distinctive style, as a story, and convey the trials and tribulations of managing work and childcare, very vividly and in a good-humoured and entertaining way. In the following extract, a girl imagines herself as a teacher and describes the morning routine in her household: “Oh no, time to get up.” “Blow, I’ve got to get up get the breakfast ready, light the fire, get the children to school.” Knock! Knock! oh no that must be the postman but he comes at 8.15 I must have overslept!” “Peter wake up!” “What’s that, dear?” “Never mind, just get up and light the fire.” “I’ll get the children dressed.” Five minutes later …. Come on “Rachel, please hurry up and put your other sock on.” “Isabel, don’t play with teddy just now.” “But Mummy.” “Now you girls please make it snappy and have a wash.” “Yes Mummy.” “And don’t forget to wash behind your ears!” “Peter we’ve run out of matches I’ll have to have the electric stove on.” “Yes dear.” “Breakfast ready hurry you two!” “Now coming.” “There now look at the time 8.50 run to school.”

Nostalgia for Lost Childhoods It is in the context of detailed descriptions of domestic work that two girls expressed nostalgia for the childhoods they imagine they have moved out of and left behind (but were, of course, experiencing at the time when they wrote the essay). In the following extract, a girl imagines not wanting to forget her younger life, and harks back to her childhood, in a positive way, describing the excitement of preparing for birthday parties: I am now 25 years old and I am married. I have one child and he is 1 year old. I like knitting jumpers for him, and like going into town to buy new things… At night time I go upstairs to be with my son and tell him a story before he goes to sleep… My son’s name is Jonathan and he is the model of his father. Sometimes my mother and father come to see us and usually bring Jonathan some sweets. When my mother and father come they look after Jonathan while I go into town to do some shopping. … Tomorrow it will be Jonathan’s second birthday, he was very excited and I

12 ‘I’d Keep Them Tidy’: Domesticity, Work …

299

get excited too when I get the food ready for the party. I often wish I were just a little girl again, but I say to myself you’ve got to grow up sometimes…

Most of the children’s accounts can be interpreted as optimistic. However, one exception is the following vivid narrative that graphically described the interruptions women experience when undertaking domestic tasks (in this case the washing). At the end of the essay, the expression of nostalgia stands out: There was a pile of washing waiting to be done in the laundry basket waiting for me to wash. Oh how I wish I was young I thought to myself. Just as I had the water in the washer I heard my five month old baby crying in her pram outside. It was her bottle time I have to leave every thing to get her bottle ready. As soon as I had fed her, my husband came home for his dinner. It had to be a ham sandwich today so I could get my washing done quicker. After dinner I started to do my washing again and managed to do most of my washing when a neighbour came for a cup of tea I felt like a cup myself so I made a cup for us. When the neighbour went I finished my washing. When I went up to make the beds I saw pile of washing on the bedroom chair I had just put the [illegible fiche] away so I was very annoyed and picked up the [illegible fiche]. The washing will have to wait until tomorrow I said to myself because the tea was still have to be done Soon we were sitting down to tea eating a cooked meal. After tea the day was not over there was the baby to put to bed and be bathed. There was also the washing to be ironed and many more things to be [illegible fiche] about twelve we went to bed. In the morning [it] was work all over again Oh I do wish I was still a school girl again, I thought to myself, but it never came true.

Unlike most of the other examples, which explicitly use an active ‘voice’, stating ‘I do’ this, ‘I will do’ this, or occasionally and, perhaps more tentatively, ‘I would do’ this, this girl presents herself passively, and does not seem to be in control of events. Tasks such as washing and clothes waiting to be washed seem to control her. Allison James describes girls reflecting ‘on the prospect of having children and the effect this might have on their lives as grown women’ (James 2005, p. 257). This last example is

300

V. Morrow and J. Elliott

unusual because domestic work is described vividly and somewhat negatively. Steedman (1982) interpreted the 8 year olds girls’ narratives in ‘The Tidy House’ as demonstrating the burdensome business of childcare, but we are not so sure that the example given above demonstrates a negativity towards babies; rather, it seems to be a realistic image of the amount of work involved. In most essays, domestic work is described in a matter-of-fact manner, a part of everyday life, that must be endlessly repeated. In some examples, the work related to childcare is constructed as a chore, but this contrasts with other examples where there is a theme of love and enjoyment, babies and children as a joy—as noted earlier, one girl wrote: ‘they greet me with smiles’. Änggård (2005) noted a preoccupation with everyday activities among girls’ narratives: ‘These are activities familiar to the girls themselves. It could be assumed that they used the narratives to shape some of their experiences’ (p. 546). However, she also notes that ‘the everyday activities that are accounted for are not the monotonous, dull ones, but pleasant activities connected with leisure time’ (p. 546). This is likely to reflect the nature of the task children were asked to do. The NCDS essays, produced by older children than those in Änggård’s (2005) study, seem to reflect a down-to-earth preoccupation with everyday life. In many of the examples provided above, they also demonstrate the children’s skills in using detailed understanding of the routines of daily living to accomplish the task set by the researchers to ‘Imagine your life at 25’.

Discussion What does this exercise tell us? By asking children to write relatively freely, we glean insights into children’s experiences at the time, as well as their ideas about the future. The essays provide an intriguing glimpse into a time past, and appear to be products of modernity, rather than late modernity, with their descriptions of structured everyday lives, close family ties, local connections and a heightened sense of realism that appears to look inward, rather than outwards to an increasingly globalised world (though this may be an artefact of the essays selected for analysis here; a few essays describe moon landings and space travel6 ). The

12 ‘I’d Keep Them Tidy’: Domesticity, Work …

301

essays seem to provide optimistic and positive accounts; however, they are highly gendered accounts. We can, to an extent, see them as explorations of traditional female positions, but at the same time, it is important to acknowledge the active way in which girls position themselves in family life. A (perhaps) surprisingly large number of girls foresaw themselves combining work and childcare and wrote about the arrangements they envisage for managing this in detail—revealing extensive awareness about everyday life for mothers of young children, presumably based upon their experiences and knowledge, especially about babies, and observations of their mothers and parents, as Prendergast and Prout (1980) and Steedman (1982) suggested. However, we should understand this in the context of two factors. Firstly, as noted, 61% (n = 8411) of mothers in the overall NCDS sample reported being in work at some time since their child was aged 7. Secondly, the children were likely to already be responsible for domestic tasks at home, many reported that they helped at home, and one girl wrote ‘my children help me’, suggesting the idea of children as contributors, although logically, their imagined children would have been too young to do this when the essay writer was 25. This is also reflected in the quantitative data, and therefore the inclusion in the essays of domestic chores is indicative of the way that children used their current experiences to inform what they wrote about. It is possible that this generation of children were the last to take on responsibility for domestic tasks on such a scale, though in the late 1980s, many children described their contributions to the domestic economy (Morrow 1996). It may also be the case that we no longer ask children to describe domestic work because it has been rendered invisible under prevailing assumptions about children as dependents, as their ‘work’ is now constructed as ‘school work’ (Qvortrup 1985). To conclude, one of the most striking features of the essays is that, despite the very cursory instructions given to children about which aspects of their imagined lives at 25 they should describe—‘the life you are leading, your interests, your home life and your work’, there was such heterogeneity and creativity in the way they approached the task, and the type of material that they included. The extracts from the essays show that children, at least in 1969, had a strong sense of themselves as ‘becoming’. They also drew on their own experiences of their daily

302

V. Morrow and J. Elliott

lives to imagine themselves in the future. Some girls reflect backwards as well as forwards through time and reveal a realistic understanding that being a mother and a housewife was a complex process that involved leaving childhood firmly, and sometimes regretfully, behind. Asking children to narrate their imagined futures enhances our understanding of childhood and suggests that the inevitable focus on children’s futures could be balanced with attention not only to children’s present lives, but also their past experiences and memories. A question begging to be answered, of course, is how 11 year olds today might imagine themselves at 25 years old. In terms of gendered expectations and identities, it would be fascinating to ask. Acknowledgements The author gratefully acknowledges The Nuffield Foundation for funding this pilot project under their Small Grants Scheme. Ref no: SGS/32496 Grantholder: Jane Elliott CLS. Thanks too to, Gunilla Halldén, Mary Jane Kehily and Berry Mayall, for helpful comments, and Joe Lawrence for his helpful insights in preliminary discussions about coding the essays; George Andrew, Denise Brown and Kevin Dodwell for their help in locating the essays within the archive and printing them from the microfiche; our four research assistants, Tash Anderson, Jenny Neuberger, Ravi Rampersad and Alexei Schwab, who copy-typed and coded the essays for analysis. Ethical approval for secondary analysis of the essays was granted by Institute of Education Research Ethics Committee.

Notes 1. The NCDS started out as the ‘Perinatal Mortality Survey’ with over 17,000 children in the birth cohort. Follow-up has occurred as funding permitted, at ages 7, 11, 16, 23, 33, 42, 46, 50 and 55 years. In childhood, information came from interviews with parents and teachers, while the children themselves underwent medical and educational tests. Adult sweeps have collected data over several domains, including physical and mental health, demographic circumstances, employment and housing. Further information about the study and access to the data is available via www.cle.ioe.ac.uk. 2. Social historians are increasingly using children’s writing as a resource, see Barron and Langhamer (2017a) and Pooley (2015, 2016).

12 ‘I’d Keep Them Tidy’: Domesticity, Work …

303

3. Copies of the original handwritten essays were stored on microfiche and archived at the Centre for Longitudinal Studies (based at the Institute of Education, University of London). For many years, these essays were not fully coded or analysed. Only some preliminary coding of the occupational aspirations of cohort members was carried out and archived together with the other quantitative data collected at age 11. During the 1970s, some analysis of a sub-sample of the essays was carried out on the ‘syntactic maturity’ of the children (see, e.g., Richardson et al. 1976). More recently, a project has been undertaken to transcribe and archive all the essays to make them available for analysis using machine learning approaches (http://stage.ninjasforhire.co.za/cls/cls_ research/does-the-language-of-11-year-olds-predict-their-future/). 4. Questions arose when applying for research ethics approval from the Institute of Education REC about the rationale for adding the open essay question to the questionnaire. Discussion with researchers involved in the original survey in 1969 (Professors Ron Davie and Peter Wedge) suggests that there were no specific or immediate plans to analyse the essays. Asking the cohort children to write essays was an efficient way to collect data, as it did not require design, piloting or printing a questionnaire: the research team ‘wanted to do something to go beyond the numbers and find out something more personal about each child as an individual’ (personal communication, Ron Davie). At the time, the priority was to analyse the rich quantitative data collected in this sweep. In the late 1960s, it was hoped that the NCDS would continue to follow the cohort members and study their development through into adulthood. The qualitative information about future aspirations, collected in the essays written at age 11, was having potential interest in the future for comparison with the actual trajectories of individual cohort members. Thus, the ethics of asking the children to write about their imagined futures were not considered. This is not intended as a criticism but reflects how children were conceptualised in research terms at the time, as the ‘objects’ of scientific study. Individual schools were left to decide whether it was appropriate to ask for parents’ permission before administering the tests. Children’s consent was not asked for, and by today’s standards, this is discomforting to say the least (Alderson 1998). On the other hand, the essays constitute a rich resource of material and warrant and deserve fuller analysis. 5. Please note that children’s spellings were corrected. 6. Some of the essays were written in July 1969, at the time of the first moon landing.

304

V. Morrow and J. Elliott

References Alderson, P. (1998, January). Confidentiality and Consent in Qualitative Research. BSA Network, pp. 6–7. Änggård, E. (2005). Barbie Princesses and Dinosaur Dragons: Narration as a Way of Doing Gender. Gender and Education, 17 (5), 539–553. Barron, H., & Langhamer, C. (2017a). Feeling Through Practice: Subjectivity and Emotion in Children’s Writing. Journal of Social History, 51(1), 101– 123. Barron, H., & Langhamer, C. (2017b). Children, Class and the Search for Security: Writing the Future in 1930s Britain. Twentieth Century British History, 28(3), 367–389. Comer, L. (1974). Wedlocked Women. London: Feminist Books. Davis, A. (2006). Oral History and the Creation of Collective Memories: Women’s Experiences of Motherhood in Oxfordshire c.1945–1970. University of Sussex Journal of Contemporary History, 10, 1–10. Elliott, J. (2010). Imagining a Gendered Future: Children’s Essays from the NCDS in 1969. Sociology, 44 (6), 1073–1090. Elliott, J., & V. Morrow. (2007). Imagining the Future: Preliminary Analysis of NCDS Essays Written by Children at Age 11 (Working Paper). Centre for Longitudinal Studies, Institute of Education, University of London. Accessed 22 November 2019. https://cls.ucl.ac.uk/working_papers/?sortby= DESC&s=imagining+the+future&post_type=working_papers. Gavron, H. (1966). The Captive Wife: Conflicts of Housebound Mothers. London: Penguin. Goodman, M. E. (1957). Values, Attitudes and Social Concepts of Japanese and American Children. American Anthropologist, 59 (6), 979–999. Halldén, G. (1994). The Family—A Refuge from Demands or an Arena for the Exercise of Power and Control—Children’s Fictions on Their Future Family Families. In B. Mayall (Ed.), Children’s Childhoods Observed and Experienced (pp. 128–143). London: Falmer Press. Halldén, G. (1997). Competence and Connection: Gender and Generation in Boys’ Narratives. Gender and Education, 9, 307–315. Halldén, G. (1998). Boyhood and Fatherhood: Narratives About a Future Family Life. Childhood, 5 (1), 23–39.

12 ‘I’d Keep Them Tidy’: Domesticity, Work …

305

Halldén, G. (1999). ‘To Be, or Not to Be’: Absurd and Humoristic Descriptions as a Strategy to Avoid Idyllic Life Stories—Boys Write About Family Life. Gender and Education, 4, 469–479. Halldén, G. (2001). Barnet och boet: familjen - drömmar om det goda, det spännande och det farliga. Stockholm: Carlsson. Halldén, G. (2003). Children’s Views on Family, Home and House. In P. Christensen & M. O’Brien (Eds.), Children in the City: Home, Neighbourhood and Community (pp. 29–45). London: Falmer. Halldén, G. (2007, February). Comments on Papers at Seminar Held at Institute of Education (IOE). London. Hughes, M., Mayall, B., Moss, P., Perry, J., Petrie, P., & Pinkerton, G. (1980). Nurseries Now. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books. James, A. (2005). Life Times: Children’s Perspectives on Age, Agency and Memory Across the Life Course. In J. Qvortrup (Ed.), Studies in Modern Childhood: Society, Agency, Culture (pp. 248–265). London: Palgrave. Joseph, J. (1961). Research Note on Attitudes to Work and Marriage of Six Hundred Adolescent Girls. British Journal of Sociology, 12(2), 176–183. Joshi, H., & Hinde, P. (1993). Employment After Childbearing in Postwar Britain: Cohort-Study Evidence on Contrasts Within and Across Generations. European Sociological Review, 9 (3), 203–227. Mayall, B. (2002). Towards a Sociology for Childhood: Thinking from Children’s Lives. Buckingham: Open University Press. McCallion, A., & Trew, K. (2000). A Longitudinal Study of Northern Irish Children’s Hopes, Aspirations, and Fears for the Future. Special Issue on Child Development Research in Ireland, Irish Journal of Psychology, 20 (3–4), 227–237. Morris, L. (1990). The Workings of the Household . Oxford: Polity Press. Morrow, V. (1996). ‘Rethinking Childhood Dependency: Children’s Contribution to the Domestic Economy. The Sociological Review, 44 (1), 58–77. Oakley, A. (1974). The Sociology of Housework. London: Martin Robertson. Pahl, R. (1984). Divisions of Labour. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Parry, O., & Mauthner, N. (2004). Whose Data Are They Anyway? Practical, Legal and Ethical Issues in Archiving Qualitative Research Data. Sociology, 38(1), 139–152. Pooley, S. (2015). Children’s Writing and the Popular Press in England 1876– 1914. History Workshop Journal, 80 (1), 75–98. Pooley, S. (2016). “Leagues of Love” and “Column Comrades”: Children’s Responses to War in Late-Victorian and Edwardian England. In L. Paul,

306

V. Morrow and J. Elliott

R. Ross Johnston, & E. Short (Eds.), Children’s Literature and Culture of the First World War. New York & London: Routledge. Prendergast, S., & Prout, A. (1980). ‘What Will I Do…?’ Teenage Girls and the Construction of Motherhood. The Sociological Review, 28(3), 517–533. Punch, S. (2001). Negotiating Autonomy: Childhoods in Rural Bolivia. In L. Alanen & B. Mayall (Eds.), Conceptualising Child-Adult Relations (pp. 23– 36). London: Routledge Falmer. Qvortrup, J. (1985). Introduction—Special Issue: The Sociology of Childhood. International Journal of Sociology, 17 (3), 1–26. Richardson, K., Calnan, M., Essen, J., and Lambert, L. (1976). The Linguistic Maturity of 11 year olds. Journal of Child Language, 3(1), 95–115. Schoon, I., & Parsons, S. (2002). Teenage Aspirations for Future Careers and Occupational Outcomes. Journal of Occupational Behaviour, 60, 262–288. Silva, E. (1998). Transforming Housewifery: Dispositions, Practices and Technologies. In E. Silva & C. Smart (Eds.), The New Family? (pp. 46–65). London: Sage. Squire, C., Andrews, M., & Tamboukou, M. (2013). Introduction: What Is Narrative Research? In M. Andrews, C. Squire, & M. Tamboukou (Eds.), Doing Narrative Research (2nd ed., pp. 1–26). London: Sage. Stanley, L. (2000). For Sociology, Gouldner’s and Ours. In J. Eldridge, J. MacInnes, S. Scott, C. Warhurst, & A. Witz (Eds.), For Sociology: Legacy and Prospects (pp. 56–62). Durham: Sociology Press. Steedman, C. (1982). The Tidy House. London: Virago. Tinklin, T., Croxford, L., Ducklin, A., & Frame, B. (2005). Gender and Attitudes to Work and Family Roles: The Views of Young People at the Millennium. Gender and Education, 17 (2), 129–142. Watson, C., Quatman, T., & Edler, E. (2002). Career Aspirations of Adolescent Girls: Effects of Achievement Level, Grade, and Single Sex Environment. Sex Roles: a Journal of Research, 46 (9/10), 323–335. West, C., & Zimmerman, D. (1987). Doing Gender. Gender and Society, 1(2), 125–151. Wilson, E. (1977). Women and the Welfare State. London: Tavistock. Zartler, U. (2015). Children’s Imagined Future Families: Relations Between Future Constructions and Present Family Forms in Austria. Childhood, 22(4), 520–535.

13 The Inextricable Linking of Methods and Narratives: Researchers, Children, and Adults’ Stories of Childhood Ann Phoenix

Interlinked Methods and Narrative Analyses Jerome Bruner suggests that most people lead ‘storied lives’, so much so that humans can be described as ‘storytelling people’ or ‘homo narrans’ (Bruner 1987). Telling and listening to stories is a basic way in which we make sense of the world and most children become skilled at narrating stories early in life (Riessman 2008). It is, therefore, productive to focus on the stories that people tell as research material for analysis. In keeping with discourse analysis and conversation analysis, narrative analysis recognises the situatedness and contingent nature of knowledge. However, while those methods focus on the discourses themselves, narrative analysis also engages with the persons who produce narratives and so can make invaluable contributions to understandings of identities and social positioning. A. Phoenix (B) UCL Institute of Education, London, UK e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s) 2021 L. Moran et al. (eds.), Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People, Studies in Childhood and Youth, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-55647-1_13

307

308

A. Phoenix

In studying narratives of childhood, Ben Bradley (1989) pointed out that many developmental psychologists have produced romanticised stories of childhood by, for example, omitting from their analyses the fact that babies spend a lot of time crying. Bradley (1989) shows that partial storytelling limits research understanding by oversimplifying the nature of childhood. For example, different theorists observing their own children have produced different stories of childhood. Freud highlighted unconscious motivations, Piaget cognitive stages and Skinner conditioned behaviour. These differences indicate not only that methods produce ways of observing, but that the theoretical perspective from which a theorist starts produces ways of seeing and so particular analyses. It is not then, that one set of findings is necessarily preferable to another, but that analyses themselves have to be recognised as partial, situated, researcher narratives. As Bradley (2011, p. 205) explains in relation to Darwin, for theories to become successful, theorists have to produce convincing narratives. Recent Darwin scholarship has provided grounds for recognising the Origin as a literary as well as a scientific achievement. While Darwin was an acute observer, a gifted experimentalist and indefatigable theorist … it was Darwin’s literary achievement that enabled him to fashion a new ‘habit of looking at things in a given way’ that is the centrepiece of the scientific revolution bearing his name. (Bradley 2011, p. 205)

Burman (1997, p. 291) suggests that the stories psychologists tell about children are ‘indicative of the contemporary legitimizing practices of the discipline’ and, as such, have consequences for how children are viewed and whether or not their accounts are believed. Narrative scholars take many different methodological perspectives to studying narratives and, as a result, produce different research stories (Riessman 2008; Andrews et al. 2013). As narrative research has burgeoned, narrative scholars agree that, while temporality remains central (in that narratives are told in the present, about the past and in anticipation of the future), it now includes a broad range of foci (not just texts). For that reason, Tamboukou (2011) suggests that narrative is not, and should not be, ontologically defined, but viewed as dynamic,

13 The Inextricable Linking of Methods and Narratives …

309

and about doing. Speaking at the tenth anniversary of the Centre for Narrative Research, Squire (2011) advocates taking an interdisciplinary approach to narratives that involves ‘an understanding of narratives as necessarily and definitively incomplete, contradictory and disunified’. This fits with a ‘small story’ approach, developed over the last fifteen years, where researchers pay close attention to ‘narratives-in-interaction’ that can be fragmentary and involve the everyday minutiae of talk about things that are apparently inconsequential (Bamberg 2006; Bamberg and Georgakopolou 2008). Its ontological and epistemological perspective differs from approaches that consider that the best understandings of social life and identities come when people tell ‘big stories’ of their lives at length.

Chapter Overview This chapter presents three very different types of material from which it is possible to conduct narrative analysis of childhood and children’s accounts. It brings together ‘small’ and ‘big’ story approaches, which are increasingly recognised to be complementary (Bamberg 2011; Freeman 2011). The debate about big and small stories exemplifies the ways in which methods and research narratives are inextricably linked. A focus on ‘small stories’ allows the analysis of interactions, identities in process and of the everyday, while a focus on big stories provides insights into the canonical, well-worn stories and identities that have been claimed and taken up. The chapter starts from the understanding that, rather than being binary opposites, big and small stories are complementary. It argues that narratives are multilevel, so that it is possible to see small and big stories, micro and macro-analytic potential simultaneously in one set of narrative accounts. Equally, narrative analysis is about what narratives do, the actions they accomplish (Schiff 2012, 2017). This is relevant for both adults’ and children’s accounts but may be particularly so for children’s narratives since they have had shorter life stories and have fewer big narratives to inform their accounts. The chapter aims to show how narrative methods of various kinds enable fruitful engagement with children’s perspectives across research

310

A. Phoenix

projects. It presents narrative analyses of, first, transcripts of two videos of five-year-old girls’ talk that were posted on social media by their mothers and, second, narratives from two research projects I conducted. In the first, adults look back on their childhood experiences of growing up in households that are generally considered ‘non-normative’ in being of ‘serial migration’ from the Caribbean to the UK or growing up in visibly ethnically different households of children and families. In the second, children from India and the UK were interviewed in a study of environment in family lives. Both the research projects on which this chapter draws received university ethical clearance and were conducted in accordance with these ethical principles. The chapter presents examples exploring the interlinkages between ‘small’ and ‘big’ stories that become evident when narrative accounts are analysed as situated in their local and societal contexts.

Researcher Narratives of Children’s Social Media Accounts Narrative analysis is not only helpful for illuminating the ways in which theorists of childhood story development but can also give crucial insights into children’s experiences and theories of their social worlds. In the twenty-first century, it has become mundane for children of all ages to be posted on social media, having been filmed by their parents doing or saying things that the parent(s) consider spectacular (in the sense of worthy of being viewed). Such postings are often viewed millions of times by unknown members of the public and are not designed for research purposes. However, they give researchers insights into what children do and say at home, even if many of the postings are about unusual or unique events. There are of course, ethical issues with posting children’s images online. Arguably, however, the respectful analyses of such accounts do not breach university ethical guidelines; something that will doubtless be debated as researchers increasingly use such sources. Both examples below, of postings on social media, are from five-yearold girls who are visibly white, speaking in English. For both, we know their names as well as having seen their faces, but know nothing else

13 The Inextricable Linking of Methods and Narratives …

311

about them. The first comes from a YouTube video of a five-year-old UK girl who speaks passionately directly to the camera, addressing the then British Prime Minister, Theresa May. My name is Brooke Blair and I’m five years old. I’ve got something to say to you, Theresa May. Yesterday night I was out on the streets and I saw hundreds and millions of homeless people. I saw one with floppy ears, I saw loads. You should be out there, Theresa May. You should be-biscuits, hot chocolate, sandwiches, building houses. Look, I’m only five years old, there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m saving up money and there’ll never be enough. You’ve got the pot of money. Spend some and help people. That’s what you’ve got to do, because we’ve had lots of wars in this country and I do not like that, Theresa May. I’m very angry. (RT UK. [2016]. 5 Year Old Demands May Stops Homeless Crisis. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IU_CnGYzNbU. Accessed 4 March 2019)

In conducting narrative analysis of Brooke Blair’s speech to camera, it is important to consider the Foucauldian ‘conditions of possibility’ that produced her account (Tamboukou 2015). The broad context is one in which, in October 2016, when Brooke recorded her speech, homelessness had increased a great deal. Brooke’s mother, interviewed about the speech, explained that Brooke had noticed homeless people and asked who was in charge and could do something about their lack of housing. Brooke’s mother said that she believes in respecting children, so helped her to record what she wanted to say. Her account is historically and geographically located, in that it illustrates parent-child relations that have changed in ways that enable some children to express their agency and parents to help to mediate children’s identities. The narrative itself is thus a co-construction in that Brooke required her mother to help her deliver it to the audience she aims to speak to (the UK Prime Minister). It is clear that Brooke demonstrates agency. Her speech is impassioned and animated and leaves no doubt of what she considers should happen. She has considered what her own contribution to alleviating homelessness might be, but evaluates it as inadequate to the task of solving homelessness. Brooke’s ‘small story’ fits into a political interview genre and constitutes a compelling narrative partly because it shows that

312

A. Phoenix

she knows the features of news reports and follows a well-worn structure by first introducing herself by name and age before rooting her prescriptions in observations she herself has made (‘Yesterday night I was out on the streets and I saw hundreds and millions of homeless people’). This political narrative seeks to persuade the Prime Minister by setting out a case for why something needs to be done, what should be done and who should do it. It draws centrally on Brooke’s age by positioning herself as a five year old who is powerless, although trying (by saving up money) in contrast to Theresa May who she constructs as having absolute power. This, in itself, fits with a familiar narrative of the ‘ordinary’ citizen angrily challenging those in power. The age element, however, adds a meta-narrative that comes from how the video is presented and viewed which valorises the way in which the ‘innocent child’ sees the world and renders it sweet and touching, without actually changing the injustices Brooke Blair identifies into the potentially fairy-tale ending she considers possible. In presenting her narrative, Brooke appears to employ Bakhtinian heteroglossia in that the ‘You should be– biscuits, hot chocolate, sandwiches, building houses’ sounds rather like adults might say, as does, ‘Look, I’m only five years old, there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m saving up money and there’ll never be enough’. Indeed, her speech raises questions of whether or not much of it is ventriloquation (Brown 1998). Attempts to dismiss it on these grounds, however, ignore the extent to which many of all our narratives contain elements of ventriloquation. Brooke’s appeal to her age draws on an identity that positions her in relatively subordinate power and generational relations and serves to reinforce her statement that she cannot solve this problem. It also serves to underscore that this is not an adult account, including as it does, ‘I saw hundreds and millions of homeless people. I saw one with floppy ears’, which would not be expected in descriptions of people produced in adult political speeches and which reminds us that there are always elements of narratives that remain inconcludable as to their chains of signification. Narrative analysis is premised on the understanding that we ‘make’ and account for ourselves through autobiographical narratives (Bruner 1990, 2003). Riessman (1993, 2002) points out that narratives often emerge with contradictions—e.g. between the ‘ideal and the real’. In

13 The Inextricable Linking of Methods and Narratives …

313

other words, narrators are much more likely to produce narratives about disruptive life events that alter their expected biographies’ or expectations of how life ought to be lived in the culture, such as divorce, chronic illness, and infertility. This is the case for Brooke Blair’s narrative, in that she has been faced with a contradiction between her understanding that everyone ought to have a home and seeing people sleeping on the street. Bruner (1990, 2002) draws a distinction between discursive formations (or canonical narratives of how life ought to be lived in the culture, i.e. normative cultural expectations) and personal narratives. He suggests (1987, p. 694) that: The tool kit of any culture is replete not only with a stock of canonical life narratives (heroes, Marthas, tricksters, etc.), but with combinable formal constituents from which its members can construct their own life narratives: canonical stances and circumstances, as it were.

In the Brooke Blair example (above), we see Brooke in the process of constructing her life narratives and identities as she proclaims her age, ethico-political stance on housing, anger about wars and lack of housing and suggestions about what the Prime Minister (who her mother has told her has the power to address this issue) should do. Narrative analysis of a child’s unscripted, but determined and agentic speech supported by her mother, affords the analyst possibilities to situate her account in its cultural contexts (Gubrium 2006). It also helps analysts to glean insight into the process of her subjectification to canonical narratives of (in) equality and perhaps to how her small story could become part of a larger story. The interpretation of Brooke’s narrative is necessarily situated and partial, particularly since it is based only on short accounts by Brooke and her mother. However, as Rosaldo (1989, p. 8) suggested ‘All interpretations are provisional; …made by positioned subjects who are prepared to know certain things and not others… analyses are always incomplete’. Despite the fact that they are provisional and partial, the narrative analysis of Brooke Blair’s speech plausibly shows that it is fruitful to conduct narrative analysis on children’s talk and that, as in adult talk; their narratives are replete with layered complexity (Riessman 2004).

314

A. Phoenix

The second extract from a five-year-old girl posted on social media apparently starts a little way into a conversation between Zada and her mother, who presumably recognised that Zada was giving insights into new ways of seeing the world that have social and political relevance. According to media reports, the conversation started when Zada asked her mother what ‘vegetarian’ meant and was horrified to then learn that ‘meat’ is dead animals. Zada: I don’t want to eat them ever again. Mother: Oh so what do you think? What will you eat instead? Zada: I will eat whatever there is on the table, but not chicken or meat. Mother: What do you think it’s—why do you think—you want to do that? Zada: Because they’re animals and I like animals. Mother: So what will you—what will we do if we miss eating chicken or meat? Zada: I don’t miss eating chicken and meat. Mother: How about fish? Zada: Fish? Mother: Yeah. Zada: Fish, is it an animal? Mother: Yeah. Zada: I won’t eat that either. Mother: Oh my God, so what Zada: I WON’T EAT ANIMALS (getting louder) Mother: Oh okay (pause). So what do you want to eat, what kind of food do you want to eat? Zada: Anything’s on the table, but not animals. Mother: Why do you feel sorry for animals? Zada: Because they’re nice. And, and, and I know—and I know that we cook them sometimes, which is not very nice. And I know that we like, um—to eat animals that we cook, but that’s not nice for them. Mother: Yeah, do you think they suffer? Zada: I, I think that they don’t really like being cooked in the oven. (Long pause) (Makhoul, R. [2016]. “I Won’t Eat Animals,” Girl Tells Her Mother. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Npv2Mpbd3w. Accessed 4 March 2019)

13 The Inextricable Linking of Methods and Narratives …

315

The media reports on this clip make clear that interest in it, and the tens of thousands of ‘hits’ it has received, is because Zada is taken as a signifier of childhood innocence doing a version of speaking truth to power from the position of an absolutely fresh insight into social food practices. In addition, as can be seen in the clip, Zada becomes upset as she speaks and is on the verge of tears, particularly at the end of the clip. This serves to make Zada even more ‘adorable’ in some accounts. This constitutes the broader ‘conditions of possibility’ that led Zada’s mother to film her account. This extract is clearly a co-construction between Zada and her mother. Unlike the Brooke Blair extract, Zada has not asked to be videoed, although she does not object to being videoed. She appears to be producing a new narrative in which she is determined to be vegetarian and working out what that is with the help of her mother. Her mother arguably prolongs the episode by her questioning, albeit in a sympathetic voice, as in when she asks, ‘How about fish?’ which leads Zada to explore the boundaries of the category ‘animal’ further and ‘Why do you feel sorry for animals’, which appears to introduce a new concept (although we cannot be sure that this has not been discussed already off camera). Zada’s mother also presents an apparently passive challenge as in ‘So what will you—what will we do if we miss eating chicken or meat?’ and ‘Oh my god, so what-?’ This arguably intensifies both Zada’s level of upset and her determination when she interrupts her mother to say in a louder voice than previously ‘I WON’T EAT ANIMALS’. Squire (2011) points out that the Centre for Narrative Research is committed to ‘treating narratives as politically active texts and practices’ addressing the politics of personal and particular stories. While Zada does not invoke the politics of vegetarianism herself, her narrative is politically salient and effective in that her new investment in vegetarianism does highlight the issue for all her audiences. She thus invokes ‘big narratives’ as well as developing her small story of coming to understand that meat comes from animals. This also creates identity positions for Zada, as a compassionate and determined child who aims to follow through her understanding by refusing to eat meat. It is usual to study childhood contemporaneously or prospectively and to consider that retrospective accounts are too unreliable to give

316

A. Phoenix

good insights into childhood. However, this chapter argues that retrospective methods can equally help to illuminate childhood. They can, furthermore, help us to understand the ways in which what happens to children has an impact into adult life and is dependent on current positioning (Josselson 2009; Orellana and Phoenix 2017). In order to make the methodological case, the next section focuses on a study of transforming experience, which studied adults’ retrospective accounts of non-normative childhood experiences.

Illuminating Childhood Through Retrospective Accounts The research programme from which the examples below are taken examined the social, psychological and cultural processes involved when adults brought up in diverse families that included ‘non-normative‘ features negotiate their identities and re-evaluate earlier experiences. It consisted of three linked studies, of adults who as children had been language brokers for their parents; adults who grew up in visibly ethnically different households and adults who had been serial migrants in childhood. The study that informs this paper was ESRC-funded and involved narrative interviews with 53 adults (39 women and 14 men) and ten pilot interviews from adults who had, as children, been left in the Caribbean when their parents migrated to the UK and later joined them, becoming ‘serial migrants’ in the process.1 Interviews were first thematically analysed to provide an overview of the findings. The material selected for detailed narrative analysis was based on the themes identified. Some of the interviews were analysed jointly in the project team and some with other project groups. Narrative analysis is particularly suited to the study of ‘non-normative’ lives because there are normative stories within any culture and narratives are most likely to be developed when lives are interrupted and so do not fit with normative or ideal patterns (Riessman 2008). The process of doing detailed line-by-line narrative analysis is described in Phoenix et al. (2017).

13 The Inextricable Linking of Methods and Narratives …

317

Retrospective accounts allow insights into the ways in which events and feelings may be reconsidered over time (Josselson 2009; Orellana and Phoenix 2017) and ‘subject to ongoing revision of perception and evaluation’ (Andrews 2014, p. 4). Further, it has now become a commonplace that memory itself is a reconstruction of the past in the present, rather than an archive to be recovered (Lambek and Antze 1996; Brockmeier 2015). The chapter does not, therefore, treat the adults’ narratives of childhood experiences as transparent reflections of experiences that have fixed effects. Instead, it views narrative accounts as facilitating the analysis of subjective ideas about what mattered to people in their histories and is part of an ongoing process of making sense of the past in relation to the present and the future (Riessman 2008). In the following example, ‘Corinne’ reflects on the process of her evaluation and perception of the days in which her mother, father, and brother left the Caribbean, leaving her behind. Interviewer: So can you describe for me sort of the day that your father left, the day your mother left, the day your brother left? Corinne: I don’t honestly know if I could, because I don’t know whether I’ve blocked it out or what. I do remember going, when my dad went, definitely remember going to see him on the boat and waving him off. I remember that with my dad, but with the others I can’t (.) with my brother I remember going with him to see him off, cos obviously we were living together, but that’s all I can remember. It’s really weird, that’s all I can remember.

In talking about perhaps having ‘blocked out’ what happened in response to being asked to think retrospectively, Corinne is doing four important things. First, she is performatively showing the interviewer that she subscribes to popular psychoanalytic notions about the repression of traumatic experiences. Second, she is marking her mother’s and brother’s departures as traumatic and, in doing so, making no distinction between the past and the present. Third, she omits to mention any emotions or any events around the leaving, which could also signify trauma in childhood. Fourth, she implicitly constructs these events as traumatic into her adult present.

318

A. Phoenix

The above discussion has focused on the analysis of one participant discussing the psychosocial impact of being left behind as a child when her parents and brothers migrated from the Caribbean to the UK. However, the analysis of adults’ retrospective accounts could also give insights into childhood by bringing different people’s accounts together to understand narratives of childhood collectively. The three examples below come from the ‘Visibly ethnically different’ study and the ‘Serial migration’ study and are narratives of experiences of exclusion from the ‘normative’: Jane: …So I remember being terribly upset in a nativity play, very early on, I must have been I don’t know, 5 or 6 I think. …because I could clearly read that much better than all the other children and was like, you know, good at all those sorts of things. And when it came to casting, I didn’t get any part. And I felt sure I’d get the Mary ‘cos you know, it had the most lines and all of this. And I didn’t …And at that age I couldn’t quite work it out but it happened several years on the trot and …Mary always looked the same, it was always kind of the cute blonde, blue eyed girl … (Mixed-parentage woman, Visibly Ethnically Different study) Joanna: …And I think at an early age you pick up the hierarchy around skin colour. You look in any book, you didn’t see any black princesses, you didn’t see anything like that (Black woman with mixed-parentage brother, Visibly Ethnically Different study). Barbara: When I went to school, it was the first time I came up against racism, which I hadn’t at the time put a label on. Because I had an accent; very, very strong accent. My mum insisted on plaiting my hair, so I was made fun of at school, you know about my [Caribbean] accent and about my hair…and the teachers weren’t very helpful in the least bit; they were just as racist as the kids sometimes (Serial Migration study).

Bringing these retrospective accounts together shows that narrative analysis can illuminate the ways in which some adults view early childhood experiences in school as a source of conflictual negotiation of racialised identities. Each account, extracted from responses to a question asking them to tell their story (about growing up in Visibly Ethnically Different households, or as a serial migrant), spontaneously identifies school as a turning point in their nascent racialised identities in the UK. It is the site

13 The Inextricable Linking of Methods and Narratives …

319

where they first became aware of encountering what they retrospectively evaluate as racism. They reported their initial puzzlement about it. Each tells a personal narrative, but looking at them one after the other, highlights the racialised, gendered intersections that produced experiences of skin colour and hair as central to identities, social positioning, and negotiating relationships (Francis et al. 2010; Ringrose 2012) and in which gender is crucial, but implicit. Their message is that mixed-parentage and black girls are excluded from the signifiers of idealised and successful femininity and that racialised, gendered cultural icons such as the Virgin Mary and princesses are exclusionary. Since the women are in different generations (Jane and Joanna in their 30 s and Barbara in her 50 s), it is either that schools had not changed over two decades, and/or that there is something particular about schools as a context that brings children together across various social divides for several hours each day. The juxtaposition of the narratives raises questions and issues that help to contextualise what it means to live intersectional differences at school by illuminating what the adults consider was formative for their lives, identities, and everyday practices. Of course, it is not just for girls (and women retrospectively) that school was reported to raise new racialised relational issues. Justin: …I didn’t know who I was or what I was. My experience at school was someone said ‘Are you Indian?’ I went home and said ‘Am I Indian?’ and mum said ‘They’re nasty people, don’t listen to them.’ …So I was about 11, 12 before I had any kind of notion of anything about what was different, I kind of knew something was different (Visibly Ethnically Different focus group).

Justin’s account, produced in a focus group, is one of identity quest where solving the puzzle requires talking to his mother as well as experiences at school. In the narratives given by the participants above, the adults describe an iterative relationship between relations and understandings of home and school. They also produce developmental accounts that suggest (for different periods and ages) that they moved from lack of awareness to a burgeoning awareness that shifted their identities in much the same way that coming to consciousness of homelessness and social

320

A. Phoenix

policy may shift Brooke Blair’s understanding. The detail of the small story exemplified in Jane and Justin’s accounts give indications that the participants are revising and re-evaluating their experiences in adulthood in the ongoing process of making sense of them in the context of their lives since then (Andrews 2014; Riessman 2015). They indicate that narrative analysis of retrospective accounts that matter to adults in the present can be particularly vivid and that considering several retrospective accounts together can illuminate childhood issues that are salient in adulthood for particular groups. In the range of issues they cover, they present several ‘small stories’, but also highlight ‘big’, political narratives of racism and migration. This section has focused on narrative research using interviews with adults looking back on their childhoods. The section that follows discusses narrative research using multiple methods with families including children during their childhoods, rather than retrospectively.

Affordances of Multiple Methods for Narrative Understandings of Childhood This section draws on findings from another ESRC-funded study, the Family Lives and the Environment study, conducted in India and the UK where Janet Boddy was the Principal Investigator and I was the Co-Investigator. It was part of the ESRC National Centre for Research Methods NOVELLA Node.2 The study aimed to improve understanding of the negotiated complexity of families’ lives in relationship with their environments. It focused on the meanings of ‘environment’ in their narratives of everyday and habitual family practices in very different economic, social, cultural, and demographic backgrounds. After conducting secondary analysis of eight family case studies drawn from the qualitative subsample of the Oxford University Young Lives study in Andhra Pradesh/Telangana,3 we interviewed 24 families with different economic, social, cultural, and demographic profiles in India (Andhra Pradesh/Telangana) and the UK (southern England). We recruited a volunteer sample of children aged 11–14 years in urban and rural locations on the basis of school characteristics (including state/government

13 The Inextricable Linking of Methods and Narratives …

321

and fee-paying schools in both countries), included them in focus groups and a mapping exercise at school, then got permission to visit them and their families. Each family was visited three times over a period of approximately two weeks.4 Visit 1 involved a family group interview with a cognitive mapping exercise to explore their feelings about, and negotiations of, their environments. Families were given disposable cameras (one each for the main caregiver and the focal young person, and a third camera for the rest of the family). They were asked to take photos over seven days to show what was important in their everyday lives and environments. Visit 2 involved individual interviews with the main caregiver and young person, and a walking or driving interview in their local area involving the caregiver, young person, and anyone else in the family who wished to come. Visit 3 involved photo-elicitation interviews. The main caregiver and young person were interviewed individually, and each selected five of their pictures to discuss with the rest of the family, while other family members separately chose three photos from the third camera. Afterwards, the family group were interviewed together, discussing the photos selected and choosing three which they agreed best conveyed what was important in their everyday lives. Interviews were transcribed and, where necessary, translated into English. We analysed themes and narratives within family cases, before looking thematically across cases, and then at narratives within themes. See Boddy et al. (2016) and Phoenix et al. (2017) for further details. The first example presented in this section has resonances with Brooke Blair’s narrative above. Antonia attended a state school in London, UK, where she lived with her parents (both working professionals) and two siblings. Her narrative was of constrained agency in relation to environmental issues and, while Brooke was five at the time of speaking and Antonia twelve, she suggests that it is presidents and Prime Ministers who have the power to make the population change their habits. Antonia: Sometimes when I’m using electricity and stuff – I kind of know about global warming and all that stuff…and I kind of feel like I’m a part of this big thing that’s causing global warming. /…/I kind of (…)

322

A. Phoenix

I feel a bit bad, but then I also know that me, individually, I can’t really do anything about global warming as much as I’d like to. /…/I can’t do a lot against it. Interviewer: What do you think is the best way that people can do more? Antonia: I think if there was someone with quite a powerful position, like Barack Obama [then President of the US] or David Cameron [then Prime Minister of the UK]… I think if they sent the message out and if, if they got (…) just (…) if they sent the message out and they got lots of people kind of aware of this kind of thing, then (…) quite a lot could be done.

Antonia’s narrative gives a good sense of how she views climate change and efforts to ameliorate it. Unlike Brooke Blair, she indicates that she ‘feels a bit bad’ about, in this case, contributing to global warming. In concert with Brooke, she identifies political action as the way forward, but political action that informs the population so that they can act differently (rather than expecting the government to take responsibility for change). Antonia’s narrative indicates that we can learn a great deal about research issues by talking to children. This is also true about the account below, from Mamatha, in Hyderabad, India, who aimed to tackle a more local environmental issue than global warming and the electricity use that contributes to it. The story below comes after the family mapping exercise and the walking interview where Mamatha has pointed out the park. Mamatha: When children use it as toilet, I tell them to go away from there and do that at their home. Interviewer/Interpreter: So you tell like that, when did you tell that? Mamatha: When I was child, even now I tell./…/ Interviewer: And what do the other children say? Interviewer/Interpreter: What will they say, when you say like that, do they listen or tell you to go away? Mamatha: Some say that ‘is it your park, have you built it?’ (‘We haven’t built, but mosquitoes will reach our home, and it will be dirty, that’s why I am telling you to leave this place’. I say [it] in that way, then they leave (faster)).

13 The Inextricable Linking of Methods and Narratives …

323

In telling this story, Mamatha, (who came from a very poor family) positioned herself as agentic and proactive. She explained that she had noticed that the number of mosquitoes had decreased after the local authorities cleared rubbish from the park across the road from their home. She therefore wanted to keep the park clean in order not to attract mosquitoes. Mamatha’s account has a temporal focus. She started telling children not to use the park as a toilet in the past and continues to do so now in anticipation of preventing possible future problems. The point is that listening to children’s narratives enables rich insights (Clark 2011). However, the narratives that are produced in engagement with other methods, such as the walking interviews, mapping and photoelicitation employed in the Family Lives and Environment study can illuminate everyday practices and emotions in different ways. In James Gibson’s terms, there are particular affordances from specific methods. The mapping exercises were a case in point in that when families were invited to draw maps of their local environments and to mark places they liked, did not like and went to frequently, the individual members negotiated how to characterise the meaning of particular spaces and places. Agreement between family members was illuminating about how the family wished to display itself. Janet Finch (2007) suggests that family photographs serve to display the family, including putting boundaries around it that define membership. In Gomathi’s case (from a middleclass family in Hyderabad), she and her parents chose three photos to represent the family that show them together on the sofa and Gomathi doing homework on her bed. None were of the world outside their door. The photo choices delimit the family as a nuclear family and the family space as containing Gomathi’s play and school homework and all of family life. The photos idealise the boundaries of the apartment, signalling its centrality to their perceptions of what they can do in their environments. As with the mapping exercise, the photo-elicitation interviews provided possibilities for narrative analysis from what the family members said and their visual depictions of their families (Phoenix et al. 2017). This mix of methods gives insights into how narrative analysis can be conducted on the visual and embodied in conjunction with the oral. It further shows how children’s narratives of childhood can illuminate

324

A. Phoenix

big political issues of climate change and inequalities as well as personal narratives because these are not separable, but inextricably linked.

Concluding Discussion One of the aims of this chapter was to illuminate the different understandings of childhood and children’s perspectives produced from a variety of narrative methods of various kinds. The chapter has shown the rich potential of narrative research for analysing everyday practices of talk and storytelling that simultaneously attend to ‘small stories’ (narratives in interaction) and ‘big stories’. The three sets of examples examined in the discussion above show that the findings made possible in different analyses are dependent on the focus of the study or extract examined and the methods through which the aims are operationalised. For example, the transcripts of the speech by five-year-old Brooke Blair and the responses produced by five-year-old Zada enables analysis of their positioning and burgeoning understanding of their social worlds. The ways in which children construct and claim moral agency, in one case directly to camera at her own request (Brooke Blair) and, in the other, in interaction with her mother who helps her to come to the realisation of the ramification of her moral choice, but cannot shake her determination. Brooke Blair’s narrative raises questions of heteroglossia and ventriloquation (Brown 1998). In other words, how much is she repeating sentiments that she has heard expressed by adults? In many ways, this is an unfair question in that adults also draw on heteroglossia. However, the question of heteroglossia and ventriloquation is dispelled by Zada’s example since she is clearly producing a new narrative that runs counter to her mother’s and the family’s food practices. In contrast, the narrative interview study of adults looking back on childhoods where they experienced separation from their parents in the process of serial migration shows how they make retrospective meanings by identifying particular episodes from their childhood as emblematic of their experiences. Their accounts allow analyses of their identities and how childhood experiences continue to be present in their adult lives and the impact they consider these experiences to have had on their

13 The Inextricable Linking of Methods and Narratives …

325

lives. In the third set of examples, the children’s narratives show both their positioning within their families and the contradictory meanings of climate change and environment for them. The examples allow engagement both with multiple perspectives on the impact of environment on family lives and allow those perspectives to be contextualised as well as enabling embodiment to be analysed as part of the everyday. Overall, the different narrative methods used allow different affordances that can address particular questions. This demonstrates an important way in which narrative methods are flexible and central to understandings of identities, environments, and relationships in the social world. Narrative methods are burgeoning because their utility for social research is increasingly recognised. This chapter has demonstrated that they equally serve to illuminate childhood and youth lives in different contexts and to show the inextricable linking of small and big stories and of the political and personal in narratives. Acknowledgements The studies that inform this paper would not have been possible without generous contributions of time and narratives from the participants in both studies. My heartfelt thanks to all of them. The study would also not have been possible without the many researchers who contributed to data collection and analyses. Elaine Bauer and Stephanie Davis-Gill were Research Fellows on the studies of serial migration and growing up in Visibly Ethnically Different households. Interviews in India (Andhra Pradesh and Telangana) were conducted in Telugu, Hindi, or English, by Madhavi Latha, Catherine Walker, and Natasha Shukla. Interviews in England were conducted by Janet Boddy, Helen Austerberry, Catherine Walker, and Hanan Hauari. Both studies were funded by the Economic and Social Research Council. Last but not least, the videoed narratives from Brooke Blair and Zada are invaluable to this consideration of childhood narratives.

Notes 1. The study was funded as an Economic and Social Research Council Research Council Professorial Fellowship (Award number: RES-051-270181). Elaine Bauer and Stephanie Davis-Gill were Research Fellows on the programme.

326

A. Phoenix

2. Please see www.novella.ac.uk for more information on this node. The study was funded by the Economic and Social Research Council (RES-576-250053). 3. Please see www.younglives.org.uk for more information. 4. Interviews in India (Andhra Pradesh and Telangana) were conducted in Telugu, Hindi, or English, by Madhavi Latha, Catherine Walker and Natasha Shukla. Interviews in England were conducted by Janet Boddy, Helen Austerberry, Catherine Walker and Hanan Hauari.

References Andrews, M. (2014). Narrative Imagination and Everyday Life. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Andrews, M., Squire, C., & Tamboukou, M. (Eds.). (2013). Doing Narrative Research. London, Thousand Oaks, CA and New Delhi: Sage. Bamberg, M. (2006). Stories: Big or Small: Why do We Care? Narrative Inquiry, 16, 139–147. Bamberg, M. (2011). Who Am I? Narration and Its Contribution to Self and Identity, Theory & Psychology, 21, 3–24. Bamberg, M., & Georgakopoulou, A. (2008). Small Stories as a New Perspective in Narrative and Identity Analysis. Text & Talk, 28, 377–396. Boddy, J., Phoenix, A., Walker, C., Vennam, U., Austerberry, H., & Latha, M. (2016). Telling Moral Tales’? Family Narratives of Responsible Privilege and Environmental Concern in India and the UK. Families, Relationships and Societies, 5, 357–374. Bradley, B. S. (1989). Visions of Infancy: A Critical Introduction to Child Psychology. Cambridge: Polity Press. Bradley, B. S. (2011). Darwin’s Sublime: The Contest Between Reason and Imagination in On the Origin of Species. Journal of the History of Biology, 44, 205–232. Brockmeier, J. (2015). Beyond the Archive: Memory, Narrative, and the Autobiographical Process. New York: Oxford University Press. Brown, L. M. (1998). Voice and Ventriloquation in Girls’ Development (pp. 91– 114). Standpoints and Differences: Essays in the Practice of Feminist Psychology. Bruner, J. (1987). Life as Narrative. Social Research, 54, 11–32.

13 The Inextricable Linking of Methods and Narratives …

327

Bruner, J. S. (1990). Acts of Meaning. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Bruner, J. S. (2003). Making Stories: Law, Literature, Life. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Burman, E. (1997). Telling Stories: Psychologists, Children and the Production of False Memories. Theory & Psychology, 7, 291–309. Burman, E. (2016). Deconstructing Developmental Psychology. London: Routledge. Clark, C. D. (2011). In a Younger Voice: Doing Child-Centered Qualitative Research. New York: Oxford University Press. Finch, J. (2007). Displaying Families. Sociology, 41, 65–81. Francis, B., Skelton, C., & Read, B. (2010). The Simultaneous Production of Educational Achievement and Popularity: How Do Some Pupils Accomplish It? British Educational Research Journal, 36, 317–340. Freeman, M. (2011). Stories, Big and Small: Toward a Synthesis. Theory & Psychology, 21, 114–121. Gubrium, A. (2006). “I Was My Momma Baby: I Was My Daddy Gal”: Strategic Stories of Success. Narrative Inquiry, 16, 231–253. Josselson, R. (2009). The Present of the Past: Dialogues with Memory over Time. Journal of Personality, 77, 647–668. Lambek, M., & Antze, P. (1996). Tense Past: Cultural Essays in Trauma and Memory. New York: Routledge. Makhoul, R. (2016). “I Won’t Eat Animals,” Girl Tells her Mother. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Npv2Mpbd3w Accessed 4 March 2019. Orellana, M. F., & Phoenix, A. (2017). Re-interpreting: Narratives of Childhood Language Brokering over Time. Childhood, 24, 183–196. Phoenix, A., Boddy, J., Walker, C., & Vennam, U. (2017). Environment in the Lives of Children and Families: Perspectives from India and the UK . Bristol, UK and Chicago, IL: Policy Press. Riessman, C. K. (1993). Narrative Analysis. Newbury Park, CA: Sage. Riessman, C. K. (2002). Positioning Gender Identity in Narratives of Infertility: South Indian Women’s Lives in Context. In M. C. Inhorn & F. Van Balen (Eds.), Infertility Around the Globe, New Thinking on Childlessness, Gender and Reproductive Technologies (pp. 52–170). Berkeley, LA: UCLA Press. Riessman, C. K. (2004). A Thrice-Told Tale: New Readings of an Old Story. In B. Hurwitz, T. Greenhalgh & V. Skultans (Eds.)‚ Narrative Research

328

A. Phoenix

in Health and Illness (pp. 309–24). Oxford: BMJ Books & Blackwell Publishing. Riessman, C. K. (2008). Narrative Methods for the Human Sciences. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Riessman, C. (2015). Twists and Turns: Narrating My Career, Catherine Kohler Riessman. Qualitative Social Work, 14, 10–17. Ringrose, J. (2012). Postfeminist Education? Girls and the Sexual Politics of Schooling. London: Routledge. Rosaldo, R. (1989). Culture and Truth: The Remaking of Social Analysis. Boston: Beacon. RT UK. (2016). 5 Year Old Demands May Stops Homeless Crisis. https://www. youtube.com/watch?v=IU_CnGYzNbU. Accessed 4 March 2019. Schiff, B. (2012). The Function of Narrative: Toward a Narrative Psychology of Meaning. Narrative Works 2. https://journals.lib.unb.ca/index.php/NW/ article/view/19497/21063. Accessed 10 March 2019. Schiff, B. (2017). A New Narrative for Psychology. New York: Oxford University Press. Squire, C. (2011). In Andrews, M., Brockmeier, J., Erben, M., Esin, C., Freeman, M., Georgakopoulou, A., Hydén, M., Hyvärinen, M., Jolly, M., and M. Rustin ‘Looking Forward, Looking Back: Future Challenges for Narrative Research An Event Commemorating the Tenth Anniversary of the Centre for Narrative Research, University of East London’. Narrative Works 1, p. 7. Accessed 10/03/2019 at https://journals.lib.unb.ca/index.php/NW/ article/view/18471/19969. Tamboukou, M. (2011). In Andrews, M., Brockmeier, J., Erben, M., Esin, C., Freeman, M., Georgakopoulou, A., Hydén, M., Hyvärinen, M., Jolly, M., and M. Rustin ‘Looking Forward, Looking Back: Future Challenges for Narrative Research An Event commemorating the tenth anniversary of the Centre for Narrative Research, University of East London’. Narrative Works 1, p. 7. https://journals.lib.unb.ca/index.php/NW/article/view/ 18471/19969. Accessed 10 March 2019. Tamboukou, M. (2015). Narrative Phenomena: Entanglements and Intraactions. In M. Livholts & M. Tamboukou (Eds.), Discourse and Narrative Methods: Theoretical Departures, Analytical Strategies and Situated Writings. London, Thousand Oaks, New Delhi and Singapore: Sage.

14 Topological Mapping: Studying Children’s Experiential Worlds Through Spatial Narratives Kirsi Pauliina Kallio

Introduction Dominant spatial imaginations draw from ideas such as territorial structuration, nested spatial scales and methodological nationalism. Even if globalisation is a broadly identified megatrend, directing the development of economic, political, cultural and social life, the topical matters of everyday living as well as those related to formal processes and worldly issues are typically discussed in topographical terms and from perspectives of the state-based modern world. These established conceptions have been criticised for failing to capture the complexity and multifacetedness of spatiality. An interdisciplinary scholarship emphasising spatial relationality has thus set out to challenge them, drawing from various theoretical and philosophical branches (e.g. Brenner 1998; Sassen K. P. Kallio (B) Tampere University, Tampere, Finland e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s) 2021 L. Moran et al. (eds.), Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People, Studies in Childhood and Youth, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-55647-1_14

329

330

K. P. Kallio

2000; Wimmer and Glick Schiller 2002; Jackson 2008; Jones 2009; Savage 2011; Hanquinet et al. 2012). Building on this broad discussion, in geography and the neighbouring disciplines, topological theorisation has recently been introduced as one potential way of rethinking how spatial relations constitute and exist, how they are understood by individual people and in institutional settings, and how spatiality is transformed through formal and informal practices (e.g. Lorimer 2010; Allen 2011; Ek 2006; Mezzadra and Neilson 2012; Sepp 2012; Ahlqvist 2013; Häkli and Kallio 2014; Martin and Secor 2014; Joronen 2016). Topologies are attained by tracing the social ties that people and collective actors adopt, create, maintain, transform, challenge and refuse as part of their activities. The relational realms thus exposed are not static constellations, representable by traditional means such as cartography, as they constantly transform through people’s lived relations—including children and youth. However, they are not completely fluid realities either, as ‘geosocial life’ is conditioned by established spatial structures with geopolitical and geo-economic underpinnings (Mitchell and Kallio 2017). Hence, it is possible to identify broadly recognised, established elements of topological realities, in parallel with the shifting and more personal spatial relationalities. Drawing from this branch of relational spatial theorisation, I am developing a methodological approach to studying people’s experiential worlds, with a working title of ‘topological mapping’. The approach builds on a threefold conceptual baseline where subjectivity is recognised as a key capacity of human agency and people’s relational contexts of living are understood in terms of topological polis where the political spurs from subjectively experienced and socially shared, contextually forming matters of importance. This conceptual ground provides for exploring existing worlds from people’s experiential and interpretive perspectives. Topological methodologies are well suited to research with children and young people, contributing to the long tradition of place-based methods, mental mapping for instance (e.g. Blaut and Stea 1974; Matthews 1980; Young and Barrett 2001; Gillespie 2010; Lehman-Frisch et al. 2012). They have informed my recent studies focusing on children’s political presence, from which I draw from in this text from previous results (see Häkli and Kallio 2014, 2018; Kallio 2014a, b, 2016a, b, c, 2017a,

14 Topological Mapping: Studying Children’s Experiential …

331

2018a, b, c; Kallio et al. 2015; Korkiamäki and Kallio 2018). In 2011 and 2015, I carried out two research projects with children and young people, in Southern Finland and Northern England. The fieldwork and the subsequent analysis tried out the methods of topological mapping, as I will describe in the chapter. The chapter divides into five sections. I will first briefly introduce the conceptual grounds of topological mapping. After that, I portray the research project and the sub-studies. The third section describes in a detailed manner how I have operationalised the methodological approach into research methods. Then, I explain the analytic strategy of ‘unmapping’ that turns socially established experiences into relational spatial attachments, by working through three analytical layers. The chapter ends in a concluding section with a short summary of topological mapping and considerations about the applicability of this narrative approach in childhood studies.

Conceptual Grounds of Topological Mapping The methodological approach that I have developed in my research with children and youth builds around the theorisation of political agency. In my work, simply put, political agency stands for a human condition by which people can lead their lives as political subjects. Understood this way, it is a subjective condition as every person may only conceive of and participate in political life from the perspectives and stances they have attained. Yet this does not mean that political agency is freely formed or practised. Political agencies are always conditioned by the socially constituted and intersubjectively established social selves that people acquire when becoming members of the communities and societies in which they are situated. That is, our experienced worlds both enable and restrict our agencies. Moreover, human situatedness is particular and uneven, meaning that people have different opportunities and restrictions as political subjects. Depending on the society, people become, for example, gendered, raced, classed, sexualised—and aged social selves. These identity constructions are not stable but always contested to some extent, thus they do not predetermine human agency. This is where the political steps

332

K. P. Kallio

in: as people can question and challenge the social conditions of their agency, they are capable of political agency with transformative power. Next, I will introduce the key concepts of this theoretical framework, based on which I have built the approach of topological mapping. As I can provide only a brief introduction to the theorisation, I suggest that readers interested in the grounds of this methodology visit my previous research where more details and justifications can be found (e.g. Häkli and Kallio 2014, 2018; Kallio 2017a; Kallio and Häkli 2017). The first key concept is subjectivity. In my theorisation, it refers to the fundamental experiences concerning oneself: who I feel that I am. In our everyday routines, we do not usually ponder on our beingness, thus it may seem that not much changes in our subjectivities throughout the Lifecourse: to me, I am me, and there is nothing I can do about it even if I wanted to. We can surely perform different facets of ourselves to other people and appear as different kinds of persons in diverse situations and environments (e.g. van Blerk 2011; Cele 2013). Within ourselves, however, performed identities do not work quite the same way as the performer, the performed and the audience exist as one. We rather experience ourselves. At times, we realise that something has changed in our experienced beingness. This typically occurs in encounters where people have outdated understandings of each other’s social selves. When meeting an old friend, one may realise that, for example, I do not fit in that gendered category (even if I used to) or that I am not comfortable with such racial identity (that I used to consider normal) (cf. Chadwick and Foster 2007; Noble 2009). These kinds of experiences make visible that, as much as ongoing being, subjectivities are in a constantly developing state of becoming, as Henriques et al., (1984) argued in their seminal volume on subject formation. The idea of ‘becoming subjectivities’ points to the dynamic processes of subject formation. Social selves are built in relation to negotiated identities, such as race, gender, class, age, ethnicity, and sexuality. This is an active process. In my thinking, subjectivity is a personal relation to the identity categories that one encounters in her or his lived reality, not a merger of given identities. The development of these personal relations in the social realm continues throughout the Lifecourse but is particularly intense during childhood and youth, in certain turning points of life

14 Topological Mapping: Studying Children’s Experiential …

333

(e.g. entering working life, forming a family, joining an ideological movement, migration), and when going through personal or societal crisis (e.g. breakup in intimate relations, death, war, imprisonment) (e.g. Hanrahan 2018; Lind 2018; Thomas 2018). Finally, it is important to notice that subjectivity is always both ‘becoming’ and ‘being’, a perspective emphasised also more broadly in recent childhood (e.g. Gallacher and Gallagher 2008; Uprichard 2008; Cele 2013). Becoming (transforming relation to identities) unquestionably includes being (certainty concerning oneself as oneself ), because intersubjective subject formation requires the active presence of the subject. In other words, I do not develop without myself taking actively part in this development. When transitioning through intensive periods of ‘intersubjective geo-socialisation’—as I have come to call the contextual processes of subject formation (Kallio 2016b, 2018a)—people are hence not less ‘whole’ or ‘present’ than during more stable periods of life. Thus, being (the person who I feel I am) always includes the potential of becoming (a person who I feel comfortable being in a new life situation). The second key concept in my theorisation is topological polis. In contrast to the classical idea of territorially defined city-state, in question is a more abstract concept, referring to the relational realms of living as experienced by people. Following topological logics, the relational polis stands for a socially constituting reality consisting of everything that has meaning to the people involved in its life, as individuals and collectives. Respectively, these meanings are definitive of the scope and the extent of the polis, and of how politics unfold in it. The constituents of topological polis are brought together by matters that gain importance within its realm—that become politicised in the practices of the polis (I will get back to this matter at the end of the section). Topological polis cannot be described accurately as it has no stable structure or univocal appearance. Its form and contents vary depending on where, when and from whose perspectives they are approached. The temporalities of the polis are similarly blurred, as lived realities involve various histories, present states of affairs and potential futurities through the people involved. In this sense, topological polis can be considered a fluid space, always in movement and transformation, and constantly

334

K. P. Kallio

struggled. However, even if its emergence does not follow a singular spatial logic, it does not constitute randomly or change haphazardly. Polis is known, practised and struggled by the people who are involved in its ‘geosocialities’, and their agencies are conditioned by the prevailing geopolitical and geo-economic situations that may involve rather persistent elements as well. The nation state system is one good example of such. Most people in the contemporary world recognise states and their relations as naturalised elements of the lived reality, regardless of their continuing experiences of globalisation that do not stem from, and cannot be reduced to, this spatial logic. Contextual social norms that guide us through the everyday are also rather stubborn and innate. Consider how people typically feel uneasy about nudity in public space yet, on the beach and in the swimming hall, it is the norm. People may not even realise this normativity before someone disrupts the scene, by wearing a burqini for example, that may cause anxiety, disapproval and even political objection. While a map of topological polis cannot be drawn, it is possible to trace the topologies of a polis by empirical means and analyse these spatial constellations, always incomplete, for gaining a better understanding about relational realities (e.g. Mott 2016; Arnold and Hess 2017; Bartos 2018; Rye and Vold 2018). This is what topological mapping is about. It aims to make visible how the world exists to people, which elements are recognised and shared by certain people, what matters are specific to individual people and groups, which elements have different meanings to people living in the same communities and societies, how some people, things and ideas near and far are related with each other while others are not—and so on. And, following Rye and Vold (2018), ‘we cannot reduce young people’s agency to local practices simply because a lived life is not limited to local practices but also involves relationships that stretch over distances’. The third major concept in my theoretical framework is the political . I use the concept in its pragmatist and phenomenological meaning, considering as political the matters identified and defined as particularly important in people’s lived worlds, i.e. in the life and practices of the topological polis (cf. Barnett 2017). As a socially established dimension of societies, politics is never abstract or general: things are political to

14 Topological Mapping: Studying Children’s Experiential …

335

some people who live somewhere in a specific time. Therefore, to become political, all matters need to be politicised, and similarly things may lose political significance as they cease to be considered particularly important in each context (even if they were still called politics, policy or polity). Potential to politicisation arises when something starts to appear as particularly important to some people who, personally or collectively, find this matter undervalued or misunderstood. To gain the contextual importance needed for broader politicisation, these experiences must be shared and made visible in the polis, and other people must agree on their significance to certain extent. Among others, children are potential participants in the processes of politicisation (e.g. Young and Barrett 2001; Lind 2018). Regarding the previous examples—the nation state as a naturalised territorialisation and social norms as an order—a child could participate in politicisation in the following ways: When eating a churro, a doughnut originating from Spanish and Portuguese cuisines, a child could insist on it being a funfair delicacy, based on her experience of eating them only at amusement parks. By so doing, she would contest the idea of state-based cultures. Secondly, a child could compare her own swimsuit with sleeves and legs to a burqini, instead of her mother’s bikini. At that instance, she would contest the idea of beach as a Western space. These conceptual starting points form the theoretical grounds of topological mapping. To recap, subjectivity is the intersubjectively established element of humanity that provides people the possibility to relate with their social worlds and thus act as experiential social selves, conditioned but not subordinated by the prevailing order. Topological polis is the relational realm of human life, occurring to people through their personal and shared experiences, and including enduring as well as fleeting elements. The political is the driving force of the polis, referring to the contestation over the meanings that define its life.

Studying Political Presence with Finnish and English Children and Youth Topological mapping is about tracing people’s lived realities through spatial narratives and analysing these experienced realities in relational

336

K. P. Kallio

terms. I consider it a narrative methodology as I have not come up with other ways to access people’s spatial experiences than communication. This communication need not be verbal even if I must admit that from the researcher’s perspective, articulated materials have their benefits and are thus particularly eligible. Experiences can be narrated in visual, audit, tactile and embodied forms as well, and as people have different ways of conveying their knowledges (and especially the disqualified forms of knowledge, see Kallio 2012, 2017b), it is important to offer research participants opportunities to express themselves in ways more than one. This is also an ethical choice, emphasising (child) participants’ opportunities to contribute to research in their own terms. As part of geographical childhood research methodologies, topological mapping contributes to the tradition of mental mapping and other critical-minded place-based approaches (e.g. Blaut and Stea 1974; Matthews 1980; Young and Barrett 2001; Gillespie 2010; Lehman-Frisch et al. 2012). In my recent research, the participants were encouraged to express their experienced realities through mapping, discussion, writing and drawing. They could also choose alternative techniques, such as cartoons or co-produced artwork, and we paid attention to their embodied agencies throughout the fieldwork. The research project Political Presence as a Right of the Child focused on children’s place and agency in the society, where political presence was understood as a right, reality and practice of the child. The study set out to learn about children’s and young people’s experienced worlds as political realities, broadly understood, and about themselves as dwellers and actors in these worlds (for results see Kallio 2014a, b, 2016a, b, c, 2017a, 2018a, b, c; Häkli and Kallio 2018; Korkiamäki and Kallio 2018). Concurrently, we conducted a policy analysis to contrast children’s and young people’s views with how their political realities are currently perceived, constituted and supported in policy-making and public administration (Kallio et al. 2015). The study involved altogether 262 10–17-year-old girls (n = 128) and boys (n = 134) in Southern Finland (n = 128) and Northern England (n = 134), as participants who shared their lived worlds with me and the research team1 . These age groups were targeted to get access to the lived realities of young persons who are, on the one hand, moving from childhood towards youth (10–12), and on the other hand, entering a more independent

14 Topological Mapping: Studying Children’s Experiential …

337

stage of youth during their last year of school (15–17). Engaging with their portrayals of their lived realities, and how they see themselves and others in these experienced worlds, was the main aim of the fieldwork. The sub-studies were carried out rather similarly, yet some differences exist. In the Finnish study, we were piloting the methods and thus developing them as we went on, the team including myself, Jouni Häkli (methodological work) and Elina Stenvall (fieldwork). The fieldwork was carried out in two cities, in three different schools, with three fifth- and three ninth-grade classes involved. We tried out different techniques and instructions with each study group to find out what works best for our purposes, in keeping with the research ethics. Based on these experiments, I outlined a basic scheme of the methods, which was used in the English sub-studies where we worked in one bigger city and one rural town, in three primary schools and three high schools or colleges. In the Finnish sub-studies, two researchers were involved in nearly all interviews (including myself ), whereas in England the fieldwork was carried out by one person in each sub-study (Marie-Avril Berthet Meylan or Peter Hart, excluding myself ). Moreover, in Finland we had the resources to carry out an extra round of in-depth interviews with 12 selected students, who were particularly articulate about their experiences and willing to share more about their worlds with us. The interviews were recorded and transcribed, and the child- and youth-produced maps, drawings and writings have been scanned. All materials are archived and stored in a safe place at the University of Tampere where they can be accessed only through my personal permission. Throughout the study, and continuing in the analysis of the materials, an ethical research practice was followed. Topological mapping is a child-centred methodological approach that emphasises the participants’ rights to determine what aspects of their lives may be included in the study. This means that a continuous assessment of children’s willingness to share their experiences with the researchers was part of the fieldwork. In the analysis, I am careful to introduce the participants’ life experiences in ways that respect their views. We also asked for informed consent from the participants and their guardians, and the requested permissions from the school and the city.

338

K. P. Kallio

Topological analysis approaches the materials as dialogically created narrative biographies including partial truths about the participants’ experiential worlds. In a critical geographical spirit, I acknowledge the situatedness of knowledge as a starting point of all research, and I am aware of the positionality of the researchers and the participants in this type of fieldwork. The notion of partial truths refers to that experiences can never be transmitted without a certain level of contextual representation and subjective interpretation, thus they are always socially conditioned and situationally established. Kim England (1994, pp. 84– 85) aptly describes this dynamism in her classic essay, which I completely agree with: Researcher is an instrument in her/his research […] We are differently positioned subjects with different biographies, we are not dematerialised, debodied entities […] This subjectivity does influence our research […] Moreover, we have different personal histories and life experiences [that] directly affects fieldwork.

Mapping Topologies with Children Both in Finland and in England, the fieldwork proceeded through three phases. The first stage was life mapping , including a mapping exercise where the participants create their ‘life maps’ on Google Maps platforms (Fig. 14.1). We used six platforms, offering different scalar dimensions: neighbourhood, city, region, country, Europe, globe. The question of why to use scalar topographical maps in a study that seeks to seize nonscalar non-topographical spatial experiences and imaginations is in place. The response is simple: we wanted to begin with an easy exercise, to offer the participants familiar spatial representations that they could use to start portraying their own worlds. In my view, any relatively open platforms could be used in this purpose. In topological mapping, the major function of the maps is not to produce materials for the analysis, but to create personalised interview frames that offer entry points to the participants’ experienced realities, in a child-centred manner. For example, Fig. 14.1 portrays a

14 Topological Mapping: Studying Children’s Experiential …

Fig. 14.1

339

Example of a national scale map

national scale map created by one the younger participants in the English study, providing plenty of entry points to talking about her experienced world: Scotland divided in half by neutral and negative colouring, two cities involving negative and positive connotations (Cardiff, Leeds), four cities/regions with merely positive markings (Hertfordshire, Hull, London, Newcastle), two specifically likeable places (KC Stadium, Dalby

340

K. P. Kallio

Forest), and two grandparents’ houses as well as the house of Annabelle and Amelia. These markings were all chosen by herself and she found the national map most suitable for portraying them. When planning the fieldwork, our research team gave considerable thought to the instructions of the mapping exercise. While we wanted to refrain from implying what we expected or imagined their worlds to be (or not to be) like, we had to give some advice so that the participants would know how to start working with the mapping platforms. Finally, we came up with the following strategy. We asked the children to mark down important matters taking place anywhere in the world , be they of their liking or not, part of their everyday routines, something rather distant yet significant, or a special thing that they could just recall. Moreover, we specified that in addition to places, routes and areas, also people, happenings, knowledges, ideas, memories, attitudes or any other aspect they considered of importance in their worlds could be located on the maps. Rather than asking for precision or accuracy, we encouraged our participants to place their experiences somewhat rightly on the platforms and specify the markings in writing or drawing. We also opened the horizon towards futurities, signalling that places where they would like to go or that they can imagine existing could be included. We instructed the participants to use traffic light codes, if they felt like it, to indicate their potentially emotional experiences: green for positive, red for negative, yellow for neutral experiences. Available were felt pens and post-it stamps for this purpose, yet they could choose quite freely how they wanted to express themselves. The mapping exercise was accomplished in the classroom, without the teachers’ presence. The situation was a balancing between, first, not performing authority and getting the exercise done, as we did not want the participants to feel that they were under any obligations in the study (one could write a whole paper of this aspect, yet I will leave it here in this chapter). Secondly, we were wavering on giving enough instructions to make it clear what we were hoping for but not too much, to avoid steering the exercise. We were also struggling to keep a variety of participants involved, as we did not want to include only the amenable ones but all kinds of kids. Because of this last point, we invited everyone from

14 Topological Mapping: Studying Children’s Experiential …

341

the classes to our interviews or ‘chats’, as we like to call them, regardless of how their mapping exercise had proceeded. The second phase of the fieldwork was chat . Each child who had agreed to participate in the study (with guardian consent) was invited to an individual interview where her or his world was explored and discussed in as relaxed an atmosphere as possible. We tried to find peaceful places from the schools to have the chats, which ideally meant school library or a separate room, but sometimes corridor or lobby when the school had no spare spaces available. In some of the schools, we could start carrying these out right after the mapping exercise, working flexibly for the following week or two so that all interviews could be made in a row. In others, we had to organise meetings with the participants over a longer period, to respect the requirements of their schoolwork. The chats were of differing length, ranging from a couple of minutes to more than an hour, with an average length of about fifteen-twenty minutes. General interview themes, topics or questions were not used, which is not to say that the researchers did not have some ideas in their minds concerning their aims, surely affecting on the dialogical production of biographies. Each discussion with a child began from her or his maps, roughly in this way: As we explained, before you agreed to participate in our study, we are here to learn about the world from you. If you want to share some aspects of your world with us, we can go through the markings that you have made on the maps and discuss them in ways that you feel comfortable with. Is there a specific map or marking where you would like to begin?

With most participants, we went through the markings on the maps and discussed them, to understand what they stood for and why they had been placed in the specific locations and environments. As it seemed agreeable to the child, we sought to make connections and distinctions between different markings and delved deeper into the themes that seemed especially relevant from the perspectives of our research. With those participants who had no or few markings on their mapping platforms, we created starting points through discussion, which usually worked out fine if the person was eager to work with us, just making the chat a bit less structured and perhaps longer. With those who were

342

K. P. Kallio

not willing to share their experiences with us, we only agreed briefly that they would not need to be involved with the project and that they could return to the class. This decision was made irrespective of guardian consent as our ethical standpoint emphasises the right of the child to choose if she or he wants to participate in the study or not. As an example, I portray an excerpt from the chat with the participant whose map is portrayed in Fig. 14.1, telling many things about her amiable familial relations that we ended up discussing a lot throughout the interview, as they were particularly meaningful to her. Interviewer: And have you been to Hull? Participant: Yeah, loads of times. Here I’ve put my grandma and grandad’s house and then my Grannies house, in North Cove and South Cove which is just in Hull, and then I’ve put the Casey Stadium which is my, I support Hull City football team and that’s their stadium. Interviewer: Oh wow, why do you support this team in particular? Participant: Er, because my dad’s always supported them and so’s my grandad, so it’s just a family thing, we all support them. And like, er, most of us support them except one of my uncles who supports a Welsh team because he’s from Wales. Interviewer: Does it create arguments in the house? Participant: Yes. Interviewer: Really? Participant: My brother and my uncle are always like ‘no Cardiff ’s better’, ‘no Hull’s better’ and it’s like, oh my, it’s not like a serious argument though. Interviewer: So it’s more like friendly. And you’ve put like your grandparents houses, places you like to go? Participant: Yeah they always cook really nice food for us, and it’s like really a special occasion. Like we go there quite a lot compared to some of my friends, I just really like going there. Interviewer: Yeah, do you have a nice relationship with your grandma and grandad? Participant: Yeah.

In the third phase of topological mapping, we produced supplementary materials. This can be implemented in several ways, including individual or collective activities. The basic idea is that the participants can produce

14 Topological Mapping: Studying Children’s Experiential …

343

materials that deepen or extend their narrative biographies, on the topics of their choosing. In our study, the participants were offered the opportunity to write or draw about their experiences, again in the classroom without the teacher’s presence, mostly individually yet we did not prevent them from working together if they wanted to do so. Some of the participants wrote well-rounded essays while others put down bullet points. Some made beautiful drawings with specifying captions and others drew pictures of their favourite topics without further explanations. Some created cartoon pieces or used speech bubbles to portray social interaction. Some just made clarifying points about something they had said during the chats or mentioned new things that they had forgotten. We also received a couple of letters, clearly directed to us, posing questions about a matter discussed during the chat or presenting justifications for their thoughts or agencies. Figure 14.2 presents an essay written by the same participant as in previous figures, providing details about why Dalby Forest is a specific place to her. As in the case of Hull, it is about sharing important experiences with her family. In all, the supplementary materials can provide valuable details to the narrative biographies created through topological mapping. I have found some of them particularly helpful in the ‘unmapping analysis’, to be discussed in the next section. This third phase of the study provides, specifically, for alternative formats of expression. With suitable resources, broader participatory projects could be included here as well, using photography, theatre, group work or other methods typically employed in ethnographic research with children. In a longstanding ethnographic project, several supplementary exercises can be added, to make the materials richer and perhaps to concentrate on the narratives of certain participants. Besides resources, the choice depends on the aims of the research.

Analysing Narrated Topological Realities The research materials created by means of topological mapping in my recent studies in Finland and England include a variety of narrative biographies. Some of them are very rich and specific, even so that an

344

K. P. Kallio

Fig. 14.2

Supplementary essay material from interview participant

individual biography can be used as a source of analysis (e.g. Kallio 2016b, 2018a; Häkli and Kallio 2018). Others, on the contrary, are somewhat partial, including mostly descriptive information with little personal engagement. These latter types of biographies are most useful in tracing thematic topologies (e.g. Kallio et al. 2015; Kallio 2018c). In all cases, I have used the analytical technique of ‘unmapping’, to identify relational spatial knowledges from the materials and to analyse the political realities exposed in the narratives. The analytical idea of unmapping means, in short, turning socially established experiences into relational spatial attachments, by reframing

14 Topological Mapping: Studying Children’s Experiential …

345

them topologically. This allows various kinds of overlapping and (dis)connected spatialities to exist simultaneously. In other words, unmapping is a form of topological reading, where experiential knowledges comprise the text and theoretical understanding of relational spatiality enables interpretation and translation. As a result, specific elements and figurations of topological polis can be attained. To give a brief example: the research materials portrayed in the previous section allow the analysis of the participant’s familial geographies where people of kith and kin are involved through various kinds of relationships. The participant and her brother live in two houses with their parents. The father has recently formed a new family including two boys from her previous marriage. The familial life with the mother involves essentially her close friends and their children. The grandparents in Hull form another important homely space, and close by them she has ‘lots of cousins and second cousins and second aunties and great aunties and everything’. Physical distances and proximities surely condition this familial life to some extent, but other elements can be identified, too. As one thing, ‘Greece’ has become an important part of her world as that is where they have established familial relations with her dad and her brother, and his new wife and her two children, during two holidays. This is the only location she has labelled on the world map, indicating its specific significance in her world. ‘I love Greece’, she admits during our chat, introducing it as part of her familial life where she now has ‘an evil stepmother’ as they joke about their relationship and two ‘step brothers but they feel just like my normal brother’. Together they have drawn a place from the edge of the European Union into their familial realm. To this participant, Greece is not a country out there but a place right here; a part of her lived reality, manifesting itself in everyday familial practices and experiences. This small piece of analysis shows, among other things, that the socially embedded, politically versatile polises will always remain partial in a scholarly analysis. They are concurrently subjective and shared, conditioned and conditioning, sustainable and transformable, and include mobile as well as enduring elements. Further, what can be identified as political in these lived realities depends on the social practices that the participants bring up. Topological analysis focuses specifically

346

K. P. Kallio

on the matters, people, places, events, things, memories, etc., appearing as particularly significant in the dialogically produced narrative materials. Thus, in this participant’s case, I have paid specific attention to familiarity as she talked about it with enthusiasm and emotional undertone—and found how Greece is part of her world along with Dalby Forest and Hull. To operationalise this kind of analysis, I have created three interpretive layers that are helpful in unmapping children’s political realities (for a detailed description, see Kallio 2018a, b): • Social layer: Identifying entry points to the participants’ lived worlds (e.g. from mapping materials). These are the social relations by which children learn (through experiences) what the world seems to be like, how they and other people are situated and related in it, and which matters appear as more interesting and important than others. • Spatial layer: Tracing topological relations from narratives, to understand how spatiality exists to the participants and how they position themselves and others in their experienced realities. • Political layer: Focusing on children’s agency. The portrayed moments of attentiveness, oriented stances, articulated attitudes, purposive activities, and intentional actions potentially growing from these experiences, are indicative of children’s political agency as a developing and unfolding aspect of their everyday lives.

Conclusions This chapter has introduced the methodological approach of topological mapping, including its conceptual grounds and operationalisation in empirical research and analysis. Topological mapping is based on the theorisation of contextual political agency where subjectivity, topological polis and the political build the conceptual ground that provides for exploring existing worlds from people’s experiential and interpretive perspectives. For empirical research, I have operationalised the approach into qualitative research practices of life mapping , chat and the creation of supplementary materials where different creative methods can be used. In the analysis, I have used the technique of unmapping where the

14 Topological Mapping: Studying Children’s Experiential …

347

socially established experiences of the participants are reformulated into relational spatial attachments. While topological mapping is intended as a general methodology, the approach contributes particularly to childhood research and narrative methodologies. As the first important contribution, I consider the potential of this approach to introduce relational spatial thinking to these areas of research. While the growing subfield in human geography dedicated to childhood—children’s geographies—relate to the interdisciplinary childhood studies traditions, contemporary spatial theorisation has influenced relatively little these scholarly areas. In my view, topological methodologies are particularly well suited to childhood studies as their fundamental starting point is the relations between people, animals, natural and material elements, discourses, institutions, and other identifiable actors and elements of lived realities. In this framework, children do not appear as less or more important actors than other people, as age is considered just one social characteristic among others (e.g. gender, race, class, sexuality), placing people into positions in their lived realities. Topologically understood, age and generational positions are always contextual, contested and transformable, as are other socially constituted identity markers and subject positions. Relational spatial theorisation may hence open new opportunities to approaching lived realities from children’s experiential and interpretive perspectives. In topological space, their knowledges parallel with those produced by individual and collective actors occupying other generational positions, instead of being dependent on or subordinate to adult knowledges. Secondly, the topological methodologies that I have developed include analytical methods for studying contextual lived realities with children, thus contributing to narrative methodologies. In ethical terms, the approach emphasises children’s rights to determine their own roles and participation in research practices, by creating continuously negotiable fieldwork settings and by analysing narrative materials as dialogically produced partial truths. The fieldwork methods have been designed in a child-centred manner, to make space for children’s subjective yet intersubjectively established knowledges in scholarly enquiry, human rights contexts, policy-making and practical settings of childhood. The methods of topological mapping can therefore be utilised also as a

348

K. P. Kallio

‘toolkit’ for strengthening the voices of children, in research as well as in societies, communities and institutions where they lead their lives, and on international human rights arenas.

Note 1. The fieldwork in Finland was carried out with NN (2018) as part of her PhD thesis. The research materials have been shared for collaborative analysis in our research group, with NN and NN [publication details removed]. Two Master students have also used parts of these materials in their thesis (NN 2014, NN 2017). In the English sub-studies, NN and NN were responsible for implementing the fieldwork. NN has contributed to the study as research assistant by organising and archiving the research materials, and by participating in some preliminary analysis of citizenship [details removed for review].

References Ahlqvist, T. (2013). Engineering Spatial Fixes: Relational Spatial Practices, Strategic-Topological Approach and the Construction of a Finnish ScienceTechnology District. Geografiska Annaler: Series B, Human Geography, 95 (1), 89–109. Allen, J. (2011). Making Space for Topology. Dialogues in Human Geography, 1(3), 316–318. Arnold, D., & Hess, M. (2017). Governmentalizing Gramsci: Topologies of Power and Passive Revolution in Cambodia’s Garment Production Network. Environment and Planning A, 49 (10), 2183–2202. Barnett, C. (2017). The Priority of Injustice: Locating Democracy in Critical Theory. Athens, GA: University of Georgia Press. Bartos, A. E. (2018). Relational Spaces and Relational Care: Campus Sexual Violence, Intimate Geopolitics and Topological Polis. Area. https://doi.org/ 10.1111/area.12449. Blaut, J. M., & Stea, D. (1974). Mapping at the Age of Three. Journal of Geography, 73(7), 5–9.

14 Topological Mapping: Studying Children’s Experiential …

349

van Blerk, L. (2011). Negotiating Boundaries: The Sex Work Identities of ‘Bar Girls’ in Nazareth, Ethiopia. Gender, Place and Culture, 18(2), 217–233. Cele, S. (2013). Performing the Political Through Public Space: Teenage Girls’ Everyday Use of a City Park. Space and Polity, 17 (1), 74–87. Brenner, N. (1998). Between Fixity and Motion: Accumulation, Territorial Organization and the Historical Geography of Spatial Scales. Environment and Planning D: Society and Space, 16 (4), 459–482. Chadwick, R., & Foster, D. (2007). In Transition but Never Undone? Contesting Masculinity. Psychology in Society, 35, 27–37. Ek, R. (2006). Giorgio Agamben and the Spatialities of the Camp: An Introduction. Geografiska Annaler: Series B, Human Geography, 88(4), 363–386. England, K. V. (1994). Getting Personal: Reflexivity, Positionality, and Feminist Research. The Professional Geographer, 46 (1), 80–89. Gallacher, L. A., & Gallagher, M. (2008). Methodological Immaturity in Childhood Research? Thinking Through Participatory Methods. Childhood, 15 (4), 499–516. Gillespie, C. A. (2010). How Culture Constructs our Sense of Neighbourhood: Mental Maps and Children’s Perceptions of Place. Journal of Geography, 109 (1), 18–29. Hanrahan, K. B. (2018). The Spaces in Between Care: Considerations of Connection and Disconnection for Subjects of Care. Area. https://doi.org/ 10.1111/area.12486. Häkli, J., & Kallio, K. (2014). Subject, Action and Polis: Theorizing Political Agency. Progress in Human Geography, 38(2), 181–200. Häkli, J., & Kallio, K. P. (2018). On Becoming Political: The Political in Subjectivity. Subjectivity, 11(1), 57–73. Hanquinet, L., Savage, M., & Callier, L. (2012). Elaborating Bourdieu’s Field Analysis in Urban Studies: Cultural Dynamics in Brussels. Urban Geography, 33(4), 508–529. Henriques, J., Hollway, W., Urwin, C., Venn, C., & Walkerdine, V. (1984). Changing the Subject: Psychology, Social Regulation and Subjectivity. London: Methuen. Jackson, P. (2008). Pierre Bourdieu, the ‘Cultural Turn’ and the Practice of International History. Review of International Studies, 34 (1), 155–181. Jones, M. (2009). Phase Space: Geography, Relational Thinking, and Beyond. Progress in Human Geography, 33(4), 487–506. Joronen, M. (2016). Politics of Being-Related: On Onto-Topologies and “Coming Events”. Geografiska Annaler B: Human Geography, 98(2), 97–107.

350

K. P. Kallio

Kallio, K. P. (2012). Desubjugating Childhoods by Listening to the Child’s Voice and Childhoods at Play. ACME: An International E-Journal for Critical Geographies, 11(1), 81–109. Kallio, K. P. (2014a). Rethinking Spatial Socialization as a Dynamic and Relational Process of Political Becoming. Global Studies of Childhood, 4 (3), 210–223. Kallio, K. P. (2014b). Intergenerational Recognition as Political Practice. In R. Vanderbeck and N. Worth (Eds.), Intergenerational Space (pp. 139–154). London: Routledge. Kallio, K. P. (2016a). Living Together in the Topological Home. Space and Culture, 19 (4), 373–389. Kallio, K. P. (2016b). Becoming Geopolitical in the Everyday World. In M. Benwell & P. Hopkins (Eds.), Children, Young People and Critical Geopolitics (pp. 169–186). Aldershot: Ashgate. Kallio, K. P. (2016c). Youthful Political Presence: Right, Reality and Practice of the Child. In K. P. Kallio and S. Mills (Eds.), Politics, Citizenship and Rights, Vol. 7 of Skelton, T. (Ed.), Geographies of Children and Young People (pp. 89–110). Singapore: Springer. Kallio, K. P. (2017a). Shaping Subjects in Everyday Encounters: Intergenerational Recognition in Intersubjective Socialisation. Environment and Planning D: Society and Space, 35 (1), 88–106. Kallio, K. P. (2017b). Disqualified Knowledges and Theory Building. Society & Space Essays and Features. Available at: http://societyandspace.org/2017/09/ 12/disqualified-knowledges-and-theory-building/. Accessed 22 November 2019. Kallio, K. P. (2018a). Citizen-Subject Formation as Geo-Socialisation: A Methodological Approach on ‘Learning to Be Citizens’. Geografiska Annaler B: Human Geography, 100 (2), 81–96. Kallio, K. P. (2018b). Exploring Space and Politics with Children: A Geosocial Methodological Approach to Studying Experiential Worlds. In A. Cutter-Mackenzie, K. Malone, and E. Barratt (Eds.), Research Handbook on Childhoodnature. Singapore: Springer. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-31951949-4_125-2. Kallio, K. P. (2018c). Not in the Same World: Topological Youths, Topographical Policies. Geographical Review, 108(4), 566–591. Kallio, K. P., & Häkli, J. (2017). Geosocial Lives in Topological Polis: Mohamed Bouazizi as a Political Agent. Geopolitics, 22(1), 91–109.

14 Topological Mapping: Studying Children’s Experiential …

351

Kallio, K. P., Häkli, J., & Bäcklund, P. (2015). Lived Citizenship as the Locus of Political Agency in Participatory Policy. Citizenship Studies 19 (1), 101– 119. Korkiamäki, R., & Kallio, K. P. (2018). Experiencing and Practicing Inclusion Through Friendship. Area, 50, 74–82. Lehman-Frisch, S., Authier, J. Y., & Dufaux, F. (2012). ‘Draw Me Your Neighbourhood’: A Gentrified Paris Neighbourhood Through Its Children’s Eyes. Children’s Geographies, 10 (1), 17–34. Lind, J. (2018). Sacrificing Parents on the Altar of Children’s Rights: Intergenerational Struggles and Rights in Deportability. Emotion, Space and Society. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.emospa.2018.07.001. Lorimer, J. (2010). International Conservation “Volunteering” and the Geographies of Global Environmental Citizenship. Political Geography, 29 (6), 311–322. Martin, L., & Secor, A. J. (2014). Towards a Post-Mathematical Topology. Progress in Human Geography, 38(3), 420–438. Matthews, M. H. (1980). The Mental Maps of Children: Images of Coventry’s City Centre. Geography, 65 (3), 169–179. Mezzadra, S., & Neilson, B. (2012). Between Inclusion and Exclusion: On the Topology of Global Space and Borders. Theory, Culture and Society, 29 (4–5), 58–75. Mitchell, K., & Kallio, K. P. (2017). Introduction to the Special Issue on Spaces of the Geosocial: Exploring Transnational Topologies. Geopolitics, 22(1), 1– 14. Mott, C. (2016). The Activist Polis: Topologies of Conflict in Indigenous Solidarity Activism. Antipode, 48(1), 193–211. Noble, G. (2009). ‘Countless Acts of Recognition’: Young Men, Ethnicity and the Messiness of Identities in Everyday Life. Social and Cultural Geography, 10 (8), 875–891. Rye, S. A., & Vold, S. (2018). International Development Aid and Young People’s Participation in Societal Development of the Global South. Children’s Geographies. https://doi.org/10.1080/14733285.2018.1497139. Sassen, S. (2000). Spatialities and Temporalities of the Global: Elements for a Theorization. Public Culture, 12(1), 215–232. Savage, M. (2011). The Lost Urban Sociology of Pierre Bourdieu. In G. Bridge & S. Watson (Eds.), The New Blackwell Companion to the City (pp. 511– 520). Oxford, UK: Wiley-Blackwell. Sepp, V. (2012). Inoperative Provinces, Immobile Regions and the Geography of Heterogeneous Associations: The Case of Absent Territorial Border

352

K. P. Kallio

Change in Estonia. Geografiska Annaler: Series B, Human Geography, 94 (1), 47–63. Thomas, M. E. (2018). ‘Y’all Trying to Make a Mockery Out of Me’: The Confined Sexualities of Girls in a US Juvenile Detention Facility. Emotion, Space and Society. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.emospa.2018.07.005. Uprichard, E. (2008). Children as ‘Being and Becomings’: Children, Childhood and Temporality. Children and Society, 22(4), 303–313. Wimmer, A., & Glick Schiller, N. (2002). Methodological Nationalism and Beyond: Nation-State Building, Migration and the Social Sciences. Global Networks, 2(4), 301–334. Young, L., & Barrett, H. (2001). Adapting Visual Methods: Action Research with Kampala Street Children. Area, 33(2), 141–152.

15 How Adults Tell: Using a Biographical Narrative Interviewing Methodology to Explore Adults’ Experiences of Sexual Abuse in Childhood Joseph Mooney

Biographical Narrative Interviewing Methodology: An Introduction Biographical Narrative Interviewing Methodology (BNIM) is a form of qualitative data collection and analysis. It originated from a narrative biographical method which was used in a study examining the experiences of Holocaust survivors (Fischer-Rosenthal and Rosenthal 1997) and is particularly suited to encouraging and gathering stories or narratives from the lives of those interviewed (Wengraf 2001). It has its origins in collecting sensitive and hard to reach data and can be used to gather data relating to whole life histories or parts of an individual’s life (Corbally and O’Neill, 2014, p. 35). Tom Wengraf, one of the original proponents of the methodology, suggests that BNIM ‘provokes narratives of experienced life that transcend boundaries of self and society’ (Peta J. Mooney (B) University College Dublin, Dublin, Ireland e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s) 2021 L. Moran et al. (eds.), Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People, Studies in Childhood and Youth, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-55647-1_15

353

354

J. Mooney

et al. 2018, p. 3). The methodology is therefore chosen for the author’s wider project examining adults’ disclosures of childhood sexual abuse to social work services in the Republic of Ireland. While the research question focused on a specific experience, namely disclosure to social work services, the scope of BNIM allowed the participants to situate this experience within their wider life story including concepts of family, place and social environment. BNIM gathers rich, in-depth qualitative data, and therefore, collection and analysis of data from a large sample is neither feasible nor recommended (Jones 2003; Peta et al. 2018). The sample size for the wider study from which this paper is drawn consisted of five participants. These were recruited via a therapeutic organisation acting as gatekeeper. This sample size is representative of studies that apply BNIM and similar narrative methodologies (Bradley 2014; Corbally and O’Neill 2014). The methodology provides for both data collection and data analysis. However, it is also possible to use the BNIM data collection process to gather data later to be analysed using a different methodology (Wengraf 2018). The corollary is not applicable however and therefore use of the BNIM analysis process is only feasible with data collected via BNIM (Wengraf 2001; Corbally and O’Neill 2014). The wider research project used both BNIM data collection and analysis stages (panel analysis) on one interview and utilised an alternative, thematic, analysis for the remaining four interviews.

BNIM Sub-Session One The BNIM data collection method is composed of three sub-sessions. The first of these is the use of a SQUIN (Single Question Used to Induce Narrative) (Wengraf 2001, 2017). A SQUIN is a single, carefully designed question used to prompt the interviewee to provide a freenarrative relating to the topic of the SQUIN. The topic of the SQUIN is designed around what it is the researcher wants to find out but is structured in such a way as to provide complete freedom thereafter to the participant. Peta et al. (2018, p. 4) note that once the SQUIN is posed it is the interviewee who decides the selection and handling of the stories that they choose to tell or ignore. During an interviewee’s

15 How Adults Tell: Using a Biographical Narrative …

355

response, the researcher does not interfere by use of prompts, direction or questioning. An obvious inherent risk in this respect is that a participant may choose not to address the research question at all and instead speak to an entirely different topic. A carefully designed SQUIN seeks to limit this possibility by broaching the research topic but not being prescriptive in requiring certain data or a certain response. This relinquishing of control by the researcher makes the SQUIN a powerful methodological tool for breaking silence and creating a platform for individual voice and lived experience (Mooney, forthcoming). ‘Eliciting open-ended narratives provides a window on the very structure of individual’s representations…stories allow researchers to see the Gestalt – the interrelations of structural linkages that individuals perceive among positive and negative attributes and experiences’ (Murray and Holmes 1994, p. 660). The method therefore affords participants the space and environment in which to explore their own experiences, positive and negative, in an uninterrupted narrative. As we shall see in this chapter, it also affords an opportunity for reflection, meaning-making and catharsis whereby participants can consider their story during the telling or retelling. The methodology is therefore particularly suited for exploring sensitive subject matter with often silenced or hidden populations, in this case adults examining their disclosure of childhood experiences. What is less clear, however, is how effective the methodology is in relation to conducting research directly with children themselves. Given the dynamic created by non-interruption and a free-narrative approach, further research is required in relation to how children might respond to the approach and its efficacy with younger children. The author received BNIM training from Tom Wengraf at his home in London and the SQUIN used in the wider project was designed using the criteria laid down in Wengraf ’s guidance documents, of which there have been various iterations (see most recently Wengraf 2018). Other SQUINs can seek to address whole lives or specific issues and therefore their content naturally varies from project to project, however the structure remains the same. The SQUIN begins with a broad introduction to the research topic followed by a sentence focusing on the research question. It then concludes with a generic invitation to the participant to begin their narrative. Wengraf provides the following as a guide: ‘As you

356

J. Mooney

know, I’m researching people’s experiences of coming to a decision about X. So, can you please tell me your story of how that decision happened in your life, all those events and experiences during that period of your life that were important for you personally…’. The rest of the classic SQUIN is standard; ‘I’ll listen first. I won’t interrupt. Please take your time. I’ll just take some notes in case I have any questions for after you’ve finished telling me about it all ’ (Wengraf 2017). The SQUIN used in the author’s wider project was as follows: As you will know from the information about the study I am researching adult’s experiences of disclosing or referring childhood sexual abuse to social work services. I’m interested in what it is like for an adult who has experienced childhood sexual abuse to refer that experience, or those experiences, to a child protection social worker. I’d like to hear your story of that experience. You can start at whatever point you wish, I won’t interrupt or say anything throughout and will only listen and take some brief notes for some follow up questions later.

The response to a disclosure of childhood trauma is critically important. The role and actions of the interviewer, during a disclosure to an authority such as police or social work, can impact on the level and depth of disclosure and on whether a person will decide to disclose further in the future (McElvaney 2013). Similar concerns exist in respect of conducting research with adults who have experienced sexual abuse in childhood. Research in this field has established that the response to disclosure is a critically important part of receiving a disclosure (Easton 2013). Given that disclosure is an ongoing, lifelong process (Alaggia 2005; Collin-Vezina et al. 2015) receiving a response to a SQUIN can hold similar significance. Being aware of your own and the interviewee’s emotional state, recognising this and taking time out of the interview to manage this is key to conducting and preparing for a BNIM interview (Wengraf 2017). The ‘as much or as little’ option allows participants to discuss their individual experiences of abuse if they so wished but without any obligation or direction to do so. In the wider study, most participants chose not to do so with one participant stating that this feature of the interview was a comforting element.

15 How Adults Tell: Using a Biographical Narrative …

357

This chapter is drawn from a narrative shared by one participant who did however choose to reflect upon their experiences in childhood and not just their disclosure of same in later life as an adult. What resulted was an immensely rich, personal and harrowing narrative of childhood sexual abuse. A narrative that highlights the commonly understood and reported effects of abuse and the dynamics of power, secrecy and trust. It also demonstrates the power of the methodology in unearthing rich and detailed reflections on the past and in this case, on childhood; the potential for BNIM to cast participants back into their childhoods and afford them the opportunity to assign meaning and reason to what can be significantly traumatic experiences.

Sub-Session Two Once the participant has exhausted their initial free-narrative, the researcher is permitted to move to the second stage of the methodology. A short interlude is provided where the researcher has an opportunity to reflect on the free-narrative and any notes taken and formulate some questions that aim to elicit further, detailed narratives on points of interest to the researcher. The power dynamic created in sub-session one is maintained in that such questions must be posed using the participants own words and language and based upon what they said. The methodology also seeks to protect the flow of the initial narrative in that the questions must also be posed in the order in which they arose in the initial narrative (Wengraf 2001; Bradley 2014). Given the sensitive and often hidden nature of the issues under study in the wider project this ‘protection’ of the participant’s personal narrative was a significant factor in the selection of this methodology. The potential structural, personal and interpersonal barriers, power dynamics and issues regarding trust and belief, as discussed above, necessitated the use of a methodology that could be sensitive to such dynamics and create a platform for such often hidden voices. BNIM requires the researcher to ‘for as long as possible give up control, refuse to take up offers of partial control and maintain the maximum of power-asymmetry’ (Wengraf 2001, p. 113). ‘This very shift encompasses a willingness on the part of the researcher

358

J. Mooney

to cede “control” of the interview scene to the interviewee and assume the posture of active listener/audience participant’ (Jones 2003, p. 62); thereby respecting individual voice and experience.

Optional Sub-Session Three The methodology allows for use of sub-sessions one and two without resort to, what is commonly referred to as an ‘optional’ sub-session three (Wengraf 2001, 2017). The third stage, or third sub-session, allows the researcher/interviewer to pose unstructured questions regarding issues of interest in respect of the research question that may not have arisen in the narrative. This sub-session was not utilised in the wider study as it was felt that it countered the efforts in sub-sessions one and two to gather the interviewee’s narrative with as little interference or influence as possible. Given the potentially sensitive nature of researching issues surrounding child sexual abuse and the often commonly present dynamics of power and control, the author’s research sought to focus solely on what the participant chose to share and the words they used express these experiences. BNIM is strict in respect of how data are collected but more mailable in respect of how data are analysed. The full BNIM data analysis process includes the use of an interpretive panel. This serves as a safeguard by which ‘to overcome the distorting effects of the blind spots and the hotspots, the defended subjectivity’ of the researcher (Wengraf 2001). While it is not proposed to detail the full BNIM panel analysis process in this paper, the panel used in the wider study drew upon professionals in the field of child sexual abuse advocacy, therapy, treatment and policy to examine the data from one whole transcript and imagine what that adult’s experience was like for them. The panel seeks to re-live and re-interpret the data and by doing so provides the researcher with alternative viewpoints and a means of breaking down any potential bias. While the full BNIM method of data collection and analysis was used with one interview, all interviews were subsequently analysed using a broader thematic analysis method (Bryman 2008).

15 How Adults Tell: Using a Biographical Narrative …

359

BNIM Panel Analysis Process Wengraf (2001) outlines the make-up and rationale for an interpretive panel, stating that it should consist of at least two people, but the more panellists and more varied their backgrounds the more objective the analysis. ‘If you only work on the basis of the mental models derived from and generated in your own personal history and your own ‘case-limitations’ your one-person panel sociological imagination will be weak and partial… The more the diversity of those involved the better and more interesting the work of analysis becomes’ (Wengraf 2001, p. 260). BNIM analysis utilises a series of panel-based interpretive sessions and is therefore time consuming and resource-heavy. The wider study was undertaken as the author’s Ph.D. research and so the aspects of resources and time were the main rationale for not using the panel analysis process with all interviews. While not used with the transcript of David’s narrative, which forms the example used in this paper, the panel analysis process did influence the wider thematic analysis of all interviews and therefore it is useful to set out the process briefly. The panel used in the wider study sought to include perspectives from the various professionals involved in the area of child sexual abuse and childhood trauma. The panel included an advocacy worker in sexual abuse and violence, two practitioners from the areas of child sexual abuse assessment and frontline social work practice, a policy expert in the field of child protection and welfare and a sociologist, for a wider socio-ecological perspective. This panel was conducted in two sessions as per the methodology. The panel was provided with limited information prior to attending. Once gathered, they were provided with the SQUIN that was presented to all participants. This gave them some context of the study and the general parameters of the research question and area. In preparation for the panel, the participant’s data were separated into two streams. The first of these, the Biographical Data Chronology stream, contains the ‘facts’ of the participants story, in chronological order, with all subjective terminology and references removed. The panel was then invited to comment on each ‘chunk’ and to engage in ‘future blind hypothesising’; in other words, providing what they thought might occur next in the sequence and their thoughts on how the adult may

360

J. Mooney

have experienced the scenario being presented. Hypotheses were then either confirmed or refuted by the presentation of the next data chunk (Wengraf 2001, 2017). The goal of this process is to break down any in-built preconceptions or biases within the researcher, exposing them to other interpretations of the data. Once the panel has discussed each of these ‘fact chucks’, they were provided with a recess before they were then exposed to the second track, the Text Structure Sequentialisation (TSS). Following the analysis of the BDC track, the researcher develops a Biographic Data Analysis which helps to inform the next stage of analysis. This focuses on constructing a contextualised lived-life within a wider socio-historical structure (Wengraf 2001; Bradley 2014). In terms of the wider study, this led to themes regarding power, infantilisation, experience of disclosure and facilitators emerging from the initial analysis before moving on to analysis of the TSS. Data produced from this overall process were then utilised in the secondary, selective coding, stage of the overall data analysis (for more on this process, see Wengraf 2001, 2018).

How Adults Tell: The Wider Study, Why and How BNIM Was Used This paper explores how using a Biographical Narrative Interviewing Methodology with adults who have experienced sexual abuse in childhood can reveal rich and detailed insights into adult’s experiences of childhood and their meaning-making surrounding these experiences. This paper presents narrative data from one participant. It demonstrates the effectiveness of using BNIM to research sensitive subject matter but also the power of BNIM to encourage participants to recount their life story and in this case experiences of sexual abuse in childhood. The wider Ph.D. study examined adults’ experiences of disclosing childhood trauma to social work services in the Republic of Ireland. The design of the study was influenced by a similar project run in McGill University, Montréal by Dr Delphine Collin Vézina and colleagues (see Collin-Vézina et al. 2015). The study received ethical approval from the Research Ethics Committee at the National University of Ireland, Galway.

15 How Adults Tell: Using a Biographical Narrative …

361

Use of narrative methodologies, and BNIM, can unearth powerful emotional responses in both the interviewer and interviewee (see Peta et al. 2018; Wengraf 2018; Mooney, forthcoming). Multiple safeguards were put in place to ensure, as best possible, the safety and emotional well-being of the participants. The author is a qualified social work practitioner, who has practiced in the field of child protection and welfare and is specifically trained in crisis intervention skills. A national therapy and advocacy organisation, who work with adults effected by sexual abuse and trauma, acted as gatekeepers in respect of recruitment of participants. Interviews were conducted within this service so that the setting was familiar for participants but also, so follow-up support could be provided to participants if required. Professional, non-academic, supervision was also independently secured to provide a space for the author to unpack and confidentially discuss any issues arising from the research process. These sessions were arranged for both the data collection and analysis stages where the researcher was most immersed in the data. Informed consent was sought, and participants’ data were initially ascribed a numerical code which were later replaced with pseudonyms. Given the context of extra and intra-familial childhood abuse, demographic data and information regarding family composition was optional and most did not share this information. International statistics show us that sexual abuse in childhood is something that impacts approximately 8–31% of girls and 3–17% of boys (Gorey and Leslie 1997; Pereda et al. 2009). Females have a two- or threefold risk, compared to males, of being sexually abused during childhood. An Irish national survey (McGee et al. 2002), which aligns with international research in the field, highlighted that 42% of women and 28% of men have experienced some form of sexual abuse during their lifetime. This report also revealed that almost half (47%) of those interviewed had never previously disclosed their experiences prior to being asked about them in the research interview. These statistic hints at the potential size, and possibly hidden nature, of the population of those who have been affected by sexual abuse in childhood; those silenced by its power and control. Disclosure, or telling about sexual abuse, is a lifelong process fraught with many barriers; societal, structural, interpersonal and ontogenic (Alaggia 2004; Hunter 2010, 2011; Collin-Vézina

362

J. Mooney

et al. 2015). Most people who are affected delay disclosure, many until adulthood, and an unknown proportion never tell. This chapter is drawn from a wider study of adults who have experienced sexual abuse in childhood and who have reported these experiences to child protection services in the Republic of Ireland. Disclosure is lifelong, fluid and interrelational process that begins at the point of abuse and interplays and overlaps with the dynamics and effects of abuse throughout the lifecourse (Spaccarelli 1994). In terms of child sexual abuse, disclosure is therefore an experience that can begin in infancy and continue to end of life. Disclosure is also a deeply personal, interrelational and sociocultural phenomenon (Alaggia 2010; Hunter 2011; Easton 2013; Tener and Murphy 2015). It is a ‘delicate and sensitive process that is influenced by several factors, including implicit or explicit pressure for secrecy, feelings of responsibility or blame, feelings of shame or embarrassment, or fear of negative consequences’ (Collin-Vézina et al. 2013, p. 2). Another reason why disclosure can be so difficult is that our societal attitude and response to child sexual abuse has been socially, politically and religiously mediated and constructed over time (see Lalor 1998; Olafson et al. 1993) Whether the grand narrative of child sexual abuse is socially mediated or individual experiences are personally withheld, Potts and Brown highlight that ‘just figuring out who gets the privilege of making meaning is laden with issues of power’ (Potts and Brown 2003, p. 273). ‘Research methodologies and methods frequently do not fully take into account the historical, psycho-social and biographical dynamics of people’s lives’ (Corbally and O’Neill 2014). The gathering of such narratives therefore requires a methodology that not only takes power into account but seeks to address the imbalance that may exist between researcher and researched and more pressingly, between the adult affected and the multitude of dynamics and barriers that may suppress them. Any chosen research methodology in this area therefore must address both practical research requirements and sociocultural and power dynamics that may be at play. BNIM was chosen in this study to ‘transcend’ such barriers, as Wengraf puts it (Wengraf 2018), and facilitate the participants to choose their own narrative. ‘What is striking about the BNIM research approach is how it addresses power relations between the researcher and the researched in terms of what forms the data for study’

15 How Adults Tell: Using a Biographical Narrative …

363

(Peta et al. 2018, p. 5). The participants noted the ‘cathartic’ nature of this approach and many provided initial narratives of over an hour in duration, unprompted and uninterrupted.

Through the ‘Cracks’: David’s Reflections on Childhood The narrative data presented in this paper are taken from the transcript of an interview conducted with David.1 As noted above, many participants chose not to share their demographic information but from his narrative it is possible to conclude that David grew up in a family of three children, residing in an urban area of Ireland with both of his parents. David’s childhood years were in the 1970s and he experienced abuse at the hands of many individuals in childhood the majority of which was perpetrated by a teacher who was providing him with extra-curricular tuition at his own home, or ‘grinds’ as they are referred to by David in his narration. David positions his initial experiences by telling us who his original abuser was and the context in which this abuse took place. We see from this and the following excerpts how school and education played a significant role in David’s life in terms of his childhood experiences of abuse. David tells us that due to him being kept back a year for being too young he was placed in a situation whereby he came into contact with his abuser. This reflection by David on this specific point in his childhood is imbued with a sense of ‘what if ’: And he was a teacher, but he wasn’t a teacher at my school I was getting private lessons off him … and ah … I was very bright child at that age … and ah … the thing was that they were saying they were holding me back a year because I was too young for the class I was in and ah the teacher was saying just to keep the child going will give him these grinds or whatever and ah … … ah … she was saying that ah he’s a very a bright child and he should be kept … going at that rate so ah … … I started taking these grinds or whatever and ah it was off this other teacher or whatever, I had another teacher or whatever anyway but ah, ah … … she

364

J. Mooney

started giving me, the teacher I had started giving me these grinds then and ah…

Throughout his narrative, David highlights many attempts he made to ‘cry for help’. At no point does he ever refer to these directly as cries for help however the research literature states that children’s disclosures of sexual abuse can take many forms, one of which being behavioural (Alaggia 2005). In this next section, David speaks about an action he took after he was first abused whereby he attempted to leave a sign for someone to see. It is not clear whether he told anybody about this or whether anybody saw it but nevertheless it provides a striking example of his state of mind at that time; the frantic aftermath of something wholly traumatic that had just occurred. The free-narrative and non-interruptive aspects of the BNIM methodology afforded David an opportunity to present details relevant and important to him. In affording this space to explore his childhood experiences, David’s narration presents this scene and presents a brief glimpse of the panic and fear that can often accompany an experience of abuse: So, he threw me out of, he threw me out, he just thought nothing of me, he just threw me of his house, apartment, flat kind of thing it was on… … it was on, there was a steep hill into it and he was in the basement. He just threw me out and when I got outside I got sick. And ah … I got sick where the, on the drive way into, where a car could go or whatever, and where I got sick I drew an arrow in the sick with my foot or whatever, and just to leave a sign and I went out then on to the road and the grass and the verge of the grass and I got sick again and I’m not sure whether I left a sign there or not but I left a sign down, an arrow pointing in … and … … I went back to … … school then the next day.

As part of the interview and by way of providing context, David told of his own family life and how he felt he never had a relationship with his own mother. He described how he was never able to get her attention or impress her and how, looking back on childhood now, he feels she struggled with depression. David performs a somewhat natural act of reflecting on his childhood to make sense of his childhood experience. This is facilitated via the BNIM interview and allows the participant to

15 How Adults Tell: Using a Biographical Narrative …

365

explore how past experiences affect current understandings of self that may be missed via more structured data collection methodologies (Gabb 2010, p. 464). Despite David’s perceived lack of relationship with his mother, she was the first person he told about his experiences and she made a decision to confront the abuser at his home. What followed was a harrowing narrative of how David’s own mother was abused and assaulted by this man and how this, in addition to the social stigma surrounding rape and child abuse at this time, led to David’s mother silencing David and encouraging him to return to this man so that nobody would know of both of their experiences. This excerpt presents the level of confusion and hurt that this caused for David as a young boy and how a location near his home came to embody this confusion, pain and trauma where David was pulled between safety and harm: … There was days when I, there was this long road up to his house and there was a kind of intersection road and … going up to the road I kind of just used that a free spot on the, on that road between my mother and him … … … … … it’s just the only place, (crying) a happy medium between the two and I used to … go back and forth over the road all the time, like it was just quiet ya know, there was housing around, it was just a quiet road and I used to go back and forth there between the two ya know, and once or twice I got on buses and I’d go home and I wouldn’t go, and my mother, ya know, once my mother gave out hell to me or whatever so.

The sense and image of home and particularly of a mother figure is almost universally synonymous with childhood. The use of a narrative methodology such as BNIM which allowed David explore scenes from his childhood unaided, unprompted and uninterrupted meant that David himself formed his own threads and themes between moments with his telling. Such moments are rich and detailed ‘stories within stories’, or Particular Incident Narratives (PINs) as they are called in the methodology. We can distil from David’s narrative a conflict or difficult balance between what is ‘normal’ and what is abuse; what is safety and what is harm; what is home and what is ‘hell’. As discussed above, the method is foregrounded with a SQUIN which prompts an open, free-narrative, the direction of which is the participants choosing. In

366

J. Mooney

this instance, David relayed his narrative by beginning with his initial experience of abuse and continued to relay each subsequent experience in detail. This next piece echoes this ‘search’ which David engages in through his childhood but also, now as an adult, through his BNIM narrative. Within this piece, David, having arrived at his abusers’ home yet again, finds that an arrangement has been made by his abuser for a group of men to be there. Initially, David explains, that he didn’t know what was going to happen or who these people were. The sight of an everyday shopping bag prompted him to wonder if one of them might be ‘normal’, might be safe: …A plastic bag, and I looked at it and I thought it was shopping, it was a shopping bag, and I thought it was shopping and I just remembered looking around at them kind of going which one of you is kind of normal. I just equated shopping with normal.

This dichotomy between what is ‘normal’ and what is not continues in this next piece where David continues to use the BNIM interview process to try and make sense or attribute meaning to his childhood experiences. BNIM is a free-flowing, uninterrupted narrative. The process can therefore, at times, take on the quality of a conversation with oneself; in this case an adult’s conversation with his childhood self. Again, in the setting of school, David finds out, after the fact, that the person who has been abusing him has had a nickname attributed to him by other students. David tells us of the way he processed this information considering his own experiences and again highlights this conflict between so-called normal life and significantly traumatic experiences. David’s description here calls to mind our own childhoods, the multitude of family and sports team photographs that never portray the statistics of childhood sexual abuse or the possible experiences all around us: … I told my friend this story, I only remembered this in 2010, and I told my friend this story and his older brothers went to that school and he said do you know what your man’s nickname was and I goes ‘no’, and he said it was Satan (laughing) and, it fits, and because the first time on that, on the Thursday I was making my communion on the Saturday or, it was either that Saturday or the Saturday after, not sure that Saturday was a

15 How Adults Tell: Using a Biographical Narrative …

367

trial run before it or not, but I remember my face was like a tomato you know where he beat me, I have a picture of it, I’m red where he was after hitting me the first time and I was making my communion. So, that’s where I remember saying to myself at the time, they were saying you’re meeting God for the first time and I was going, only a few days ago I met the Devil, I remember saying to myself. And then all these years later his nickname was Satan, I just remember going at the time ‘I met the Devil before I met God’.

This chapter draws upon David’s story as an example of narrating childhood experiences of abuse and while the above excerpts depict a harrowing and traumatic childhood this final piece highlights the significant value of having one good adult and the impact this can have on a child. David referred to the school setting throughout his interview and to a female teacher who taught him. David spoke about how this woman ‘saw him’ and spoke to him like a ‘normal’ person; possibly being the one true link between normality and trauma that David experienced. David never identified whether he made a disclosure of his abuse to this person but in this piece, we again see the power and significance of behavioural manifestations of disclosure: …But she … she was brilliant with me you know I remember my mother, and she was leaving, and my mother was like get her a box [of chocolates], and I was ‘no, I just want to get her an apple, a red apple’. … and I just … knew I was giving her my heart, you know that kind of a way, and my mother was apologising to the teacher for the apple saying, ‘you know, it just had to be an apple’…

Reflections on Method Disclosure of childhood sexual abuse is a difficult and potentially retraumatising process. Many who experience childhood sexual abuse delay disclosure with some never disclosing. This is due to multiple barriers and obstacles including fear, family dynamics, guilt, self-blame, shame and memory repression, to name but a few (see also Browne and

368

J. Mooney

Finkelhor 1986; Beitchman et al. 1991, 1992). The literature also establishes that once a decision is made to disclose and tell the story of their childhood experiences, the reaction to such a disclosure is critically important due to the disclosure process itself often replicating the dynamics of abuse (Spaccarelli 1994). Negative responses have the impact of re-traumatisation, silencing and possible consequences to the adult’s mental health and well-being. While positive responses can contribute towards recovery, further disclosure and the creation of spaces and environments that allow for the accessing of deeper more traumatic memories. Researching experiences of childhood sexual abuse and asking adults to tell is therefore a process that is potentially rife with the same dynamics. This bestows an ethical responsibility upon the researcher to firstly consider aspects of safety, re-traumatisation, confidentiality and future child protection, and secondly, chose a research design and methodology that takes account of power and control dynamics, respect of voice and protection of individual narratives (see also Gibson and Morgan 2013). Considering the issues addressed in this chapter, a Biographical Narrative Interviewing Methodology was an appropriate method. The methodology allows for free-flowing, uninterrupted narratives and respects the integrity of such by not allowing the researcher to intervene, prompt or question. All participants of the wider study commented on finding this process somewhat cathartic. The method adopts a panel analyses system to break down research biases but BNIM data can also be analysed using other methods. In this instance, a wider thematic analysis was utilised with the panel approach being used with one interview transcript. As mentioned above, while this approach did influence the author’s approach to the wider thematic analysis, on reflection given David’s rich narrative of childhood experiences, it may be fruitful to re-examine his narrative via the panel system. David’s story of childhood abuse is a strong example of the power of the methodology in that despite the frequent difficulties in recalling and recounting such traumatic experiences, David chose to use the entire interview to focus on his childhood experiences of abuse and to ascribing meaning to same. This is also one of the possible challenges of using BNIM and

15 How Adults Tell: Using a Biographical Narrative …

369

an example of both the strength and potential weakness of the methodology. The non-intervention by the researcher means that the participant can choose to address whatever issue they wish. Therefore, as in David’s case, once the SQUIN has been posed the participant may only briefly touch upon the area of interest to the researcher or may misunderstand and not broach the topic at all. In the wider study, the research question focused on adults’ experiences of disclosure to social work services. While David touched upon this at the end of the interview, most of his narrative related to his childhood and provided no insight into experiences with social work services. Wengraf discusses the importance within the methodology of protecting the participants ‘gestalt’, the whole of their narrative. He talks about interventions and interruptions as possibly causing the ‘gestalt to go crack’ (see Wengraf 2018, p. 17). While there is not a large body of critical analysis of the BNIM methodology, the interview with David is interesting from a methodological point of view on two fronts. As above, it demonstrates that power to craft the narrative really does lie in the hands of the interviewee. David’s interview also demonstrates the power of BNIM to bring significant emotions to the surface. David became upset on several occasions throughout the interview and from an ethical and humane perspective it was necessary for the researcher to interrupt the ‘gestalt’ or flow of David’s narrative to ensure that he was OK. These interruptions did not include any direction to David but did technically break with the methodology, as per Wengraf ’s guidelines, and could have caused re-direction by the very fact that there was a pause and re-assurance provided to the interviewee. The author is a qualified social worker skilled in managing such instances. Furthermore, broader narrative approaches are frequently used in many forms of social work intervention and approaches to practice and social work research (Larsson and Sjoblom 2010; Shaw et al. 2013). However, this possibility of complex and traumatic emotions arising highlights the need for enough experience and robust safeguards to be in place via the ethical approval of any research design. This is particularly relevant where research is being conduct with a population that may experience specific vulnerabilities such as children for example. In this instance, it was unforeseen by the author that the introduction of the SQUIN placed

370

J. Mooney

David on a path whereby he chose to provide a narrative of his childhood experiences, not his experiences in adulthood of disclosing these. What is interesting for the purposes of this chapter and wider text however is that this process resulted in David providing rich depictions of the dynamics and effects of childhood sexual abuse as charted by international research over the past four decades and positioned these in the context of his childhood and in many instances within the specific context of his life with family, at school and in his wider environment. The data presented in this paper emphasise the power of the participant to make meaning of their own story and relate it in a way that makes sense to them and which helps them make sense of it. ‘The unfolding narrative may be driven both by the intention of the teller to create meaning out of something and by a wish in the listener to understand what is being told. In this sense a narrative is an attempt both from teller and listener to co-create meaning’ (Mossige et al. 2005, p. 379). This can lead to an unexpected journey through the participants life-course and, in this case, stages of childhood and abuse. Mossige et al. (2005) drawing on Ricoeur (1981), suggest that the construction of stories is ‘an attempt to understand and reflect upon the unexpected’. The uninterrupted nature of the process meant that David was afforded time and space to consider and narrate his experiences. This creates a space where the participant is afforded time and opportunity to reflect and attribute meaning to their experiences. While not explicit in David’s interview, it can be seen from the excerpts presented in this paper that David drew various dichotomies throughout his story. These presented themselves as moments of David searching his childhood experiences for rationale; the conflict between what is objectively ‘normal’ and what is David’s reality (the shopping bag); the balance between school and the outer worlds of home and abuse (being held back, poor relationship with his mother); the constant travel between safety and harm (David’s spot on the road where he walked back and forth literally between these two elements); and the distance between ‘telling’ and being heard (David’s behavioural attempts to tell someone, the arrow outside his abusers house for no one in particular and the giving of an apple, his heart, to the teacher who ‘got’ him). Ultimately, David spent a fraction of his interview addressing the research topic but what he provided

15 How Adults Tell: Using a Biographical Narrative …

371

was a rich and in-depth example of the intricate, nuanced and entangled dynamics and effects of sexual abuse in childhood and a demonstration of the power of narrative research and methodologies in accessing this often hidden and sensitive issue that effects such a large proportion of people within our societies.

Conclusion Child sexual abuse is unfortunately a feature of a large minority of childhoods. It is also an experience which is incredibly difficult to disclose or discuss. Abuse, especially at a young age, has an incredible capacity to silence, other and repress those impacted. While there are many critical elements, facilitating disclosure is as much about creating a safe environment as it is about developing appropriate services and responses. Conducting research in sexual abuse and violence and particularly where those experiences occurred in childhood requires and ethical and methodological framework that accounts for multiple dynamics; power, control, personal and family dynamics, dominant societal discourses and cultural attitudes. As Tom Wengraf (2001) notes, Biographical Narrative Interviewing Methodology seeks to address the lived-life in the context of these multiple dynamics. BNIM can encourage rich and detailed narratives from participants. Using the example of David’s narrative, this chapter demonstrates that BNIM also has a potential to unearth strong emotions. The prompting of a free, non-interrupted narrative brings with it an inherent risk of the participant choosing a path that is not on course with the researcher’s aims and objectives. However, what is yielded is deep insight into the participant’s inner world and their interpretation of what is important. Due to these features, use of the methodology requires robust ethical safeguards for both interviewee and interviewer. The level of control and power ceded to the participant makes the methodology particularly useful in respect of research with objectively vulnerable populations or sensitive subject matter. The use of this specific approach to narrative research with children and young people is not well documented and requires more research which could focus on its efficacy with younger

372

J. Mooney

children, ethical issues and the dynamics potentially created by noninterruption. The use of the full methodology including BNIM panel analysis is a valuable and fruitful exercise but is resource-heavy and features such as time and coordination of panel members should be factored into any potential use of the methodology.

Note 1. Please note that the name ‘David’ is a pseudonym in this chapter.

References Alaggia, R. (2004). Many Ways of Telling: Expanding Conceptualizations of Child Sexual Abuse Disclosure. Child Abuse and Neglect, 28, 1213–1227. Alaggia, R. (2005). Disclosing the Trauma of Child Sexual Abuse: A Gender Analysis. Journal of Trauma and Loss, 10 (5), 453–470. Alaggia, R. (2010). An Ecological Analysis of Child Sexual Abuse Disclosure: Considerations for Child and Adolescent Mental Health. Journal of the Canadian Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry, 19 (1), 32–39. Beitchman, J., Zucker, K., Hood, J., DaCosta, G., & Akman, D. (1991). A Review of the Short-Term Effects of Child Sexual Abuse. Child Abuse and Neglect, 15, 537–556. Beitchman, J., Zucker, K., Hood, J., DaCosta, G., Akman, D., & Cassavia, E. (1992). A Review of the Long-Term Effects of Child Sexual Abuse. Child Abuse and Neglect, 16, 101–118. Bradley, C. (2014). Reproducing Stigma: Narratives of Single Women’s Pregnancy and Motherhood in Ireland 1990–2010 (Unpublished PhD thesis). National University of Ireland, Galway. Browne, A., & Finkelhor, D. (1986). Impact of Child Sexual Abuse: A Review of the Research. Psychological Bulletin, 99 (1), 66–77. Bryman, A. (2008). Social Research Methods (3rd ed.). Oxford: Oxford University Press.

15 How Adults Tell: Using a Biographical Narrative …

373

Collin-Vézina, D., Daigneault, I., & Hébert, M. (2013). Lessons Learned from Child Sexual Abuse Research: Prevalence, Outcomes and Preventative Strategies. Child and Adolescent Psychiatry and Mental Health, 7, 22. Collin-Vézina, D., Sablonni, D. L., Palmer, A. M., & Milne, L. (2015). A Preliminary Mapping of Individual, Relational, and Social Factors That Impede Disclosure of Childhood Sexual Abuse. Child Abuse and Neglect, 43, 123–134. Corbally, M., & O’Neill, C. (2014). An Introduction to the Biographical Narrative Interpretive Method. Nurse Researcher, 21(5), 34–39. Easton, S. D. (2013). Disclosure of Child Sexual Abuse Among Adult Male Survivors. Clinical Social Work Journal, 41, 344–355. Fischer-Rosenthal, W., & Rosenthal, G. (1997). Narrationsanalyse biographischer Selbstprasentationen. In R. Hitzler & A. Honer (Eds.), Sozialwissenschaftliche Hermeneutik (pp. 133–164). Opladen: Leske & Budrich. Gabb, J. (2010). Home Truths: Ethical Issues in Family Research. Qualitative Research, 10 (4), 461–478. Gibson, K., & Morgan, M. (2013). Narrative Research on Child Sexual Abuse: Addressing Perennial Problems in Qualitative Research. Qualitative Research in Psychology, 10, 298–317. Gorey, K., & Leslie, D. (1997). The Prevalence of Child Sexual Abuse: Integrative Review Adjustment for Potential Response and Measurement Bias. Child Abuse and Neglect, 21(4), 391–398. Hunter, S. (2010). Evolving Narratives About Childhood Sexual Abuse: Challenging the Dominance of the Victim and Survivor Paradigm. The Australian and New Zealand Journal of Family Therapy, 31(2), 176–190. Hunter, S. (2011). Disclosure of Child Sexual Abuse as a Life-Long Process: Implications for Health Professionals. The Australian and New Zealand Journal of Family Therapy, 32(2), 159–172. Jones, K. (2003). The Turn to a Narrative Knowing of Persons: One Method Explored. Nursing Times Research, 8(1), 60–71. Lalor, K. (1998). Child Sexual Abuse in Ireland: An Historical and Anthropological Note. Irish Journal of Applied Social Studies, 1(1), 37–54. Larsson, S., & Sjoblom, Y. (2010). Perspectives on Narrative Methods in Social Work Research. International Journal of Social Welfare, 19, 272–280. McElvaney, R. (2013). Disclosure of Child Sexual Abuse: Delays, NonDisclosure and Partial Disclosure. What the Research Tells Us and Implications for Practice. Child Abuse Review, 24, 159–169. McGee, H., Garavan, R., de Barra, M., Byrne, J., & Conroy, R. (2002). The SAVI Report: Sexual Abuse and Violence in Ireland . Dublin: The Liffey Press.

374

J. Mooney

Mooney, J. (forthcoming). Using Biographical Narrative Interviewing Methodology to Research Adults’ Experiences of Disclosing Childhood Sexual Abuse. Social Work and Social Sciences Review. Mossige, S., Jensen, T., Gulbreandsen, W., Reichelt, S., & Tjersland, O. (2005). Children’s Narratives of Sexual Abuse: What Characterises Them and How Do They Contribute to Meaning Making? Narrative Inquiry, 15 (2), 377– 404. Murray, S. L., & Holmes, J. G. (1994). Storytelling in Close Relationships: The Construction of Confidence. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 20, 650–663. Olafson, E., Corwin, D., & Summit, R. (1993). Modern history of Child Sexual Abuse Awareness: Cycles of Discovery and Suppression. Child Abuse and Neglect, 17, 7–24. Pereda, N., Guilera, G., Forns, M., & Gómez-Benito, J. (2009). The International Epidemiology of Child Sexual Abuse: A Continuation of Finkelhor (1994). Child Abuse and Neglect, 33, 331–342. Peta, C., Wengraf, T., & McKenzie, J. (2018). Facilitating the Voice of Disabled Women: The Biographic Narrative Interpretive Method (BNIM) in Action. Contemporary Social Science. https://doi.org/10.1080/21582041.2018.145 0520. Potts, K., & Brown, L. (2003). Becoming an Anti-oppressive Researcher. In L. Brown & S. Strega (Eds.), Research as Resistance, Critical, Indigenous and Anti-oppressive Approaches (pp. 255–286). Toronto: Canadian Scholars’ Press. Ricoeur, P. (1981). Hermeneutics and the Human Sciences. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Shaw, I., Ramatowski, A., & Ruckdeschel, R. (2013). Patterns, Designs and Developments in Qualitative Research in Social Work: A Research Note. Qualitative Social Work, 12(6), 732–749. Spaccarelli, S. (1994). Stress, Appraisal, and Coping in Child Sexual Abuse: A Theoretical and Empirical Review. Psychological Bulletin, 116 (2), 340–362. Tener, D., & Murphy, S. (2015). Adult Disclosure of Child Sexual Abuse: A Literature Review. Trauma, Violence and Abuse, 16 (4), 391–400. Wengraf, T. (2001). Qualitative Research Interviewing: Biographic Narrative and Semi-Structured Methods. London: Sage. Wengraf, T. (2017, January). BNIM-Interview—2-day Training Brochure. BNIM Training Course, London. Wengraf, T. (2018). BNIM Short Guide Bound with the BNIM Detailed Manual. Interviewing for Life Histories, Lived Periods and Situations and

15 How Adults Tell: Using a Biographical Narrative …

375

On-Going Personal Experiencing Using the Biographic-Narrative Interpretive Method (BNIM). https://is.muni.cz/el/1423/podzim2014/SOC932/um/ Wengraf_manual.pdf. Accessed 11 November 2019.

16 Rights-Based Narrative Research: Empowerment of Children and Young People Experiencing Impacts of Trauma Patricia McNamara

Introduction The past decade manifests sharpened focus on the rights of children in the context of research. This is evident within Australia and internationally. There is growing awareness that children and young people have the right to optimum empowerment and agency in bearing witness to issues that impact their lives. This is especially important when they are engaged as participants in research projects (Bessell 2015; Fernandez For the purpose of this volume, published by Springer International Publishing AG, Switzerland, under the imprint of Palgrave Macmillan, permission has been received from Qualitative Social Work (QSW) to partially republish Patricia McNamara’s (2011) article: ‘Rights-based narrative research with children and young people conducted over time’ (12(2), 135–152). Permission is granted for the life of the edition on a non-exclusive basis, in the English language, throughout the world in all formats provided full citation is made to the original SAGE publication. Permission does not include any third-party material found within the work.

P. McNamara (B) Department of Social Work, University of Melbourne, VIC, Australia e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s) 2021 L. Moran et al. (eds.), Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People, Studies in Childhood and Youth, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-55647-1_16

377

378

P. McNamara

2011; Fleet and Harcourt 2018; Groundwater-Smith et al. 2015; Kellett 2010; Mason and Danby 2011; McNamara 2008, Maluccio et al. 2011; Mason and Hood 2011; Noble-Carr 2006). The thirtieth anniversary of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (adopted in November 1989) has just passed. This perhaps gives researchers cause to reflect on what has been learned about facilitating children’s agency in relation to research, how such learnings have been applied and what remains to be achieved. The following Articles of the Convention present as critical elements in respectful and empowering child and adolescent research (UNICEF 2019, https://www.unicef.org/child-rights-convention/convention-text): Article 12: Children’s right to express opinions on matters concerning them; Article 13: Children’s right to express their views in the way they wish; Article 33: Children’s right to the highest quality services, including research; Article 36: Children’s right to protection from all forms of exploitation, including protection from exploitation through research processes and through dissemination of information; Article 31: Right to rest and leisure. Contemporary interest in promoting children’s agency within research initiatives gives rise to this chapter, which presents the author’s ongoing interest in collaborative approaches to narrative research with young people. A range of issues identified over my own research career provide the framework for examining rights-based narrative research with children and young people who have experienced trauma. These are primarily exemplified here in a specific case study which formed part of cross-national research involving six Western countries. The Sensitive Outcomes Project aimed to identify ‘small steps along the way to larger outcomes’ in child and family welfare practice; it was conducted under the auspice of the International Association for Outcome-Based Evaluation and Research, iaOBERfcs (https://www.iaober.org/, 2019) (Berry et al. 2006; McNamara 2006). I conducted the case study in Melbourne,

16 Rights-Based Narrative Research: Empowerment of Children …

379

Australia.1 Other issues core to best practice research with children, especially ethical considerations, are drawn from extensive narrative research I have undertaken. The chapter concludes by proposing a set of principles for conduct of research with children and young people, especially those who have experienced trauma.

Rights-Based Framework Inclusion, participation, empowerment and advocacy are proposed here as the cornerstones of a rights-based framework for children’s research. This is congruent with the author’s social work mission, especially its social justice and human rights imperatives (International Federation of Social Workers [IFSW] 2000, 2002, 2019). These four elements are also complementary to the co-creation of narratives drawing on constructivist linguistic concepts (White and Epston 1990). Inclusion in relation to children’s research implies respectful and proactive invitation to children and young people to collaborate in the choice of research topic, development of research design, choice of methodology and strategies for data collection, analysis of findings and dissemination (Gilbertson and Barber 2002; IFSW 2019). Inclusion privileges respect for children as ‘competent human beings’ who can make choices about the nature of their involvement in every aspect of the research process, rather than viewing children as ‘developmentally incomplete’, passive (sometimes oppressed) research subjects (Mason and Urquhart 2001). Participation of children in research is very different from ‘tokenistic’ involvement with children (Kellett 2005, 2010). Once engaged in the research process, it is vital that children and young people maintain active agency throughout (Adams 2008; Ife 2001; IFSW 2002; Mason and Danby 2011; Mason and Hood 2011; Mason and Urquhart 2001; McNamara 2013). Participation can occur at a range of levels; research by children well trained in research skills (including skills of collecting peer-to-peer and adult data), undertaking their own studies with adult 1 Permission

to conduct the Melbourne component of this cross-national project was provided by the La Trobe University Human Research Ethics Committee (LTU-UHEC, 2004).

380

P. McNamara

support, is probably the highest level of participation currently in operation (Fleet and Harcourt 2018; Kellett 2010). Empowerment of children throughout a research process means that children feel in control of their level of participation (or of the choice not to participate) and the decisions being made in relation to the study; they should also feel confident that their trust in adults and in the research process itself (especially around confidentiality) will not be abused (Adams 2008; Danby 2002; IFSW 2019; Munford and Sanders 2003). This is ideally complemented by their experiencing the positive impact of research findings in challenging unhelpful beliefs about young people and making changes in their lived experience through improvements in policy and practice. It is obviously important, however, that children’s expectations of such change not be raised unrealistically (Kellett 2010). Advocacy should be undertaken by adults on behalf of children participating in research to protect their welfare and advance their right to assert control; adults can also advocate for children’s rights to access information and for their involvement in dissemination of research findings. Adults can and should also advocate for the implementation of research findings that impact on children’s lives. However, if children are empowered and do feel convinced that they are indeed ‘experts on their own lives’ (Mason and Urquhart 2001, pp. 18–20), they will often be able to engage in advocacy themselves, with adult support.

Narrative Research Narrative research is defined herein as co-construction of meaning through semi-structured or unstructured conversation and detailed description (McNamara 2009); it privileges the voices of participants and their attribution of meaning. The philosophical roots of narrative inquiry have been described collectively as postmodernism, constructivism and social constructivism, where power differentials are central to the specific research focus. Feminism also can prove useful as a conceptual underpinning (Etherington 2007; Naples 2003). Narrative inquiry captures personal and human dimensions of experience over time and focuses on

16 Rights-Based Narrative Research: Empowerment of Children …

381

the interplay between individual experience and cultural context (Clandinin and Connelly 2000). ‘Functions of narrative work’ outlined by Riessman (2008, p. 10) include the re-counting of past experiences and providing ways for individuals to make sense of the past. Mobilizing others into action by targeting progressive change is also often achieved as a result of narrative inquiry; this is especially true when dissemination is managed through powerful storytelling (Riessman 2008). Dissemination of lived experience often occurs through storytelling (McNamara 2009; McNamara and Neve 2009). Storytelling here is defined as ‘a temporal ordering of events and an effort to make something out of those events to render or to signify those persons-in-flux in a personally, culturally, coherent manner’ (Sandelowski 1991, p. 1548). In the context of social research, including that generated by the social work discipline, storytelling in the context of ethnography has often proved effective (McNamara 2009). Ethnographic approaches privileging sociocultural context appear well suited to studies focusing on the complexities of family life, such as that included in this chapter. Ethnography also supports collaborative inquiry. Bruner (1986) describes the knowledge emergent from narrative inquiry as that which is created and constructed through lived experience and the meanings ascribed to this. When it has a rights-based orientation, narrative research actively promotes inclusion, participation, empowerment and advocacy. Narrative rights-based research has positioned itself centrally in the spectrum of contemporary research approaches over the past decade (Kellett 2005, 2010; McNamara 2009; McNamara and Neve 2009; Munford and Sanders 2003; Noble-Carr 2006). Theoretically and methodologically, rights-based narrative research with children and young people appears to derive much from constructivist practice literature which promotes the co-creation of meaning through interactive discourse (Boscolo and Cecchin 1987; White and Epston 1990). It also draws from phenomenology (Corbin and Strauss 2008) and has synergy with participant action research approaches (Munford and Sanders 2003; Wadsworth 1998).

382

P. McNamara

Childhood Trauma For the purposes of this chapter, trauma is defined as: …a state of high arousal in which severe threat or the perception of severe threat overwhelms the capacity to cope. Trauma is very common. People experience it differently…Most people with trauma-related problems have experienced multiple traumas. (Blueknot Foundation 2019, https://www. blueknot.org.au)

The latter type is generally understood to be complex trauma. Childhood trauma is usually identified as complex trauma (Perry 2009; van der Kolk 2005). It most often derives from child abuse and neglect (sexual, emotional and physical). However, childhood experience does not have to be directly abusive to result in trauma. In many instances, caregivers carry unresolved trauma of their own or other difficulties which means they are unable to effectively meet the needs of their children. This too can result in serious child trauma (Hesse et al. 2003). A wide range of interventions have been utilized with traumatized children. These manifest varying degrees of success and a surprisingly limited evidence base (McLean 2016). They range from ‘classical’ psychoanalytic psychotherapy (Freud 1970; Klein 1955) and narrativesystems therapy with co-creation of new meanings (Beaudoin et al. 2016; White 2006; White and Epston 1990; Yuen 2007) to cognitive behavioural approaches such as Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) (Shapiro and Solomon 2010; Shapiro 1989), repetitive activity such as drumming (Perry 2009) and creative therapies using visual art, dance, drama and music (Carey 2006); sandplay and storytelling is also utilized (Miller and Boe 1990). Within the child and family welfare sector, common sources of childhood trauma include attachment disruption, family violence, family disruption, drug and alcohol issues, physical sexual and emotional abuse, neglect in all its forms and poverty-related issues. The case study presented here manifests most of these problems (McNamara 2006). Those issues have predictably given rise to serious trauma, manifesting in mental health difficulties and a range of negative psycho-social impacts

16 Rights-Based Narrative Research: Empowerment of Children …

383

for family members. The latter included anxiety and depression for each family member participating in the study, along with concentration and learning problems and disengagement from school for the children. Conflict and estrangement within nuclear and extended family relationships, isolation from peers and marginalization from the wider community were also evident in the data collected. Profiles of families experiencing complex trauma often manifest such features (Blue Knot Foundation 2019). Each family member participating in the Melbourne case study described here was undertaking individual psychotherapy; those interventions were being employed in addition to the family therapy that provided the primary focus for the research. School-based psycho-social supports were also in place.

The Case Study The longitudinal case study presented here was underpinned by an ecological-developmental frame of reference (Bronfenbrenner 1979). Analysis of findings incorporated constructivist and feminist concepts originally emergent from family therapy literature (Boscolo and Cecchin 1987; Hare-Mustin 1978; Luepnitz 1988; White and Epston 1990). The case study exemplifies challenges encountered in and possibilities presented by conduct of rights-based narrative research with young people and their families in community-based child and family centres. The Melbourne-based study described here was part of a larger project in child and family welfare. The overarching aim of that cross-national project was to identify proximal steps (sensitive outcomes) towards larger outcomes of intervention. The cross-national project involved six countries—Australia, Canada, Israel, New Zealand, United Kingdom and the United States (Berry et al. 2006; McNamara 2006; Maluccio et al. 2011); data collection was undertaken within an eighteen-month timeframe. When research commenced with the Melbourne case study family, the parents’ marriage had recently terminated, following almost twenty years of serious family violence. The two adolescent children had chosen to remain with their mother. Family members were much traumatized by their long-term experience of living with violence. Restraining orders

384

P. McNamara

issued by a local court were in place to restrict the father’s access to the family home. Statutory parental access arrangements did enable the father to maintain regular, though limited, contact with his children. Following assessment at intake, a decision was taken by the community centre working with the family, to employ family therapy with mother and children as the primary intervention. That intervention was intensively tracked in the study for the purpose of identifying sensitive outcomes; this was consistent with the overarching aim of the cross-national research project. During data collection for the case study, the young people (aged 13 and 16 years at the outset) participated firstly in a background research briefing session and then in family therapy sessions which were observed and videotaped; they also participated in occasional unstructured research conversations (telephone and face to face) and two semistructured home-based research conversations—the second of which was filmed using equipment provided by my university; the young people also agreed to the presentation of both the study and their film at a research conference in New York (McNamara 2006). All the data collection strategies utilized in this study evoked extensive storytelling on the part of the young people and their parent. Often those stories related to episodes of intense trauma the family had experienced over many years. As the study progressed, hopeful and positive stories emerged. For the children and for their mother, life without the ever-present trauma associated with family violence had only just begun and was clearly a rather unpredictable new reality, not yet to be fully trusted. Interviews were audio-recorded and transcribed. Data were categorized according to themes that emerged from conversation content. I developed categories that encapsulated phenomenological themes related to the research questions (Padgett 1998; Punch 2006) and identified responses that occurred and recurred and could be located within thematic frames (Punch 2006) until saturation was reached. These themes were then analysed using links both to the literature and to practice wisdom (Scott 1990).

16 Rights-Based Narrative Research: Empowerment of Children …

385

Applying a Rights-Based Narrative Approach Both opportunity and challenge exist for the researcher undertaking rights-based narrative studies with traumatized young people. Issues I have identified within the research described here, and from other projects, include ideology, ethics, recruitment, agency, maturation and change, culture and language, gender and dissemination. These issues are critically examined in relation to the four cornerstone concepts of the suggested rights-based framework for research with children and young people—empowerment, inclusion, participation and advocacy. The role of storytelling, utilizing a range of media, holds central focus.

Ideology This cross-national study of sensitive/proximal outcomes in child and family welfare employed collaborative narrative research methods increasingly over the data collection period. The young people spontaneously reported their experience of participation as empowering and helpful; this would appear consistent with a ‘children’s movements’ orientation to research where children are understood as ‘experts in their own lives’ (Mason and Urquhart 2001, pp. 18–20). However, retrospective analysis of the research process taken within the cross-national project as a whole, and in this case study specifically, reveals elements of what must be acknowledged an essentially ‘adultist’ orientation (Mason and Urquhart 2001, p. 18). From the ‘gatekeeping’ by parents, caregivers and ethics committees, the choice of research design and data collection methods, to dissemination of findings, the locus of power was largely with adults at the outset (Adams 2008; Ife 2001). Nonetheless, some inclusive and collaborative approaches were proactively employed in the Melbourne case study from the beginning; these include young people’s participation in decision-making about the aims of the family therapy intervention and around the timing, nature and recording of research conversations. Notwithstanding those locally contrived strategies, the adult investigators who designed this cross-national inquiry included researchers from several countries who did not consult directly

386

P. McNamara

with young people at all (Kellett 2010). Despite their exclusion from critical decision-making, those young participants, almost all of whom had experienced major trauma in their lives, magnanimously accommodated the status quo and were apparently enthusiastic about engaging in global research. However, notwithstanding the apparent success of this international research collaboration, I would, in future, advocate strongly for a rights-based approach to be employed in each setting from the outset. Ideological challenges with rights-based research with children and young people are not inconsequential. Inclusivity and participation are generally hard won (Spriggs 2010). Narratives of trauma, abuse and exclusion are a common reality (Frederico et al. 2010). That was certainly true of participants in the cross-national project as whole, not only its Melbourne component described herein. Young people recruited from the six countries involved in the cross-national project were not familiar with being asked what they thought about their situation or what might make a difference for them and others in similar circumstances. They also had no experience of advocacy on their behalf or of potential opportunities to self-advocate. I proactively utilized inclusion, participation and advocacy strategies with some success in the course of conducting the Melbourne case study; however, I also needed to take care not to create unrealistic expectations of policy or practice change, for example around specific school rules that one young person found unreasonable and unhelpful (Kellett 2010).

Ethics I regularly experience ethical challenges associated with children’s research from dual perspectives, as a researcher and as a universitybased human ethics research reviewer. In Australia, over the past decade, there has been a thawing of the chilly reception so often afforded ethics applications related to research with children and young people. Monitoring bodies appear to have embraced an understanding that young people must be given voice and afforded appropriate levels of agency; children are understood to be competent to make decisions regarding research participation, when respectful and competent guidance is in

16 Rights-Based Narrative Research: Empowerment of Children …

387

place and protection of their rights is assured (Australian Research Council [ARC] 2019; National Health and Medical Research Council [NHMRC] 2007). The cross-national project described here, undertaken a decade ago, manifests what was then relatively new recognition of the importance of research with and by children and young people, and a beginning towards acceptance that all stakeholders must work together responsibly to make this a reality (Kellett 2010). Such acceptance appears to have gradually strengthened (Bessell 2015; Fleet and Harcourt 2018; Groundwater-Smith et al. 2015; Kellett 2005, 2010). Challenges often still confronted by researchers include that of over-zealous gatekeeping by ethicists, service managers and even parents/caregivers; this can silence children and young people (McNamara 2013; Spriggs 2010). Undervigilance, of course, can potentially result in failure to protect children’s rights to privacy and even to direct harm to young research participants (IFSW 2019). Children and young people can be asked to confront past or current abuse, for example, which may expose them to further trauma (Gilbertson and Barber 2002; Mahon et al. 1996). In this case study, care was taken not to explore specific episodes of family violence in depth. That would have placed the young people and their mother at increased risk of cumulative trauma. In longitudinal research, as in the case study presented here, children and young people can feel trapped by invitations to re-visit trauma again (and sometimes, yet again) (Frederico et al. 2010; Hill et al. 1996). Researchers are bound by duty of care responsibilities associated with their status in loco parentis (McNamara 2005; Spriggs 2010). In Australia, as in many other countries, there is legislation in place to protect especially vulnerable populations such as young people on guardianship orders, indigenous youth and incarcerated or refugee minors (NHMRC 2007). In relation to the, often pivotal, issue of ‘gatekeeping’, it is important for researchers to be aware of circumstances when parental consent may not be required or appropriate (e.g. when a child has been subject to abuse or neglect); it may be acceptable to seek consent ‘from another person who has responsibility for the young person’s safety, security and wellbeing’ (Spriggs 2010, p. 5). It is also important to differentiate assent from consent in inclusive, participatory and empowering research

388

P. McNamara

with children and young people. In Australia, the former constitutes an informal agreement, whilst the latter has standing under law and can only be given once the young person has achieved adult status at the age of eighteen years (Spriggs 2010). Other key ethical issues include a need for statutory clearances for researchers working with children and transparency around limits to confidentiality in relation to risk to the young person or to others in the community (Noble-Carr 2006). A potential need to disclose risk to the relevant authorities arose in this case study; the estranged father in the family, whose movements were subject to a statutory intervention order, visited the home unexpectedly during a research interview. He was clearly unhappy about his family’s engagement in the study. Whilst this unplanned for event was resolved without incident, it raised the profile of safety issues for family members as research participants for whom I was responsible, and for my own safety, as the researcher concerned. Participant and researcher safety is generally considered a core issue in reviews of human research ethics applications.

Recruitment Young people (especially young children) are often given little power over important decision-making that impacts them, including engagement (or not) in research (Bessell 2015; Kellett 2010; Spriggs 2010). Where children and young people have experienced major trauma, gatekeeping is generally highly protective and risk averse. In conducting the study described here, I found it helpful to discuss implications of the research with the young people, without others (especially adults) present, to minimize potential duress. I stressed the amount of their time that would be involved and the kinds of issues to be explored in very concrete terms. Children and young people also often find it hard to withdraw once their involvement has commenced. It was made clear to the young people in this study that withdrawal at any point was completely acceptable prior to analysis of data in preparation for dissemination of findings. It was stressed that no adverse consequences would arise from withdrawal.

16 Rights-Based Narrative Research: Empowerment of Children …

389

Agency Skills in maximizing inclusion and participation through achieving real agency of child and adolescent research participants who have experienced trauma emerge in large measure from the emotional intelligence of the researcher (Morrison 2007). Morrison makes a convincing case for developing positive affect as a means of maximizing participation with professionals. Combined with reflection and reflexivity (Schon 1983), positive affect seems intrinsic to the conduct of effective research with children and young people. In some instances, for example with data collection undertaken by skilled clinician-researchers, the interviewer presents with advanced interpersonal helping skills and practice wisdom (Scott 1990). When appropriately managed (see principles listed below), this can potentially support practice in narrative, descriptive, rights-based research methods. Young people invited to collaborate in a rights-based investigation should ideally participate fully in identification of the research problem, development of research questions, choice of design and methods for data collection and dissemination of findings. This occurred in the Melbourne study. A range of creative methods can be utilized to maximize participation of children and young people in research such as audio-visual stimulus material, film, observation and guided tours. Such strategies were utilized to good effect in this case study. One example of this occurred when the young people engaged in the case study initiated filming of a research interview in the much-loved garden located behind their family home. They were keen to ensure that their film manifested the warmth and care that existed within family relationships by preparing and sharing freshly baked cakes on camera. It was clearly important also for the children to illustrate the lifelong bonds and strong attachments that existed within their family relationships; they therefore chose to film the beautiful trees their mother had planted for each of them at the time of their births. Extensive storytelling around these phenomena interpreted and reinforced the visual imagery. The young family members welcomed the chance to engage in these narrative approaches to data collection. In retrospect, I believe that other creative

390

P. McNamara

strategies, such as drama, dance, painting, sculpture and photography along with peer-to-peer data collection, might also have been utilized. Re-visiting past or present pain and trauma is clearly challenging for young people. The children engaged in this study were dealing with their parents’ marital break-up following a twenty-year relationship, the intervention order against their father related to long-term family violence, drug and alcohol issues for several family members, school placement breakdowns for the children, suicidality of one sibling and the completed suicide of the close friend of another (amongst other challenging issues). Storytelling addressed these and similarly challenging themes. Potential for further trauma was carefully monitored but inevitably stress resulted from the re-visiting; with experience, I have become increasingly vigilant about post-interview follow-up, in addition to actively putting support services in place. I strongly encourage other researchers to rigorously employ such strategies. The importance of monitoring young participants’ capacity to concentrate and remain active and responsive is also critical in rights-based research (UNCROC 1989). Accepting with equanimity a young participant’s right to request ‘time out’, disengage temporarily and or even withdraw permanently from a study, has proved challenging for me at times, especially as an early career researcher. I believe that I may have sometimes misread these experiences as ‘failure’ on my part to engage effectively with participants; on reflection, I may not have fully understood these responses in the context of past trauma.

Maturation and Change Rights-based narrative longitudinal research with children and young people offers exciting opportunities for the researcher to explore growth and change at the stages of human development when these processes are occurring most rapidly. It offers a window into social, emotional and cognitive development that can inform early intervention responses. Young people in this study seemed empowered to take greater command of data collection strategies as the research evolved and they grew more confident and mature. Different methods of data collection are

16 Rights-Based Narrative Research: Empowerment of Children …

391

clearly required as children grow and change and are capable of greater participation or collaboration in research. In the study described, there were indicators that the children were gradually feeling safer and more assertive as the threat of family violence receded; they appeared to be slowly recovering from their trauma. There was gradually more detail in their narratives (‘thick descriptions’) and more humour embedded in the stories recorded from that point. As the researcher-participant relationship strengthened over time, it became clear that it would be important to clearly and concretely mark the end of our collaborative data collection. This was managed through researcher and participants sharing a weekend brunch together; this ‘ritual of separation’, suggested by the young people, drew upon narrative-constructivist approaches that describe food as the ‘currency of communication’ (Galvin et al. 2018; White and Epston 1990).

Culture and Language Participatory collaborative approaches to research create opportunities to include, empower and advocate for/with children and young people from culturally and linguistically diverse (CALD) backgrounds whose voices are rarely heard (Jurak 2003). Inclusive research of this nature can affirm young people from these backgrounds; it can sometimes empower them to participate in advocacy endeavours and agitate for resources to meet their needs. It also extends the researcher in exploration of more diverse ‘ways of knowing’ or ‘finding out’ (Hartman 1990). This demands a high level of cultural competency, frequently acquired through specialized training; it also often involves use of interpreting services. Building trust where CALD issues are significant again draws upon researcher emotional intelligence (Morrison 2007) as he/she often needs to engage with children and young people who are negotiating challenging socioemotional terrain ‘between two worlds’. In general, CALD young people and their families are marginalized from both the adolescent mental health and welfare systems; this was mirrored in the populations of potential participants in the cross-national study presented here. The

392

P. McNamara

research could have been enriched with proactive inclusion and participation of families and young people representing minority groups from non-English-speaking backgrounds.

Gender and Sexuality Rights-based approaches to research with children and young people have an important role to play in addressing issues of gender (McNamara 2009; McNamara and Neve 2009; Naples 2003). Whilst neither empowerment nor participation can be guaranteed when inclusion is in place, narrative approaches to data collection do appear to often facilitate those outcomes for girls and young women. In developmental terms, adolescence generally is not characterized by high levels of vocal exchange with adults. In the study under consideration here, it was observed that the young woman/adolescent daughter could be effectively silenced in group conversations (including within the family group)—especially in the presence of her male younger sibling (Etherington 2007; Luepnitz 1988; Nind et al. 2012). It was important to contain this power imbalance in the research conversations. Proactive and sensitive facilitation by researchers can ensure both inclusion and active participation by young people of diverse gender identification, including LGBTQI (Hare-Mustin 1978; Heilman 1998; McNamara 2009). Ensuring duty of care obligations are met (e.g. by offering counselling access) during and following research around sensitive and confronting issues relating to gender and sexuality is vital, especially where sexual trauma has been experienced (Australian Research Centre for Sex, Health and Society [ARCHS] 2019).

Dissemination Storytelling, especially through the voices of participants, can be powerful in dissemination and advocacy. Wherever appropriate, children and young people should engage in advocacy by telling their own stories, be it through writing, art, multimedia and other approaches; they will also be involved in oral presentations at seminars, conferences and other

16 Rights-Based Narrative Research: Empowerment of Children …

393

gatherings (Bessell 2015; Kellett 2010). In some instances, participants in my studies have wanted to share their stories publicly in support of policy change or in a bid to improve funding. Inclusion, participation, empowerment and advocacy must, however, be carefully juxtaposed with ‘duty of care’. I am acutely aware of the social stigma that unfortunately still prevails around family violence, mental health and welfare issues. After careful consideration, the young people in this study decided that their videotaped conversations about proximal changes towards the family’s goals of ‘improved family relationships’ could be viewed at conferences and for training; however, they chose to make this possible outside Australia only, to protect their privacy.

Research Principles A set of principles for research with children and young people has been distilled through processing the above themes within the rights-based conceptual framework proposed—with its cornerstones of inclusion, participation, empowerment and advocacy. The principles proposed also draw upon the author’s broader narrative research experience. These suggestions, whilst by no means exhaustive, may assist narrative researchers in developing rights-based projects with children and young people, including those who have lived experience of trauma. • The researcher’s duty of care to children and young people collaborating in research includes ensuring that all involved are safe; this is especially important when complex trauma has been experienced; where the young person or others in the community are determined to be at immediate risk (socially, emotionally, sexually or physically), action must be taken to address this; care must be taken to ensure that all who come into contact with children and young people in the course of any investigation have been thoroughly screened for their suitability to work with children; absolute transparency about the limits to confidentiality in communication with children and young people and their carers is also vital.

394

P. McNamara

• Notwithstanding time constraints often faced by researchers in contemporary (often economic-rationalist) investigatory climates, trust-building must be afforded paramount importance in the establishment of rights-based narrative research with traumatized children and young people; this draws upon the reflective capacity (Schon 1983), emotional intelligence (Morrison 2007), creativity and interpersonal communication skills of the researcher. • Where advanced interviewing skills are not part of the researcher’s repertoire, additional professional development may contribute to best possible outcomes during data collection and in analysis of results (McLeod 1996; Polkinghorne 2005); there is potentially a shadow side to interpersonal helping skills being applied in the research realm. If both researcher and clinician ‘hats’ are worn simultaneously, there is potential for conflict of interest and unhelpful blurring of roles (Fortune et al. 2013); this can usually be managed through effective supervision. • Once inclusion and participation are established, these must be respectfully maintained; this is especially important in longitudinal research; likewise, the researcher must collaborate proactively from the outset with young people in determining what is to be reported about the study and how dissemination will be conducted. • Presenting narrative findings largely through the voices of participants themselves is by far the most compelling form of evidential reporting of rights-based children’s research; using the researcher’s own voice as expressed in the first person also engenders immediacy, challenges embedded power imbalances and strengthens the credibility of the research act (Holliday 2002); at the very least, the researcher must return to inform young people what happened at the end of a study (Kellett 2010). • Storytelling has special impact, it seems, with policymakers; sharing research participants’ experience of living with inadequate resources (often over substantial periods of time) can prove a powerful advocacy strategy; rights-based children’s researchers using narrative methods need to actively identify such opportunities, whilst maintaining attention to their duty of care; researchers must maximize young people’s access to information (e.g. about potential re-traumatizing exposure

16 Rights-Based Narrative Research: Empowerment of Children …

395

through various mass media, especially the internet) to inform their decision-making about what aspects of their stories can/should be disseminated, by whom and how this should be undertaken. • Maintaining vigilance for themes of oppression and marginalization on the basis of gender, culture and ethnicity is intrinsic to rights-based research with traumatized children and young people; young women participants especially are likely to be hesitant in the face of possibly ‘getting it wrong’ (Tannen 1990); they can often be overwhelmed by the invitation to challenge aspects of their narratives (Luepnitz 1988); language and cultural differences, including barriers to communication, must also be carefully addressed to representatively access the voices of CALD research participants; only professional and qualified interpreters should be employed. • As empathic and collaborative investigation, rights-based narrative research with children and young people often places researched and researcher in a relationship of some intimacy; just as therapeutic alliances have ‘endings’, so do those established and maintained (possibly over long periods) in the context of rights-based research with children and young people who have trauma histories; due care must be taken to ‘anticipate’ and ‘name the end’ of the research relationship to minimize risk of abandonment or loss which could evoke re-visiting of past trauma. In some cases, especially in longitudinal studies, it is important to ritualize the significance of the research project’s ending for all in a developmentally appropriate manner; sharing a meal or brief outing together or passing on an inexpensive but symbolic gift as a memento might serve as effective parting ritual with children and young people (Imber Black and Roberts 1998). • Narrative research with children and young people who have experienced major or even less impactful trauma presents a multitude of sensitive issues for the researcher as it does for the researched. Vicarious trauma is an occupational hazard (Gentry 2002; Salston and Figley 2003); to avoid undue stress and burnout, it is vital that the researcher set in place for her/himself appropriate supervision and debriefing mechanisms and, where necessary, therapeutic supports. Similarly, therapeutic follow-up must actively be made available to the participants.

396

P. McNamara

Conclusions Critical re-visiting of a narrative study oriented to empowerment and agency illustrates that young people’s rights can indeed be optimized in research. The approach can give young people ‘voice’ through storytelling and other data collection strategies. It can create opportunities for children and young people to positively impact the lived experience of others facing similar challenges. That appears to occur through the co-construction of new meanings within a research methodology that privileges empowerment, inclusion, participation and advocacy. This chapter offers a single researcher’s reflection on these phenomena. This is clearly a domain worthy of further investigation through research. Rigorous investigation is required incorporating direct reflection by children and young people on their lived experience of rights-based approaches to narrative research. For now, the principles proposed here may prove helpful to researchers keen to undertake inclusive and empowering narrative studies with children and young people, especially those who have experienced trauma.

Notes 1. The research case study presented herein was part of a cross-national project conducted under the auspices of the International Association for Outcome-Based Evaluation and Research in Family and Children’s Services (iaOBER fcs); the project received funding support accessed by the Emilia Zancan Foundation, Padua, Italy. That support is gratefully acknowledged. The primary paper arising from that research is: McNamara, P. (2006). Mapping Change in a Child and Family Centre in Melbourne, Australia. International Journal of Child and Family Welfare, 9 (1–2), 41–52. Special Issue, M. Berry (Ed.). 2. Aspects of this chapter were presented at the Symposium ‘Children as Experts in their Own Lives’ auspiced by the International Society for Child Indicators and the Social Justice and Social Change Research Centre (University of Western Sydney) at the University of Western Sydney, Parramatta, NSW, Australia, 3 November 2009; that version was developed

16 Rights-Based Narrative Research: Empowerment of Children …

397

further and updated for publication by this author as ‘Rights Based Narrative Research with Children Conducted Over Time’ in Qualitative Social Work, 12(2), 135–152, Article first published online: December 29, 2011; Issue published: March 1, 2013 https://doi.org/10.1177/147332501142 8538.

References Adams, R. (2008). Empowerment, Participation and Social Work (4th ed.). London, UK: Palgrave Macmillan. Australian Research Centre for Sex, Health and Society (ARCHS). (2019). www.arch.latrobe.edu.au. Accessed 1 May 2019. Australian Research Council, Government of Australia (ARC). (2019). http:// www.arc.gov.au/about_arc/default.htm. Accessed 1 May, 2019. Beaudoin, M. N., Moersch, M., & Evare, B. (2016). The Effectiveness of Narrative Therapy with Children’s Social and Emotional Skill Development: An Empirical Study of 813 Problem-Solving Stories. Journal of Systemic Therapies, 35 (3), 42–59. Berry M., Brandon, M., Fernandez, E., Grietens, H., Lightburn, A. P., McNamara, P., et al. (2006). International Research on Community Centres for Children and Families: The Importance of Sensitive Outcomes in Evaluation. Introduction to Special Issue. International Journal of Child and Family Welfare, 9 (1–2), 1–11. Bessell, S. (2015). Rights-Based Research with Children: Principles and Practice. In R. Evans, L. Holt, & T. Skelton (Eds.), Methodological Approaches, Geographies of Children and Young People (Vol. 2, pp. 1–18). Singapore: Springer. Blue Knot Foundation. (2019). www.blueknot.org.au. Accessed 3 December 2019. Boscolo, L., & Cecchin, G. (1987). Milan Systemic Family Therapy. New York: Basic Books. Bronfenbrenner, U. (1979). The Ecology of Human Development. Boston MA: Harvard University Press. Bruner, J. (1986). Actual Minds, Possible Worlds. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

398

P. McNamara

Carey, L. (2006). Expressive and Creative Arts Methods for Trauma Survivors. London: Jessica Kingsley. Clandinin, D., & Connelly, F. (2000). Narrative Inquiry: Experience and Story in Qualitative Research. San Franccisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Corbin, J., & Strauss, A. (2008). Basics of Qualitative Research: Techniques and Procedures for Developing Grounded Theory (3rd ed.). New York, NY: Sage. Danby, S. (2002). The Communicative Competence of Young Children. Australian Journal of Early Childhood, 27 (3), 25–30. Etherington, K. (2007). Ethical Research in Reflexive Relationships. Qualitative Inquiry, 13(50), 599–616. Fernandez, E. (2011). Child Inclusive Research, Policy and Practice. Children and Youth Services Review, 33(4), 487–568. Fleet, A., & Harcourt, D. (2018). Co-researching with Children. In M. Fleer & B. van Oers (Eds.), International Handbook of Early Childhood Education (pp. 165–201). Dordrecht, The Netherlands: Springer. Fortune, A., Reid, W., & Miller, R. (2013). Qualitative Research in Social Work (2nd ed.). New York: Columbia University Press. Frederico, M., Jackson, A., & Black, C. (2010). More Than Words— The Language of Relationships. Take Two Evaluation Report, School of Social Work and Social Policy, La Trobe University, Bundoora, Australia. Berry Street Childhood Institute at www.childhoodinstitute.org.au/resour ces/more-words-take-two-third-evaluation-report. Accessed 5 May 2019. Freud, A. (1970). Research at the Hampstead Child-Therapy Clinic: And Other Papers, 1956–1965. London, UK: Hogarth Press [for] the Institute of Psycho-Analysis. Galvin, K., Braithwaite, D. O., & Bylund, C. (2018). Family Communication: Cohesion and Change (10th ed.). New York: Routledge. Gentry, E. (2002). Compassion Fatigue: A Crucible for Transformation. Journal of Trauma Practice, 13(4), 37–61. Gilbertson, R., & Barber, J. (2002). Obstacles to Involving Children and Young People in Foster Care Research. Child and Family Social Work, 7 (4), 253– 258. Groundwater-Smith, S., Dockett, S., & Bottrell, D. (2015). Participatory Research with Children and Young People. Los Angeles, CA: Sage. Hare-Mustin, R. (1978). A Feminist Approach to Family Therapy. Family Process, 17 (2), 181–194. Hartman, A. (1990). Many Ways of Knowing. Social Work, 35, 3–4. Heilman, E. (1998). The Struggle for Self: Power and Identity in Adolescent Girls. Youth and Society, 30 (2), 182–208.

16 Rights-Based Narrative Research: Empowerment of Children …

399

Hesse, E., Main, M., Abrams, K., & Rifkin, A. (2003). Unresolved States Regarding Loss or Abuse Can Have “Second-Generation” Effects. In M. F. Solomon & D. J. Siegel (Eds.), Healing Trauma: Attachment, Mind, Body, and Brain (pp. 57–106). New York: Norton Press. Hill, M., Laybourn, A., & Borland, M. (1996). Engaging with Primary Aged Children About Their Emotions and Well-Being: Methodological Considerations. Children and Society, 10 (2), 129–144. Holliday, A. (2002). Doing and Writing Qualitative Research. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Ife, J. (2001). Human Rights and Social Work: Towards Rights-Based Practice. Oakleigh, VIC: Cambridge University Press. Imber Black, E., & Roberts, J. (1998). Rituals for Our Times. New York, NY: Jason Aronson Press. International Federation of Social Workers (IFSW). (2000). Social Work: A Definition. https://socialwelfare.library.vcu.edu/social-work/social-work-adefinition-2000/. Accessed December 3. International Federation of Social Workers (IFSW). (2002). Social Work and the Rights of the Child: A Professional Training Manual on the United Nations Convention. Berne, Switzerland: IFSW. International Federation of Social Workers (IFSW). (2019). https://www.ifsw. org/what-is-social-work/global-definition-of-social-work/. Accessed 4 May 2019. Jurak, J. (2003). Caught in the Crossfire: Identifying Needs of Accompanying Children from Culturally and Linguistically Diverse Backgrounds in Supported Accommodation Assistance Program Services. Canberra: Commonwealth Department of Family and Community Services. Kellett, M. (2005). How to Develop Children as Researchers: A Step by Step Guide to the Research Process. London, UK: Sage. Kellett, M. (2010). Rethinking Children and Research: Attitudes in Contemporary Society. London, UK: Continuum. Klein, M. (1955). The Psychoanalytic Play Technique, Its History and Significance. In M. Klein, P. Heimann, & R. E. Money-Kyrle (Eds.), New Directions in Psycho-Analysis (pp. 3–22). London, UK: Tavistock. Luepnitz, D. (1988). The Family Interpreted . New York, NY: Basic Books. Mahon, A., Glendinning, C., Clarke, K., & Craig, G. (1996). Researching Children: Methods and Ethics. Children and Society, 10 (2), 145–154. Maluccio‚ A. N., Canali‚ C., Vecchiato‚ T., Lightburn‚ A., Aldgate J.‚ & Rose‚ W. (Eds.). (2011). Improving outcomes for children and families: finding and using international evidence, Jessica Kingsley Publishers, London.

400

P. McNamara

Mason, J., & Danby, S. (2011). Children as Experts in Their Lives: Child Inclusive Research. Child Indicators Research, 4 (2), 185–189. Mason, J., & Hood, S. (2011). Exploring the Issues of Children as Actors in Social Research. Children and Youth Services Review, 33(4), 490–495. Mason, J., & Urquhart, R. (2001). Developing a Model for Participation by Children in Research on Decision Making. Children Australia, 26 (4), 16– 21. McLean, S. (2016). Effect of Trauma on the Brain Development of Children: Evidence-Based for Supporting the Recovery of Children In care. CFCA Practitioner Resource. Melcourne: Australian Institute of Family Studies. https://aifs.gov.au/cfca/publications/effect-trauma-brain-dev elopment-children. Accessed 1 December 2017. McLeod, L. (1996). Qualitative Approaches to Research in Counselling and Psychotherapy: Issues and Challenges. British Journal of Guidance and Counselling, 24 (3), 309–316. McNamara, P. (2005). Ethical Guidance. Directions in Education, 14 (7), 2–3. McNamara, P. (2006). Mapping Change in a Child and Family Centre in Melbourne, Australia. International Journal of Child and Family Welfare, 9 (1–2), 41–52. McNamara, P. (2008). Changed Forever: A Victim’s Friends Reflect on Intimate Partner Homicide. Journal of Family Studies, 14 (2–3), 198–217. McNamara, P. (2009). Feminist Ethnography: Storytelling that Makes a Difference. Qualitative Social Work, 8(2), 161–177. McNamara, P. (2013). Rights Based Narrative Research with Children and Young People Conducted Over Time. Qualitative Social Work, 12(1), 139–152. McNamara, P., & Neve, E. (2009). Engaging Italian and Australian Social Workers in Evaluation. International Social Work, 52(1), 22–35. Miller, C., & Boe, J. (1990). Tears into Diamonds: Transformation of Child Psychic Trauma Through Sandplay and Storytelling. The Arts in Psychotherapy, 17 (3), 247–257. Morrison, A. (2007). Emotional Intelligence, Emotion and Social Work: Context, Characteristics, Complications and Contribution. British Journal of Social Work, 37 (2), 245–263. Munford, R., & Sanders, J. (2003). Making a Difference in Families: Research that Creates Change. Sydney, NSW: Allen & Unwin. Naples, N. (2003). Feminism and Method: Ethnography, Discourse Analysis, and Activist Research. New York and London: Routledge.

16 Rights-Based Narrative Research: Empowerment of Children …

401

National Health and Medical Research Council (NHMRC). (2007). National Statement on Ethical Conduct in Human Research. Canberra. Available at https://www.nhmrc.gov.au/about-us/publications/national-statement-eth ical-conduct-human-research-2007-updated-2018. Nind, M., Boorman, G., & Clarke, G. (2012). Creating Spaces to Belong: Listening to the Voice of Girls with Behavioural, Emotional and Social Difficulties Through Digital Visual and Narrative Methods. International Journal of Inclusive Education, 16 (7), 643–656. Noble-Carr, D. (2006). Engaging Children in Research on Sensitive Issues: A Literature Review. Department of Disability, Housing and Community Services. Padgett, D. (1998). Qualitative Methods in Social Work Research: Challenges and Rewards. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Perry, B. (2009). Examining Child Maltreatment Through a Neurodevelopmental Lens: Clinical Application of the Neurosequential Model of Therapeutics. Journal of Loss and Trauma, 14 (4), 240–255. Polkinghorne, D. (2005). Language and Meaning: Data Collection in Qualitative Research. Journal of Counseling Psychology, 52(2), 137–145. Punch, K. (2006). Developing Effective Research Proposals. London: Sage. Riessman, C. (2008). Narrative Methods for the Human Sciences. London: Sage. Salston, M., & Figley, C. (2003). Secondary Traumatic Stress Effects of Working with Survivors of Criminal Victimization. Journal of Traumatic Stress, 16 (2), 167–174. Sandelowski, M. (1991). Telling Stories: Narrative Approaches in Qualitative Research. Journal of Nursing Scholarship, 23(3), 161–166. Schon, D. (1983). The Reflective Practitioner: How Professionals Think in Action. New York: Basic Books. Scott, D. (1990). Practice Wisdom: The Neglected Source of Practice Research. Social Work, 35 (6), 564–568. Shapiro, F. (1989). Eye Movement Desensitization Procedure: A New Treatment for Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. Journal of Behavior Therapy and Experimental Psychiatry, 20 (3), 211–217. Shapiro, F., & Solomon, R. (2010). Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. In I. Weiner & W. E. Craighead (Eds.), The Corsini Encyclopedia of Psychology (4th ed., Vol. 2, pp. 1–3). Hoboken, NJ: Wiley. Spriggs, M. (2010). Understanding Consent in Research Involving Children: A Handbook for Human Research Ethics Committees and Researchers. Australia: Children’s Bio-Ethics Centre, Royal Children’s Hospital https://www.mcri.

402

P. McNamara

edu.au/sites/default/files/media/documents/revision_handbook_2010_april. pdf. Accessed 1 December 2017. TANNEN, D. (1990). You Just Don’t Understand: Women and Men in Conversation. New York, NY: Ballantine. UNCROC. (1989). Convention on the rights of the child . General Assembly resolution 44/25 of 20 November, entry into force 2 September 1990, in accordance with article 49. UNICEF. (2019). United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child . https://www.unicef.org/child-rights-convention/convention-text. Accessed 3 December 2019. van der Kolk, B. (2005). Developmental Trauma Disorder: Toward a Rational Diagnosis for Children with Complex Trauma Histories. Psychiatric Annals, 35 (5), 401–408. Wadsworth, Y (1998). What Is Participatory Action Research? Paper Two Action Research International . http://www.aral.com.au/ari/p-ywadsworth98. html. Accessed 3 December 2019. White, M. (2006). Children, Trauma and Subordinate Storyline Development. In D. Denborough (Ed.), Trauma: Narrative Responses to Traumatic Experience (pp. 143–165). Adelaide, SA: Dulwich Centre Publications. White, M., & Epston, D. (1990). Narrative Means to Therapeutic Ends. New York, NY: W. W. Norton. Yuen, A. (2007). Discovering Children’s Responses to Trauma: A ResponseBased Narrative Practice. The International Journal of Narrative Therapy and Community Work, 1(4), 3–18.

Part V Conclusion

17 Concluding Comments: Challenges, Opportunities and Future Directions in Narrative Inquiry Lisa Moran, Kathy Reilly, and Bernadine Brady

Introduction This volume brings together a diversity of approaches to narrative and narrative inquiry in research with children and young people, exploring and showcasing how these concepts are understood and applied across a range of disciplines and research contexts. In this respect, the volume underlines the fluidity and diversity of narrative inquiry as a L. Moran (B) Edge Hill University, Ormskirk, UK e-mail: [email protected] K. Reilly National University of Ireland, Galway, Ireland e-mail: [email protected] B. Brady UNESCO Child and Family Research Centre, Institute for Lifecourse and Society, School of Political Science and Sociology, National University of Ireland Galway, Galway, Ireland e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s) 2021 L. Moran et al. (eds.), Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People, Studies in Childhood and Youth, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-55647-1_17

405

406

L. Moran et al.

trans-disciplinary research field, with the capacity to yield highly nuanced understandings of children and young people’s everyday realities. The wide variety of disciplinary perspectives and analytic lenses to understanding narrative captures and reflects the exponential growth in narrative inquiry, over the past two decades in particular (Chase 2005; Squire et al. 2013). Taken collectively, contributions to this volume underline the varied, flexible, multilayered and transformative character of narrative inquiry, illustrating the power and complexity of children and young people’s stories about their everyday lives in the spaces and places they inhabit. The multidimensional nature of narrative inquiry is evidenced in the varied research topics and themes, the diversity of methodological approaches and the richness of data explored. Contributions to the volume clearly illustrate the contextual nature of storytelling; the importance of individual/micro-level factors in how stories are (re)-constructed and told (e.g. linguistic conventions) and how physical space and wider socio-cultural forces (e.g. power dynamics, language and temporality) shape and reflect how young people (re)-tell and (re)-experience their ‘lived lives’. In this concluding chapter, we firstly synthesise methodological and conceptual insights from across the volume. Secondly, we crystallise key learning in relation to children and young people’s experiences across multiple contexts, with reference to the thematic sections of the volume. We highlight some challenges raised across the volume associated with utilising narrative methods with children and young people and reflect on future directions for narrative research with children and young people.

Narrating Childhood and Youth: Methodological and Conceptual Insights The power, creativity and richness of narrative research approaches in examining the multidimensionality of children and young people’s lived experiences are evident throughout the volume. From a methodological standpoint, the diverse range of approaches underlines the flexibility and depth of research materials emanating from narrative

17 Concluding Comments: Challenges, Opportunities, and Future …

407

research; these include; mono/single method narrative studies (see chapters by Mooney, this volume and Morrow and Elliott, this volume) and ‘multi’ or ‘mixed’ method qualitative research that encompass narrative interviewing approaches (see, e.g., McGarry, this volume and Kallio, this volume). Chapters in the volume engage with critical approaches to narrative inquiry using varying conceptual approaches and diverse research methodologies including: visual research methods (e.g. Osgood, this volume), topological mapping (see Kallio, this volume), essay writing (Morrow and Elliot, this volume), story-mapping (Reilly and Hughes, this volume), Participatory Action Research (PAR) approaches (Wall et al., this volume) and the Biographical Narrative Interpretive Method (BNIM) (Mooney, this volume). Contributions to this volume engage with topics and questions such as what it means to narrate and what narrative research is, which simultaneously influences processes of research design, data collection, analysis and interpretation. Drawing on the work of leading scholars and key texts on narrative inquiry including Andrews (2007, 2014), Squire et al. (2013), Chamberlayne and King (2000), Clandinan and Connelly (2000), Riessman (2002, 2008, 2013), Rustin (2000), Tamboukou (2008), and Wengraf (2001, 2011) (among others), contributors engage with and further highlight key concepts in the literature such as temporality, sequencing, storytelling, knowledge, multi-vocality, contexts and depth, all characteristic of narrative inquiry (Andrews 2007, 2012a, b; Riessman and Quinney 2005; Riessman 2013). While methodological debates continue regarding what narrative inquiry is, and what it is not (Squire et al. 2013), this volume shows narrative inquiry to be multidimensional and diverse in character; simultaneously ‘kaleidoscopic’ (Karlsson 2008), multi-vocal and multilayered. The multiplicity of data analysis and interpretation techniques adopted by narrative researchers is evident in scholarly engagement with various approaches to analysis including Biographical Narrative Panel Analysis (Mooney, this volume), Discourse Analysis (DA) (Harragan, this volume), Thematic Analysis (TA) (McGibbon, this volume), and analysing biographical interview materials across and over time (Mayock and Parker, this volume). Looking across different chapters, this volume further identifies narrative research methods as creative, inventive,

408

L. Moran et al.

innovative, political, contextual, transformative, powerful and emotive (Wengraf 2004, 2011; Hydén 2013; Andrews 2014; O’Grady et al. 2018). Contributions to this book reflect key debates in extant literature on what it means to tell one’s story, the social and cultural purposes of storytelling in society (e.g. justification, remembering, entertaining, persuading, legitimising agency, reconstructing identities); and the roles and responsibilities of researchers in (re)constructing children and young people’s life stories and their meanings (Riessman and Quinney 2005; Byrne 2017). The intricacies of children and young people’s stories, what it means to ‘tell’ and how gender, ethnicity and social class shape and reflect storytelling and young people’s engagement in research are further highlighted in chapters by Harragan and McGarry (among others). Similarly, some extant literature point to how these variables (among others) influence narrative research (Holloway and Freshwater 2007; Atkinson 2019), thus further illuminating the contextual and multidimensional character of everyday storytelling and relationships between researchers and participants. The notion of place as multifaceted, dynamic and ever-changing is similarly embedded in contributions to this volume; chapters such as Wall et al. (this volume) and Reilly and Hughes (this volume) draw into sharper focus how the dynamics of particular places and communities impact on research with children and young people, opening up dialogue and conceptual avenues on how young people reimagine places as both cultural and physical locations. Indeed, chapters by Reilly and Hughes (this volume) and Wall et al. (this volume) illuminate that young people’s interpretations and narratives of places and environments are entangled with notions of physical space, future imaginaries and past and present material and cultural realities which evolve and transform across time (Christensen et al. 2017). The recent emphasis accorded to children and young people’s ‘everyday’ lives represents an important shift in narrative research, much of which focused on adults until recently. The adoption and further development of narrative methodologies and concepts allied to narrative inquiry (e.g. temporality, sequencing) by scholars in the new Sociology of Childhood and in Youth Studies contributed significantly to narrative inquiry, which by its nature is ever-changing. The increased prominence accorded to narrative methods in these and other disciplines yield

17 Concluding Comments: Challenges, Opportunities, and Future …

409

further insights into ‘hidden’ dimensions of children and young people’s lives, including how and why they remain silent about certain issues (Spyrou 2016) and how they experience daily and life-changing events in the ways that they do. Furthermore, it can be argued that insights about children and young people’s everyday realities, including intricate descriptions of sights, smells, sounds and how they experienced certain events at particular moments in time are more likely to emerge during narrative interviews compared to other methods, including structured and semi-structured interviews (Bryman 2008). As evident in this volume, an increasing corpus of literature focuses on the complexities and multifaceted nature of doing narrative research with children and youth; the importance of stepping outside of adult-centric knowledge cultures and ways of seeing the world (Punch 2002) and developing dialogue on multiple levels (e.g. between researchers as part of collective knowledge sharing, and between researchers and young people as co-producers of research) (Christensen and Prout 2002). Ethical considerations pertaining to research on childhood and adolescent experiences, particularly when it involves eliciting narrations about traumatic life events, are extremely important, and are brought to the fore in chapters of this book (see, e.g., Mooney, this volume). Some of these insights are discussed subsequently in this chapter in relation to future directions for narrative research. Commensurate with perspectives in the Sociology of Childhood, Children’s Geographies, and Child and Youth Studies, children and young people are interpreted in this volume as dynamic and active agents in the world; as creators, performers and as conduits of narrative (Clandinan et al. 2016). The diversity of methodologies outlined in this book further underlines the significance of ‘small stories’ in children and young people’s interactions, that remain central to how they (re)create and (re)transform the world around them, for understanding future imaginaries about the type of world they want to inhabit, who they are and who they want to be (Bamberg 2006; Bamberg and Georgakopoulou 2008; Puroila 2013). Significantly, this volume highlights the importance of internet-based and novel technologies for capturing young people’s small stories, and the importance accorded to technology by young

410

L. Moran et al.

people for peer support networks, friendship building and social development (see, e.g., Phoenix, this volume and McGarry, this volume). Given the direction of narrative research with children and young people towards understanding ‘small stories’ (Bamberg 2006) and transformations in communicative technologies, young people’s ‘small’ and ‘big stories’ in virtual and online spaces are likely to be accorded attention in future narrative inquiry with children and young people. The immense value of narrative methods for examining children and young people’s discourses about themselves and the world around them are further exemplified in rich data linked to themes of identity, belonging, place and agency throughout this volume. This includes discourses about doing ‘something’ and doing ‘nothing’ (Harragan, this volume); narratives of home and belonging among homeless youth (Mayock and Parker, this volume); young people’s responses to environmental education (Walsh, this volume), discourses of caring (McGibbon, this volume) and children’s understandings of place and community (Reilly and Hughes, this volume and Wall et al., this volume). The significance of narrative methods in prioritising an exploration of the intricate aspects of children and young people’s lives, the challenges of utilising different approaches, how various narrative methods have been combined or ‘mixed’ in research and how they reveal different aspects of children and young people’s interactions in distinctive spaces, are key themes inherent throughout chapters of this volume as well. This reflects developments and research directions in the field of narrative inquiry generally, and topics and issues that continue to be accorded precedence in qualitative and mixed-method research including; what it means to ‘mix’ or ‘combine’ methods and the challenges and intricacies associated with using qualitative research to explore people’s realities (Bryman 2008).

17 Concluding Comments: Challenges, Opportunities, and Future …

411

Children and Young People’s Everyday Experiences Across Multiple Contexts: Key Insights The richness of how young people make sense of who they are in relation to the spaces and places they inhabit and the importance of social networks (including family and peers) in their accounts and stories about daily life events are clearly evidenced throughout the volume. Contributions to this book underline the complexity of children and young people’s experiences in distinct settings; in the home, leisure and recreational settings and educational arenas. This reflects the increase in qualitative research on children and young people’s relationships in these spaces (Clandinan et al. 2016); for example, recent studies underline the importance of positive recreational experiences for children and young people’s well-being, the development of interpersonal skills, and for developing resilience and social support (Outley et al. 2011; Nolas 2014; Brady et al. 2018). Research in Children’s Geographies, Youth Studies and Early Childhood Education and Care (ECEC) address the complexities of how young people make sense of their environments, showing how their everyday relationships with physical space and everyday objects impact on identity, development and well-being (Hopkins 2010; Blaise 2016; Christensen et al. 2017; Blaise and Rooney 2020; Orrmalm 2020). In this section, we summarise key insights from the four thematic sections of the volume.

Home, Care and Identity Chapters in the first section of the book illuminate the importance of home, families and identity in children and young people’s lives. In a social and political climate that is characterised by increasing numbers of homeless young people (Clarke et al. 2015) and uncertainties about youth unemployment (Eurostat 2020), these chapters underline the policy imperative of challenging homelessness in all its forms. The complexity of young people’s narratives about home and place and their

412

L. Moran et al.

importance for policies are evident throughout these chapters. Importantly, Mayock and Parker show that definitions of home are contested and are linked to young people’s perceptions of physical space, notions of safety and belonging and relationships with family and friends. As Mayock and Parker (this volume, p. 5) state, ‘there is broad consensus that when home is experienced positively, it is not simply a physical structure but rather a safe and secure place where people feel autonomy, control and a sense of privacy and comfort; home is also a space that provides a source of identity and belonging’. Comparable definitions of home are evident in Kallio (2016, p. 375) who argues that ‘homes can be located only partially on Euclidean maps’. Kallio utilises the concept of ‘topological home’ which she defines as ‘inter-subjectively established and mutually shared lived space of the family (whomever it may include), existing particularly to each of its members through subjective engagements’ (Ibid.). Relational and emotional dimensions of home attract considerable attention in child and youth research, social geography, social care and social work (Latimer and Munro 2009; Biehal 2014). Similarly, the importance of strong family relationships in the home to children and young people’s emotional and physical well-being are evident in chapters by McGibbon and Mayock and Parker (this volume). Themes of home, family and relationships are evocatively conveyed in Rachel Thomson’s chapter that takes place in the security and warmth of Emily’s home, surrounded by her cherished possessions, about each of which she tells a story symbolising love, intergenerational care and emotional and intellectual nourishment. The diversity of methodologies used in this section brings temporal dimensions of children and young people’s narratives into sharp focus. Mayock and Parker’s longitudinal life story approach enriches our understanding of the dynamics that shape young people’s housing and homeless trajectories over time. Young people’s narratives revealed by Mayock and Parker further illustrate that constructions of home are complex and multifaceted, strongly connected to past experiences but also to the present context of the young people’s lives. By inviting seven-year-old Emily to choose and talk about objects in her bedroom that represented her past, present and future, Thomson illustrates how researcher curiosity and digital technologies can be combined to meaningfully explore and

17 Concluding Comments: Challenges, Opportunities, and Future …

413

illuminate questions of time, continuity and change with a younger child. Furthermore, authors in this section remind us that these narratives have been captured at just a point in time; meanings continue to evolve as young people’s journeys continue. In the three years since Thomson’s encounter with Emily, they have both moved on, leading her to conclude that ‘the research process itself produces queer temporalities, with biographical time outstripping the slow productivities of analysis and writing, and the liveness of past moments captured by recording devices and fieldnote scribbles’ (p. 15). A further notable feature of chapters in this section is that young people’s narratives allow us to see their experiences and meanings in a new light, challenging stereotypes and abstract notions of ‘normal development’. Thomson challenges prevailing tendencies to consider children in the past or future tenses and not in the present. McGibbon notes that eliciting the narratives of young carers helps us to move beyond stereotypes which ascribe a ‘master identity’ to young carers constructed around their care-giving responsibilities, acting to homogenise potentially significant differences between sub-populations of young carers. Importantly, chapters in this section also contribute important insights to literature on identity development among children and young people. In various ways, they elucidate how young people construct a positive sense of identity within the social contexts where they are located. In all chapters, young people aspired to meet traditional normative expectations, particularly in relation to education and home, but they found this challenging for a myriad of reasons such as lack of a secure base (Mayock & Parker, this volume), caring responsibilities (McGibbon, this volume) or reluctance to move on from childhood (Thomson, this volume). The impact of interlinking factors, including relationships, stigma, institutions and cultural values in positively or negatively influencing identity development and life trajectories is also evident across the chapters. Relational approaches to young people’s agency and identity reconstruction (Edwards 2009) emphasise the importance of knowledge, social interactions and relationships in developing resilience. Comparably, chapters in the home care and identity section draw attention to the significance of family relationships in young people’s lives that both help and hinder how they express themselves in everyday life. Chapters such as Mayock

414

L. Moran et al.

and Parker also draw attention to economic and policy-related factors that affect how young people forge and maintain family relationships over time. Taken as a whole, the chapters in this section then underline the significance of the home in young people’s narratives and the interplay of a variety of factors in influencing how they narrate different understandings of home and belonging.

Recreation, Place & Community The section on recreation, place and community explores several issues including the centrality of recreational spaces in young people’s lives, how recreational activities connect to discourses of belonging and community, and how these activities are important for developing friendships and peer supportive networks (Gilligan 2008; Nolas 2014). Significantly, papers in this section illustrate the wide range of narrative methods used to explore these issues with rural and urban children and young people, including photography, film, mind mapping, blogging and ‘Netnography’ (among others). Despite the multifaceted and contested character of community (Crow and Maclean 2006; Crow 2008), young people recreate discourses of community and identity in various ways. The array of contexts discussed here (e.g. Republic of Ireland, Canada and the UK) and the inclusion of insights from young people in rural and urban locations contributes markedly to extant research on young people’s lives in geography, sociology and youth studies. Furthermore, insights from so-called ‘seldom heard’ youth (e.g. rural and indigenous youth, young people in economically marginalised regions, and second and third-generation migrants) about place and community are potentially significant for policy and services planning. Given the primacy of debates about service provision for young people in rural and urban areas (European Network for Rural Development 2018), decreases in government spending on improved infrastructure for children and families in many countries since the 2008 economic downturn, and the increasing emphasis accorded to migration in international policy forums, the research focus on these groups is especially timely. However, rural youth and young people from

17 Concluding Comments: Challenges, Opportunities, and Future …

415

migrant backgrounds are frequently marginalised in policy arenas as per research (Thompson 2003). The incorporation of narratives from young people in these groups as documented in this volume is therefore pertinent. Indeed, the process of how young migrants and children and youth in rural areas enact identity through intersecting discourses related to sex, gender, social class and race is accorded significance in research (Reynolds and Zontini 2015). Insights from McGarry (this volume) and Wall et al. (this volume) on how young people in rural communities ‘do identity’ (ibid.) are also potentially significant for policy and service planning and implementation. Subsequently, chapters in this section underline the importance of different types of recreational activities and communities in young people’s lives; this includes: sports and religious communities (McGarry, this volume) and the importance of volunteering and out of school initiatives for civic engagement, citizenship and youth participation and built and ‘natural’ environments for understanding children’s visions of community (Harragan, this volume; Reilly and Hughes, this volume). Corresponding to extant research, papers in this section underline how informal and non-structured leisure activities influence the development of ‘relational communities’ (Harris and Wyn 2009) among children and young people, allowing them to negotiate multiple barriers (e.g. physical, emotive, economic) to express and legitimise who they are in contemporary society. For example, Reilly and Hughes’ work calls attention to processes of ‘boundary making’ and boundary ‘renegotiation’ in everyday life. In their chapter, they draw attention to how children perceive their local environments as ‘dangerous’ or ‘risky’ which thereby affects and regulates their everyday mobility. Wall et al. similarly highlight the complexity of Indigenous young people’s narratives of community in rural Canada; these are simultaneously linked to perceptions of the surrounding environment and social relationships. Harragan’s chapter also underlines that despite experiencing various types of economic and/or social disadvantage, young people’s narratives about their everyday and imagined future lives transcend these experiences, creating new imaginaries about themselves and the places they inhabit.

416

L. Moran et al.

Narrative and Educational Spaces Focused on educational settings, section three of this volume engages a series of distinct contexts exemplifying the playful diversity inherent to narrative research with children and young people. Taken together the section’s chapters illustrate how narrative research approaches are fluid, porous and adaptable across multiple contexts. Despite contributors to this section presenting varied cases from the USA, Ireland and the UK engaging a variety of child and youth cohorts, the chapters maintain a narrative focus across disciplinary boundaries and over a variety of educational experiences. The diversity of these chapters demonstrates the malleability of narrative research methods, particularly given that over the course of contributions authors incorporate narrative approaches within the baby room (Osgood, this volume); the museum (Hall et al., this volume) and the classroom (Walsh and Hall et al., this volume). Further to this, contributors acknowledge how narrative methodologies can support alternative pedagogic endeavour, providing a space from where children and young people’s learning can be supported (Hall et al., this volume), but also where children and young people’s agency as co-creators of new knowledge is explored and celebrated (Walsh, this volume). Given that children and young people spend increasing amounts of time in educational spaces, collectively the series of chapters offer a snapshot of the everyday lived realities of young participants. A particular strength of the narrative methodologies incorporated throughout section three reflects the capacity of the approach to engage in the complexity of children and young people’s lives, providing insights that might otherwise have remained concealed. Hall et al. (this volume) argue that the potentialities of a narrative research design are advantaged by and through the fact that young people are familiar with the storytelling genre and therefore can engage with learning material that tells a story or prompts them to tell one. This is similar to Walsh’s chapter where young participants tell stories of climate challenge in an effort to learn about such challenges themselves, while also disseminating broader messages of climate change to their homes and communities. In the case of Osgood’s chapter (this volume), she advocates for the capacity

17 Concluding Comments: Challenges, Opportunities, and Future …

417

of narrative to tell alternative and different stories, in this instance stemming from the baby room. The frame of her chapter shifts from a human experience of things to the actual things themselves, considering how objects might present an opportunity to tell alternative stories. Woven through the fabric of this collection, is the sense that narratives are inseparable from the complexity of children’s everyday lives. This nexus (Osgood uses the word ‘assemblage’) points towards the potential for narrative to become a site of convergence for children and young people as they engage with and develop new stories and modes of storytelling (e.g. Walsh indicates how themes such as gender and class play out in the film narratives of participating children in her chapter). Of further note here is Osgood’s argument relating to scale and how global events ‘play out’ in the baby room through an understanding of domestic policies relating to national security in the UK. Throughout the educational contexts discussed, a diverse array of narrative inquiry methods are used. These include the development of pedagogical tools (in the instance of Hall et al. and Walsh, this volume) to support children in identifying and developing their own narratives in both formal and informal educational contexts. Osgood’s work also incorporates more participant observation approaches to narrate the experience from the baby room. All three contributions highlight the role of technology in creating narratives; Hall et al. (this volume) through the interactive museum model developed and the visual cues of the poetry lesson; Walsh (this volume) through the creation of climate action films; and Osgood (this volume) through the experimental incorporation of photographic equipment as agentic. The capacity of narrative approaches to adapt to new modes of inquiry and dissemination bodes well for the overall sustainability of the paradigm as an important qualitative research approach.

Methods for Narrative Approaches with Children and Young People Chapters in the fourth section of this book underline the power of narrative research methods in revealing ‘nuanced’ aspects of young people’s

418

L. Moran et al.

relationships, knowledge and discourses. Indeed, this is also a prominent theme in sections one, two and three of this book. Taken as a whole, part four underlines the diversity and range of methodological approaches to understand the richness and variety in children and young people’s everyday experiences. The complexity of children and young people’s ‘everyday’ interactions and experiences is an important aspect of this volume, and the significance of narrative methods in capturing the momentary and lived experiences that form part of the tapestry of everyday life, is addressed in this section. Reflecting the central aims of the volume, the fourth section showcases a variety of methodological approaches including topological mapping (Kallio, this volume), essay writing (Morrow and Elliott, this volume), the Biographical Narrative Interpretive Method (BNIM) (Mooney, this volume), online platforms and narrative interviews (Phoenix, this volume). Significantly, this section underlines key concepts and issues in narrative inquiry, demonstrating the importance of temporality (Mooney, this volume; Morrow and Elliott, this volume), social media and the ‘production’ of young people’s voices (Phoenix, this volume) and the complexity of children’s reactions to issues of societal and political importance globally (Ibid.). McNamara’s work also connects to chapters in previous sections, underlining challenges and opportunities associated with operationalising children’s rights in a practical sense in research. The emphasis on trauma in McNamara’s chapter and in the chapter by Mooney (this volume) further highlights the complexity of young people’s everyday relationships. Mooney’s work in particular shows how the meaning of traumatic experiences in childhood is renegotiated across the life course and the significance of methods that engage with people’s lived realities, moment to moment (Wengraf 2001). The unifying concepts that emerge strongly in this fourth section (temporality, identity and agency among others) are intrinsically connected to ideas, questions and issues addressed in preceding sections of this volume as well. For example, temporality and sequencing accorded primary by Mooney (this volume) reflect comparable statements by Mayock and Parker (this volume) about situating narrative analysis techniques in and

17 Concluding Comments: Challenges, Opportunities, and Future …

419

across time. Identity and agency as per Phoenix (this volume) and McNamara (this volume) also belie contributions by Harragan (this volume) and McGarry (this volume).

Narrative Research with Children and Young People: Challenges and Future Directions In spite of significant increases in the amount of research engaging narrative approaches with children and young people, there remain a number of areas where further work is necessary. Such opportunities are certainly not particular to narrative approaches, and in some instances are well documented across critical discussions of qualitative research methodologies more broadly. Central to constructing future research agendas that incorporate a narrative focus is an acknowledgement of the approach’s capacity to engage diversity however manifest. As exemplified through this edited volume, narrative research with children and young people has the potential to encompass infinite avenues of inquiry, through multiple research approaches that build on ideas of storytelling, constructed by and through a diverse range of research designs. The flexibility of narrative approaches to adapt across multiple and diverse lines of inquiry is a particular strength of narrative research, however in the context of work with children and young people there has been little written on this theme. Reflecting on the edited volume to hand, this section then points towards a series of potential future research directions in the context of narrative work with children and young people. Narrative approaches frequently require a significant time commitment from both researchers and participants. Engaging narrative approaches often necessitates multiple engagements with research participants to build rapport, trust and develop rich understandings of the stories told. This can be limiting and may constrain the ‘where’ of the research and is exemplified in the volume to hand through the lack of voice from the Global South (Majority World) in particular. This is certainly not a new critique, with qualitative approaches often accused of anglocentricism, whereby the majority of research contributions on a particular theme represent the Global North (Minority

420

L. Moran et al.

(and often English speaking) World) (Denzin and Giardina 2012). With Ansell (2005) describing children and young people as the world’s largest marginalised minority group, positioning the voices of Global South children and young people within this population, creates an even greater disparity and ultimately silences the storied lives of this diverse group. Therefore to enhance our understanding of the everyday lived experiences of children and young people in the Global South, there is certainly scope for further research with this group. There are some recent examples of transdisciplinary research with children and young people globally (Mitchell and Moore 2018); however, there appears to be a paucity of transdisciplinary work with young people in the Majority World. This represents an important opportunity for narrative scholars across disciplines to engage with children’s realities in these regions, identifying areas of confluence and convergence in how they are represented in various scholarly disciplines, compared to how they frame the world through discourse, story, silences and everyday talk. This also raises ethical questions on how we, as researchers, ‘do’ narrative research. What is clear from the diverse contributions throughout this volume is that the corpus of literature on ethics in qualitative research (generally) and in narrative inquiry in particular, is vast. However, elements of narrative interviewing techniques (including pressing for further narrative or stories about certain events), have potentially damaging emotional implications for children and young people who may be required to re-live past trauma, even when ethical safeguards are in place. This requires further scrutiny and consideration from narrative scholars. Furthermore, there is sparse literature on what happens to children and young people in the aftermath of narrative interviews taking place, questioning the impact of re-living and retelling emotionally traumatic events on the well-being of young people. More critical commentaries on these issues would greatly enhance qualitative research literature (generally) and improve existing critical understandings of narrative research with children and young people. What also emerges from this collection is the role of technology in supporting narrative approaches to research (Hall et al., this volume; Phoenix, this volume). Once again, the incorporation of technology is characterised by diversity, as technology becomes both a supporting tool

17 Concluding Comments: Challenges, Opportunities, and Future …

421

and an agentic one. There are a number of avenues requiring further inquiry in this instance. Firstly, there is an opportunity to reflect on how technology is being used in narrative research. For example, it can be used to supplement and support the development of children and young people’s stories, but can also be an agent of creation in such stories. Secondly, there is an opportunity to (re)consider the relationship between narrative inquiry and technology, providing a reflection on how narrative approaches have adapted to incorporate technology in facilitating storytelling. By extension then, finally, there is a need to consider how technology, as either a storytelling support or facilitator, might also prioritise certain perspectives over others, and in doing so ultimately silence some voices. Such discussion is, of course, also framed by issues of equity and access, with not all children and young people having access to such technological innovations. The all-encompassing capacities then of narrative inquiry can at once represent an opportunity and a challenge for researchers. The fact that narrative has the capacity to transcend difference is surely a strength of the approach, in that it acknowledges diversity, does not assume homogeneity and can sustain multiple lines of inquiry across cohorts of children and young people over time. That said, the fact that there remains no strict blueprint as to what constitutes narrative inquiry can be both a help and a hindrance to researchers using the approach. On the one hand, narrative inquiry provides flexibility and durability, allowing researchers to engage multiple research designs. On the other hand, accusations around a lack of rigour in both research design and approach might also lead to charges of cherry-picking or might deter researchers from engaging the approach entirely. When considered collectively, contributions to this volume highlight the capacity of narrative research approaches in providing opportunities to acknowledge, engage and analyse the complexity of children and young people’s lives, generating insight on the everyday experiences of often marginalised cohorts, whose stories might otherwise remain untold (particularly if using more structured research approaches). In doing so, narrative approaches make space to recognise the diversities inherent to the lived realities of growing-up, providing a mechanism to incorporate

422

L. Moran et al.

varied contexts but also multiple timeframes (past and present experiences as well as future aspirations). Throughout the volume’s chapters, contributions engage a broad range of research methods, demonstrating the multifarious manifestations of what it means to ‘do’ contemporary narrative research. As an approach, narrative inquiry prioritises the voice of the child or the young person, making no assumptions and allowing the young person to hold the balance of power in telling or retelling stories, but also in allowing some stories to remain untold. Considering the inherent flexibility of narrative approaches, coupled with the approach’s capacity to adapt across contexts, to engage new methodologies (including technological advances), and with its ability to understand nuance within everyday life, narrative inquiry presents an enduring analytical framework for exploring the lives of children and young people.

References Andrews, M. (2007). Shaping History: Narratives of Political Change. New York: Cambridge University Press. Andrews, M. (2012a). Unexpecting Age. Journal of Aging Studies, 26, 386–393. Andrews, M. (2012b). Learning from Stories, Stories of Learning. In I. Goodson, A. Loveless, & D. Stephens (Eds.), Explorations in Narrative Research (pp. 33–42). Rotterdam, Boston and Taipei: Sense Publishers. Andrews, M. (2014). Narrative Imagination and Everyday Life. New York: Oxford University Press. Ansell, N. (2005). Children, Youth, and Development. London, UK and New York, NY: Routledge Perspectives on Development, Routledge. Atkinson, C. (2019). Ethical Complexities in Participatory Childhood Research: Rethinking the ‘Least Adult’ Role. Childhood, 26 (2), 186–201. Bamberg, M. (2006). Stories: Big or Small: Why Do We Care? Narrative Inquiry, 16 (1), 139–147. Bamberg, M., & Georgakopoulou, A. (2008). Small Stories as a New Perspective in Narrative and Identity Analysis. Talk & Text, 28(3), 377–396. Biehal, N. (2014). A Sense of Belonging: Meanings of Family and Home in Long-Term Foster Care. British Journal of Social Work, 44, 955–971.

17 Concluding Comments: Challenges, Opportunities, and Future …

423

Blaise, M. (2016). Fabricated Childhoods: Uncanny Encounters with the More-Than-Human. Discourse: Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education, 37 (5), 617–626. https://doi.org/10.1080/01596306.2015.1075697. Blaise, M., & Rooney, T. (2020). Listening to and Telling a Rush of Unruly Nature Culture Gender Stories. In F. Nxumalo & C. Brown (Eds.), Disrupting and Countering Deficits in Early Childhood Education (pp. 151–163). New York, NY: Routledge. Brady, B., Forkan, C., & Moran, L. (2018). Spaces of Connection and Belonging: Young People’s Perspectives on the Role of Youth Cafes in Their Lives. Child Care in Practice, 24 (4), 390–401. Bryman, A. (2008). Social Research Methods (3rd ed.). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Byrne, G. (2017). Narrative Inquiry and the Problem of Representation: ‘Giving Voice’ Making Meaning. International Journal of Research & Method in Education, 40 (1), 36–52. Chamberlayne, P., & King, A. (2000). Cultures of Care: Biographies of Carers in Britain and the Two Germanies. Bristol: The Policy Press. Chase, S. E. (2005). Narrative Inquiry: Multiple Lenses, Approaches, Voices. In N. Denzin & Y. Lincoln (Eds.), The Sage Handbook of Qualitative Research (pp. 651–679). London, New Delhi, and Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Christensen, P., Hadfield-Hill, S., Horton, J., & Kraftl, P. (2017). Children Living in Sustainable Built Environments. London: Routledge. Christensen, P., & Prout, A. (2002). Working with Ethical Symmetry in Social Research with Children. Childhood, 9 (4), 477–497. Clandinan, D. J., Caine, V., Lessard, S., & Huber, J. (2016). Engaging in Narrative Inquiries with Children and Youth. New York and London: Routledge. Clandinan, D. J., & Connelly, F. (2000). Narrative Inquiry: Experience and Story in Narrative Research. San Francisco: Jossey Bass. Clarke, A., Burgess, G., Morris, S., & Udagawa, C. (2015). Estimating the Scale of Youth Homelessness in the UK . Cambridge: Cambridge Centre for Housing and Planning Research, Cambridge University. Crow, G. (2008). Thinking About Families and Communities over Time. In R. Edwards (Ed.), Researching Families and Communities: Social and Generational Change (pp. 11–24). Abingdon: Routledge. Crow, G., & Maclean, C. (2006). Community. In G. Payne (Ed.), Social Divisions (pp. 305–324). Basingstoke: Palgrave. Denzin, N., & Giardina, M. (2012). (Eds.). Global Dimensions of Qualitative Inquiry. New York: Routledge.

424

L. Moran et al.

Edwards, A. (2009). Relational Agency in Collaborations for the Wellbeing of Children and Young People. Journal of Children’s Services, 4 (1), 33–43. European Network for Rural Development. (2018). Making Rural Areas More Attractive for Young People. Downloaded via https://enrd.ec.europa.eu/sites/ enrd/files/w27_rural-youth_meeting-highlights.pdf. Last accessed 15 June 2020. Eurostat. (2020). Unemployment Statistics: Monthly Data. Downloaded via https://ec.europa.eu/eurostat/statistics-explained/index.php/Unemploym ent_statistics. Last accessed 15 June 2020. Gilligan, R. (2008). Promoting Resilience in Young People in Long Term Care—The Relevance of Roles and Relationships in the Domains of Recreation and Work. Journal of Social Work Practice, 22(1), 37–50. Harris, A., & Wyn, J. (2009). Young People’s Politics and the Micro-Territories of the Local. Australian Journal of Political Science, 44 (2), 327–344. Holloway, I., & Freshwater, D. (2007). Narrative Research in Nursing. Oxford, Malden, MA and Melbourne, VIC, Australia: Blackwell. Hopkins, P. (2010). Young People, Place and Identity. London and New York: Routledge. Hydén, M. (2013). Narrating Sensitive Topics. In M. Andrews, C. Squire, & M. Tamboukou (Eds.), Doing Narrative Research (pp. 223–239). London, Thousand Oaks, New Delhi and Singapore: Sage. Kallio, K. P. (2016). Living Together in the Topological Home. Space and Culture, 19 (4), 373–389. https://doi.org/10.1177/1206331216631290. Karlsson, L. (2008). Turning the Kaleidoscope: E-FL Educational Experience and Inquiry as (Auto)-Biography. Helsinki: University of Helsinki. Latimer, J., & Munro, R. (2009). Keeping & Dwelling: Relational Extension, the Idea of Home and Otherness. Space and Culture, 12(3), 317–331. Mitchell, R., & Moore, S. (2018). Trans-disciplinary Child and Youth Studies: Critical Praxis, Global Perspectives. World Futures: The Journal of New Paradigm Research, 7 (8), 450–470. Nolas, S. M. (2014). Exploring Young People and Youth Workers’ Experiences of Spaces for Youth Development: Creating Cultures of Participation. Journal of Youth Studies. https://doi.org/10.1080/13676261.2013.793789. O’Grady, G., Clandinan, D., & O’Toole, J. (2018). Engaging in Educational Narrative Inquiry: Making Visible Alternative Knowledge. Irish Educational Studies, 37 (2), 153–157. Orrmalm, A. (2020). Culture by Babies: Imagining Everyday Material Culture Through Babies Engagement with Socks. Childhood, 27 (1), 93–105. https://doi.org/10.1177/0907568219881676.

17 Concluding Comments: Challenges, Opportunities, and Future …

425

Outley, C., Bocarro, J., & Boleman, C. (2011). Recreation as a Component of the Community Youth Development System. New Directions for Youth Development, 130, 59–72. https://doi.org/10.1002/yd.397. Punch, S. (2002). Research with Children: The Same or Different from Research with Adults. Childhood, 9 (3), 321–341. Puroila, A. M. (2013). Young Children on the Stages: Small Stories Performed in Day Care Centres. Narrative Inquiry, 23(2), 323–343. Reynolds, T., & Zontini, E. (2015). Transnational and Diasporic Youth Identities: Exploring Conceptual Themes and Future Research Agendas. Identities, 23(4), 379–391. Riessman, C. K. (2002). Doing Justice: Positioning the Interpreter in Narrative Work. In W. Patterson (Ed.), Strategic Narrative: New Perspectives on the Power of Personal and Cultural Storytelling (pp. 195–216). Lanham, MA and Oxford, UK: Lexington Books. Riessman, C. (2008). Narrative Methods for the Human Sciences. Los Angeles, London, New Delhi and Singapore: Sage. Riessman, C. (2013). Concluding Comments. In M. Andrews, C. Squire, & M. Tamboukou (Eds.), Doing Narrative Research (pp. 255–260). London, Thousand Oaks, New Delhi and Singapore: Sage. Riessman, C., & Quinney, L. (2005). Narrative in Social Work: A Critical Review. Qualitative Social Work, 4 (4), 391–412. Rustin, M. (2000). Reflections on the Biographical Turn in Social Science. In P. Chamberlayne, J. Bornat, & T. Wengraf (Eds.), The Turn to Biographical Methods in Social Science (pp. 33–52). London: Routledge. Spyrou, S. (2016). Researching Children’s Silences: Exploring the Fullness of Voice in Childhood Research. Childhood, 23(1), 7–21. https://doi.org/10. 1177/0907568215571618. Squire, C., Andrews, M., & Tamboukou, M. (2013). What Is Narrative Inquiry? In M. Andrews, C. Squire, & M. Tamboukou (Eds.), Doing Narrative Inquiry (pp. 1–26). London, Thousand Oaks, New Delhi and Singapore: Sage. Tamboukou, M. (2008). Reimagining the Narratable Subject. Qualitative Research, 8(3), 283–292. Thompson, N. (2003). Promoting Equality: Challenging Discrimination and Oppression. London: Palgrave. Wengraf, T. (2011). Interviewing for Life Histories, Lived Situations and On-going Personal Experiences Using the Biographical Narrative Interpretive Method (BNIM). Downloaded via https://is.muni.cz/el/1423/podzim2014/ SOC932/um/Wengraf_manual.pdf. Last accessed 7 May 2020.

426

L. Moran et al.

Wengraf, T. (2004). The Biographic Narrative Interpretive Method: Short Guide November 2004 (NCRM Working Paper). Downloaded via http://eprints. ncrm.ac.uk/30/. Last accessed 27 May 2020. Wengraf, T. (2001). Qualitative Research Interviewing: Biographic Narrative and Semi-Structured Methods. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Index

A

Abuse 356, 357, 361–368, 370, 371, 382, 386, 387 Access 137–140, 152 Accounts 308–310, 313, 315–320, 324 Active 18, 151, 154, 155 Active Listener 358 Activities 133, 134, 136, 137, 141–144, 147–156, 168–171, 173–183, 330, 346 Addiction 16 Adolescence 118, 119, 124 Adolescents 116–119, 122, 123, 128 Adult 134, 136–138, 141, 152, 154, 156, 157, 355, 356, 360, 361, 368 Adult-centric 5, 12 Adulthood 152, 153, 362, 370 ‘Adultist’ orientations 385

Advocacy 379–381, 385, 386, 391–394, 396 Agency 18, 21, 23, 233, 239, 240, 242, 244–247, 250, 252, 332, 334, 336, 346, 377–379, 385, 386, 389, 396 Agriculture 4 Alcohol issues 382, 390 Alienation 164 Analysis 379, 383, 385, 388, 394, 407, 413, 418 Andhra Pradesh 22, 320, 325 Andrews, Molly 8, 9, 308, 317, 320 Anglocentricism 419 Animals 314, 315 Ansell, Nicola 189, 191, 197, 204 Anxiety 39, 43, 383 Appraisive model 196 Areas 340, 347 Arendt, Hannah 136, 143

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 L. Moran et al. (eds.), Narrating Childhood with Children and Young People, Studies in Childhood and Youth, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-55647-1

427

428

Index

Artistry 7 Assent 387 Asylum seeker 114 Atlantic Canada 163 Attachment 389 Attachment disruption 382 Australia 377, 379, 383, 386–388, 393 Autonomy 37, 48–50, 54, 412

B

Baby room 19, 216, 224 Ballyhaunis, Co Mayo 114 Bamberg, M. 8, 9, 309 Barriers 134, 135, 357, 361, 362, 367, 415 Becoming(s) 5, 283 Beings 283 Belonging 6, 9, 14, 37, 40, 44, 45, 48, 49, 54, 113, 120–124, 128, 174, 175 Bible 127 Biehal, Nina 22 ‘Big stories’ 8, 9, 309, 324, 410 Biographical 353, 362 Biographical Data Chronology 359 Biographical research 91 Biographic Data Analysis (BDA) 360 Biographic Narrative Interpretive Method (BNIM) 22, 23 Biography 2, 37, 52 biographical 37, 40–42, 53, 55 Blair, Brooke 311–313, 315, 320–322, 324, 325 Blame 362 Blog 4 Blogging 414 Blog site methodologies 115

Boddy, Janet 320, 321, 325 Body mapping 168 Bond Stockton, Kathryn 17, 98 Boundaries 416 Boundary making 415 Boundary renegotiation 415 Brady, Bernadine 5 1958 British Birth Cohort Study 284 Brown, Ann 258 Bruner, Jerome 262–265, 269, 271, 277, 307, 312, 313, 381 Bryman, Alan 409, 410 Bullying 47 Byrne, Anne 7

C

Cadets 143 Camera 111, 115, 128, 311, 315, 321, 324 Canada 17, 18, 383 Cardiff 339 Care 15, 16, 386, 387, 389, 393, 395 caregiving 68, 81 care placements 44, 45 carer 78, 80 foster care 43–45 State care 45 young carers 63–65, 67, 70–83 Caribbean 21, 310, 316–318 Catharsis 355 Cathartic 11 Centre for Narrative Research 309, 315 Chamberlayne, Prue 7 Change 380, 381, 385, 386, 390, 391, 393, 413

Index

Character 2, 7, 8 Chat 341–343, 345, 346 Child and family welfare 378, 382, 383, 385 Child and youth studies 3 Childcare 4, 284, 286, 288, 289, 292–296, 298, 300, 301 Child-centred 5 Childhood 5, 11, 16, 21, 22, 152, 153, 287, 288, 291, 295, 298, 302, 308–310, 315–318, 320, 323–325, 354–357, 359–371 Childhood trauma 382 Child protection 359, 361, 362, 368 Children 2–7, 9–14, 16, 19–23, 283–297, 299–302, 308–311, 313, 316, 319, 320, 322–325 Children’s fiction 287 Children’s Geographies 5 Children’s rights 5, 23 Children’s voices 3, 12, 13, 22, 23 Children’s writing 285–287, 289, 291 Child Sexual Abuse (CSA) 11, 22, 23, 358, 359, 362, 371 Chinese New Year 216, 224, 231, 232 Christianity 127 Citizen 133–135, 137, 157 Citizenship 137, 149, 155, 415 City 333, 337, 338 Civic engagement 166, 415 Clandinin, D.J. 2, 7, 10, 11, 262 Class 290–293, 331, 332, 337, 341, 342, 347 Climate 238, 240, 243, 244, 246–251, 411, 416 Climate action 243, 244, 248, 250–252

429

Climate Action Film 417 Co-construction 311, 315 Co-constructor 15 Co-creation 379, 381, 382 Coding 290, 302 Coding scheme 42 Collaborate 379, 389, 394 Collaboration 386, 391 Collaborative design 258, 260, 262, 265, 268, 271 Collective activities 342 College 134, 138, 139 Colonization 163 Community engagement 144 Community group 148 Community(ies) 3, 14, 17, 18, 22, 113, 119–125, 133–138, 140–151, 154–157, 164, 166–168, 170, 171, 173–176, 178–180, 182, 183, 205 Community mapping 168 Community services 183 Community structure 164, 183 Competence 68, 73, 267 Competent Human Beings 379 Complex 5, 11–15, 23 Complexity 7, 11, 13, 14, 18, 21, 22, 313, 320 Complex trauma 382, 383, 393 Concentration 383 ‘Conditions of possibility’ 311, 315 Conduits 409 Confidentiality 245, 368 Connectedness 15 Connection 164, 166, 172, 174–176, 178–180, 182, 183 Connelly, Michael 2, 10, 11 Consent 387 Construction 52, 54

430

Index

Constructivism 380 Context 2–5, 8, 12, 13, 16, 20 Continuity 164, 166, 183, 413 Contradiction 173–175 Contribution 136, 144, 148, 156 Control 380 Corbally, Melissa 11 Corbin, Juliet 381 Cork, Ireland 40 Corporeal 11, 12 Creative 10, 11, 13, 14 Creativity 125, 126, 394 Cresswell, Tim 191, 200 Cross national 396 Cross national research 396 Crow, Graham 414 Cultural continuity 164, 166, 183 Cultural genocide 165 Cultural studies 88 Culture 18, 164–166, 170, 172–174, 178–182, 385, 395 Curriculum design 243 Curriculum framework 231–233

D

Dalhousie University 167 Dance 382, 390 Darlene Wall 167 Data collection 379, 383–385, 389–392, 394, 396, 407 Death 8, 333 Decolonization 168 Demographic data 361 Denzin, Norman 420 Depression 383 Designative model 196 Design-Based Implementation Research (DBIR) 259

Design-Based Research (DBR) 245, 259, 260, 265 Development 4, 5, 8, 16, 18, 63, 65, 68, 69, 163, 379, 389 Difference 1, 3, 5, 19 Digital 111, 128 Digital narratives 238 Digital storytelling 6, 20, 238–240, 243, 244, 249, 252 Disability 16, 73, 74, 76, 77 Disciplines 3, 4, 14, 23 Disclosure 354–357, 360–362, 364, 367–369, 371 Disclosure Barring Service (DBS) 139 Disconnect 169, 178, 182 Discourse 16, 18, 19, 410, 414, 415, 418, 420 Discourse Analysis 140, 407 Discourse of risk 232 Discursive 7, 12, 13 ‘Discursive legitimacy’ 136, 155 Discursive formations 313 Disengagement 165, 177, 178 Dislocation 164 Dissemination 378–381, 385, 388, 389, 392, 394 Distal 276 Diversity 3, 9, 19, 214–216, 218–224, 231–233 Division of labour 293, 294 Divorce 313 Documentation 90, 91, 104 ‘Doing gender’ 291 ‘Doing nothing’ 134, 154 ‘Doing something’ 154 Domestic/domesticity 284, 285, 289, 290, 292–296, 298–301 Domestic division of labour 294

Index

Domestic tasks 293, 301 Domestic violence 43 Domestic work 284, 289, 292, 293, 295, 298, 300, 301 Do nothing 18 Doreen Davis-Ward 167, 183 Do something 18 Drug issues 382, 390 Drumming 382 Duality 173, 174 Dublin, Ireland 39, 40 Duty of Care 387, 392, 393

E

Early childhood 5, 19, 21, 213–215, 217, 219–222, 231, 233, 234 Early Childhood Education and Care (ECEC) 411 Early Years 19 Early Years Foundation Stage Curriculum (EYFSC) 214 Ecologies 164, 168 Economically marginalised 414 Economic migrants 114 Economic-rationalist 394 Education 3, 4, 16, 19 Educational design research (EDR) 259–262, 266, 276 Educational experience 268 formal 258 informal 258 Elliott, Jane 20, 21, 289, 290, 292, 302 Embodied Knowledge 7 Emotion 11, 15, 22 Emotional abuse 382 Emotional intelligence 389, 391, 394

431

Empowerment 377, 379–381, 385, 392, 393, 396 Enfranchisement 133, 136, 137 Engagement 134–136, 141, 143, 144, 146–148, 153–155, 157, 158, 164–166, 169, 170, 173, 179–183 England 22, 331, 336–338, 343 Entanglements 224, 231–234 Entertainment 169, 174, 175, 180 Environment 2, 4, 12, 15, 20, 310, 320, 321, 323, 325 built 191, 197, 199, 200 perception 191 risk 191, 197 Episodes 9, 10, 22 Episodic 10, 248 Erikson, Erik 118, 119 ESRC National Centre for Research Methods NOVELLA Node 320 Essays 3, 20, 21, 284, 285, 288–291, 293, 295, 296, 298, 300–302 Essay writing 284 Etherington, Kim 11, 112, 113 Ethical considerations 12 Ethical responsibilities 368 Ethics 6, 23, 114, 117, 167, 337, 360 Ethnic 310, 316, 318 Ethnically different 310, 316, 318 Ethnic identity 120 Ethnography 140 ethnographic 17, 89, 104 Euclidean maps 412 European Social Research Council (ESRC) 133, 316, 320 Events 6, 7, 9, 10, 19, 23 Everyday 3, 9–12, 14, 22, 23, 90, 96

432

Index

Everyday activities 137, 155 Everyday Life 2, 6, 8 Exclusion 3, 5, 6, 163, 318 Expectations 285, 286, 292, 302 Experience 2–7, 10–19, 21–23, 330–338, 340, 342–347 Experiential social selves 335 Expertise 168, 224, 243, 261 Experts 396 Exploitation 378 Extra-curricular activities 143, 149, 150 Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) 382

Flanagan, Constance 134–136, 142, 143, 146, 147, 149, 155, 157 Flexibility 22 Fluidity 405 Focus group 114, 116, 120, 134, 138, 140, 142, 149, 151, 152, 168, 182 Formal community structure 164 Free-narrative 355, 357, 365 Freud, Sigmund 308, 382 Friendships 147, 410, 414 Functions 381 Fundamental British Values (2014) 19, 217, 218, 222 Future imaginaries 408, 409

F

Familial geographies 345 Family circumstances 16 Family composition 294 Family(ies) 36, 37, 39, 41–45, 51–53, 55, 56, 164, 167, 284, 287, 290–297, 300, 301, 310, 316, 320, 321, 323, 325 Family Lives and the Environment study 320 Family structure 290, 291 Family therapy 383–385 Family violence 23, 382–384, 387, 390, 391, 393 Feminism 284, 287 Feminist new materialism 223 Feminist researchers 96 Fiction 287 Film 244–250, 252, 414, 417 film-making 238–240, 243, 244, 251, 252 Finch, Janet 323 Finland 22, 331, 336–338, 343

G

Gatekeeper 139, 140 Gatekeeping 387 Gender 1, 4, 21, 287, 289–293, 302, 331, 332, 347, 385, 392, 395, 408, 415, 417 Generational relations 312 Genocide 165 Geography 3, 330, 347 ‘Geosocial life’ 330 Geosocial/geosocialities 334 Geo-visualisation 6 Gestalt 355, 369 Giddens, Anthony 15 Girls 284–287, 290–296, 298–302 Giving voice 5, 12 Globalisation 329, 334 Global South 419, 420 Global warming 322 Governance 183 Grandparents 176, 179, 180

Index

Greater Manchester Youth Assembly 137 Greece 345, 346 Green, Lorraine 10, 11 Growing sideways 87, 98, 104 Growing-up 191, 201, 202 Growing up in the Ballyhaunis Muslim Community Blog Site 116 Gubrium, A. 313

433

‘Household work’ 293 Hughes, TJ 17, 19 Hull 339, 343, 346 Human 8 Human agency 330, 331 Humanistic 7 Human rights 347, 379 Hyderabad, India 322

I H

Hall, Tony 20 ‘Hanging out’ 119, 120, 124, 169 Haraway, Donna 19, 216, 221–224, 231–233 Harm 365, 370 Harragan, Aimee 17, 18, 407, 408, 410, 415, 419 Health Research Ethics Authority (HREA) of Newfoundland & Labrador (NL) 167 Health sciences 2 Hertfordshire 339 Heteroglossia 21 Hierarchies 5, 12, 13 Histories 395 Holloway, Sarah 192, 195 Home 3, 15, 16, 21, 36–41, 43–49, 51–55, 190, 195, 197–199 Homeless 311, 312 Homelessness 15, 16, 21, 35–41, 43, 44, 46, 49, 52–56 youth homelessness 37, 40, 56 Homeless young people 14 Home-making 286 House 49 housing 36, 38, 40, 42, 49, 50

Identification 113, 114, 118, 120, 124 Identity 9, 14–16, 22, 64, 65, 68–70, 78, 80, 81, 112, 113, 115–128, 287, 312, 315, 319, 331, 332, 347 Identity development 111, 112, 117–120, 123, 124, 128 Identity work 150 Ideology 23 Illness 16, 313 Image-based method 164 Images 111, 115, 119, 126, 128 ‘Imagined future’ 284, 287–290, 302 Imprisonment 333 Inclusion 3, 5, 6, 23, 379, 381, 385, 386, 389, 392–394, 396 Independence 39, 48, 50, 51, 54 India 22 Indigenous 14, 18 Indigenous community 167 Indigenous resilience 171 Indigenous resilience research 164 Individual 168, 169, 406 Individuality 120 Infertility 313 Informal activities 155

434

Index

Informal community structure 164 Informed consent 361 Infrastructuring 260 Insider 15, 17 Institutions 19, 347, 348 Interactive learning 261, 268 Interactive museum exhibition 268, 269 Interdisciplinary 87, 89, 98, 329, 347 Intergenerational disconnect 178 International Association for Outcome-Based Evaluation and Research, iaOBERfcs 378 International Federation of Social Workers [IFSW] 379, 380, 387 Internet 116, 117, 119, 126 Inter-personal 357, 361 Interpersonal Communication 394 Interpersonal skills 411 Interpretation 407, 408 Intersubjective 331, 333, 335 ‘Intersubjective geo-socialisation’ 333 Intersubjective knowledge 347 Interview 39, 41–43, 49, 56, 134, 138–140, 142, 149, 311, 316, 320, 321, 323–325, 337, 338, 341, 342, 344 life history interview 41 Interviews 9, 21, 114, 116, 119, 120, 384 Intimacies 16 Intonation 10 Involvement 379, 380, 388 Ireland 37, 56, 113, 114, 126–128, 260, 266–268, 354, 360, 362, 363 Islam 127

Isolation 73 Italy 396

J

Janice Ikeda 167 Japan 285 Jenkins, Richard 113 Job 292, 294, 297 Junior Canadian Rangers (JCR) 170

K

Kaleidoscopic 407 Kallio, Kirsi Paulina 330, 332, 333, 336, 344, 346 Kellett, Mary 378–381, 386–388, 393, 394 Kenya 68 King, Annette 7 Knowing 168 Knowledge 6, 8, 11, 12, 237, 241, 336, 338, 340, 344, 345, 347 Knowledge in practice 240 Knowledge sharing 409

L

Land 164, 166, 183 Landscape 173, 179 Language 385, 395 Layer 8, 331, 346 Learning ecosystem 241, 268 Learning environments 258 Learning problems 383 Leeds 339 Leisure 17 Life 1, 2, 7–11, 15, 18, 20–23 Life choices 294

Index

Life mapping 338, 346 Life narratives 313 Life stories 116 Limbo 136, 150, 152–154, 156 Liminality 134, 136, 137, 152, 156, 190 Limitations 7 Linda Liebenberg 167 Linguistic 10, 11 Listener 2, 10 Listening 12, 13, 17 Lived realities 13, 14, 20, 22 Local 133, 134, 136, 139, 141–145, 148–156, 334 Local environment 322, 323 Local practices 334 Local recreational resources 183 London 339 Longitudinal 40–42, 52, 55 Longitudinal life story 412 Longitudinal study 290 Lundy, Laura 3 Lynch, Kevin 196

M

Majority World 419, 420 Manchester 133, 134, 137, 138 Map 6 Mapping 4, 22, 321–323 Marginal 41, 140, 150, 168, 189, 215, 243, 247, 251, 262, 391, 420, 421 Marginalization 21, 22, 134, 156, 163, 164, 383, 395 Mass Observation 288 Masten, Ann 65, 66, 82 Materiality 307, 309, 316 Matthews, Hugh 189, 191, 196

435

Maturation 385, 390 Maturity 70, 71, 76, 79 Mayall, Berry 4 Mayock, Paula 15, 16, 35, 36, 41 May, Theresa 311, 312 McGarry, Orla 113–117, 119–122, 124, 127 McGrath, Brian 113, 114, 116, 117, 119–121 McNamara, Patricia 418, 419 McRobbie, Angela 95 Meanings 8–11, 13, 16, 17, 23, 320, 325 Melbourne 378, 383, 385, 386, 389 Membership 120, 123 Memories 368 Mental health 16, 42, 69, 77, 164, 182, 391, 393 Mental health difficulties 382 Mental mapping 195, 196, 330, 336 Method(s) 2–6, 9, 11, 14, 18, 21, 167, 168, 285, 289, 291, 307–309, 316, 320, 323–325 Micro-level 406 Migrant(s) 13, 114 Migration 414 Mind mapping 414 Minority World 419 Mixed method 407, 410 Mobility 190, 192, 193, 196–198, 200–203 Monitoring 390 Monitoring bodies 386 Mooney, Joseph 355, 361 Moran, Lisa 22 Morrow, Virginia 20, 21, 289, 290, 292, 301 Motherhood 284, 286 Motivation 308

436

Index

Mouffe, Chantal 136, 143, 160 Multidimensionality 3, 8, 38 Multi-method 114, 116, 117, 407 Multimodal narratives 266 Multi-ontological design 273 Munford, Robyn 380, 381 Muslim 113, 114, 119–121, 127, 128

N

Narrate 1, 2, 9, 13, 14, 17 Narration 9–12, 14, 15, 17, 21 Narrative 112–128, 284–287, 290, 299, 300, 307–313, 315–325 Narrative analysis 309, 311, 313, 316 Narrative approaches 2, 22 Narrative inquiry 2–4, 7–9, 13, 15, 17, 19, 22, 23, 112 ‘Narratives in interaction’ 324 Narrative work 381 National Child Development Study (NCDS) 20, 21, 284 Neglect 382, 387 Neo liberal reform 266 ‘Netnographic’ 117 Netnography 414 Networks 410, 411, 414 Newcastle 339 New Labour 63 New York 384 New Zealand 383 Next Generation Science Standards (NGSS) 240 NL English School District School Board 167 Nolas, Sevasti Melissa 411, 414 Non-human 8

Non-interruption 355, 372 Non-normative 310, 316 Non-participation 133, 134, 137, 142, 153, 154 Non-structured 124–126 Normal 68, 77, 82 normative 64, 66, 74, 82, 313, 316, 318 Norms 285 Northern Ireland 16, 71 Nostalgia 298, 299 ‘Nothingness’ 152 Nuance 422 NunatuKavut 167 NunatuKavut Community Council 167 NVivo 142

O

Observation 169 Ofsted 219 O’Grady, Grace 4, 11, 262 Online 310 Online creativity 126 Online gaming 151 Online Platforms 3, 21 Ontological 273, 276, 278, 309 Ontological security 15, 37, 38, 53 Oppression 395 Oral history(ies) 2, 284 Ordinary 6, 14, 23 Osgood, Jayne 19, 214, 215, 232 O’Toole, Jacqueline 262 Outcomes 163, 165, 166, 170, 182 Outdoor activities 169, 171, 172, 174–177 Outsider 15, 17

Index

P

Paid work 292 Pakistani 114 Panel analysis 22, 354, 358, 359, 372 Parental separation 23 Parentification 68, 80 Parents 169, 176, 179, 180, 182 Parker, Sarah 15, 16, 56 Participant 6, 9–11, 15, 17, 23 Participation 3, 5, 14, 18, 21, 23, 133–136, 140, 143, 145–148, 151, 154, 155, 157, 158, 379–381, 385, 386, 389, 391–394, 396 Participatory 343 Participatory Action Research (PAR) 18, 164 Participatory learning 193 Participatory projects 343 Peace, Adrian 12 Pedagogy 19, 20, 89, 220, 266, 273 Pedagogy/pedagogical practice 213 Peer support 410 Pegasus 91, 92, 94 People 4, 6, 8, 9, 11, 13, 15, 18, 19, 22–24 Performance 127 Performers 409 Personal 6, 7, 10, 22 Personal capacities 164, 165 Personal development 125, 128, 147 PhD 359, 360 Phenomenology 381 Phoenix, Ann 8, 10, 12, 21, 22 Phone 111, 115, 122 Photographs 17, 19, 167, 168 Photography 414 Physical 2, 12, 14, 17, 18, 22

437

Physical abuse 382 Physical landscape 165 Physical objects 17 Physical resources 180, 183 Piaget, Jean 308 Place 2, 4–6, 8, 11, 13, 15–19, 22, 134, 136, 137, 142, 150, 151, 156, 323 Place-based method 330 Places and Spaces of Childhood in Ireland Project 19, 190, 192 Poetry 20, 264, 272 digital poetry 268, 271 Police Community Support Officers 153 Polis 333–335, 345 Political 134–137, 140–144, 148, 153, 155, 157, 158, 311–314, 320, 322, 324, 325 Political agency 331, 332, 346 ‘Political in-betweenness’ 136 Political layer 346 Political presence 330, 336 Political speech 312 Polkinghorne, Donald 394 Polyphonic 8 Portal 2, 3, 11 Port Hope Simpson 167, 173 Positioned subject 313, 338 Postmodernism 5, 7, 380 Poststructuralist theory 5 Poverty 163, 164, 382 Power 5, 7, 10–13, 22, 65–67, 82, 141, 146, 157, 312, 313, 315, 321, 357, 358, 360–362, 367–371, 380, 385, 388, 392, 394 Powerless 312 Precarious 39, 46, 54, 55

438

Index

Prevent Duty (2015) 19, 216–218, 222, 224, 232 Prime Minister 311–313, 321 Principles 20, 23, 168, 193, 274, 310, 379, 393, 396 Proximal 276 Pseudonym 139 Psychodynamic 7 Psycho-social 7 Psychosocial outcomes 164, 165 Psychotherapy 382, 383 Public space 151, 153 Punch, Samantha 13

Q

Qualitative 5, 15, 19, 22, 39, 40, 42, 52 Qualitative methodology 190 Quantitative 301 Queer queer temporalities 93, 98, 104, 413 queer theory 98 Quinney, Lee 407, 408 Qur’an 127

R

Race 331, 332, 347, 415 Racial identity 332 Racialized identity 318 ‘Real citizen’ 135 Recreation 17, 117–120, 122–124, 126, 128 Recreational activities 118, 120, 123, 126 Recreational spaces 15, 17 Recruitment 385, 388

Reenacting belonging 123 Reflection 390, 396 Reflective elicitation narrative methods 167 Reggio Approach 278 Reilly, Kathy 17, 19, 193, 194 Relational 136, 142, 143, 145, 146, 148–150, 156 Relational resources 164, 165 Relations 311, 319 Relationships 13, 15, 16, 18, 21, 22, 37, 39, 42–44, 46, 50–54, 292, 408, 411–415, 418, 421 Religion 214–216, 219 Religious communities 17, 415 Representation 21 Republic of Ireland 15, 17, 193 Research 164, 166, 168, 169, 171, 182–184 Research design 368, 369, 379, 385, 407, 416, 419, 421 Research dissemination 139 Researcher(s) 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 12, 15, 18, 300, 310, 325, 336–338, 341 Resilience 16, 18, 64–70, 74, 75, 78, 81–83, 164–166, 170, 182, 183 Resources 166, 171, 175, 182, 183 Respect 379 Responsibility 79, 80 Re-traumatisation 368 Retrospective accounts 315–318, 320 Retrospective meanings 324 Rhetoric 10 Riessman, Catherine Kohler 2, 7, 9, 10, 307, 308, 312, 313, 316, 317, 320, 407

Index

Rights-based 23, 381, 386, 389, 390, 392, 393, 395, 396 Rights-based framework 379, 385 Rights-based narrative research 378, 381, 394, 395 Risk 16, 17, 19, 23, 63–68, 70, 74, 81–83, 190, 192, 198–200, 203 Rituals 121 Romance 286 Routes 340 Rural youth 14 Rustin, Michael 7, 407

S

Safety 15 Said 5, 9, 10 Sandelowski, Margarete 381 Sandplay 382 Sassen, Saskia 11 Scalar 338 Scalar dimensions 338 Scenario-based design (SBD) 269 School 134, 137–139, 143–147, 149–152, 154, 158, 337, 341 School work 301 Science education 238–241 Science identity 238, 240–242, 244, 252 Scotland 287 Scouts 143, 144 Secrecy 16, 357, 362 Security 38, 46, 49, 51, 53, 54 ‘Seldom heard’ 5 Self 112, 166 Self-definition 118–120, 128 Self-efficacy 64, 79 Self-esteem 64, 75

439

Self-making 154 ‘Self-provisioning’ 293, 294 Semi-structured 380, 384 Sense-making 239, 252 Sensitive 353, 355, 357, 360, 362, 371 Sensitive issue 358, 371 Sensitive topic 424 Sequencing 407, 408, 418 Serial migration 310, 318, 324, 325 Sex 331, 332, 347, 415 Sexual abuse 382 Sexual division of labour 293 Shame 362, 367 Sights 409 Silence 2, 12, 13 Silent 10 Single Question Used to Induce Narrative (SQUIN) 22, 354–356, 359, 365, 369 Situational analysis 274 ‘Small stories’ 8, 9, 22, 309, 311, 320, 324, 409, 410 Smells 409 Social 2, 3, 6, 8, 9, 11, 12, 14–16, 18, 22 Social acceptance 64, 71, 73, 76, 78, 80, 82 Social activities 142, 149 Social actors 5 Social care 2, 3 Social class 408, 415 Social connection 175 Social constructivism 7, 380 Social development 163, 410 Social ecologies 168 Social exclusion 163 Socializing 120, 121, 128 Social justice 379, 396

440

Index

Social layer 346 Social media 310, 314 Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada 184 Social support 411 Social work 2, 3, 22, 379, 381 Social workers 13 Socio-economic status 165 Socio-historic 3, 6, 360 Sociology 2, 3, 16 Sociology of Childhood 4 Sounds 409 Space 1–5, 11, 13–15, 17, 22, 23, 333–335, 341, 345, 347 Spaces 323 Spaces & Places 3, 18, 164, 166 Spanish Language Film and TV El Chavo del Ocho 248 Juniper School Noticias 246–248 La Rosa de Guadalupe 248 Las Chicas Mexicanas 248 Los Mariachias 248 Spatial 6, 10, 19, 38, 191–193, 197, 200, 201, 203, 204, 278, 329–331, 334, 335, 338, 344, 347 Spatial boundaries 192 Spatial layer 346 Spatial relationality 329 Spatial structure 330 Spiral curriculum 262 Sport 146, 149, 150, 155, 157 Spyrou, Spyros 5, 12, 13, 409 Squire, Corrine 8, 284, 309, 315, 406, 407 Stereotypes 154 Stigma 16, 71, 76, 78 Story 2, 7, 11, 12, 20

Story-maps 190, 196–199, 203, 204 Storytelling 1–3, 6, 12, 14, 20 Strauss, Anselm 381 Stress 35, 43 Structural 355, 357, 361 Structure 120, 123, 125, 128 Subject 331, 333, 347 Subject formation 332, 333 Subjectification 313 Subjectivity 330, 332, 333, 335, 346, 358 Subordinate power 312 Sub-session 358 Sub-session one 357, 358 Sub-session three 354, 358 Sub-session two 358 Substance abuse 38 Suicide 164, 166 Superhero 243, 246 Symbols 6

T

Talk 412, 420 Tamboukou, Maria 7, 308, 311, 407 Technological change 14, 21 Technology 90, 94, 170, 174, 175, 257, 259, 260, 263, 265–269, 272–274, 277, 278 narrative technology 266 technology-enhanced learning 258 Telangana 22, 320, 325 Tell 354, 362, 368, 370 Teller 2, 7, 9, 11 Temporal 7, 15, 40, 52, 98, 104 temporalities 8, 87, 90 Tentacular thinking 221, 231

Index

Text Structure Sequentialisation (TSS) 360 Thematic analysis 65, 70, 168, 358, 359, 368, 407 The Tidy House 286, 287, 300 ‘Thick descriptions’ 391 Things 19 Third space 239 Thomson, Rachel 16, 17, 21 Tidy 287 Time 7–11, 15, 16, 18, 285, 286, 288–290, 293–295, 297, 300–302 Tokenism 28 Tokenistic involvement 379 Topological home 412 Topological mapping 330–332, 334–338, 342, 343, 346, 347 Topological polis 330, 333–335, 345, 346 Topological space 347 Topologies 330, 334, 338, 344 Traditional activities 175, 176, 181–183 Trafford 18, 134, 137, 138, 146 Trahar, Sheila 112 Trans-disciplinary 23 Transformation 11, 12 Transformative 8, 9, 14 Transitions 42, 44, 55 Trauma 11, 21–23, 36, 317, 356, 359–361, 365, 367, 378, 379, 382, 384, 386–393, 395, 396 traumatic 6, 43 Traumatic experiences 317 Trust 357, 380, 391 Tsouvalis, Judith 8, 15

441

U

UK 17, 18, 63, 310, 311, 316, 318, 320, 321 Unconscious motivations 308 UN Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC) 4 Unemployment 163, 165 Ungar, Michael 66–69, 74 UNICEF 378, 402 United Kingdom 383 United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC) 378 United States (US) 240, 383 Unmapping 331, 343–346 Unsaid 10, 14 Urban 71, 171, 192, 200, 201, 203, 239, 287, 320, 363, 414 USA 285, 416

V

Valentine, Gill 189, 190, 192, 195, 202 Values 285 Vegetarian 314, 315 Ventriloquation 312, 324 Victim 63 Video narratives 122 Video observation 169 Videos 17, 21 Violence 383 Visual art 382 Visual methods 240 Visual narrative 113–128 Visual representation 17 Voice 1, 3, 5, 12–14, 19, 140, 156, 355, 357, 358, 368 Voluntary roles 144, 146

442

Index

Voluntary work 148 Volunteering 143, 146, 148, 155, 157 Vulnerability 64, 66, 67, 81, 191, 192, 197 Vygotsky, Lev 97, 262 W

Walking interview 322, 323 Wall, Darlene 17, 18 Walsh, Elizabeth 20 War 333 ‘Ways of Knowing’ 391 Welfare 359, 361, 380, 391, 393 Well-being 411, 412 Wengraf, Tom 7–11, 353–362, 369, 371 Work 283, 284, 286, 287, 289–292, 294, 296–298, 300, 301 Working class 286, 287

Wyn, Johanna 5

Y

Young carers 13, 16 Young people 2–7, 9–23 Youth 3, 5, 9, 12, 14, 15, 17, 18, 20, 22, 23, 166, 168, 174, 177, 178, 182, 183, 330–332, 335–337 Youth alienation 164 Youth Cabinet 138 Youth centres 138 Youth club 139, 143, 147, 148, 150 Youth engagement 177, 182 Youth organisations 134, 138 Youth participants 172 Youth researcher 135 Youth unemployment 411 YouTube 21, 311