Subjectivities in the Sandbox: Discovering Biases Through Visual Memo Writing

Abstract

Having insider status at an organization under study can present a researcher with benefits and challenges. Insider researchers may have access to honest dialogue with study participants but may also be vulnerable to uncomfortable conversations and organizational conflicts. Insider researchers also have to contend with their own biases they bring to a study. By using the reflexive practice of memo writing, insider researchers can be mindful of their own subjectivities during data collection and analysis. The purpose of this article is to share one approach to memo writing that incorporates visuals into the analysis and reflection. Through my use of visual memo writing during an evaluation of an educational development activity offered through my institution’s Center for Teaching and Learning (CTL), I was able to navigate and acknowledge my own subjectivities as an insider researcher that came to the surface during the research process. These reflexive activities allowed me to be mindful of what was happening at my institution and through the CTL and think about how I could take the data gathered as an insider researcher and make alterations to future CTL programming.

Keywords: faculty development, organizational development, research, subjectivity

Conducting qualitative work as an insider researcher can have its strengths and weaknesses. The benefits that come to mind include existing relationships with your informants, an understanding of institutional history, and an awareness of the current political landscape traversed by those who work within the organization. Conversely, insider status can also bring to a study personal and professional baggage and biases both conscious and subconscious (Berger, 2015; Greene, 2014). Thus, a researcher must navigate insider status by staying mindful of his or her subjectivities through data collection and analysis.

One way to address subjectivity is through reflexivity; researchers reflect on their role in the study as well as any personal experiences that could affect interpretations, particularly for those researchers who have insider status (Berger, 2015; Brayboy & Deyhle, 2000; Creswell, 2014; Greene, 2014). Typically, readers of research will see reflexive practices in the “Role of the Researcher” section of a study or journal article. Being a reflexive researcher who has insider status can potentially contribute positively or negatively to a study. Embracing one’s subjectivity and positionality can produce authentic meaning and, also, professional and personal consequences (Brayboy & Deyhle, 2000; Fine, 1994; Greene, 2014; Moore, 2007, Peshkin, 1988; Reybold, Lammert, & Stribling, 2012).

To safeguard against misinterpretation, researchers may use a variety of methods—triangulating data, member checking, and using a rich, thick description—to explain the research findings (Creswell & Miller, 2000). Acknowledging potential subjectivity is helpful, but I am always struck by the idea that reflexivity appears to be addressed ex post facto. We, the readers of the research, learn of subjectivity after the study is completed and the results written. We do not get the opportunity to hear how the researchers navigated along the subjectivity objectivity and insider outsider continuums.

During the spring semester of 2015, I served as an internal evaluator for a teaching circle program, offered through the Center for Teaching and Learning (CTL), at a small liberal arts college. While I am not a faculty member, nor do I serve in a primary role at the center, I do work with faculty on research and scholarly activities and interact with the center’s codirectors on a regular basis. The qualitative program evaluation included interviews with faculty who participated in the 2013–2014 teaching circle as well as document analysis. While transcribing the interviews and coding the data, I maintained a steady practice of memo writing, which I used as a tool to reflect on the experience and to explore any issues during the process. While I did employ textual approaches (i.e., writing) in my memos, I also experimented with visually depicting data that stood out to me. Weeks later, I realized how my subjectivities as an insider researcher were appearing in my visual images. In this article, I hope to demonstrate how the use of visual memo writing helped me acknowledge my bias during data collection and analysis.

Subjectivity: Weakness or Strength?

Contrary to the positivist view of validity in quantitative studies, validity in qualitative research can be defined generally as how accurately a researcher’s account of the phenomena under study represents the participants’ experiences (Creswell & Miller, 2000). As such, the views of the researcher and participants are negotiated and presented in the results. A researcher’s paradigm assumptions impact how to demonstrate the validity of a study (Creswell & Miller, 2000). The three dominant worldviews in qualitative research are postpositivist, constructivist, and critical paradigms. A strict, systematic approach to methodologies reflects the postpositivist paradigm and often includes triangulation, member checking, and audit trails as evidence of validity. Conversely, the constructivist or interpretative paradigm uses disconfirming evidence in the data, a sustained time in the field, and a thick, rich description to demonstrate validity.

Finally, the critical paradigm holds that “researchers should uncover the hidden assumptions about how narrative accounts are constructed, read, and interpreted” (Creswell & Miller, 2000, p. 126). Thus, validity is called into question and challenged based on the researcher’s subjectivity. To determine the “trustworthiness” of a study under the critical paradigm, researchers use reflexivity or an acknowledgement of the researcher’s assumptions and biases and incorporate collaboration with the participants and a peer debriefing with someone outside the study.

The idea of reflexivity is an important one as it allows researchers to be mindful of their biases throughout the research process. Recognizing one’s subjectivity is not a weakness; a researcher’s contribution to the study is unique in the way he or she collects and interprets the data (Peshkin, 1988). Subjectivity appears throughout the research process. For example, subjectivity in data collection appears in participant selection, with potential bias addressed in the limitations of the study. The participants who are chosen to be part of the study represent a slice of reality—the participants’ reality. In addition, available resources to both the researcher and participants, social and political relationships, rapport, and historical timing all contribute to this particular reality and the story being told (Reybold, Lammert, & Stribling, 2012). Thus, besides describing who the participants are in a study, researchers should also explain why they chose those particular people as one way to be reflexive.

Reflexivity also appears in data analysis, particularly in how participants’ stories are captured and conveyed. Coding for major themes and patterns is a common analytical method in qualitative research. Fine, Weiss, Weseen, and Wong (2003) employ a list of reflective questions during analysis that ask if the mundane has been captured in addition to the novel and whether the researchers have only looked for their major codes when sifting through the data. These reflexive questions assist in being mindful of bias in not only analysis but also in telling the stories of the participants.

Another reflexive strategy in conveying results is to acknowledge our subjectivities and positionality with the participants. Fine (1994) explains that qualitative researchers constantly find themselves along the hyphen (or continuum) of self other, in that the researcher (self) possesses a particular relationship with the participant (other). Another way to look at the self other relationship is as an insider outsider continuum. In order to remain mindful of our subjectivities, Fine suggests that researchers should work with the hyphen in order to “probe how we are in relation to the contexts we study and with our informants” (p. 72). Working the hyphen is another strategy to demonstrate the trustworthiness of a qualitative study under the critical paradigm. Thus, a researcher working under the critical paradigm should be reflexive throughout the research process in order to strengthen the validity of a qualitative study.

Relationships between researchers and informants can vary. Some researchers adopt an outsider approach, where there is great distance between the self and other, while other researchers seek to develop closer interactions with study participants. If a researcher can establish trust with the participant, this rapport can only lend itself positively to the trustworthiness of the study. One of the benefits of building strong rapport is that it presents a climate where the participant feels comfortable with disclosing information (Pitts & Miller Day, 2007). Yet, attaining close rapport with participants may have its weaknesses. One casualty of full disclosure is that participants may say things they later regret (Dickson Swift, James, Kippen, & Liamputtong, 2007).

Qualitative researchers are encouraged to build a trusting rapport with their participants while maintaining a certain level of distance in order to avoid taking on the traits of the culture under study. Yet, what happens when the researcher is part of the culture under study? In these contexts, a researcher who possesses insider status must maintain another layer of reflexivity during the research process (Greene, 2014). Returning to the idea of subjectivity in participant selection, a researcher who has insider status most likely has already established a rapport with the study participants. Consistent reflection during data collection is essential when interviewing participants viewed as “friends” as a situation may be created where the data collected is more forthcoming than the data an outsider would acquire (Brayboy & Deyhle, 2000; Brewis, 2014). For example, Moore (2007) examined the governance practices and performance of a nonprofit board on which he sat. He stated, “It was only when I recognized and embraced the subjectivity of my own special position and perspectives as an inside researcher that my study started to have any real meaning or personal consequence” (Moore, 2007, p. 31). After speaking with executives during data collection, Moore’s impressions and view of the board changed, which ultimately lead to his exit from the organization. The consequences of Moore’s study echo a common warning spoken to researchers: Do not play in your own sandbox. Thus, insider status, like one’s subjectivity, can prove to be a challenge in conducting research.

Visualizing Words and Emotions

Two possible strategies used to initiate memo writing are clustering and freewriting (Charmaz, 2014). Clustering is similar to a mind map or webbing and is a visual approach to show connections between codes and categories. Freewriting, however, is a stream of consciousness strategy of putting words to page without the habits of writing the “perfect sentence.” In my own qualitative work, I tend to lean more toward the mind mapping approach of memo writing as I like to visually examine how parts and pieces of the data are interconnected. I also write about my impressions and reactions to the data as I am coding interview transcripts. It was in doing such an activity that I began to contemplate the activity of visual memo writing.

Visual images are often used as corroborating evidence in qualitative research as they have the ability to circulate symbols, signs, and contextual information (Fischman, 2001). Ethnographic research and case studies are two research designs that typically incorporate visuals, particularly photographs of the site or participants. A benefit of using visuals is that they can “communicate the feeling or suggest the emotion imparted by activities, environments, and interactions” (Prosser & Schwartz, 1998, p. 116). Yet, visual images, like other forms of data, can continue to represent bias in data collection and analysis. The researcher, after all, chooses what to photograph and what to ignore during a day in the field.

Beyond photographs, visual images can also be created through other art forms. Most often, drawings are created by research participants as data, a methodology referred to as participatory visual research (Galman, 2009; Mitchell, Theron, Stuart, Smith, & Campbell, 2011). Other ways to incorporate art into the research process include the collaboration between researchers and art practitioners on image based research or textual research that employs analytical strategies to image based data (Mitchell et al., 2011). An alternate way to generate visual images in data collection is through self study research. Using methods such as journal writing, interviews, collage, poetry, and drawing, self study research allows researchers to reflect on their differing perspectives and prompts a sense of mindfulness (Pithouse, 2011). Tidwell and Manke (2009) used drawings to better understand their professional practice as educational administrators. By incorporating metaphors in the drawings, the researchers were able to acknowledge particular events or experiences in their work and understand the feelings and perspectives associated with such experiences.

For purposes of my study, I set out to visually depict my memos, neither as a means to generate data for analysis nor as a way to analyze my own personal perspectives or emotions. As Charmaz (2014) suggests, my thought was to bring the data into my memo in order to ruminate and reflect. Instead of just copying the participants’ words, I chose to also draw what was happening in the data, giving a louder voice to the context. I had no intention of incorporating the visuals into any analysis; they were more a way for me to make sense of the data during the research and evaluation process. What I learned through my memos, however, was that my own subjectivity as an insider surfaced in my drawings. In the next section, I detail the goals and design of the study as well as how much unintended subjectivity appeared in my visual memo writing.

Starting to Dig: Data Collection as an Insider Researcher

The purpose of the formative evaluation of the teaching circle program was to identify strengths, weaknesses, and possibilities for future teaching centered programming through my institution’s CTL. The institution is a small liberal arts college with an institutional history that favors teaching over research. Fourteen faculty members participated in the 2013–2014 teaching circle program, which comprised of three circles, each focused on a different topic. Six faculty members who could speak on behalf of the three circles were interviewed. I chose these six faculty members because I had professional relationships with each of them as I had previously worked with each member on activities related to their own scholarship. While a convenience sample is less rigorous and can present potential bias, my relationships with these faculty members provided comfortable and honest dialogue and, I believe, strengthened our existing rapport.

The recorded interviews took place nine months after the conclusion of the teaching circles and lasted between 30 and 60 minutes each. The questions focused on three main themes: experience in the teaching circle, impressions of the CTL, and impressions of the institutional culture around teaching practices. The CTL codirectors were interviewed separately, with each interview lasting between 40 and 60 minutes. The questions focused on each codirector’s history with the CTL prior to becoming a codirector, activity with the center after assuming the role of codirector, and impressions of the institutional culture around teaching practices. The research team, which consisted of me and my colleague from another institution, recorded and transcribed all the interviews.

We analyzed the data using a modified conceptual framework we developed based on a model created by O’Meara, Terosky, and Neumann (2008). Our framework posits that faculty intrinsic motivation is the catalyst for participating in an educational development activity. Once faculty take part in an activity, possible outcomes from participation include learning new information or strategies, developing agency for one’s educational development, and/or creating professional relationships with peers. The CTL activity, however, occurs within the larger confines of institutional culture. As such, we analyzed the interview transcripts using the predetermined codes of intrinsic motivation, learning, agency, professional development, and institutional culture.

While qualitative data analysis lends itself more to inductive and emergent reasoning, we used our predetermined codes based on our conceptual framework to develop a qualitative codebook. Using this categorical approach, we created additional codes as a result of the recognition of emerging concepts and elements (Creswell, 2014). Despite the deductive approach of using a predetermined codebook for data analysis, we were cognizant of any emerging themes or patterns as the analysis process progressed. As Rossman and Rallis (2012) point out, “…all inquiry proceeds through a complex, nonlinear process of induction, deduction, reflection, inspiration, and just plain old hard thinking” (p. 10). Thus, we sought a balance between top down and bottom up approaches in a reflexive manner. We looked for the mundane as well as the novel (Fine et al., 2003).

Throughout the analysis process, I wrote memos that incorporated quotes from the interviews to substantiate any developing theories while experimenting with visual memos. Visual methods in qualitative research provide a window into subconscious knowledge (Pain, 2012). Words—in both written and speaking form—can repress particular feelings, whereas visuals allow for symbolic representation. Drawings “express that which is not easily put into words: the ineffable, the elusive, the not yet thought through, the subconscious” (Weber & Mitchell as cited in Kearney & Hyle, 2004, p. 362). Examining a drawing also provides an opportunity for reflection different from journaling (Pain, 2012). Visuals are frozen images and not fleeting thoughts (Gallo, as cited in Pain, 2012); unlike words that prompt our eyes to continue on, visuals ask us to pause and inspect. Since memo writing provides an opportunity for me to make meaning, and drawing provides an additional chance to tap into my subliminal, tacit knowledge, the integration of the two allowed for creative and reflective exploration.

During my coding for institutional culture, I started to visually depict what was happening in the data, or rather, what I interpreted as happening in the data. While patterns in the data reflected the positive reception of the teaching circles on behalf of the participants, faculty perceptions on the value placed on teaching by the college were often mixed and conflicting. These results were fascinating, and the faculty interview transcripts reflected great emotion with regard to institutional culture, specifically incentives to participate in educational development, the value placed on teaching, work/life balance as a faculty member, and professional relationships. The two sections that follow detail my experimentation in visual memo writing and my interpretation of the drawings. I base my analysis on Rose’s (2007) visual methodology for art, specifically examining content (what does the image show?), color (how does shading stress a part of the picture?), spatial organization (what is in the foreground and background?), and expression (what is the feeling of the image?).

Allegiances in the Sandbox

Faculty referenced their stipend in all of the interviews as the leading incentive to participate in the teaching circle program. The stipend was certainly a perk and motivating force, mainly in that it made the faculty members work harder to “find the time” to participate. In other words, if the college would “find the money,” the faculty would “find the time.” Faculty job satisfaction is often based on workload, tenure and promotion, and balancing professional and personal roles (O’Meara, Terosky, & Neumann, 2008); thus, the comments about finding time and finding money came as no surprise.

While almost every participant mentioned the stipend, I responded to the following quote when memo writing:

You know, our faculty get $500 to go to a conference—you can’t even usually register for that. Actually having funding to support sharing of their work, learning. They’re making decisions like, “Well, I’m gonna pull things out of my pocket, and I’m only going to do that with one conference, so which one is that gonna be, and is that gonna be the one that gets me, allows me, to keep connected to my field?”

The image I drew to accompany the participant quote was meant to be humorous, or at least, it was to me while I was sketching (Figure 1). The immediate image I mentally conjured was one of a stuffy professor with an empty wallet adorned with cobwebs and flies. A sense of scarcity foregrounds the drawing, while a diploma resides in the background. A lone antiquated globe rests on the professor’s desk, not a MacBook or another piece of high end technology that faculty are encouraged to incorporate into their instruction.

Figure 1. Visual Memo for Monetary Incentive

Afterwards, I saw less humor in the drawing and more a sense of despair. After the time, money, and energy devoted to attaining a doctorate, faculty are left with the challenge of cobbling together various funds to attend a single conference. As someone who is trying to get faculty to pursue their own research interests as well as to collaborate with other faculty members outside of their discipline on scholarly activities, I realized I find the lack of available resources discouraging.

Faculty also frequently referenced the value placed on teaching in their interviews. Overall, the faculty members believe that the majority of their peers at the institution love teaching and strive to be better educators. Some faculty participants did discuss the impression that other faculty placed a higher value on research than on their teaching. The prioritization of research over teaching is a common trend in higher education and increasing among liberal arts colleges (Blackburn & Lawrence, 1995; Lechuga & Lechuga, 2012; O’Meara, Terosky, & Neumann, 2008). The impression that a portion of the faculty value research more was not met with dismay by the participants. In fact, faculty participants exhibited a sense of acceptance of this conflicting priority when it came to a personal preference for research over teaching. Faculty participants were less amenable when research was valued over teaching in institutional decision making, however, particularly when hiring new faculty based on previous research success.

Beyond choosing to hire new faculty with stronger research skills, there was also a sense that the culture of the institution is dismissive of educational development activities. Participants referenced the number of people who take advantage of the CTL activities and how it is always “the same people” or “the usual suspects” at the events. Faculty interactions with administrators also reflected the dismissal of developing teaching approaches. One faculty member stated:

My dean says a gazillion different things that are contradictory…you get these research pressures that are really weird, like, “Don’t forget to do your research! We don’t tell you to focus only on teaching because we don’t want to give that easy out.” You get these mixed messages. Really, they want you to do everything.

This particular faculty member’s experience with an institutional administrator suggests that there is very little value placed on, or even respect given to, further developing one’s craft of teaching. There was something about this response that stuck with me, and I decided to sketch it (Figure 2). The feelings I sensed in this faculty member’s quote presented me with an image of an all and powerful Oz like figure in the foreground, barking orders that were demanding and contradictory. I wanted to express the sensation of surprise and shock that I suspect junior faculty members may feel when beginning their careers at the institution.

Figure 2. Visual Memo for Value Placed on Teaching

Weeks after I sketched both images, I allowed myself the opportunity to examine my subjectivity and bias through these drawings. I can see how unfair it must feel for faculty to need additional sources of funding in order to participate in professional growth. From that initial memo, I realized how much I aligned myself with the faculty and their need for additional resources since I work at the institution and am keenly aware of what resources are available—outside of the CTL—to support educational development. The CTL could be a source for faculty to find funding to attend professional conferences, but the center continues to struggle to find its own resources to maintain programming. One of the best practices for CTLs is to have a steady stream of resources and funding (Gray & Shadle, 2009). My role at the institution is to help our CTL find additional funding, a task that I often feel is challenging and frustrating. My own despair around this responsibility is evident in the drawing.

And yet, acknowledging my subjectivity also offered me the chance to take another point of view. My drawing of the financially struggling professor is a bit of a caricature; faculty at the institution certainly are supported in their technology needs and physical space. True, conference registrations alone are expensive, but when educational development activities are offered through the college, does there need to be a monetary incentive? If faculty are committed to their craft of teaching and want to develop their expertise, must compensation be offered to spark motivation? Additional compensation implies that work toward the improvement of teaching would not get done without the monetary incentive. Thus, there is no perceived sense of altruism here in terms of a collaborative and supportive network of faculty who want to enhance their skillset.

As for the value placed on teaching, I once again see how much I align myself with the faculty members in this drawing. The two subjects in the drawing—a stunned and overwhelmed faculty member and a bossy, formidable administrator—create an environment of fear, panic, and powerlessness. My allegiance with the faculty in this sketch may be because in my role at the college, I, too, feel like I am often directed toward conflicting priorities or asked to pursue many opportunities that just cannot be feasibly accomplished under particular time constraints. And yet, to take another perspective, it is not the position of a school dean to support his or her faculty and encourage them to pursue many interests that will help faculty in their careers both inside and outside the institution?

My intention here, in reflecting upon these two examples, is to model the reflexive questioning a researcher must initiate in order to understand her subjectivities. The point is to be mindful (Fine, 1994), not to determine whether an interpretation is right or wrong. In being mindful about the data and our interpretations of the data, educational developers can determine revisions to practices or programming; for example, should faculty receive a stipend to participate in a teaching circle, or should participation be voluntary and the money reallocated toward attending professional development conferences? Should there be training offered through the CTL to school deans and department chairs that shows them how to support their faculty in the many roles of a professor?

Uncovering Subjectivity through Ignored Images

The struggle between achieving work/life balance was another pattern of institutional culture identified during data analysis. Again, work/life balance is frequently cited in the literature on faculty work as a challenge that is often addressed through CTL programming (Finnegan & Hyle, 2009; Gappa, Austin, & Trice, 2007; O’Meara, Terosky, & Neumann, 2008; Ouelette, 2010; Schechner & Poslusny, 2010). There were many factors that contribute to a sense of faculty balance or, rather, a sense of faculty imbalance. Faculty frequently referenced a lack of time to pursue educational development opportunities in the interviews. The lack of time to attend events also translates into an absence of time to even reflect on one’s own teaching practice. One participant remarked:

We are feeling like there isn’t a moment to spare. Ever. And the moments we have for sleep, we could also be doing eight billion other things. So if I’m interested in going to this talk, or being involved in this thing, what goes to do that? And those are hard decisions, and when you have students knocking on your door or writing you email, or your colleague saying, “Can you do this?” you just put that [professional development] aside.

At the institution, faculty refer to this feeling as a “culture of overwhelm.” I could sense this feeling in these words and the frustrations that accompany them and decided to sketch the quote (Figure 3). The spatial organization of the items contained within the frame creates a sense of chaos. Most prominent in the foreground is a crying baby, a student, and email demanding attention of the faculty member, while more benign demands—a garden and a knock at the door—remain in the background.

Figure 3. Visual Memo for Work/Life Balance

Beyond balancing personal life schedules with work life schedules, a complicating factor is that faculty balance multiple work schedules that include teaching, their own scholarship, committee work, and student meetings. For some reason, the student interaction must have resonated strongly in my subconscious. When I look at the sketch, I see how I envision faculty members’ work days as being comprised of many conflicting demands on their time by students. I frequently hear from faculty in passing conversations—“small stories” (Georgakopoulou, 2006)—how difficult it is to be a faculty member with a new baby. I can also see how this drawing reflects my own work/life imbalance as I feel constantly interrupted in my own work through the multiple communication channels of phone, email, and face to face interaction.

I now ask myself, what is missing from this picture? What other demands should be depicted that I failed to include? After all, memo writing probes to discover what is being said and what is not being said (Birks, Chapman, & Francis, 2008). Faculty research, publications, committee work, collaboration, and coteaching—these are work demands that do not appear in my sketch. Did I omit these activities because I unthinkingly see faculty brush them aside in order to support student learning? Does my role at the college make me see the faculty role of in loco parentis as a responsibility that prohibits scholarship? Am I resentful of this faculty responsibility to their students as it has an effect on my workload and capacities?

Some faculty do manage to find solutions to the work/life balance dilemma by carefully selecting opportunities that will most efficiently and effectively support their current needs. Through memo writing and analysis, I found that some faculty members navigate the institutional culture by opting out of participating in service activities, so they can focus on developing their teaching skills or research projects. Other faculty members utilize the Facebook posts and discussion authored and facilitated by the CTL codirectors when faculty cannot make a workshop. Through online programming, faculty save time and still learn about topics discussed. These responses demonstrate faculty members’ agentic behavior over work and life. Indeed, many recent studies on the professoriate have found how faculty exercise agency in their careers (Campbell & O’Meara, 2012; Mathieson, 2011; O’Meara, 2015; O’Meara & Campell, 2011).

Note that I opted not to visually depict these agentic behaviors and instead chose to draw the reactions that were based on negative, overwhelming emotion. My bias and insider status at the institution got the best of me here; I was identifying with the emotions that I, too, have felt and overlooking the alternate pathways toward achieving work/life balance. In being aware of such subjectivity, I am able to refocus away from what feels like deficits within the larger academic culture and reframe the story on model behaviors to share with other faculty.

One final image reflects the professional relationships forged from participation in the teaching circle. During the interviews, faculty often remarked that collaboration and sharing or socializing with their peers had the greatest effect on their satisfaction with the teaching circle program. One reason for this satisfaction may be that the teaching circles provided an organized venue for sharing and talking. Socialization is key for faculty growth, particularly for early career faculty (Baldwin & Chang, 2007; Yee & Hargis, 2012). One faculty member said, “We don’t know what goes on in other people’s classrooms, unless you ask someone to come and watch or record you class and then discuss it.” The teaching circle, however, prompted faculty to gather and tell each other about their teaching experiences and generate solutions to common challenges.

Interestingly, the sharing of experiences resulted in producing close bonding moments among faculty members in the groups. In the research on student retention in higher education, the need for connecting with peers is often referenced as one factor that affects students’ satisfaction and persistence (Terenzini & Reason, 2005); a similar phenomenon was present in this data. Faculty who remain in their disciplinary silos find it difficult to interact with their peers across the campus. This difficulty in connecting with colleagues results in feelings of isolation (Gappa, Austin, & Trice, 2007; Simmons, 2011). One faculty member said, “It [teaching circle] made us connect with people I normally would not have. There are some people that I would never have met, some people are not here anymore…It brought together different perspectives, especially the arts and the humanities, it brought us together to talk about different topics.”

I decided to sketch the ideas in this quote (Figure 4), showing a line of faculty from different disciplines—mathematics, foreign languages, art, the humanities—holding hands and smiling. —interdisciplinary exchanges without turf wars. The feedback that faculty formed professional relationships with their peers through this CTL program was encouraging and pleasing. The drawing reflects this sense of hopefulness and achievement. If faculty growth is determined by collegial connection (O’Meara, Terosky, & Neumann, 2008), then our CTL is doing something right.

Figure 4. Visual Memo for Professional Relationships

Yet again, I ask myself, “What is missing from this picture?” or rather “Who is missing from this picture?” For starters, faculty of color are missing. Of the 14 participants in the teaching circle program, only two are faculty of color. Overall, 26% of the institution’s faculty body are faculty of color. Research shows that faculty of color actively seek mentoring and professional development experiences as they relate to the tenure and promotions process (Hyers, Syphan, Cochran, & Brown, 2012; Thompson, 2008; Williams & Williams, 2006), which should prompt (and has prompted) a much needed educational development program for future CTL programming. Who else is missing from this photo? They would be the people the teaching circle participant referred to as those professors who are not here anymore—the visiting faculty members. As the reliance of visiting and contingent faculty continue to grow, even in small liberal arts colleges (Curtis, 2014), our support for this group of faculty must also be present. Three of the 14 participants in the teaching circles hold visiting professor status and remarked how the opportunities offered through the CTL were wonderful venues to develop their craft as teachers. Yet, where they do not feel as supported is within the larger faculty culture of the institution. Thus, while my drawing reflected the positive outcomes of the teaching circle program, it failed to reveal the lack of attention needed to support relationship building among particular groups of faculty who are getting more attention in higher education research. Thus, the social and political relationships and historical timing of this particular situation are shaping how the story is told (Reybold, Lammert, & Stribling, 2012).

Final Thoughts: Building Structures in the Sand

I began this article discussing my insider status at the study site. Through my analysis of my visual memos, however, I realized that I hold statuses of both insider and “outsider” in my liminal role in educational development. I am not a faculty member, and yet, I feel a collegial bond with the group; I am not sure they feel this similar connection. Part of this disconnect stems from educational developers’ roles as institutional administrators. Developers can “feel trapped in the painful space between a managerial quality assurance agenda and critical, personal understandings of the roles and purposes of educational development” (Manathunga, 2007, p. 29). Does such a role contribute to our own biases when providing and evaluating educational development programs? Perhaps. Reflexivity, thus, is even more imperative when we assess the impact of CTL programming.

Peshkin (1988) speaks of subjectivity as a “garment that cannot be removed” (p. 17). I would argue that even a garment is an exterior object placed upon our bodies; it is not a part of our bodies. Subjectivity, rather, is another layer of skin that breathes, absorbs, and senses continuously. In other words, we cannot get away from our own subjectivities; although, I would ask, “Why would we want to?” Our biases, when identified and reflected upon, provide us with an advantage. We see issues an external audience may not perceive. Moreover, due to existing rapport with our faculty, we hear things an external reviewer would not (Pitts & Miller Day, 2007). Yes, it is always difficult to hear that your CTL could be doing more, but at least the knowledge provides a base from which to move forward.

If educational developers accept our managerial role under the institutional administration, we can use our status to take agency and make institutional change that continues to support faculty work. Thus, our liminal role can be viewed as a benefit, and we should continue to “probe” at our hyphen of insider/outsider (Fine, 1994). Many reflexive qualitative researchers collaborate with their participants in seeking to make empowering change; we, too, can use such an approach in both our own research and coresearch with faculty.

Visual memo writing was one method that helped me examine my subjectivity. Of course, I was surprised where my biases appeared during data analysis. I should not have been surprised—I was, after all, playing in my own sandbox. Through the use of memo writing in general, and visual memo writing specifically, I was able to reflect on these subjectivities while analyzing and writing my results of the evaluation. The visual memos also helped me take a step back from the data and see other perspectives of the same situation. I was able to then share this evaluation with our senior leaders, articulating a fair, but particular perspective, that only I, as an inside researcher, could provide.

Reflexivity, reflecting throughout the process, allows for mindfulness and contributes to a study’s trustworthiness. Research is called a process for a reason; similar to teaching, it is a continual practice. Unlike the adage of “practice makes perfect,” research will never be perfect. What research can be, however, is a space where assumptions can be unearthed while telling a compelling and candid narrative that has the potential to elicit change.

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