Researching, Reflecting and Writing about Work: Guidance on Training Course Assignments and Research for Psychotherapists and Counsellors

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Researching, Reflecting and Writing about Work

Researching, Reflecting and Writing about Work provides a guide to the research skills and critical thinking required to complete a research project for professional learning courses in counselling and psychotherapy. Written at a level easily accessible to those enrolled on a work-based qualification as well as those considering postgraduate research at master’s level, this book includes:

• • • • • •

how we reflect on our work discussion on preparation and structuring of a case study how to present work in supervision with advice on process recording essay plan structures and appropriate methodologies for research ethical considerations and critical linking dilemmas and tensions involved in ‘research at work’.

Key learning points and reflective exercises are included throughout and theory is supported by contributions detailing specific learning experiences from a variety of work settings, including the public sector, an organisation, in the community, and as an independent counsellor in a voluntary agency. There is also a section on how to prepare your research for consideration for publication and how to present your findings to colleagues. Researching, Reflecting and Writing about Work will be of interest to all those on counselling courses, or training as psychotherapists, as well as people involved in professional learning linked to the helping professions, including those interested in work-based research linked to therapy in any setting. Fiona Gardner is the Award leader for the Professional Master’s Programme in Counselling and Psychotherapy Practice at Bath Spa University. Steven J. Coombs is Head of Department for Continuing Professional Development, Teaching Fellow and Chair of the Professional Master’s Programme at Bath Spa University.

Researching, Reflecting and Writing about Work

Guidance on training course assignments and research for psychotherapists and counsellors

Edited by Fiona Gardner and Steven J. Coombs Foreword by John McLeod Preface by Rom Harré

First published 2010 by Routledge 27 Church Road, Hove, East Sussex BN3 2FA Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge Inc 270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an Informa business This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2009. To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk. © 2010 Selection and editorial matter, Fiona Gardner & Steven J. Coombs; individual chapters, the Contributors All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. This publication has been produced with paper manufactured to strict environmental standards and with pulp derived from sustainable forests. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Researching, reflecting, and writing about work : guidance on training course assignments and research for psychotherapists and counsellors / edited by Fiona Gardner & Steven J. Coombs. p. ; cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Psychotherapy—Research. I. Gardner, Fiona, 1950– II. Coombs, Steven J. [DNLM: 1. Counseling—education. 2. Psychotherapy. 3. Confidentiality. 4. Research—methods. WM 460 R4327 2009] RC337. R475 2009 616.89′140072—dc22 2009010893 ISBN 0-203-86989-3 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN: 978–0–415–47229–6 (hbk) ISBN: 978–0–415–47230–2 (pbk)

Contents

List of figures List of tables List of contributors Foreword Preface 1 Introduction

vii viii ix xi xiii 1

FIONA GARDNER

2 Learning and researching as an adult professional

11

FIONA GARDNER AND STEVE COOMBS

3 Ethical dilemmas in training and in research

33

FIONA GARDNER AND STEVE COOMBS

4 Using the case study approach for training and research

45

FIONA GARDNER AND STEVE COOMBS

5 Choosing a research paradigm

60

FIONA GARDNER AND STEVE COOMBS

6 Research using focus groups in an organisational setting

76

JANE WHITEHEAD

7 Research in the voluntary sector

87

MARILYN BARNETT

8 Research in the public sector AMANDA LARCOMBE

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9 Research in the community with a feminist approach

110

VICTORIA COLE

10 Going public – getting your work out to a wider audience

120

AMANDA LARCOMBE, FIONA GARDNER AND STEVE COOMBS

11 The way forward

130

STEVE COOMBS

References Index

142 151

Figures

2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 8.1 11.1 11.2

Professional learning agreement form The Spidergram The academic writing scaffold Action researcher’s personal log of key source references Influences on the design/methodology of public sector research The P-S-O-R scaffold Exemplar: Use of the P-S-O-R scaffold to analyse an academic argument using the other critical thinking scaffolds

19 21 22 29 102 138 140

Tables

8.1 8.2 10.1 11.1

Expectation management and the power to influence in the context of public sector research Ethical dilemmas experienced, associated issues and solutions used Options for going public Summary of critical thinking scaffolds to support action research and enquiry

99 107 121 139

Contributors

Marilyn Barnett is a professional member of the Foundation for Psychotherapy and Counselling, a UKCP registered psychotherapist and BACP accredited. She is a qualified supervisor and member of BAPPS. She has published ‘What brings you here? An exploration of the unconscious motivations of those who choose to train and work as psychotherapists and counsellors’, Psychodynamic Practice, 13(3) 1–18, 2007. Victoria Cole is a clinical supervisor, mental health nurse and BACP senior accredited counsellor. She has worked as a supervisor and affiliated field consultant on the counselling and psychotherapy track for MA professional studies at Bath Spa University; she now works as a senior mental health practitioner for Devon Partnership Trust and as an associate lecturer for the Open University. Steve Coombs introduced the new Professional Master’s Programme (PMP) at Bath Spa University (BSU) in October 2003 and is the current Chair. Before being appointed at BSU Steve worked as a professor at Sonoma State University in California from August 2000, and before that as professor of instructional technology at the National Institute of Education in Singapore. Steve regularly writes and reviews articles for Educational Action Research and is a regular book reviewer for the Journal of In-service Education. He has published widely in reviewed academic publications. From his doctorate in Human Learning he has introduced the field of Learning & Knowledge Technology based on the assumptions of critical thinking scaffolds that are linked to the epistemology and psychology of personal construct theory and self-organised learning. Fiona Gardner is the counselling and psychotherapy PMP MA track leader and an affiliated field consultant at Bath Spa University. She is a qualified psychotherapist and social worker. She has published widely nationally and internationally in psychotherapy and counselling journals, and more recently in spirituality/religious journals on the interface between counselling and spirituality. She has contributed chapters to two edited collections

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and is the sole author of Self-Harm: A Psychotherapeutic Approach (London and New York: Brunner-Routledge, 2001), Journeying Home (London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 2004) and The Four Steps of Love (DLT, 2007). Amanda Larcombe is a BACP accredited counsellor, supervisor, coach and trainer. She is director and co-founder of Optima Workplace Ltd, a supplier of counselling, coaching and training to businesses in the SouthWest, a coach and facilitator for the University of Plymouth’s Centre for Leadership & Organisational Excellence, and has a private practice. She has published ‘Counselling isn’t for the “completely bonkers”!’, Counselling at Work, Issue 55, February 2007, and ‘Self care in counselling’, a chapter in Key Issues for Counselling in Action (second edition), edited by Windy Dryden (London: Sage, 2007). Her research on counselling for the Devon and Cornwall Constabulary has recently been featured in the Chartered Institute for Personnel and Development’s journal People Management (October 2008 issue). Jane Whitehead is programme manager and lead tutor for the PG Diploma in Counselling at Bridgwater College and affiliated field consultant for Bath Spa University. She also works as a counsellor and has an MA, PGCE, Diploma in Counselling and Psychotherapy, and Certificate in Family Therapy. She presented her research paper: ‘A qualitative enquiry: the value of the core model in practice’ to the BACP Annual Research Conference in Cardiff (2008). ‘Research and regulation – towards a knowledge based profession’, a paper based on her research, is currently under consideration by Counselling and Psychotherapy Research. She is a member of the British Association of Counselling and Psychotherapy and the Institute for Learning.

Foreword

Effective counsellors have always approached their work in the spirit of enquiry. To be able to engage therapeutically with a client requires a disciplined curiosity, a capacity to collect information through listening and observing, and an ability to organise that information into a coherent understanding of the person and a sense of therapeutic direction. This form of enquiry is explicitly in the service of the client, and can make a strong contribution to the formation of a therapeutic relationship in which the client knows that his or her counsellor is actively involved in striving to make a difference to his or her life. As counselling has become more professionalised, as the professions have become more highly regulated by the State, and under more pressure to be accountable, and as training has moved into a university environment that is organised around a critical approach to knowledge, a new set of pressures has emerged for counsellors and psychotherapists. There is now an expectation that counselling should generate a distinctive research literature, that practice should be evidence-based, and that counsellors should be capable of both producing and consuming research findings. For some counsellors these developments have been welcome, as opening up possibilities for constructive dialogue within the profession. For others, the same developments have yielded fear and anxiety. There is worry, at an individual level, that the academic demands of acquiring research skills and knowledge may be too hard to handle, and a distraction from the primary task of becoming a good therapist. There is also concern that introducing research into the therapy room may compromise the therapeutic relationship. This book positions itself at the heart of these debates. By providing examples of the experience of counsellors in pursuing research projects that have meaning and value for their clients and themselves, the contributors to the book are able to show that research can indeed represent a significant means of extending and deepening insight and understanding in ways that are relevant to understanding the purpose and process of therapy, and which enhance rather than undermine the therapeutic relationship. For my own part, I would urge readers of this book to keep hold of the

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creative potential of research and enquiry. I believe that it is useful to think about research in terms of products that may lead to many different types of positive outcome. For example, a client being interviewed or being asked to complete a questionnaire is being offered an opportunity to reflect on his or her life. A published research paper arising from a research study provides an opportunity for colleagues all across the globe to connect with the ideas and experiences of the authors of the study. It is through the creation of products such as these, I believe, that ways can be found to integrate research fully and meaningfully into practice in the field of counselling and psychotherapy. John McLeod March 2009

Preface

The theme of this challenging book is how training programmes in therapeutic practice can ‘morph’ into research projects. The basic principle is the simple but profound observation that therapy is research – that the therapist needs to know the what, where, when, how and why of the human troubles that are to be confronted and somehow dealt with. Researchers into the psychology of human troubles are delving into the same questions. While the therapist’s prime aim is to bring the troubles to an end, the researcher’s prime aim is to show how they came to be. Therapeutic experience is transferable to other people in training programmes. So it is a bit like scientific publication, making data, analyses and conclusion available to others. While we have learned to be suspicious of the claims of psychologists in the past to have discovered general principles, we need to bear in mind the possibility that therapeutic insights can be made use of elsewhere. A great virtue of the book is the cataloguing of a huge variety of research methods, each tied in with the kind of issue that might attract the attention of a therapist. There is even a nod to the old methods of trying to link dependent and independent variables; methodological survivors from ancient days. Predominant, though, are the methods of discourse analysis, since therapy and its associated research methodologies must rest on the understanding of meanings. This could hardly be otherwise, since the therapeutic process is conversational even if it ends in chemistry. Conversational therapeutic encounter is the starting point for a transition into a formal research paradigm that must be discursive in its very nature. It is pleasing to see the powerful but under-used methods of repertory grid analysis recommended. In these pages we see how the student can be brought to grow in competence through the realisation that, after all, therapy and research are one and the same thing. This is an important book. For the first time the gamut of diverse training programmes for therapists is linked in a systematic and productive way with the research methodologies currently in use. Rom Harré

Chapter 1

Introduction Fiona Gardner

This is a constructive and helpful book for all who are either training or involved in therapeutic work – no matter the setting. It is a book to turn to when you have to write about your work or are considering beginning a research project. It covers the essentials and gives practical suggestions, but also opens up possibilities for further thought and reflection and provides guidance and tools to help achieve this goal. It is a ‘how to’ book, but also a book to return to once you know ‘how to’! Many of us feel a moment of fear and uncertainty when we sit down to write an essay or an assignment, or that all-important final case study. We may also need to produce a final paper for our counselling or psychotherapy training qualification, or on our social work training, or even for our inservice post-qualifying continuing professional development (CPD). What is expected of us? How do we begin? What should we include? In other words, how can we convey in a skilled way what we know and what we do in our therapeutic work? How also can we stay loyal to, and keep the right relationship with, the personal encounter in the counselling room? The moment of fear may last a bit longer when we turn to evaluate, critique or research our therapeutic work within an academic context – with all that the word ‘academic’ implies. If we’ve embarked on a postgraduate course the uncertainty might reappear as we search for the most appropriate research paradigm, or wonder how to sift through the mass of data to present it in a coherent and appropriately academic form and style. We may feel uncertain about how writing for a vocational professional training course differs or not from writing for an academic qualification. We may begin to feel increasingly unconfident about our academic capabilities, or even anxious about exposing our client work. All these feelings need reflective time to process, and appropriate support systems that we hope this book will provide. Many of us train as counsellors and psychotherapists or embark on research work some time after our formal education has ended. It may be many years since we wrote an academic essay, and there may be residues of our earlier experiences of being taught that still rankle and affect our confidence about writing down what we think or feel. The techniques and

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skills needed to write academic essays and assignments may not only be rusty, but also be out of date; and, in our anxiety, the good advice from tutors or supervisors may be hard to comprehend. This is the book to turn to at these times. It’s a ‘how to’ book aimed predominantly at those on a professional training course in counselling or psychotherapy, or allied vocational courses such as social work, or educational or clinical psychology. It is also intended for counsellors and psychotherapists on an academic programme such as a professional master’s programme that is linked to managing and writing up clinical work-based research projects. However, the ideas and advice included are also for all those involved in therapeutic work, who in whatever setting are required to turn what was a private encounter into a public account. The therapeutic framework with its associated core assumptions for pedagogy and research paradigms is implicit in, and also underpins, many aspects of the helping and caring professions where client-centred values are not only central, but also transferable across all these professions. In this book the terms ‘counsellors’ and ‘psychotherapists’ are sometimes conflated to the generic term ‘therapist’ to avoid repetition, and in using this term we also include all those professions using counselling skills and seeking to develop human relationships as part of teaching, social work, residential care or nursing. In the same way, ‘counselling room’ is a term used to cover all settings where therapeutic work is taking place. The term ‘person’ or the phrase ‘person being seen’, or its equivalent, is used where possible, rather than the term ‘client’ or ‘patient’, to cover those with whom we are working.

Opening the closed door of the counselling room When we write about any therapeutic work, especially one-to-one work with someone, we are in some senses ‘going public’ – we are opening the door of what has been a private space and inviting the reader or listener inside to see what has been happening. It matters how and why and where and for whom we write about our work. It matters to the person we are seeing what we say about them (whether they read it or not) and it matters to us how we describe or understand the work that we are doing. There are also considerations about confidentiality, integrity and trust and aspects of the transference to be considered – whether recognised or not within the work setting. Our overall approach will be covered by the ethical research policy we choose to adopt and work with, which also aligns with the protocols of the profession we work within. When we begin to research our work there are also potentially long-term implications for the profession – for it matters that we open our work for scrutiny and evaluation in order to increase understanding of the value of therapeutic work. It matters how we present the successes and less successful aspects of therapeutic work and the good and healing work we do to the outside world.

Introduction

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Aside from meeting the needs of individual trainees and students this is also a timely book for other reasons – reasons linked to the world outside the counselling room. The first is connected to the demand from government and funding bodies that the outcome of our work be made public as well as result in some form of positive impact. In this age of monitoring, evaluation and evidence-based practice we need to become responsible and skilled advocates for counselling and psychotherapy practice in a variety of settings. The contemporary context demands that we explain ourselves to others, and it also demands that the work be professional and ‘justified’. This may not be easy and, indeed, we may be pretty indignant or resistant to this sort of request, but the recent Increasing Access to Psychological Therapies campaign (Department of Health 2008) has seriously challenged the counselling and psychotherapy profession for its reluctance to engage in research. As Wheeler and Elliott (2008) note, the research findings that support the efficacy of cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) have led to endorsement by the NICE guidelines and funding for CBT in the treatment of anxiety and depression – leaving other models of counselling and psychotherapy somewhat out of the frame. The British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy (BACP) confirms this by its statement that counselling and psychotherapy have a growing need for evidence-based knowledge (BACP 2002). This evidence is to be drawn from our professional experience in the workplace and our ability to be able to perform as a research practitioner so as to articulate such professional learning and disseminate new knowledge. A second reason is that registration of counsellors and psychotherapists is fast approaching, and it is likely that this will become associated with an academic qualification linked to professional practice. We need to be trained as professionals and therefore pass the requirements of our training course by writing about our work and presenting what we have learnt and understood in a coherent and structured way; but we may also need to have an academic qualification outside the training and therefore learn how to write at postgraduate (post-qualification) level and formally research our work. A third reason that this book is timely is the increasing demand for, and recognition of, continuing professional development (CPD) as part of good professional practice and operating as a lever for workplace change. The aim is to develop in-service knowledge, skills and experience not normally acquired during our initial training course. There are a number of reasons why we might need to participate in CPD, including seeing it as a demonstration of our developing professional knowledge and skills; as a help in a new work setting or a change of focus in our work; and often as a condition placed on our continuing membership of a professional body. Counsellors and psychotherapists, as well as attending supervision, conferences, talks and seminars, are encouraged to read and critically reflect further as part of CPD, so why not also write and research your work and see that as a genuinely creative aspect of CPD? This is what we mean by practitioner research; and

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work-based accredited CPD now forms part of many new and exciting professional master’s programmes linked to the various post-qualifying requirements across the helping and caring professions. The fourth reason is the developing generic use of counselling skills as a core requirement and set of values across interdisciplinary settings such as education and the wider children’s workforce range of services. This will include coaching and mentoring in schools, colleges and higher education as well as across members working in local authorities. It is possible to write about and research emotional literacy in settings and agencies well away from the conventional counselling room. This book will help you to do that, and provides both invaluable advice and tools to help research, reflect and write about your work experience.

The starting point Before we start to write or research we need to seriously reflect on and observe our work. We cannot really function as therapists unless we know how to relate and communicate, but we also need to develop our capacity to hold someone in mind. This can be seen as a form of relational reflection. When we are meeting with a client we are attentive and alert to what the other person is saying and how they are saying it. As we get to know them we are also increasingly aware of what they might not be saying, or the feelings that underlie their behaviour. In other words, part of developing a disposition for critical reflection is about inculcating personal receptivity and developing a state of mind where we are open to all possibilities rather than limiting our thoughts to our own theories and experiences. For example: A client is telling me about an embarrassing experience where she has been rejected, she is laughing a great deal as she tells me – it is all very entertaining; but I understand that behind this lie deep feelings of shame and humiliation. How do I know this? The feelings of shame and humiliation have been felt or rather intuited. My receptivity has allowed the feeling of shame to be known by intuition. This is how emotions are apprehended and not through sense-perceptions. This is an implicit or tacit knowing experience that characterises all therapeutic work and provides the framework for further reflection on the client’s situation. This sort of insight takes place through an inner creative act of thought by the therapist. When we reflect we need to put aside our preconceived ideas about someone or our anxiety about how we can make something better and be attentive and receptive. In other words we may find ourselves musing about the relationship we have with the person coming to see us. We wonder what’s really going on between us. What is happening

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underneath for the person? Why are they feeling or behaving as they do? All these skills are encouraged in supervision and peer discussion and become a way of critically reflecting. Our skill and capacity to reflect critically is developed over time and is something we need to learn to trust in such a way that we gain professional confidence, and through such experiencing become the reflective practitioner espoused by thinkers and critical theorists such as Schön (1983, 1987). Freud (cf. 1912: 115) wrote about evenly suspended or poised attention as the way he listened to the people that he saw. He thought that if we could suspend our personal prejudices or inclinations and our own assumptions then we might hear something new and could make use of anything that was spoken of as a way of understanding what was going on. Similarly the psychoanalyst Bion (1970: 31) described a special state of consciousness where he could be with the person he was seeing with an open frame of mind. He suggested this could happen if we emptied our mind of memory, such as what happened in the last session or what we remembered from past material brought by the person, and if we kept our desires for the treatment outcome from intervening. This state of relaxation or reverie helps the mind move from the experience of being with the person to mental thought about the process. In other words, genuine reflection takes place in a state of emptiness of thought and openness to experience. This also has to be the starting point for all meaningful writing about our work. Similarly, before beginning research there needs to be space for a mulling over, a pondering, a space for fantasising and imagining of all the possibilities. Reason and Rowan (1981), in their still refreshing approach to psychological research, quote the creativity cycle put forward by Kelly. This has three central phases. The first is circumspection – a state where we muse and wonder about what we might do; from this and in due course there will emerge the pre-emption phase where we discover the issues or concerns and begin to see the kinds of questions we might be interested in asking. The final phase of the creativity cycle is the control stage where we begin to formulate our research question and more formally think about our research paradigm. The emphasis, however, is on the word ‘cycle’ as we return again and again to each of the stages, and things are mused on again, and reformulated and so on. The process is recursive and may involve a continuous alteration with loosening and tightening in our construing. All this fits well with therapeutic work where there are cycles and themes that are returned to again and again with a gradual alteration in intensity and change of emphasis. As we reflect on our work, or muse on our research question, we begin to move gradually from receptivity to a place of boundaried thought and finally to a coherent structure. This then is the starting point for any written or research work, and links critical reflection with creative knowledge.

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‘How to’ write and research therapeutic work How we turn our clinical experience into a useful, accessible and on the whole accurate account is in part a learned skill. In other words, there is guidance and advice that can be given, and there are some techniques that we can learn to use that do not compromise the integrity of what has been a private and largely intersubjective encounter. A central skill is learning to become in part an observer and looking with an objective part of ourselves at the work. We may have to learn to present material in an unambiguous way, letting go of unnecessary jargon and what Spence refers to as ‘hiding behind standard phrases’ (1997: 92). We may also have to learn to view our work not only through the eyes of a supervisor or assessor, but, if we publish, through the eyes of an unknown reader. Learning how to write and research our work brings reasoning and evidence into what previously may have been rather glib assumptions. It is a way of learning to get behind our own assumptions and the use of convention. We have to learn how to critically evaluate our own work and the work of others. This book tells you ‘how to’ write and research your therapeutic work. The skills and techniques described and the ideas and suggestions given are based on both personal and professional experience. One of the editors and all the contributors are professionally qualified either as counsellors or as psychotherapists. Both the editors and all the contributors have postgraduate research experiences to draw from, and all of us supervise counselling and psychotherapy students in professional and academic settings. One of the decisions made was to write the book in an accessible and reader-friendly style and to offer both key points at the end of each chapter and some exercises that could help develop the capacity to reflect both on the actual work and on the different and difficult decisions that have to be made. The book also includes various tables and diagrams – Spidergrams and critical thinking scaffolds. Sometimes the initial response from those working therapeutically is to turn away from such arrangements, but the diagrams and templates provided are recommended as ways of organising initial thinking. As part of writing this book we all used a Spidergram and chapter template scaffold to present our initial ideas for each chapter to one another, and these then provided a reference point and overview of the authoring process. Sometimes we can benefit from stepping outside our usual practice and appreciating that we can then make use of what previously felt alien.

Book outline The first part of the book, Chapters 2–5, focuses on the ‘how to’. These chapters are coauthored by the editors. In Chapter 2 the foundation is laid for what it means to learn and research as an adult professional. Issues such as life/work balance and the mixed feelings that we all bring to learning are

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explored. Past experiences when we were at school or college or in other adult learning situations can cast a long shadow over present aspirations. Therapists are usually well aware of negative reactions alongside apparently positive responses and the inevitably painful feelings evoked by thoughts of criticism and assessment, so there is a reminder of the importance of disentangling ourselves from any repressed feelings from the past. Also, as adult learners we need to be self-directed – but we also need a steady support network to help us. The central thrust of the chapter is practical, with suggestions about how to write up sessions – whether for private notes or supervision – and some tips for process recording of sessions. Suggested outlines for reports and essays are given. Clear pointers are recommended for the move to academic writing for research purposes, with ideas and suggestions for embarking on a literature review, and how to review a reading. In this chapter critical thinking scaffolds are included and are recommended as ways of collating key thoughts and ideas as well as ordering the gathering of literature. In Chapter 3 the focus turns to the subject of ethics – a fundamental concern when we write or research therapeutic work. The exposure of the delicate relationship with the person being seen, the analysis of the subtleties and nuances of something so personal inevitably raises moral issues about integrity and trust. Going public through writing up the work involves power dynamics and value judgements. Are we expected when on a therapy training to know more than we actually do? And if so, what are the implications of this? In this chapter we raise awareness about the power of our sometimes unconscious filtering system and the ramifications of making an assessment about another person. There are recommended social protocols about how to engage ethically with the subject of therapeutic research. In the past twenty years there have been different shifts in consciousness and the effects of these on the recommended protocols are discussed alongside the practical demands put forward by ethics committees and by adhering to professional codes of ethics. The case study can be an assignment on a training course and can also be part of a research paradigm. Chapter 4 is devoted to an exploration of this central concept. The chapter is divided into two parts. Part 1 explores the technicalities of writing a case study in order to pass a counselling course. In this context the case study serves as a ‘rite of passage’ and something that we need to complete and pass in order to be recognised as a qualified therapist. The weight of expectations associated with this piece of work is discussed and then some very practical advice is given on how to select the relevant themes and associated clinical material. Further guidance is given on structuring the case study, and the necessary preparation before the stage of writing up. In Part 2, technicalities associated with using the case study as the methodology for research are discussed. Different types of case study are presented and the appropriate methodologies for the different models are given.

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In Chapter 5 the challenge of choosing a research paradigm is explored. While this chapter focuses on research at postgraduate level it is also applicable for any research linked to CPD or as part of a training qualification. Underlying dynamics are raised and the vital issue of choosing the research area and research question is explored, alongside how to place the preferred methodology within a chosen frame. Pluralism is explored, and suggestions given about the creation of a hybrid methodology that fits the requirements of the therapist and therapeutic research. Congruence of both empirical and theoretical methodology with therapeutic work is recommended, and examples are given to illustrate how different methodologies would work with the subject of research focused on different aspects of self-harming behaviour. Two other examples are given of how original hybrid models can be created so that the research paradigm fits the subject rather than the subject being made to fit the paradigm. In Chapters 6–9 contributors present thoughts and ideas based on their own experiences as researchers. Each chapter takes a different perspective based on the location for the research and the type of methodologies used. Together they give an inspiring picture of the range of possibilities open to therapists in varied environments. In Chapter 6 Jane Whitehead bases her research in an organisational setting. She gives specific pointers on how to frame research in such a setting and directly addresses the issues of power and authority arising within any institution. The methodology she chose was to use focus groups – a methodology perhaps especially suited to the setting. Focus groups have to be carefully selected, and trust and confidentiality – bedrock ingredients of therapeutic work – apply in the same way to such group research. Analysis of data gathered through focus groups and the sorts of difficulties and issues that emerge are covered. Chapter 7, written by Marilyn Barnett, looks at research in the voluntary sector. She raises the complexities of researching one’s peers from the position of an independent practitioner associated with a voluntary counselling agency. This chapter will be of especial interest to the large numbers of therapists who are working in private practice and also those who are linked to different voluntary agencies for part of their practice. Marilyn notes that feelings of isolation and doubt are balanced by a certain freedom to organise and safeguard integrity to suit at a personal level. The methodology she chose was to conduct in-depth interviews from a psychodynamic perspective and link this with narrative research. She interviewed a small group of therapists and details for us some of the issues that arose from the process. In Chapter 8, Amanda Larcombe takes research into the heart of the public sector and engages with a large research project. Expectation management and issues about the power balance prove to be central; and she explains the necessity of understanding the organisational structure, the explicit and implicit hierarchies involved, and the various chains of command. This knowledge proved crucial both at the planning stages of the

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research and afterwards. Amanda describes how to make such research happen by maintaining momentum and perseverance, and guides us through the politics of therapeutic research in such a potentially difficult setting. The useful pointers and advice given can also be extrapolated to a wider research field. Victoria Cole contributes the next chapter and takes as her area research in the community from a feminist perspective. She tackles the sometimes vexing question of how to attract interested and appropriate participants for research. The role of the gatekeeper to prospective participants in various settings is bypassed if your community is an online community, and the advantages and disadvantages of gathering research in this way are discussed. Victoria describes from both a personal and a professional perspective how she gathered participants to her own research project, and the resulting decision-making processes are explored from a feminist perspective. She highlights the significant concern for therapists of reflexivity and reflexive practice and the impact of her self on the research and on the power relations between researcher and researched. In Chapter 10 the idea of going public is presented. This chapter is written by the co-editors and Amanda Larcombe. Not only our research, but also our ideas and thoughts about our work sometimes need a wider audience. This may be partly for our own self-esteem, but there is a wider agenda here which is to raise awareness of therapy and the therapeutic process and the type of help that can be had. As already noted, our profession needs to be enriched by more published research findings and accounts of experiences in the consulting room, both as a wider learning project and as evidence for government bodies’ policy and funding. The different options for going public are discussed alongside all those mixed feelings we may have about such exposure. Ideas to increase confidence and some practical information about how to present and submit work are given. In the final chapter Steven Coombs draws together different aspects of the book and advocates the way forward for work-based action research. Such learning leads to change and could become part of a wider agenda of sharing information and the idea of enabling a community of practice for all involved in therapeutic work, whatever the setting. The development of professional master’s programmes where people pursue their work alongside research qualifications is ideal for therapists and leads to reflective practitioners influencing both their work settings and their professional groupings. Steven links his ideas to personal construct theory, explains why this conceptual framework represents a suitable work-based learning theory, and also explains the role that critical thinking scaffolds can play in supporting such reflective work. He urges all involved with therapeutic work in the helping professions to allow practitioner research to take a central part in personal and organisational development and change. This ‘how to’ book gives you, the reader, a way in to begin to conceptualise

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and write about your practice. This will help you pass assignments and plan large pieces of work such as the case study. The helpful suggestions and key pointers are useful for quick reference and the exercises will help with the necessary reflective processes. You are also offered the opportunity to think about researching your work and finally to consider the wider audience and the profession by publishing your thoughts. This is a book based on experience – the ‘been there’ and ‘done this’ sort of experience – and we invite you to join us in this exciting project.

Chapter 2

Learning and researching as an adult professional Fiona Gardner and Steve Coombs

Learning about therapeutic work and researching the work are both a way of acquiring knowledge – a knowing about something. In contrast, therapeutic work with another person is essentially a process of experiential knowing. When we begin to work with someone there has to be a sense of curiosity about the person and an impetus to reach out and understand their situation. As we work with them we feel empathy and we become involved in what is happening in the relationship – this constitutes, though often at an implicit level, a form of experiential knowing. Such ethical practice links to the notion of developing the core assumptions of a client-centred relationship based on respect, empathy and acceptance. This constitutes a central belief of all models of relational therapy such as the psychodynamic, the person-centred, analytical psychology, transactional analysis, the phenomenological approach of existential therapy, and most models of integrative counselling and psychotherapy. It also underlies the social work, clinical and educational psychology professions, and is implicit in social care and most forms of nursing. Professional training courses provide an explicit practical framework for experiential knowing and help us gain some theoretical knowledge to back up our therapeutic work. They also, of course, give us a qualification and professional recognition that provides societal ‘currency’ for us to practise. When we research our work we are usually driven by a further sense of curiosity and a desire to contribute to the knowledge-base from our work experience. Some professions build this ‘contribution’ obligation into their code of practice, e.g. the British Medical Association, whereas currently the UK teaching profession and the counselling organisations do not. Learning and researching as an adult professional can be transformative in the sense of raising self-esteem and consolidating a sense of both personal and professional identity. This is also connected to the external world through the qualifications that we gain, especially those linked to professional associations such as the British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy (BACP). This professional identity can then become a legitimate Community of Practice (CoP) to enable cultural formation and change as described by Wenger (1998). As adult professionals on a counselling or psychotherapy training course

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or attached to a college or university, we are in a very different situation from the sort of educational experiences we knew as children and as young people. In this chapter we explore the positives and negatives of learning as an adult professional. One of the central experiences of education as an adult professional is that we become part of a process of change. The experience changes us – not only through the process of acquiring knowledge, but also through the self-development that takes place within us. Before we can be open to such change and make space for new experiences we may have to resolve any unfinished business left over from our school or college experiences in the past. Memories of teachers, satisfactions and, more potently, humiliations can affect our current learning; so in this chapter we also reflect on how the past can still cast unhelpful shadows onto the present. Ideas for resolving and hopefully overcoming any past obstacles are discussed. In the second part of this chapter we turn to more practical aspects and look at how to transform both the knowing about, and our experiential knowledge of, working with other people into a pragmatic format that means that we can pass assignments and present our work in a meaningful and robust manner. Skills and techniques are given for writing up sessions, completion of course assignments, presentation at supervision sessions, report writing and essay structures. The larger topic of writing up the final case study assignment is covered in a later chapter. The move from vocational training course to academic research of our clinical practice is covered, with special emphasis on how academic work is assessed and the development of the ability to evaluate critically. Thus, we would distinguish the academic difference as moving from vocational CPD to a higher-order form of critical professional development that satisfies the standard of operating at master’s level and beyond. This ability is developed through academic critical thinking skills that help you to structure research. With this is the practical information needed to develop personal research skills and techniques such as the literature review, which is described alongside discussion of the place of the authorial voice in any research undertaking. The topic of identifying and choosing a suitable research paradigm (or framework for your methodology) is covered in a later chapter. This chapter closes with a summary of key points and some relevant exercises.

Some ups and downs as an adult professional learner Readiness to learn/resistance to change The majority of us who enrol as adult professional learners are ready to learn, and believe that we are open to what we might learn and experience. We often have good intentions and reasons to learn, especially if it leads to a professional qualification; but as adults we are also fairly established in our sense of what we are and what we like. In other words, despite our conscious

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wish to learn, part of us dreads the disturbance. We tend to listen to the tutor or teacher or supervisor through the filter of our own unique experiences and may become defensive when our previous equilibrium is threatened. In other words, this is when we are required to adapt to new situations and obliged to move outside our psychological comfort zone. We may become especially defensive if we are asked to tackle skills that we do not fully understand, or if we are ashamed about our lack of knowledge or ability. With some adult learners this experiential deficit can link to new technology and a lack of familiarity with accessing information through technology, often referred to as technophobia. Part of coping with this sort of phobic resistance to learning is to try to be aware of our reactions and to realise that others have been, or still are, in the same position. If we have good tutors and supervisors they will understand this difficulty and guide us through this life-changing and transformative process. Life/work balance As adult professional learners we have to be clearer about the life/work balance and what this means. Unlike children, who on the whole have their domestic needs met, or students, who tend to count this as a low priority, we will all have wider domestic responsibilities and possibly family responsibilities to manage alongside our training or research work. Prioritising professional development tasks is therefore very important and we need to develop the personal skill of time management if we are to succeed with a sensible life/ work balance. For example, it may not be possible to read the course textbook and do the housework – how can we balance the course demands and still meet our social needs and responsibilities? One way is to have a personal timetable based on a self-organising system and limit the different demands to different times, i.e. a self-determined form of time management. You might like to check on your work/life balance with the exercise at the end of this chapter. Another distracting issue can be when unexpected illness or family problems mean that the demands of the training or research have to be put aside for some time. Then again we have to be realistic about what is possible and, if necessary, apply for an extension or deferment – in other words take some time out – until we are in a better position to concentrate on our work. When we do this we must see it as a positive form of time management that helps us to resolve a life/work balance problem. Self-direction Most adult learning is self-directed, even though in the context of a training qualification it is also directed by the organisation or teaching staff. This is especially so when we are enrolled on a course that is based on distance

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learning (such as some professional master’s programmes). All adult learning requires self-motivation, but as has been noted, ‘being self-directed in one’s learning is itself a context in which learning takes place’ (Merriam and Caffarella 1991: 54–55). The key lies in taking responsibility for the planning and carrying out, and in part, an evaluation of one’s learning. HarriAugstein and Thomas (1991) define this self-direction as ‘self-organised learning’ and consider such professional learning as part of developing a reflective learning conversation with oneself and others. This is why Schön (1983) and many others push the notion of developing the reflective practitioner as a means of enabling self-direction, and this concept also accords with Bandura’s (1986) notion of self-regulated learning, self-efficacy and self-actualisation as a form of understanding personal motivation. Support networks As adult professional learners our support network is especially important. Most learning on training courses is informal and some of it is self-directed; research work is often largely self-motivated learning, but the tutors and supervisors involved also have some responsibility for encouraging and nurturing this movement towards self-direction. Therefore, the learning support network needs to include tutors and supervisors with whom we need to be frank if we are in personal difficulties or need extra time to complete an assignment. This support network will inevitably include other people on the course, or those following the same research degree; and peer support is crucial throughout the period of learning. It is appropriate therefore to identify, develop and make use of support networks, which will also hopefully include friends and family, to share the pressures that can emerge from higher education professional development.

The power of the past As our past experiences can seriously hinder our capacity to change and learn, it is important to look at this more closely and try to disentangle the power of past projections onto the present situation. We all bring our past experiences into the present, but can minimise the detrimental effects if we develop a capacity for increased self-awareness. As therapeutic practitioners this should not be too hard. One way is to recognise whether we feel defensive or resistant and then try to work out where this feeling comes from. We will all bring past experiences of feeling put down, or feeling stupid, or inadequate, or not good enough – counsellors and therapists are usually quite familiar with this sort of experience, but we need to prevent these old psychological shadows from spoiling our abilities in the present. At the end of this chapter is an exercise called ‘Clearing away any obstacles’ that might help isolate and explain defensive feelings.

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As well as these past experiences we will also inevitably have transference and countertransference responses in the present towards the course, the people on it, those leading it and the end qualification. Here’s an example to illustrate these sorts of dynamics. It is about the counsellor’s countertransference to a piece of research, i.e. the feelings about doing the research and analysing the findings evoked in the student researcher. A counsellor researched her work over six sessions with a client for her MA dissertation. Her focus was on how she worked as a counsellor rather than the content of what the client brought to the sessions. The sessions were taped, transcribed and then the interventions made by the student counsellor were analysed by a peer and a supervisor. One result of the research was that the student found that she was much more directive than she had thought and frequently didn’t actually listen to what the client said or how she was saying it. Inevitably the analysis of this data evoked strong feelings in the student, who began to dread the sessions. It was only when she could acknowledge her shame and embarrassment at how she sounded to the supervisor and peer colleague, and accept how she was misunderstanding her client, that she could begin to think clearly about what was actually happening in the work and why. It was only when she could appreciate the supportive supervisor and peer colleague as who they were in the present that she could separate them from her disapproving and critical parents. The outcome, though painful, was also very helpful. Gaining qualifications, being assessed on training courses and working in research situations stir up anxieties at all sorts of levels and some of these may come from the past. Moreover, this sort of dynamic can, according to Devereux (1967), also affect the formulation of research hypotheses and theories arising from the research work we are doing. He suggests that we will tend to concentrate on the less anxiety-causing aspect of our research findings, which usually then serves to discourage enquiry into the other ‘more anxiety arousing portion of the facts’ (quoted by Rowan 1981a: 77). As we elaborate one part of the data as theory, we create the illusion that it is complete and therefore avoid facing up to the more disturbing aspects of what our research has uncovered. The way to overcome this self-bias is through self-awareness. Self-knowledge makes a better knower (Rowan 1981b: 88), and through working in as genuine a way as is possible, anxiety can be reduced and the experience as an adult professional learner becomes creative, growth-promoting and transformative.

How to write up work on a training course There is a clear context for learning as an adult professional in the field of therapeutic work. The learning that takes place and the meanings that we

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attach to what we experience and know are constructed within the field of therapy and counselling. This is known as situated cognition (Merriam and Brockett 1997), as our learning is firmly linked to real-life situations, and so we professionally operate within a situated learning environment. The assignments and written requirements are also clearly based on gaining a qualification. Therefore the way we think and write about our work is framed by the demands of the course. How we write up our meetings with clients depends on the function of our notes and who we are communicating with and why. Private session notes These are at one level the easiest notes to write, but again consider what you need to note down and why. You might choose to highlight some of the following issues:

• • • • • • •

the sequence of the session particular moments when there was heightened emotion facts and information feelings evoked in the session unresolved and underlying concerns how you felt after the session links with any theoretical ideas and concepts that might be helpful.

Process recording for supervision Process recording is often asked for as part of counselling and psychotherapy training and is a word-for-word account (as far as is possible) of a session including non-verbal communication. Some courses refine their demands of this to suggest that the student revisit a time in the session when one felt particularly challenged or awkward and include the following: the content – what was actually said or done, plus observations on the voice delivery, body language and physical actions (if any). Alongside the recording of what happened is a reflective account of the process: the student’s inner conversational monologue of thoughts, feelings and impressions. How do we remember what happened? There are three ways of doing a process recording: memory, audiotape and videotape. Clearly the last two have ethical implications and would involve the client’s written consent in order to address concerns about confidentiality. The ethical research policy pursued would therefore need to be very clear about who else would see the material and what would happen to the tapes. Most therapy training courses require process recording from memory and it is certainly a skill that improves with practice. Here are some useful tips.

•

Aim to jot down the keywords and the sequence of the session as soon as it ends, i.e. your keywords are personal construct descriptors of

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• • •

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the experience and act as future key prompts to jog your memory and re-construe the original experience. Make a quick note of what felt like the introductory, the working and the ending phases of the session. Note any part of the session that felt core to the relationship and aim to write down as much as you can of that part. Make time for writing up the process recording as soon as possible after the session, thereby taking advantage of your short-term memory of the experience.

There are different ways of writing up sessions using process recording, so please check what is actually wanted from your course. The following three-step rubric for process recording and qualitative discourse analysis is recommended. 1

2

3

The first step to take is the straightforward method of writing up as much of the session sequentially as is possible. Thus, we have an event-time transcript of the event, which could be recoded systematically into a table of evidence. The second step is to revisit particular sections and explain why you have chosen a particular extract; you may need a summary of either side of the section you have chosen to locate the context. Thus, we have critical reflection on the event. A third step is to lay out the work in a findings table using two columns – the first includes the dialogue and the second your analysis. The importance of the analysis section is to look critically at what occurred, noting the dynamics involved, and then using this information to discuss and explore further in a supervision session with your tutor/supervisor. Thus, we have post-reflective critical analysis of the event that is then systematically recorded into a findings table for further discussion and analysis of emergent themes. This type of conversational analysis of a narrative transcript is also referred to as discourse analysis, which will be further discussed in later chapters.

Writing up for supervision and the role of professional learning agreements If your supervisor does not want process recording, then find out what is wanted. Bringing session notes or a process recording ends up as more work, but you also get more out of the supervision. Sometimes ‘just talking’ about the client can become woolly and it’s also then possible to avoid bringing in such difficulties for all the reasons explored above. Then the material is censored – even if not consciously – and it’s then harder to learn from the supervision experience. We need to remember that both individual and group supervision is an emotional experience for all involved: the continuous

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process of evaluation; the reciprocal fears of exposing one’s weaknesses; the impact of the training course and qualification. While it is important to share work difficulties and be aware of the emotional climate, it is also important to maintain boundaries so that supervision does not become another form of personal counselling or therapy. A sensible way to govern supervision sessions is for the supervisor and student to negotiate and draw up a professional learning agreement form – see Figure 2.1. The form suggested here can be applied to clinical supervision in the work setting and on a training placement, and also to academic supervision of a research project. This serves as both a record of the tutorial and a set of agreed specific learning tasks for the student to engage in and focus on between supervision sessions. Such a document constitutes an individual student learning contract; and in itself can help to increase the personal motivation of the student by providing a clear agenda from which to focus self-organised learning and other activity. Session notes for an assignment or case study If you need to select dialogue from a session for an assignment or for a case study, the following may be helpful.

• • •

Choose an extract for which you have full notes and one that illustrates the theoretical perspectives you are writing about. Try to include an extract that can illustrate your skills and appropriate techniques undertaken, but also illustrates your capacity to learn from mistakes following later critical reflection. It may be better to choose an uncomplicated section that illustrates the counselling relationship rather than one with a lot of dramatic client material where there is little interaction.

Report and essay writing In both report and essay writing there is the need for a clear structure. Reports usually cover specific research or evidence-based information with a defined purpose (e.g. a report on the welfare of a child, or on the usage of a counselling service). Reports are formal and are usually written in the third person; the purpose is to give information concisely and accurately. The evaluation of the facts or evidence is in the conclusion and there may be recommendations arising from your findings. The presentation of a report is important. It is best to use short sentences and check all grammar and spelling. It cannot be over-emphasised how much authority can be lost by bad spelling or grammar. Headings and subheadings are a useful way of laying out and organising the information into logical sections of text that help focus the writing task.

Learning and researching

Figure 2.1 Professional learning agreement form.

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Report writing This often follows the format of the following discrete sections of text – check to see which are relevant for your setting:

• • • • • • • • •

title executive summary or abstract presenting problem or reason for referral/terms of reference/the goal of the treatment (relevant in short-term work)/purpose of the report the route of referral, i.e. how the client arrived at seeing you/procedures followed to gather the information/the number of meetings to gather the data background history/context/introduction to the client/introduction to the subject main body of the report/the counselling relationship/evidence through session material/information gathered analysis/findings conclusions – drawn from the findings and linked back where appropriate to any research literature recommendations – as policy implications for future practice.

Essays Essays, in contrast to reports, are a way of demonstrating our ideas and arguments to tutors. In essay writing we need to use our ‘authorial voice’ – this is the voice based on experiential learning backed up by the relevant theoretical literature. We also need to show that we are able to sift through the relevant literature and that we have enough knowledge of the subject to present our own views thoughtfully. Check with your tutor whether the use of the first person ‘I’ is considered appropriate and whether or not you are expected to include client or even personal material – courses differ, as does the policy and cultural attitude towards client ethics. Write an essay plan beforehand. A good way is to use academic writing templates such as the Spidergram (Figure 2.2) – design/elicit a suitable focus question at the centre and then record all the connected ideas, issues and associated experiences – or the critical thinking writing scaffold in Figure 2.3 (Coombs 2000). In this way you can make sure that all the academic issues are covered. If the essay is based on a question, we need to make sure that the terms used are fully defined and critically explored using appropriate literature such that by the end we have more or less answered what was wanted. The structure of an academic essay is based on a main heading followed by a series of subheadings. A paragraph is usually seen as a basic structuring unit. The first sentence of the paragraph announces the theme, which is then expanded in the paragraph; there should be a link of sorts with the previous paragraph and a link onto the next. Paragraphs are usually from one

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Figure 2.2 The Spidergram. Sourced from Coombs (1995).

third to half a page in length. Keep quotes to a few lines or paraphrase, though obviously attributing the author. Full references need to be included in the bibliography as a sub-headed references section and the appropriate academic format/convention followed, e.g. Harvard or APA. Again, check with your training body or higher education institution for the official referencing convention used. The following is a standard essay structure in counselling training.

• • • • • •

Introduction Critical review of recent and relevant literature Description of relevance to clinical work Discussion and reflection Conclusion References.

The professional as academic – the move to postgraduate research Assessment at postgraduate level Once we have passed our undergraduate professional training course then we become a postgraduate, and the level of academic assessment changes to a higher level. The nature of the academic work, especially with a professional master’s programme, is linked to the workplace and is aimed at developing professional practice. At the academic level it is about learning a style of critical writing, absorbing techniques of presentation, and developing a postgraduate discourse using literature sources. At this level we are expected to write clearly and accurately, know how to reference appropriately and, again,

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Figure 2.3 The academic writing scaffold.

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Figure 2.3 Continued

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(Continued overleaf )

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Figure 2.3 Continued

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Figure 2.3 Continued

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the academic presentation and layout of the text is very important; so please clarify the institutional guidelines and conventions adopted. One of the key aspects of assessment as a postgraduate is demonstrating critical evaluation discourse in a discursive or logical manner. What does this mean? The skill needed is the ability to read, reflect on and analyse the relevant theoretical literature through critical evaluation; this means having the confidence to expose the limitations and use of some theories or ideas, and to compare like with like, and unlike with something other – a form of intellectual triangulation of literature and other relevant sources. The technique is to acknowledge the complexity of some concepts and perhaps to evaluate these concepts in the light of client work. In other words, the postgraduate level opens up further the critical questioning of elicited assumptions and values. This fits well with therapeutic work where there are never easy straightforward responses and, in thinking about one area of life, another assumes importance – in other words, one thing leads to another, and then recursively to more questioning and further critical reflection. This represents the basis of critical thinking and writing and is an academic skill that needs to be developed. Another aspect at postgraduate level is a developing awareness of the context of particular theorists, and an understanding of the differing perspectives in the therapeutic field. The postgraduate student also needs to develop an ability to engage in a higher-order critique through crossing professional boundaries and academic fields so as to evaluate new work and critical theorists and elicit an original argument. For example: A student began her research on treatment offered to a small group of women with eating disorders. Her counselling training was a humanistic and integrative course, but once she began her literature review she realised that she also had to read about, reflect on and evaluate theories based on cognitive behaviourism, as CBT was the predominant and accepted perspective used in the unit where she was basing her research. She had to understand a variety of perspectives and accept the attitude of the cognitive behaviourists towards her tradition in order to access her data. At the same time she was able to see that the workers also used the values from the humanistic and integrative tradition in their relationships with the women, although interestingly these were not accorded the same value as the behaviourist perspective. This type of exercise develops an ability to compare, contrast and critique different value systems drawn from differing fieldwork paradigms. This can also be understood as identifying the range of ontological assumptions within and across the professional field(s) of study, i.e. to be able to identify a range of differing cultural ‘truths’ and epistemologies (knowledge paradigms) as working assumptions for different professions.

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Another assessment benchmark is the use of sufficient theory to formulate a subject/study framework. In other words, we need to show that we know our subject area and there also need to be adequate references to support any assertions made – either as described above from our own client work evidence base or empirical experiences, or in the form of references to previous writers. Theory and practice need to be integrated and we need to demonstrate our understanding and evaluation of underlying and relevant theories in our subject area. Usually, tutors expect a good number of references – at least twelve for short postgraduate assignments, well over thirty for major study dissertations. Developing your practice through research Postgraduate research linked to professional practice is often original in the sense that the work is our own unique contribution and not replicating that of another. Working at this level draws on all the accumulated knowledge and experience that we have and takes this into a new area. It also creates the possibility of adding new professional knowledge as a contribution to the professional field of work and can be reported using the associated academic journal or professional magazine, website, etc. This professional contribution and personal recognition are important, as unless the subject is also new and interesting it will be hard to keep our motivation going throughout the research. Knowing what we want to research, choosing our research question and our research paradigm is covered in a later chapter; however, it is important to state here that opening up new areas of interest and feeling enthusiastic about what we might be discovering and researching is essential. This type of professional learning and engagement through practitioner research represents our professional development as well as our potential contribution to the professional field of work that we operate within. Such practice-based research students who come to the first tutorial with an interest in looking more deeply at a particular subject within their workbased field of enquiry tend to be better motivated than those searching around for something that ‘might do’! The exact and defined focus for the research can be refined once the student is enrolled and has begun to ground themselves in preparing for their research. Thus, developing professional practice through research becomes a means whereby professional development is reconceptualised as something that integrates higher education CPD qualifications with work-based enquiry. And this type of academic CPD develops a ‘useful’ social context that unites and motivates the student and their work-based peers as common stakeholders of professional learning. The Spidergram in Figure 2.2 can be used as a critical thinking tool to help elicit the starting themes for such an enquiry. Try using the focus question ‘what areas of my practice would I like to enquire into?’ Another focus question might be ‘what are the problems that I face in my everyday practice?’

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Such questions dig deep into the professional context and work-based experience of the student and provide a powerful agenda from which to initiate a meaningful practice-based research project. Such practice-based research uses an action research personal improvement paradigm that is supported by Elliot (1991) and others, and we shall be exploring this and other research paradigms in a later chapter. The literature review Some background reading will have been covered on the professional training course, so most postgraduate research students already have a reasonable knowledge base and a sense of where to find other appropriate sources. At this stage we may also have begun to read around the subject we are interested in. A key point is to begin to use either index cards or a literature scaffold system (Figure 2.4) to ensure that we keep track of our sources and ideas gleaned from them – this includes date, place of publication and publishers as well as some personally authored notes. Here are some general pointers linked to the literature review.

• •

•

Be flexible and prepared to make adaptations to the research once you’ve read what others have written. Use the library catalogue and search by keywords – use the internet and follow research links – remember to consult the most up-to-date journals which contain the latest thinking and compare these with older, seminal texts. Try to prioritise sources by selecting the most important and recent readings – use older works to place the subject in a traditional known/ accepted framework or historical context. Acknowledge those theorists such as Rogers, Freud, Jung and others whose seminal works describe a subject benchmark or transcend time barriers, i.e. use seminal texts as key references that can balance arguments from more contemporary sources such as recent journals.

Specific pointers on how to review a reading Reading your sources is done with the intention of developing an argument relative to either your essay or research project question. Central to any review is to first identify a range of sources using keyword searches as described in the previous section. The next step is to be able to identify your range of reading questions against which to examine your sources. These ‘focus’ reading questions are your personal constructs that link to your academic postgraduate enquiry, albeit an essay or a research project. Have a go with the literature review exercise at the end of this chapter in order to develop this academic skill further.

Figure 2.4 Action researcher’s personal log of key source references.

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Key learning points

• • • • •

Awareness of the complexities of being an adult professional learner – the advantages and disadvantages. Alertness to past difficulties and where these may affect the present. Remaining open when critically reflecting on work. Appreciating that there are certain skills and pointers for writing up sessions and assignments on the training course and that scaffolds can help support this. Understanding the importance of critical evaluation and breadth of the literature review needed at postgraduate level and the role of the reflective practitioner to advance professional fieldwork and knowledge.

Exercises for Chapter 2 What is in my life? Draw a circle and divide this into four parts.

• • • •

One quarter is for work – what you do with your day (paid or not). One quarter is for close relationships – family and intimate relationships. One quarter is for friendships and interests. One quarter is for space – this may include psychic renewal/spirituality space.

Over a week, fill each quarter and see how much time is allotted to each. Is your circle balanced? If not, why not? What can you do about this?

Clearing away any obstacles Write down at least ten words or phrases that describe your previous academic experiences. Do this first of all for school experiences (primary and secondary), then for any student experiences (college, training courses, university or other adult learning). How many are positive and how many are negative on each list? How do you now understand the negative and can you see why this happened? Note the effects on your confidence then and now. Try to separate the past from the present, concentrating on the present reality. Write some affirmative sentences based on the positive experiences that you are having on the course you are on now. Include one sentence that reminds you of your potential worth as a qualified practitioner/qualified professional/researcher/ person with a postgraduate degree – repeat these positive statements each day until you feel more confident.

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Dealing with anxieties about writing If you are unsure about the skills and techniques of writing, try the following to improve your confidence. Try to avoid defensive responses and be frank and open to your worries.

• • •

Share your anxiety with your tutor/supervisor and ask for their guidance and any pointers they can give you. Read about, and learn, how to write academically. Consult a textbook for practical information, e.g. Improving Your Written English (Field 1998). Read journal articles and past student work to note the structure, layout, style and accepted practice. Familiarise yourself with the authoring process of how academics design and present their work and how they reference, both in the text and in the reference section – this is not something just for the elite or those ‘in the know’; it is a technical skill that can be copied and easily learnt, but with various format conventions.

Practice the following.

• • •

•

Write using short sentences. Try précising theoretical quotes and aim to put other people’s ideas in your own words, although of course you should attribute the idea to whoever wrote it, i.e. quote the academic reference. Read about a theory or piece of clinical work then jot down three points that you support and try to find three points with which you disagree – this will help you develop your ability to evaluate critically in terms of eliciting pros and cons about an argument. Once you have come up with an argument or point of view about a piece of observed clinical work, try to identify several sources (or more) that help to explain, support, refine and develop your argument.

Taking it further Select a subject that has really fascinated you on your training course. Is there an aspect that you remain curious about? Is there a way that you could see of gathering more information on this? Jot down your ideas about this and play with the idea to see if you can come up with either a hypothesis or a social improvement goal as a key focus question for a manageable piece of research; try using the Spidergram to do this as described below. Do a scan of possible literature – check to see who else has been interested in this, and from their work refine your main research focus question. See if you feel excited by the ideas you have had; if so, then why not take it further?

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Use the supplied critical thinking scaffolds 1 to explore the following The Spidergram (Figure 2.2) Use the Spidergram to explore your main ideas. Elicit your central focus question and then explore and record all your identified issues, experiences and ideas. (For an example of a completed Spidergram, see Figure 8.1.) The academic writing scaffold (Figure 2.3) Use this academic tool to explore any essay or postgraduate research project. Once this has been completed you will have an academic action plan of all your ideas from which to develop and author the final project write-up. The literature scaffold (Figure 2.4) Use the literature source reviewing scaffold in Figure 2.4 to do the following. 1

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Use the Spidergram in Figure 2.2 to first identify a range of key reading focus questions (that relate to your main research enquiry) from which to benchmark your ideas gleaned from your reading sources. Then use the literature scaffold in Figure 2.4 to develop and record your abstract. This will link your focus question to the source you have read. You may record quotes, page numbers, etc., as well as eliciting your ideas and arguments connecting your focus question to what is in the source. You can then put these literature findings into the appropriate sections of the academic writing scaffold in Figure 2.3.

1 Critical thinking scaffolds were first developed by Coombs (1995, 2000, 2005) as knowledge elicitation systems; the framework design is linked to Kelly’s personal construct theory (PCT) and explored in depth in Chapter 11.

Chapter 3

Ethical dilemmas in training and in research Fiona Gardner and Steve Coombs

‘Ethics’ is an umbrella term that can cover both the specifics linked to a particular code of ethics of a training body or organisation and the general approaches linked to the way in which we want to socially treat someone coming into a counselling work environment, or as a research participant within a humanistic paradigm. Both the general and specific meanings are central to the work of the counsellor and therapist and therefore to the social researcher of therapeutic work. All mainstream training courses in counselling and psychotherapy and in social care work with an understanding of respect for the client, and well-established theoretical perspectives work with ideas of positive acceptance, listening to what the client is saying, unconditional positive regard, and so on (e.g. Rogers 1959; Kohut 1984). All trainee practitioners are taught to understand the importance of keeping boundaries and taking responsibility for providing an appropriate environment for the counselling. The general ethics that apply to our face-to-face work also apply when we reflect on, write up, or research our work. Therefore, it is no surprise to find ethics as a central concern in this book and at the heart of any research design or proposed framework from which to carry out field research. In this chapter we explore the ethics involved in writing and researching therapeutic work in the specific and general meanings of the term. The moral dimension of reflecting, writing and researching is discussed in terms of how it affects the counselling relationship and the implicit and sometimes explicit balance of power between the knower and the known. Issues of difference and associated value judgements are explored in the context of the integrity of writing about clients. The ethics of trust and research partnership is another theme covered in this chapter, alongside the concept of duty of care and the associated responsibility and necessary rules of engagement of writing about another person who is by definition vulnerable and in some sort of emotional distress. Making assessments, commenting on the person, suggesting diagnosis and hypothesising about our clients’ states of mind are skills that we need to demonstrate while training. They are often central aspects of clinical supervision, discussion groups and writing up a case study, all deemed necessary

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tasks and skills in order to qualify. What sort of value judgements are we using? What are the implications of discussing someone within a supervision session, or in a peer support group – are we betraying the therapeutic relationship, or is this a way of deepening the work to our and the client’s advantage? Are there times when we distort the ‘truth’ of the session in order to put ourselves in a better light or to please the supervisor? What does it mean when we return to the client full of the supervisor’s ideas rather than being open to the material being brought? These are all questions that concern ethics, and our ethical policy underpins not only our social rules of engagement, but also the research paradigm we choose to work within – see Chapter 5 on choosing research paradigms. There is also an ethical dilemma in terms of how we engage in research and what we do with our knowledge. What does it mean to use someone for our own benefit when we write about them in an essay or as social evidence within our case study? In our reflecting, writing and researching, is the ‘truth’ of the encounter compromised, ‘relativised’ or somehow reduced? If we research our work, how do we establish the terms of our social engagement with the research participants and, finally, how do we maintain the confidentiality and integrity of any involved relationship(s)? Alongside these moral concerns there are the specific codes of practice linked to training institutions, registering bodies and agencies. There may also be ethical committees that will assess research proposals. In this chapter suggestions are made for ethical approaches to reflecting on, writing and researching therapeutic work. Ideas of respect for the person, sharing the task and relational empathy and reciprocity are discussed within the context of the professional and academic worlds. An ethics framework for writing and researching appropriate to therapeutic practice is suggested.

The moral dimension: Power dynamics, value judgements and trust Reflecting on the work Therapeutic work begins with the premise of accepting the client and listening to their difficulties. To learn to listen properly we are taught how to be open and cultivate empathy. We seek to suspend judgements and our own opinions in order to understand better. The concept of empathy has developed from its first emergence as a way of ‘knowing about’ the subject for artists and poets, through to its gradually increased importance as part of therapeutic work and a source of data about the client, to, more recently, an awareness of relationships, groups, communities and ultimately societies. An even more recent usage is that of relational empathy, which refers directly to the relational nature of therapeutic work (cf. O’Hara 1997). In other words, it is less ‘us and them’ than the

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relationship between us that is held in mind. The early use by Rogers (1959) of empathy as a crucial tool in counselling saw the therapist gaining access through thinking and feeling themselves into the world of the client in order eventually to feed this back to them. This ‘knowing’ of the other person through imaginatively seeing the world through their eyes is also described by object relations analysts such as Kohut (1984). The emphasis has always been placed on the ‘as if’ quality of empathy to prevent over-identification and merging. It is an interesting paradox that this very knowing of another, clearly a valuable skill aimed at helping the other person, can also be seen – and occasionally unethically used – as a way of emphasising inequality of knowledge and therefore power. While reflecting on our work we need to also develop an awareness of the filter through which we are empathising and seeing the client, and the value systems through which we are almost inevitably making judgements – even if these are sometimes imperceptible or we immediately repress them. Differences of social status, gender, race, religious beliefs and cultural backgrounds are powerful conditioned aspects of our thought processes. It is very hard for us to suspend our judgements for longer than a few seconds when we initially meet someone. At some level of thought there is part of us already sizing up the person’s appearance, voice, status, state of mind and so on. This may be especially so when we are meeting a client for the first time and there is some anxiety about what may be asked from us. Remember that Freud said that we fear what we do not know and what is different from us, and when we fear we become defensive. For example, a counsellor described her first meeting with her training client – a client whom she needed to see regularly for at least a year in order to qualify. My first thought was she’s too tall . . . I’m short myself and this gawky tall woman about my age came through the door . . . she had slightly sticking out teeth and even before she spoke I thought I can’t be with her for a whole year! This is clearly an instant personal response rather than a measured reflection, but the power of this initial defensive emotion required much unpacking and awareness before further thought. Of course it might also have been a projection picked up by the counsellor – in other words, the client took a look at the counsellor and thought ‘she’s too small (she may not be able to meet my needs) therefore I won’t want to stay too long’. Another counsellor described the wave of fear that she might not be able to help (surely something we have all felt at times) that flooded over her when her very first client described an early history of abuse and neglect. As she spoke I just thought, ‘How on earth can I help her?’. . . . I

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really wanted to but thought ‘I know nothing and will only let her down’. I felt right out of my depth and wondered why I was doing the course. Again, really hearing and being open to the person is obstructed by the counsellor’s anxiety. In both these situations feeling able to be frank about the feelings is a positive place to be. Reflecting on our instant reactions is a good starting point, and it helps to discuss them in supervision or with a colleague. We need to be honest about our own frame of mind (as best we can) in order to be receptive to what we may be picking up as projection or through empathy. We need to understand our own prejudices and value judgements, and where they come from, in order to prevent them from interfering in the work. This is why most training courses for counselling and psychotherapy place such importance on personal therapy. Try following the second exercise at the end of this chapter as a way of reflecting on the client in a meditative atmosphere. Allow the process of free association to take place – without censorship. Writing up our work Do you have to pretend to know more than you actually do? One of the limitations of the process and verbatim recordings described in the previous chapter is that we have to conceptualise and marshal our thoughts and impressions by putting them down on paper. We may also be asked for an initial ‘diagnosis’ or ‘what might be going on for this person?’, sometimes straight away or quite early in the therapeutic relationship. Perhaps it is especially when we put our thoughts down on paper that the moral dimension and power aspects of therapeutic work become more of an ethical dilemma. At this point the therapist is in a powerful position with control over describing, assessing and hypothesising about the work. Rather than being in the place of ‘not knowing’ and open to all possibilities, the writer needs to ‘know’ something about what is going on and to be able to present this in a coherent form for rational and circumscribed assessment. Morally, it has to be the case that the integrity of the work is then at some level compromised, and certainly inevitably reduced and rationalised, unless the writer is able to present the relationship with great sensitivity and awareness. It is always difficult to balance the need for thoughtful clarity in a supervision session with an ethical acknowledgement that we may not understand our client, or know what is happening for them at this stage in the therapy. Once again there are general guidelines for writing up our work – often around the use of adjectives. For example: avoid the use of ‘us’ (meaning the therapist) and ‘them’ (meaning the client) words and scenarios through your descriptions. Whose feelings are you describing anyway?

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Mr A appeared anxious and ill at ease. He answered initially in a shifty manner, unable to look directly at me. As the session continued he seemed to relax. Here is an extract from a first session: this may be how it was, but the counsellor was advised to check first whether some of the pejorative adjectives actually described the client’s state of mind. In other words, who was the more anxious and ill at ease? The reality is that in a first session both counsellor and client are probably tense. We might wonder what the effect of the counsellor’s anxiety is on Mr A. Advice would be to avoid pejorative adjectives, and attribute feelings to the client only if this can be backed up by verbatim data. Whose values are you describing? Miss B is a depressed and depressing woman in her late 30s. She dresses in a dowdy and unappealing manner that makes her look much older. Her hair is unfashionably fastened by plastic hair grips – the sort that I remember from childhood. At our first meeting she was wearing brown woollen tights with down at heel shoes. She carried a great deal of shopping and looked like a ‘bag lady’. Again, this counsellor may be describing how it was, but we might suggest that the counsellor take more care over the value-laden adjectives and the personal statements. One way would be to describe Miss B objectively and then separately note the effect her appearance had on the counsellor. The other would be to try to work out why this client made the counsellor feel depressed and what her appearance might be telling the counsellor about the client’s experiences and expectations. A depressed state of mind cannot be diagnosed purely on appearance, so we need to take care when proffering a clinical diagnosis. Issues of prejudice always come into play, but if we are describing work with someone where there is controversial material on highly sensitive or sensational subjects then the ethical aspects of prejudice are powerful and far-reaching. For example: A trainee was asked to work with a client. A few sessions into the work the client disclosed that he was involved in an extramarital affair. In supervision the trainee expressed strong disapproval and seemed unable to move beyond this to think through the work. It later emerged that in the past the trainee’s wife had been involved with another man and the work was reactivating all his feelings about this betrayal. The ethical decision was then whether he could/should continue as counsellor in this situation and if not how to arrange a transfer to another counsellor.

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Power dynamics are always involved in therapeutic work, no matter how egalitarian and client-centred a theoretical perspective we take. Similar dynamics emerge as we reflect and write about the client, but if we are to work ethically then we need to be aware of what we are thinking and saying and why. When writing about someone else for a course assignment we need to ensure as much confidentiality as we can, as this is a priority in order to protect the therapeutic relationship. We need to make sure that we do not betray the client in order to satisfy course requirements, or for our own status and self-importance. Ideas such as relational reciprocity (discussed later in this chapter) are one possible way of achieving this ethical protocol.

What are the protocols of ethical engagement in research? Protocols are central to any research framework that underpins our work. They are not so different from the protocols of all therapeutic treatment, in that research about therapeutic work would usually emphasise identification with relationships based on mutual trust and empathy. Boundaries are kept to and care is given to the well-being of the research subjects, and this ethical consideration needs to be placed above any other academic needs. Indeed, the research ‘subject’ is really our research client, or partner, because above all else the validity of the social relationship we create affects the quality and authenticity of any social data elicited and recorded for our study. Punch (1998: 169) draws our attention to three developments that have ‘materially affected the ethical dimension in research’ and that have led to a change of consciousness in ethics. These are:

• •

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the women’s movement – where non-exploitative relationships are emphasised action research, where the research subjects are seen as partners, or respondents, or as stakeholders in a constructivist paradigm based on ‘avoidance of harm, fully informed consent and the need for privacy and confidentiality’ the influence of government agencies which insist that funding or supporting research is contingent on an ethical statement.

Another shift in consciousness is clearly apparent in Bond’s recent and significant work. In his introduction to the BACP ethical guidelines for therapeutic research, Bond highlights the two major preoccupations of research ethics as the ‘relationships with the people being researched, and the integrity of the contribution to knowledge’ (Bond 2004a: 5). He explores each of these issues from an ethical perspective of trust, which is seen as the foundation for therapeutic work and is defined in the guidelines as ‘a quality of relationship . . . that is sufficient to withstand any challenges arising

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from inequality, difference, uncertainty and risk in their work together’ (2004b: 10). Emphasis is clearly on the idea of the work together and the quality of relational reciprocity – ‘relational’ here refers to that which emerges between the researcher and research participants. In other words, the stance of the researcher to the research participants is not an objective, detached, ‘means to an end’ approach, but rather one characterised by full involvement, awareness of intersubjectivity and openness to whatever the research reveals. This is, as we see in the next section, not a blurring of boundaries and a recipe for confusion, but rather an acknowledgement of a distinct and collaborative democratic relationship based on what Rogers (1961) refers to as congruence and Harré (1977) as social ethogenics. Loewenthal (2007) further reflects on the postmodern influence on the development of ethics within therapeutic research, where, referring to the work of Levinas, Loewenthal writes, ‘For a researcher to acknowledge the researched’s face is to have responsibility to the researched and for the researched . . . Heteronomy (putting the other first) has more important implications for what we mean by the relational’ (2007: 229). In this way our values and ethics become linked as, rather than autonomy – going after what we need – we begin by thinking and taking responsibility for the needs of the others and the otherness (the distinctiveness) of the other. A term for this is ‘responsible relatedness’ (Gans, 1989).

Ethical collaboration – the way forward These recent discussions and developments in research ethics mean that contemporary researchers in therapeutic work can be increasingly confident about ideas such as relational reciprocity, relational empathy and cooperative enquiry; and therefore less defensive in dealing with comments that therapeutic research is not scientifically objective or rigorous enough. The truth is that therapeutic research operates within a different interpretive research paradigm to that of the more accepted physical science experimental world. The goal is not to prove how relationships work in a detached manner, but to be able to create, co-construct, observe and make sense of them, and to identify any emergent social theory. These ideas of relational working can be combined under the term ‘ethical collaboration’ and can be understood and employed at different levels. If therapists understand that their clients are self-determining (as they inevitably do), then researchers in counselling and psychotherapy understand that so too are research participants. Another way of thinking about this is that at some level ‘all those involved in the research are both co-researchers, whose thinking and decision making contribute to generating ideas, designing and managing the project, and drawing conclusions from the experience, and also co-subjects, participating in

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the activity being researched’ (Reason 1994: 326). Here Reason is advocating a mutual honouring and respect in the exchange of ideas and any research actions. Clearly people contribute in different ways and to different degrees, but the underlying ethics remains one of collaboration and therefore in line with the basis of counselling and psychotherapy work.

The integrity of the research As with writing about our work, all research inevitably involves value decisions and judgements – this applies to those of us designing the research and interpreting the data as well as those being researched. There is an increasing acknowledgement that subjectivity rather than objectivity affects all research from conception to completion. Haraway uses the phrases ‘situated knowledges’ and ‘embodied objectivity’: she is describing how all research operates from a partial perspective in a limited location, and that in understanding this we become answerable for our findings (1991: 183). While acknowledging the need for ‘passionate detachment’ (cf. Kuhn 1982), Haraway also highlights the partiality of our research results: what we find out is only ‘views from somewhere’ (1991: 196). Social constructivism and discourse analysis, discussed in a later chapter, also question the integrity of claims of objectivity and scientific rigour. The idea of trustworthy research – research with integrity – is linked both to the type of knowledge being produced and to the purpose for which it is intended. This, as Bond reminds us, needs to apply to whatever style of research or research methodology we use (2004a: 6). As researchers we need awareness of our own sense of what is good and of our intentions for the research. In other words, we are accountable for what we discover and what we do with this knowledge. Once we have satisfied and are compliant with codes and guidelines, we move to the more subtle issues of the research. At this stage Bond suggests that rather than asking whether something is allowed or not, we ask ‘the much more demanding question, “What ought I to do?”. . . . [which is] more trusting of the researcher’ (2004a: 9). Such an ethical approach also affects our interpretation of the research findings. Rather than forcing our data to fit with our preconceived ideas and our hypotheses, we accept that the perspective of the research participants may indeed be different and distinct and therefore not what we had wanted. For example: A student who had a great deal personally invested in demonstrating an aspect of gender discrimination in mental health provision admitted many years later that she had selectively deleted transcribed taped interviews and chosen to highlight the material that substantiated her view (and her own experiences), and that could be confirmed by a particular branch of the literature. Although her stance was confirmed, the integrity

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of the research was compromised and years later she wondered if the original findings wouldn’t have produced a more interesting discussion.

Ethical committees and codes of ethics If your research takes place in, or involves clients connected to, institutions such as hospitals, hospices, prisons, schools or social services, you will be required to submit your proposal to the local ethics committee. The dignity, rights, safety and well-being of participants must be the primary consideration in any research study. (Research Governance Framework for Health and Social Care 2005: 2.2.1) The advantage of such ethics committees is that they can anticipate problems or adverse effects in a way that our own partial perspective restricts. In our passionate attachment to our own interesting ideas we may be ignoring those whom at one level we are also trying to help. Actual experience also shows that getting your research approved (no matter how well thought through and how well anticipated from the research participant’s view) can be a time-consuming and sometimes frustrating business. While the committees clearly are there to protect clients, they may also ask for conditions that either are not manageable for the researcher, or that push the resources of the research out of budget. The way forward is through consultation, seeking advice and ensuring that the proposals are well supported and clearly thought through. For example: A student evaluating the effect of counselling on a group of clients with eating disorders had to submit her research proposal to the appropriate ethics committee of a mental health trust. Although the student was directly involved with such counselling at work, the managers of the service denied that counselling per se was taking place and claimed that therefore the research proposal was invalid. The ethics committee refused permission based on the input from the managers and also because of concerns for the clients. In due course the research was reframed in line with the ethics committee recommendations and the student interviewed multidisciplinary staff and clients who were no longer receiving treatment. The outcome was interesting, highlighting the lack of consensus between care-givers and clients about what was seen as helpful in the work, and the student was also able to include an analysis of the position taken by the managers. However, the reframing of the research to get approval by the ethics committee meant that the work was delayed by a year and the student felt demoralised and angry at the attitude and lack of support from her managers, which also needed time to resolve.

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If your research is based on work in a voluntary agency, then usually you would need to get the permission of the management committee or trustees. If you are researching your colleagues then all the same principles apply about informed consent. This issue is explored further in Chapter 7. At the very least we need to be aware enough to imagine what it might be like to be the recipient of our interview questionnaire, or see how our presence as part of participant observation might impact . . . in other words, once again we need to be able to develop empathy and congruence. Approval from a university ethics committee is also part of submitting the research proposal to the academic board of an MA course. This usually means that from an early stage the university research supervisor is fully involved with the ethical implications of your proposed study and how this forms part of the overall research design and proposal. Training institutions and national bodies now all have codes of ethics, and depending on our affiliation we need to adhere carefully to these codes. The British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy now has Ethical Guidelines for Researching and Psychotherapy (BACP 2004), which can be read alongside the Ethical Framework for Good Practice in Counselling and Psychotherapy (BACP 2002). The emphasis in the research guidelines is on trustworthiness and relationship, and how this relates to research integrity and is tuned to the complexities of conducting research in therapeutic practice. Specific codes of ethics can appear dry and formulaic, but if we approach them in a general ethical frame of mind then we can use them as helpful reference points and build these social rules into our research project and overall design.

The recommended protocols of ethical engagement in research Discussion and reflection on the ethical aspects involved in research in counselling and psychotherapy lead us to these specific key pointers (cf. Barrett 2000; McLeod 2003; and others).

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The protection and welfare of the participants. This needs to be paramount with careful consideration of the effect and after-effects of the research. In other words there needs to be attention to the emotional well-being of both researched and researcher. This is made easier if, as in counselling, a relationship of trust has been developed between the researcher and the partner subjects of research. There is always some risk involved – connected to what might be uncovered in the research process and the possibility of emotional upset. The principle of informed consent. The research participants are told about the reason for the research; who authorises the research; who else will be party to information given; what sort of data is asked for and

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how; what will happen to the data; and so on. It has been recommended that consent forms also inform the participants of any risks they might be taking in making themselves vulnerable through what they might say (Seidman 1998: 51). There are special conditions for children and the consent form must be signed by the child’s parent or guardian. Consent for all participants should be an ongoing issue during the research and up for renegotiation at any time. Consent should also apply to case records and session material. The debriefing of subjects after the research. Also the offer of someone else to consult if difficult feelings are evoked should be an important consideration. The subject’s right to withdraw at any time from the research. This right can be expanded to include the withdrawal of any data gathered from them (it should never be the case that subjects are excluded from therapy unless they agree to take part or continue in the research). Confidentiality and the anonymity of data. Any identifying details need to be removed; tapes or videos kept confidentially and destroyed when no longer needed. Consider sharing the research findings with the participants – it may be possible to incorporate their response to these as well into the research. Assure participants about the availability of the research – in other words who else will read it. Awareness of the effects of the research process. If the subject of the research is especially sensitive then as researchers we need to be very considerate about what may be happening as the situation may alter during the process. Abrahams notes that, ‘it requires a continual process of rebalancing, reassessment and reflection, demanding constant alertness and sensitivity to the changing situation, in order to ensure that it remains ethical’ (2007: 240). Remember also that if you are researching especially sensitive and distressing topics then as a researcher you can become affected or ‘contaminated’ by your immersion in a particular subject. For example: One student researching child sexual abuse realised that the subject had somehow leaked into all aspects of her life when she found that she now felt suspicious about any man seen with a child – even in the most benign of circumstances.

If we follow these key pointers then we can trust that our research will be ethical in both the general and specific meanings of the word.

Key learning points

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Awareness of the centrality of ethical concerns. Think about how you are describing or assessing someone in your

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written accounts – how would they feel if they read it? How would you feel if you were in their place? Develop an authentic and, as far as possible, truthful approach to your therapeutic work – useful in supervision and when writing up your work. Check whether there is a formal ethics committee or specific permissions need to be sought.

Exercises for Chapter 3 Your code of values Try to write your personal codes of values for therapeutic work. Begin each with ‘I believe in the value of . . . in my therapeutic work’. See if you can access up to five core values. You could use the Spidergram scaffold from Chapter 2 to explore, elicit and record these personal values. Reflecting meditatively – then free associate Try this as one way of reflecting on a client and the work done together. Sit comfortably and consciously relax. Try to empty your mind; begin by working to control your breathing – counting one in, and two out – and then extend the breath. When your mind is still and you feel centred, say the name of your client and see what image or feelings come up. These may be positive or negative – do not censor your thoughts or adapt them to fit with a theory or someone else’s opinion. See what, if anything, emerges, then after ten minutes end the exercise. How would you feel? Read through your assignment, report, case study or research and answer the following. 1 2

3 4

Are there any identifiable details that need to be changed? If this work can be accessed by anyone other than the training body or supervisors or examiners, think about gaining consent from your client. If this seems impossible then judge whether or not your client could identify themselves. How would your client feel reading this? How would you feel if you were the subject of the text?

Chapter 4

Using the case study approach for training and research Fiona Gardner and Steve Coombs

This chapter explores what it means to write about and study a therapeutic relationship or relationships – how can we tell the story of our work with the person we’ve been seeing? It’s about how to complete a case study assignment, whether as part of the counselling or psychotherapy training course or on a social work course, or when using a case study as a research paradigm. The standard case study often used as part of an assessment process is based on the relationship between the therapist and the person being seen. There will be issues about confidentiality and privacy, which link to ethical issues that were fully discussed in the previous chapter. Writing up a case study as part of a qualification can be an anxiety-making process, because in the training course assignment it gives an account of one’s work that often includes in part a presentation of the detailed process of dialogue taken from sessions that reveal the subtleties of the counselling relationship. There is also a third person involved, which is of course the reader as intended audience – this may be the supervisor/tutor/training committee – and so the process becomes a triangle. There is a first and crucial question, which is ‘Who am I telling this story to and why?’. The case study as a final assignment will certainly go to the assessors, but it may also go to colleagues. Some counselling training courses have a reading-in procedure where the student reads their case study to peers, or to all the membership of the training body. Other training systems ask for a viva, which is an opportunity for a few of the assessors to question the case study and for the student to respond and expand on, or justify, their account. The knowledge of who is going to read the work exerts different pressures on the way that clinical extracts are selected and presented, and this issue will be explored in more detail in the first part of this chapter where pointers and ideas are given. The purpose of postgraduate research is also about gaining a qualification, but here we are also contributing to the expansion of knowledge about therapeutic work. Each counselling session and every piece of therapeutic work is a type of informal research, but a formal research programme allows for a

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systematic and rigorous approach to gathering the data (Milton 2006) and usually leads to wider dissemination of the professional knowledge gained across the entire profession. Therefore, the work we do in using a case study as our main research paradigm and methodology is not only assessed and accessed by the examiners, but also potentially available for a wider public domain professional readership. As will be further explored later in the chapter, the use of a case study for research is not merely the expansion of the case study format based on an individual with whom we are familiar on a training course, but is also a research method and process that can be applied to an in-depth study of a group. It is a term coined by social scientists and psychologists that covers a variety of methods that are usually, although not exclusively, qualitative. And it is therefore adopted as an umbrella term for many different forms of enquiry and is also commonly linked to other research paradigms such as action research and ethnography – Chapter 5 will cover the full range of research paradigms, frameworks and methodologies. This chapter is divided into two key parts, with overlaps between these parts and also the deeper theory of research frameworks and paradigms explored in Chapter 5. In the first part of this chapter we look at the technicalities of writing a case study as part of gaining a qualification on a therapy training course. In the second part we discuss the case study approach as a unique research paradigm and what this means for the active social researcher working in the counselling field. The wider remit of the ‘case study’ term is presented, and examples of this are given as well as information on some of the associated methodologies that can be used. The chapter ends with key learning points and some useful exercises for the reader.

Part 1: The technicalities of writing a case study to pass a counselling course The case study is often the final assignment on a counselling training course and one that carries great weight and therefore expectations. For this reason trainees can often feel a block with starting the necessary preparation and, indeed, feel resistant to properly planning and structuring the case study, let alone writing it up. Perhaps there are feelings about finishing the training course and leaving the peer group, or there may be implications about becoming a qualified professional (Gardner 1995). Usually this feels very positive and a great relief, but there are always mixed feelings that can catch us out. One way through this is to become aware of these feelings and anxieties and the associated pressures linked to them. The trick is to name and own the feelings so as to rise psychologically above any potential stressors; then we can set about planning the tasks as ‘just’ another piece of written work. Another reason for the case study at times feeling such a burden is that it serves to show that we have learnt sufficient knowledge from the training

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process and that we are now good enough to become a fully qualified professional. The case study therefore functions as a rite of passage in the process and transition of assuming a professional identity. It is one of the ways that professional training organisations test to affirm our right to belong to a particular group and to use their name as a quality assured professional practitioner. Therefore, the case study presented is used to demonstrate both theoretical knowledge and clinical proficiency. The aim is to show an integration of theory and practice, rather than a superficial knowing about, or the implicit ‘knowing’ that was discussed in Chapter 2. This aim is what has been described as ‘the constant strain in bringing together theoretical ideas, concepts and clinical systems with clinical realities’ (Spurling 1997: 65). If the purpose is to pass the course then we need to plan how to present or ‘reassemble’ our work to meet that end. This may feel rather disingenuous, but remember that the nuts and bolts of our therapeutic work have been carefully overseen in supervision during the course, and the case study is about presenting the best of what we do and what we have learnt. In preparing for a final assignment there is the construction of three things: a story, a description, and the use of theories. These are usually placed in a standard authoring structure – guidance on this is given in the case study writing and design rubrics below. Incidentally this type of research-oriented story recording and professional reflection on practice is often referred to as ‘narrative research’ and is also a key qualitative research method and approach that can be used to underpin the reporting of a participant researcher’s case study – this information is useful to remember if you later become involved in research and also want to base this on your earlier training paper. The therapeutic work is placed in social context through the use of background material that often includes a description of the person being seen. Clinical discourse taken from session material with the client and counsellor is used and interwoven with the relevant theory. Commentary on what has taken place in the sessions can be on the premises made and underlying assumptions. The theory selected has to be relevant to the purpose of the case study and must also fit into the training course ethos. The demands of the theories that are used and the purpose of the case study will affect the resultant story (or narrative, or chronicle or account) and the description of the professional process engaged within it. Therefore, the construction of a case study is dependent on the purpose, which links to the clinical strategies adopted and resultant outcomes and reviewing procedures. The case study is also a demonstration to the assessor of our skills and the way we locate subjective experience and internal dialogue. A danger into which one can fall is to focus overly on ‘writing oneself up’ rather than the client. In other words, too much about what we felt, or did or learnt at the expense of the client. Another danger is to slip into ritualistic and

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formulaic text where we pretend to have understood and integrated a theory that we think we should include and so force it to fit into the case study report. There’s a tightrope balance of including appropriate theory that follows the course ideology, while retaining enough congruence with theory that reflects the actual process that took place. Of course this may not be a problem, but the actual work in the counselling room does not always turn out the way it ‘should’ – people’s lives and counselling practice do not always neatly fit into formulas and theories and are at times very messy. Therefore the technical skills needed for writing a case study are those that can convert a counselling relationship into a research reporting format in which the theory can be integrated with practice and turned into coherent communication for the reader/assessor on the particular training course. It is important and obvious that you need to read fully the requirements for your particular course and to follow carefully any recommended layout or style guide for conducting case study research with clients. Here are some pointers about theory, choosing the themes to focus on, and specific guidance on how to write up clinical practice. Pointers on theory

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Demonstrate competence and commitment to the particular counselling or psychotherapeutic tradition that is taught on your course. For example: If you are writing a case study submission based on a psychodynamic training paradigm set of assumptions, then you might lose credibility by inclusion of behaviourist or humanistic theories, unless it is part of your critical evaluation and used as a comparison to the approved theories that have been taught on the training course, or fully justified and integrated with such theories as part of your literature review and research framework.

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Recognise your anxiety about conforming to the tradition and theoretical canon taught on your course – a more eclectic training establishment usually means more exposure to a greater breadth and range of possible theories and critical theorists. You will probably need to focus down on these diverse theories, select from a particular strand and explain and justify why you are using this particular group of theories and not others – for which you still need to reference and acknowledge key seminal sources. Select the theory to illuminate the clinical work. Try to put the theory into your own words (while acknowledging and referencing the source of your thinking). Avoid long quotations and keep the theory closely linked to the clinical and vice versa. Check the most appropriate way and style to demonstrate this integration of theory and clinical practice and then describe this using your academic voice.

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How to select the central issues in the work and the associated clinical material 1. Themes Use the ‘preparation’ exercise at the end of this chapter – you will then have selected five or six themes. Bear in mind the following, and hone down the themes to two or three.

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Choose relatively straightforward themes. Choose themes that others have also written about – to help with the demonstration of the integration of theory and practice. Make sure that you have sufficient verbatim clinical extracts based on the themes that you can include. Choose themes that contain enough about the therapeutic relationship and the dynamics between counsellor and client. Choose themes that demonstrate some aspects of learning in your professional development as a trainee counsellor.

Discard:

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themes that might be contentious or hard to explain and justify in the context of the assignment and word count themes that do not display your skills and knowledge in the best light (some mistakes are good – too many are bad!) themes that are complicated – even if they are interesting – and will divert the reader from the focus of the study themes that do not have mainstream literature to support and underpin the clinical extracts.

2. Client and clinical material

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If there is a choice of possible clients to write about then choose someone that allows you to demonstrate clearly what is required – you might like to adapt the ‘choose’ and ‘discard’ pointers above when making your selection. For example, it may be better not to choose either the most successful client that you worked with or the most troublesome. You can always discuss this dilemma with your tutor or supervisor if in doubt. As well as your description of the client, their presenting problem, their story and the subsequent therapeutic relationship that develops in the work, you also need to demonstrate your thinking about the work and to persuade the reader through clinical material that you can work at a satisfactory level. Be careful when describing the client; use only straightforward rather

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than value-laden terms unless the latter can be justified. Allow the reader to meet the client as she or he was when your work began. Initial subjective impressions are relevant only if they highlight a later focus in the paper or your own anxiety. Give the reader a feel of the work, a sense of the ground covered and then focus down on the theme(s) through a particular event, session or interaction, where you can look in detail at the counselling experience. Select sections of the work, or aspects of the relationship, for your focus that offer some complexity, and that both include theoretical perspectives and demonstrate the subjective struggles that you as counsellor have undergone. Allow some space (not too much) for your own ‘not knowing’. If a mistake was made in the work, make creative use of this to demonstrate the learning that followed. Include your own thoughts and reflections on and arising out of practice – avoid too much certainty. Demonstrate some self-appraisal of your work as counsellor, but don’t turn the paper into a study of yourself! Show that you are a thoughtful and feeling practitioner who has allowed sufficient space for the client to change as well as holding secure boundaries. Write clearly and simply. Short sentences are usually best. Convey both an ‘authorial voice’ and authenticity in the text. A conclusion is important for a summary of the work and the focus you have covered in the paper. If appropriate, include an update and the way forward.

The writing and design of the case study: Planning and structuring Check the criteria for your training course again; most have these written down and they provide the key to the assessors’ thinking. There will be an assignment word count which needs to be observed strictly – no one likes reading something that’s too long, no matter how interesting! This means that planning includes thinking carefully about what to include and what to leave out – there is usually no room for padding or repetition once you get going, so the material you choose needs to address the specified criteria as well as the pointers above. Write down a structure plan for your paper, then stick to it unless there are very good reasons to make changes. Here is an example of a writing framework for how a typical case study could be structured. 1 2

Introduction: Layout of the paper, introducing the client and describing the referral route. Assessment of early sessions: This could include the following aspects.

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How the client viewed their world and their understanding of their problem/situation. How the client related to you initially and what brought them to seek help. How did you as their therapist understand the problem or their situation? How did you relate to and feel about the client and the work that lay ahead?

History and social context: This could include, where relevant, brief family history, early developmental influences, key relationships, significant loss and so on (be careful not to let this section become too long or have too much detail – sections 1–3 should be no more than one-third of the word count). The therapeutic work: This is the core of the case study and should comprise at least one-third of the word count. a

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The process and the central themes – the space to demonstrate your understanding and knowledge. The skill is to conceptualise clearly and reflect on the process using the two or three themes that you have carefully selected. Keep remembering that you need to show how the themes and the counselling process fit with your theoretical approach. Session material and commentary on them. This of course links with (a), and the two may be interwoven. Give detailed session material based on one of the themes, and short extracts for the second theme, and include your commentary on what has gone on. Your commentary needs to demonstrate your capacity for reflection in a coherent way.

Further clinical reflections and links to theory: This is the place to pull together ideas on how the counselling work developed. Perhaps illustrate this with brief accounts of pivotal moments, but again aim to stay congruent with the theory that you are referencing. Discuss any mistakes, what you have learnt and your thoughts on this. Comment on any changes in the client’s external situation and shifts in their inner world. Brief concluding comments: Including a summary of the themes, the relationship and a final flourish about the present state of the work, if it’s still continuing, or a final summary sentence (sections 5–6 make up the final third of the word count).

The writing and design of the case study: Writing up the paper It is a good idea to give enough quality time to the writing-up stage and to be prepared to write and rewrite before submission. Write simply, aiming to be clear rather than clever. Remember that although the theory is important, so

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are your thoughts and your understanding of the theory in the light of your clinical experience. The writing and design of the case study: Checking and correcting This can be a very productive stage. First of all check that you are within the word limit. If your paper is too long, look first to reduce sections 1–3 above. Leave out material that does not link to what you have conceptualised in the therapeutic process. Then check for repetition, spelling and grammar. Make sure the paper is reader friendly (get a critical friend or peer to proofread it for you) and that the assessor is led smoothly and clearly through the work – avoid lurching from one idea to another. Check again that the structure you have now written up is logical and that the ideas are clearly presented to the reader. Check that you haven’t overdone the adjectives and make sure that you have covered all the criteria. When it is ready ask someone else, if possible a tutor or supervisor, to read the paper and comment. Make any necessary changes before submitting the required number of copies in the way that is asked for, and then you can finally relax.

Part 2: The technicalities of using a case study as the methodology for research The term ‘case study’ is clearly linked to the idea of a case history. It was Freud who commented on his case studies as like reading short stories, and lacking the serious stamp of science. But although the case study may still include qualities of the literary genre, it has developed into a sophisticated research methodology that ‘is done in conformity with science’s goals and methods’ (Campbell, preface to Yin 2003: x). Case studies are chosen as a highly appropriate research paradigm for dealing with therapeutic subject matter that involves relational research, and for when social researchers want to work within a real-life context and validate their evidence drawn from social practice. Different researchers and theorists, often from social science or psychology backgrounds, have identified diverse forms of case study methodology. It is now generally understood as a generic term that covers a grouping of research methods with the shared basis of the ‘decision to focus an inquiry around an instance’ (Nisbett and Watt 1984: 74). This ‘instance’, or real-life ‘critical learning field event’, can be identified as a piece of qualitative research evidence recorded from any particular naturally occurring phenomenon during therapeutic work, or it could be an observation of client characteristics, or even elicited as an observational theory about the work and the therapeutic process. Qualitative data can therefore be gathered from an

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individual or a group critical learning field event via direct observation and further critical professional reflection on the practice experienced. The ability to identify and record critical learning field events and reflect on their significance and meaning represents the core research activity and qualitative evidence experience underpinning case study social research. Harré (1993a) refers to such social research as dealing with real strips of life and makes sense of such real-life evidence through his notion of discursive discourse analysis. It is from Harré’s (1993b) concepts of social ethogenics that he validates a paradigm for social psychology that recognises the value and importance of the participant researcher engaging in ‘critical reflection on the nature of the world to be investigated’ (1993b: 24). Hence, a rationale for a case study research framework that includes the critical narrative and social engagement of the participant researcher as counsellor, therapist and/ or teacher. Such critical self-reflective encounter of practice could also be understood as an experiential research paradigm: a form of praxis research where professional experience is re-construed and personally constructed into new knowledge and theory much akin to Kelly’s (1955) personal construct theory (PCT), whereupon the counsellor performs his/her duties as a personal scientist and reports his/her social findings through a case study framework. Other foundational texts on the case study approach as a research method include those of Stake (1995), Yin (2003) and, in the particular context of counselling and psychotherapy research, the recent work of Loewenthal (2006, 2007). For Stake the case study as the research paradigm is about an opening-up of the experience: the case study endeavours to modify existing theory with the first emphasis on understanding the case itself (1995: 4). Donmoyer (2000) concurs with Stake and sees the case study as providing vicarious experiences that can act as substitutive illustrations that enhance understanding. The advantages of the case study method are (1) the opportunity to benefit from a description of an experience that is unlikely to be open to most observers, (2) the provision of a new perspective and (3) emphasis on the uniqueness and novelty of what is being researched (Donmoyer 2000). The obvious limitation to a traditional case study is that there is no ‘scientific’ control for comparison and there can be no claim to ‘objectivity’ with opportunities for distortion of the findings. There is also debate about the extent of internal validity and how far (if at all) findings can be generalised to other cases. In this sense the case study does not fall within the positivist research paradigm but, instead, within what is known as the interpretivist paradigm. The key difference is that positivism seeks to ‘prove’ things and therefore generalise findings, whereas the ‘interpretivist’ research paradigm that relates to much of ‘real-life’ social research seeks instead to either ‘improve’ or understand social events and validates the inclusion of the social researcher as participant. Thus, the interpretivist approach is suited (or

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commensurate, as Harré would say) to real-life experiential research carried out by the counsellor in their daily practice, and this research paradigm will be explored further in Chapter 5. Three types of case study can be differentiated: the intrinsic case study, which considers the better understanding from a particular case; the instrumental case study, where a particular case is examined in detail and where the case is of secondary interest, but seen as vital to gaining knowledge; and the collective case study, which is an instrumental study extended to several cases (cf. Stake 1995). A single case design (sometimes termed ‘intensive’) looks at variance within a case, whereas an extensive research design aims to look at comparisons between groups of clients or cases (Lepper and Riding 2006). Yin (2003), like Harré, defines a case study as a social enquiry that investigates a contemporary phenomenon within its real-life context, especially when the boundaries between phenomenon and context are not clearly evident (2003: 13). Yin writes of explanatory case studies, which can be complemented by two other types – exploratory and descriptive case studies. He also saw that there could be variations such as single versus multiple case studies. Yin is recommending the use of the case study as a research methodology when the investigators are taking the context as well as the phenomenon of the study into account; and is looking at a generic method within the whole field of social science rather than the somewhat narrower definition familiar to counsellors and therapists from our training courses. Yin begins with the overall research question and the need to categorise it in terms of the five breakdown sub-questions: who, where, what, how and why (2003: 17). McLeod (2003) focuses on counselling research and uses the categories of Hilliard (1993) with five main case study types: narrative case studies, single-case experiments, single-case quantitative analyses, research-informed case studies and combined qualitative/quantitative studies. Loewenthal (2007) uses the case study as the framework for research based on the relational, and the work described is often project-based and problemsolving, which necessarily engages the counsellor into a social improvement paradigm rather than a scientific proof paradigm. We will see in the next chapter that the distinguishing features between these two philosophies of research are to move from an ontological assumption of research based on proof and hypothesis purposes to one led by the validation of social improvement and what Coombs (1995) describes as a ‘social manifesto’ agenda for research. So while the subject and social nature of the research are understood as operating within a case study approach and framework, the specific methods of data collection and analysis often differ (data collection and analysis techniques are also covered in Chapter 5). If we return to the messiness of authentic therapeutic work – whereby people don’t respond or behave as best would suit us – and accept that as the subject of our research this might cause problems in the sense of not fitting

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with a neatly ordered research plan, one way around this problem is to accept a sophisticated research paradigm for our case study to work within. Such a paradigm validates unpredictable real-life experiences that produce both the results and the theory derived from such unique encounters. Such an approach to research is called ‘grounded theory’ and was first postulated by Glaser and Strauss (1967) as a useful way of validating unpredictable social research and enquiry. A case study report based on grounded theory results conducted by a counsellor operating as a participant action researcher could be a synthesis of three research paradigms: case study, grounded theory and action research. Such synthesised research frameworks are common, and again will be further explored in Chapter 5. As counsellors and therapists the case study concept may appear a familiar term, but it is important to appreciate the different applications of the term across the wider social research culture. Given that our research focus is based on or around our professional practice, the emphasis on the relational aspect is important and links back to the ideas discussed in Chapter 2 about finding a place of integrity and reciprocity when using our clients as part of our research. Perhaps it is most appropriate to see the case study as a framework for the research, and that within this framework different methodologies (or research paradigms) can be used as appropriate to the subject of research. Thus you the researcher must match up the research paradigms and overall methodology that are most suited to achieving your research needs and objectives. Here are some examples of the use of the case study as a research framework. 1

Intrinsic/explanatory/narrative/study of a single case A researcher wanted to understand more about self-harming behaviour. She was working in a clinic for young people and arranged to work with a new client who was cutting herself with razors. The researcher used her sessions with the young woman as part of the data – the sessions were taped and transcribed (so following the standard counselling case study format as a method). However, she also involved the young woman in the research and invited her to write a journal about her experiences. The work was a mutual democratic learning experience as both wanted to find out what was behind the self-destructive behaviour. From the experiences of this case study the researcher could make some tentative hypotheses about the reasons behind the symptom in order to achieve a social improvement objective. In this example the researcher gains better understanding from a particular case (intrinsic); uses both session data and the client’s journal (narrative); the focus is on a single case instance but conclusions drawn

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from high-quality data could be used to hypothesise beyond the individual. 2

Instrumental/exploratory/combined qualitative/quantitative study A researcher wanted to explore the underlying dynamics between counsellor and client that lead to therapeutic change and chose to focus on the real relationship alongside the transference relationship as influential in therapeutic change. His research studied ways in which counsellors understand process and use dynamics in therapeutic change, and he asked for examples from their professional practice. He interviewed a group of six counsellors with whom he had trained using a semi-structured questionnaire. He also sent out a questionnaire based on the interview schedule, but with more tick boxes, to members of another counselling service. In this example the researcher sees this as an (instrumental) case study; the counsellors were the instrumental means for gaining the knowledge that he wanted, which was information about the process of therapeutic change (exploratory). Therefore, the case study was of the group of counsellors and the external and primary interest was the dynamics. The researcher also used a questionnaire to elicit quantitative data as a way of broadening the research and providing some triangulation (a mixedmethods approach that combines qualitative/quantitative data).

Here are some useful questions to help you refine the focus for your research using the case study as methodology.

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What is it that you are enthusiastic to explore in your research? Is it the client or his or her problems or diagnosis or experiences? Is it the work and your own development as a therapist? Is it linked to the process of therapeutic work and the concept of therapeutic change? How does this case reflect, challenge or open up this area of research? What is the data and its nature? How can this data be gathered, or collected? What new developments, or new knowledge, will be gained from your original research? How can you engage the reader in this discovery?

If the case study is the research paradigm then it is possible, as you can see from the examples above, to use a variety of actual methodologies to gather the data.

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Methodologies appropriate for the intrinsic case study An intrinsic case study will always by definition involve qualitative methodologies. The methodology closest to the therapeutic process is that of narrative case studies, and information can be gathered through process recording, session accounts, learning journals and diaries. Independent or collaborative accounts from both the researcher and researched can be used, although, as McLeod (2003) reminds us, for ethical and treatment reasons this would need to be after the therapeutic work had ended. While this methodology is familiar and indeed akin to the counselling process, it has the disadvantage of subjectivity. In other words, alternative interpretations of the data will always be possible. It is also hard to convey the depth and nuance of meaning, and the reporting process potentially exposes sensitive material. Observational techniques can also be used for gathering the data – the use of taped sessions, video, one-way mirrors, etc. If the data is gathered in this way then subsequent analysis of the data can include others. A supervisor, or peers and colleagues, can also listen to or watch the material that you have gathered and can offer their own interpretation. This can be done individually or through focus discussion groups. This has the advantage of moving out of the entirely ‘personal’ subjective filter, while retaining the same original or ‘raw’ social data. This wider analysis of the data from different perspectives (or viewpoints) is called ‘triangulation’; this was referred to in Chapter 2 and is where the overall perspective of the researcher is broadened through new input or analysis. It can of course be obtained using either quantitative or qualitative methods, and operates as a form of data corroboration that improves the overall validity and reliability of the research findings. Methodologies appropriate for the instrumental and collective case studies A variety of methodologies are appropriate, including interviews (both structured and semi-structured); questionnaires; focus groups; study and colleague group discussions; literature; and research-informed reviews. The use of such methodologies is fully explored in Chapter 5. We end this chapter with a summary of the key learning points and follow this with some useful reader exercises.

Key learning points

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What kind of case study approach do you need to engage with? What defines your research framework – are you proving, improving or observing your practice, or a combination of these objectives?

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From your research needs, can you identify your objectives and from this which paradigms are best suited to delivering these, e.g. observational case study approaches, action research therapeutic change agenda? Now get a second opinion – discuss the appropriate focus for either the case study paper or the case study as a research method with colleagues/ supervisor. Plan and structure your work – allowing time for revision. Negotiate and establish the parameters of the work and the focus with your supervisor – then stick to it and see it through!

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Exercises for Chapter 4 Preparation for a case study on a counselling training course Think about your client for about five minutes then reflect on your responses to the following questions, using the Spidergram scaffold where appropriate. 1 2 3 4 5 6

What is the image that comes most strongly to mind and why? What is the most positive aspect of the work? What is the most negative? In what ways has the client changed since the work began? What has changed for you? Can you summarise the central themes of the work (five or six themes is a good number)? We recommend that you use the Spidergram scaffold to help you explore and record these case study research themes.

Use the findings from this exercise to help you choose the themes in the case study (see above). What do you really want to say? This is an exercise that can be adapted for other assignments and essays and can also be useful in research work and writing dissertations.

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Write no more than 100 words about what it is that you want to show the assessor(s) about your work with this client. Now cut this down to 50 words and then to one sentence. Hold on to this sentence as you begin to write. The focus may change as you work but you should always be able to summarise in one sentence the crux of the paper.

Defining the case study as a research paradigm Using the sentence from the above exercise, identify the basic questions or concerns that arise from this focus. Now write this as a principal research

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question and set of related sub-questions. How might you best answer these questions given the linked literature; the context of the enquiry; and accessibility to data and resources? Gradually the research framework and governing paradigm will emerge from this process.

Chapter 5

Choosing a research paradigm Fiona Gardner and Steve Coombs

In this chapter we explore the move into researching our professional work. The level of our focus is postgraduate research. For this context that means research after qualifying as a professional counsellor or therapist, but this chapter will be helpful reading also for those involved in research at an undergraduate level and those interested in researching their work outside an academic framework – perhaps as part of an evaluation, a workshop, a conference research presentation, or for publication in a journal. After all, there is a logical sequence in moving from reflecting and thinking about what we do in our work to writing coherently about it, and then to wondering why something is happening, or someone is behaving in a certain way. Research is both a formal and a systematic way of framing our curiosity and managing our desire to find out more. All therapeutic work is a form of research, as the search for meaning in part motivates the client to seek help and drives the counsellor to try to understand. You could say that all counsellors are engaged as informal therapeutic researchers and that this chapter looks at ways of formalising this everyday work experience. This desire to find out and look for ways to increase our professional knowledge can be seen as part of our very nature; it is as if we are propelled to try to find meaning in our lives, and it is this very same impetus that usually precipitates research in the therapeutic field. Clearly, there are also the more surface aims for personal recognition and further qualifications, but if the project is to be maintained and sustained in the field then we need our own energy and motivation to search and look again – indeed, to re/search as both an act and a disposition towards professional work. This chapter covers the relationship between the subject of our enquiry and the research paradigm or framework that we choose. Therapists often see themselves as hands-on people in touch with feelings and emotions and that such work is unsuited to being forced into prescribed, perhaps rather scientific or non-therapeutic, frames in order to satisfy academic rather than therapeutic values. Perhaps formal research can even be seen as a betrayal of the therapeutic work ethic, and the move from what can be an intensely private activity into a public setting as a loss of focus. Therefore, as discussed in the

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earlier chapters, it is important both to respect and to identify the nature of our work and the subject of enquiry, and appreciate that the needs of the researcher/researched take precedence over the particular strictures of established methodology. This means that we can adopt a research paradigm and framework that is wholly commensurate with these a priori needs and professional values. Perhaps, therefore, the very ethics and integrity of therapeutic work can serve as the philosophical basis for the ontological and epistemological assumptions that lie behind the ideal research paradigm that needs to support this professional work setting. This commensurate research paradigm framework approach, and how, in the light of this approach, we can identify our own synthesis and create/argue/defend a hybrid methodology best suited to the therapeutic work setting, are discussed. This means that it is you, as the researcher, who is in charge of identifying and defending your choice of research paradigm that best fits your professional research working needs. Your whole literature review will therefore be intertwined around this key assumption of research policy and design from which you will identify the personal research framework that suits your professional needs and circumstances. Similar issues involving relational reciprocity; recognition of the dynamics including the unconscious and conscious split; recognition of the irrational as well as the rational; and the place of the counsellor-as-researcher alongside the study focus are raised as we proactively choose and defend our choice of research paradigm. In many ways this liberal and commonsense approach to research represents a kind of professional freedom and emancipation, as it places research design around the needs of the professional counsellor and their workplace requirements. Thus, it is an empowering philosophy that puts freedom to research for the researcher into the same democratic situation as Rogers’ (Rogers and Freiberg 1993) original conception of freedom to learn for all participant learners. It makes room for the congruent (Rogers 1970) ethical assumptions that underpin this philosophical approach within clientcentred research settings and ethical relationships. We therefore argue that researchers are learners and that good learners are indeed researchers, and the intertwining of these roles is an expression of social freedom and personal discovery. Thus, freedom to research is a professional learning act of creativity and experiential in nature. In this chapter differing research perspectives and particular examples of empirical methodology are explored and illustrated by everyday typical examples. The contributions from recognition of emotion and reflexivity are discussed, and suggestions are put forward for hybrid analyses of the data generated, all within the important context of ongoing supervision. Ideas about research design and exercises to help with this are included, along with all the key points raised in the chapter.

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Defining the research question Before we define our research question we need an interest in a subject, then an idea about this subject and from this we need to have a personal hypothesis or a deeper question related to some social theory, supposition, proposition or ideas linked to the nature of professional practice and personal enquiry. A personal hypothesis is central – ‘Forming a hypothesis is an essential step in the systematic investigation of a clinical question’ (Aveline 2006: 9). For example: One counsellor was interested in an experience in the course of his own therapy when his therapist had disclosed something about herself. For the counsellor this had been a key moment in his therapy when he felt included and accepted at a deep level. It was the experience rather than the content that had felt so central. Some years later when working as a counsellor he began to reflect on the idea of self-disclosure. He thought about it in relation to his own work – when it seemed helpful or not – and why, and from this a question arose as to whether a positive experience in personal therapy might then influence professional practice. From this idea of a link there came a hypothesis and from this the research title: ‘An investigation into the relationship between a counsellor’s own experience of therapist self-disclosure, acquired during personal therapy, and their views of the appropriateness of this process within their own counselling practice’. Defining the research question(s) is a key moment when embarking on choosing the appropriate research design. It is especially important to check out your thinking with your supervisor at this stage. There is both the content of the question, in other words the subject matter or substance, and the style of the question: do I want to know why something occurs; or how it occurs; or who does this happen to, and so on. Although the research is usually focused around a question, this can sometimes take the form of a concern or a study about some issue (as in the ‘question’ in the example above). In asking a question we are opening up the subject rather than necessarily expecting exact answers – especially in therapeutic work. In other words, rather than what happened, the question may move us to think about how and why, and possible explanations and discoveries around the process of our engagement from which maybe an emergent theory or explanation can provide us with some findings. The research question informs the empirical methodologies that are to be used and therefore it is best to be pragmatic about this and to consider what is both manageable and practical given the context and your work environment. Usually a small-scale project where one aspect of an issue is looked at in depth is more satisfactory than a wide-ranging and superficial study. The

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research can then contribute meaningfully to the universal knowledge about the subject and be part of other similar research findings in the field. The research could also contribute to some form of social or organisational improvement, e.g. in some aspect of social services care provision, and then the methodology would be closer to an action research paradigm that we shall explore later in this chapter. For example: A researcher was interested in the subject of gender and mental health. She began by deciding to interview both professionals and clients in a number of adult mental health outpatient departments. It was quickly clear that this would not be possible without a research assistant and within the time available. There were also difficult ethical considerations and the permission of different medical ethics committees was needed. Wisely she chose instead to work with a group of five women, all in their fifties, who were part of a self-help group for people recovering from depression; and to focus on their experiences of adult mental health provision. This research gave useful information that was then fed back into service provision.

Beyond polarities: The place of pluralism in choosing our research paradigm Once we have an idea about our research question and area of concern, we need to begin to think about how to go about gathering the data and how to analyse it. There is a wide range of possible methodologies that can be seen as on a continuum, with at one end roots based in medicine and psychology-based scientific research, and at the other end ground-breaking methods rooted in individual subjectivity. This can sometimes be seen as a polarisation between different approaches and research frameworks: for example, qualitative methods seen in comparison to quantitative methods; the objective quasi-‘scientific’ approach to research in comparison to the ‘humanistic’ approach that is heuristic, subjective and so on. A contemporary view is that these sorts of conceptual polarisations are ‘neither real nor productive in the complex task of studying the multi-dimensional process of psychotherapy’ (Lepper and Harris 2006: 53). For example, it might be possible to combine a small statistical survey with interviews and for discourse analysis to be used in the deconstruction of the interview texts – see the later section on interpretive methodology for a full explanation of discourse analysis. Aveline argues that increasingly, ‘the methods are seen as synergistic . . . with complementary roles in the research cycle’ (2006: 7). He draws our attention to how the quality of the research depends as much on the appropriateness of the methodology chosen as the rigour of the application. Here, there is a case for acceptance of pluralism so

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that, ‘quantitative researchers are more open to contextualism and reflexivity in their work and qualitative researchers find ways to enhance the validity and generalizability of their findings’ (Aveline 2006: 21). Similarly, pluralism in our theoretical approach to data analysis (without a forced synthesis) can give us another view of our findings (often referred to as ‘triangulation’), and so the research is enriched. The issue then is to identify our own synthesis particular to our research question and context, and create a hybrid methodology that is ‘fit for purpose’ relative to our social context and professional needs. Generally, however, the majority of small-scale research in counselling and psychotherapy takes place primarily within a qualitative paradigm, reflecting what Denzin and Lincoln refer to as ‘the qualitative revolution’ that has taken place in the social sciences and related professional fields (1998b: vii). They posit five historical developments in qualitative research and suggest that the contemporary phase is defined by a postmodern awareness where no method is seen to have a claim above any other. Indeed, the qualitative paradigm is multi-method in focus and involves an interpretive, naturalistic approach to what is being researched – in other words, therapeutic research is interested in the meanings people bring to their situations and this is studied in a natural (as distinct from a laboratory) social world setting.

The research paradigm and process There are three interconnected aspects in any therapeutic research paradigm: theoretical framework or ontology; method of acquiring knowledge or epistemology; and interpretive analysis of the data gathered with its associated methodology. The researcher’s ontological, epistemological and methodological assumptions form the paradigm or overarching philosophical interpretive framework – a ‘basic set of beliefs that guide action’ (Guba 1990: 17). The initial work of the biographically situated researcher is then to make decisions about the research process in the light of the paradigm. The issue of the lack of neutrality in research cannot be avoided (cf. Lepper and Riding 2006), for inevitably our choice of paradigm is directly affected by our personal biography on one level – our class, gender, race and cultural perspectives – and also as therapists by our professional role and all the assumptions discussed in earlier chapters that we bring to our work. There is a wealth of literature explaining and expounding paradigms and different methodologies (cf. Braud and Anderson 1998; Denzin and Lincoln 1998a, 1998b; Dryden 1996; Loewenthal 2006; McLeod 2003). One way to assess and work towards decision-making about the research paradigm is to separate out the theoretical aspects of the methodology from the empirical methods. The sections below lay out various options for the empirical methodology of gathering data. However, these are not fixed categories – in other words,

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you can be creative in deciding on your hybrid paradigm or multi-method synthesis and research approach. It is a loose ordering for the purposes of introducing empirical methods. The sections are divided into three research question variants – again, a somewhat loose classification into experiences of; conceptualization and understanding; and process and outcome. For the purpose of illustration we will consider research around the issue of people who harm themselves (cf. Gardner 2001). This section about empirical methodology is followed by sections on the theoretical methodology and the interpretive methodology for data analysis. As we create our hybrid methodology we need to be mindful of the need for congruence with, and the integrity of, our therapeutic practice.

Empirical methodologies 1

Research questions that ask about experiences of self-harm, or being treated for self-harm or working with a person or people who harm themselves. This sort of research question would naturally fall into the qualitative framework with the associated ontological assumptions (these link very much with the general ethics discussed in Chapter 3). Methods might include any of the following.

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Case studies – a therapist’s account of working with someone who harms themselves (see Chapter 4). Narrative – the stories that people tell about harming themselves or having harmed themselves. Life stories – psycho-biographical accounts of people who have self-harmed. Heuristic – finding out through immersion in the experience of self-harm. It ‘brings to the fore the personal experience and insights of the researcher’ (Patton 1990, quoted by Rose and Loewenthal 2006: 134). Feminist and co-operative approaches – sharing responsibility to promote empowerment of those who harm themselves. This could be linked to self-help group work. Feminist methodology is linked to experiential analysis and acknowledges the importance of how and why particular knowledge is created (see Chapter 9 for an example of this). Interviews – semi-structured or open-ended interviews with people who self-harm. Questionnaires – surveys, open-ended questionnaires or self-report questionnaires, ongoing process enquiry, all with people who are harming themselves.

Research questions that try to understand the reasons behind and conceptualise the difficulties of having or treating self-harm. Again such a

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type of question falls naturally into the qualitative framework with the associated ontological assumptions. Methods and approaches might include the following.

• • • •

3

Theoretical – analysis of different theories about self-harm. Historical – analysis of past cases/situations and different settings/ cultural variants of self-harm. Documentation – personal sources such as diaries or letters on the subject or official documentation and policies involving statutory agencies or voluntary agency treatment manuals etc. Grounded theory – developing a theory based on the experiences of those being researched – in other words, distilling ideas and theories from the experience rather than assuming the theories before undertaking the research. Note that this is both a theoretical methodology and an empirical method.

Research questions that move towards the quantifiable by trying to understand the process of the development of self-harming. These might include how self-harm is defined; what encourages people to harm themselves; how different treatment might develop. Alternatively in this category, research questions that ask about the outcome of different treatment methods or the results of therapeutic interventions. This may be in part qualitative, but because of the ontological assumptions of the therapist will also have a quantitative perspective and dynamic. Only empirical methods that seem applicable to therapeutic research are included here; these might comprise the following.

•

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Correlational research – can be through observational research or survey research. This could involve structured interviews and questionnaires measuring the association or covariation of two or more dependent variables. It would involve one group of research subjects. For example, if the hypothesis was that self-harm is a way of coping with past childhood trauma, then the research would look for the association between self-harm perhaps in a particular age or gendered group of young people and their experiences of childhood trauma. Causal–comparative – this involves two or more groups and one independent variable and explores the causative relationship between an independent variable and a dependent variable. You might have two groups of young people who are harming themselves. One group is given a self-help personal journal book to use when stressed, and the research would be to assess the difference at the end of six months in the rate of self-harm between the journal group and the second group without the journal. For many therapists this sort of quasiexperimental research may begin to feel unethical as the research participants are being treated more as subjects than as clients.

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Field studies and ethnography – through participant observation you might research a community self-help project for people who are harming themselves. This kind of approach considers what new social theory might be explained from the observation of a particular social culture or subculture and is considered to be ethnographic research carried out in the field. Ethnography is a methodology in its own right. Action research – this is a practical way of evaluating therapeutic work and seeing how the work or service can be improved. It could apply to individual work with someone who is self-harming or group work. Action research is both a methodology and a method, and in some senses can be part of the quantitative paradigm, but is primarily a qualitative method that is easily utilised by therapists well acquainted with ongoing supervision. Later in this chapter a detailed description will be given of a piece of action-based research. This approach is very useful for developing practice-based clinical research in the researcher’s own professional workplace setting.

Theoretical methodology In the world of counselling and psychotherapy there are particular ontological assumptions that will influence the theoretical methodology that we might choose. Some of these have been explored in Chapter 3 in the discussion of the general ethical considerations based on the ethics of trust and the duty of responsibility that we have towards our clients and the part we play in the therapy offered. Within our training bodies there are also specific approaches that will affect our theoretical methodology. For example, those trained within the integrative or humanistic tradition are perhaps more likely to approach research which embodies a paradigm that derives from social theory based on ethical collaboration or co-operative enquiry. They may well feel open to the ideas of the co-researcher’s approach and reciprocal relationship. Those trained in the psychoanalytic model would recognise the influence of the unconscious and the irrational rather than the conscious and rational, and the subtleties of relationship dynamics such as the transference and countertransference as part of any research study. We bring our biographically and professionally situated self to the research, and this is part of the theoretical methodology and our ontological assumptions. We need to elicit these assumptions and argue our case during our literature review that reveals our theoretical subject and research framework.

Interpretive methodology Below are some perspectives on epistemology especially relevant to counselling and psychotherapy research.

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Hermeneutics Hermeneutics is the production of meaning by social agents rather than the observation of behaviour as in the natural sciences. This is a qualitative research philosophy and data analysis technique. Phenomenological perspective This is also seen as part of the qualitative paradigm, and is the idea that explanation is grounded in the meaning structure of those studied. Knowledge is discovered through open, unbiased description of experience. Therefore in research the subjective experience is the starting point and there is recognition that the social world is socially constructed. It is a way of questioning or developing other perspectives on the meanings or categories. Social constructivist perspective This is part of phenomenology that sees behaviour as a response to internal personal constructs and that reality is socially constructed through the activities and communication of social subjects. Discourse analysis This is not so much a particular method as a matter of the researcher questioning and making explicit the basic assumptions of both quantitative and qualitative research methods. We can use discourse analysis to make sense of textual evidence obtained from general narrative, life story and interview sources. Discourse analysis helps the researcher to elicit and deconstruct the veiled ontological and epistemological assumptions contained within textbased and indeed other evidence formats such as pictures and video. It is also often seen as discovering the hidden motivation and greater depth of meaning behind a text, problem or situation, by both challenging and critiquing traditional methodological approaches. Discourse analysis is basically an interpretive and deconstructing reading of text-based and other formats of evidence with no specific guidelines, but there is a particular emphasis linked to critical and postmodern thinkers such as Foucault (1991) on power relations, and Kristeva (1986) with a feminist perspective. It is particularly attractive to therapists who are by training interested in words and what they allude to (Taylor, Redmond and Loewenthal 2006: 93). Discourse analysis also relates to the conversational learning paradigm of Thomas and Harri-Augstein (1985), which makes extensive use of social learning tools called repertory grids to make sense of a client’s conversational experience by exploring their assumptions and deeper inner meanings. Discourse analysis could also be understood of as a kind of

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researcher-based learning conversation or analysis of data by the researcher through conversational procedures. There are useful qualitative analysis software tools such as Atlas.ti© (www.atlasti.com, accessed February 2009) and Nudist Vivo© (www.qsrinternational.com/legal.aspx, accessed February 2009) that can assist the researcher to conversationally elicit patterns and findings from a range of textual, picture-based and video evidence sources in a systematic and recorded fashion. Such software tools can produce discourse findings in the form of relational semantic maps that can help the researcher both to identify and to articulate deeper meaning from original raw data sources. Such recent technology tools have helped to reduce some of the problems qualitative researchers used to find in drilling down vast quantities of qualitative data in order to establish findings that were previously obtained through obscure and difficult manual discourse analysis procedures.

Examples of research paradigms 1. The use of action research: action research facilitation of a survivors group A therapist was interested in setting up a group for women who had experienced sexual abuse as children. Her counselling work was located in a health setting where she had worked individually with a number of clients with problems linked to past trauma, and it was agreed that future referrals would be invited to join a small support group that would meet over a seven-month period. The group was co-facilitated. This was primarily a qualitative research study that used the underlying theoretical methodology of a recovery process informed by a person-centred/ humanistic knowledge base. The paradigm was based on a collaborative and participative style. The empirical methodology was multi-method: action research plus feedback from the women in the group through completion of weekly evaluation sheets and data recorded at both a start-of-the-group interview and an end-of-the-group individual interview. Both facilitators kept personal diaries and the researcher an additional research journal. In her research aims the therapist noted that the focus was on the role of the facilitator (rather than on the women members), and to look at the way that the two facilitators worked together through communication, planning, facilitation and joint supervision sessions. A further aim was to look at the therapist’s individual practice through reflection and feedback; and to look at what the participants perceived as helpful and hindering, and how the group functioned. The research aims formed the research focus (rather than a question): action research facilitation of a survivors’ group. Thus, action research tends to offer a research agenda linked to some form of social improvement or service, in this case therapeutic benefits through facilitation of a survivors’ group. Within this action research paradigm the ‘classic’ research question is

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replaced by an agenda relating to social improvement within the setting, which we referred to in Chapter 4 as a ‘social manifesto’ agenda for research (Coombs 1995). Action research is therefore about work done by the therapist, and in this setting involved thinking and reflecting on what took place in each practicebased session as well as in the supervision sessions. This was a systematic investigation following five stages: identifying an area of practice; imagining a solution; implementing the solution; evaluating the solution; and finally changing therapeutic practice in the light of the evaluation. The research was structured through five action research cycles – for example, the first cycle comprised sessions 1–3 of the group and supervision sessions 1 and 2, and so on. The action research cycles tended to form a spiral, with one issue forming the basis of another and one set of answers generating further questioning. In the course of the cycles the co-facilitators discovered that they needed further time to debrief and to plan sessions for the next cycle as well as time in supervision reflecting on their practice. This became built into the work. When the group had ended and the results were analysed, the findings could form the basis of good practice feedback for the next group to be set up (Carden 2002). 2. Research from a feminist perspective informed by social constructionist theory In this research the therapist – working with children in special needs units – was curious about three things: the link that professionals made between the child and the child’s behaviour; the relationship those professionals saw between a child’s past and present behaviour; and how the same professionals visualised the child’s future. The focused aim of the study was to explore how professionals talk about the work they do, in particular about work with children who have experienced sexual abuse. From this interest an idea and hypothesis developed, and from this the research question was formulated: ‘How do professionals construct “challenging behaviour” in those who have experienced early trauma?’. The question was further explored by looking at the following two subquestions.

• •

What are the central discourses used by professionals when making sense of children’s challenging behaviour? Are there gendered ways of making sense of children and abuse that influence practice?

The research did not seek to find a definitive meaning of what challenging behaviour is (as was demonstrated in the literature review, there is none). It was based on qualitative methods, and the theoretical methodology followed

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a social constructionist feminist perspective. The social constructionist perspective looked at language as a form of social action and, therefore, part of what needed to be analysed within therapeutic practice. The research also took a feminist perspective that drew attention to the importance of language in gender roles; the way gender is talked about, understood; and the impact this has on individuals and their behaviour. The empirical methodology involved interviewing seven professionals (not working in the same setting as the researcher) who worked with children under the age of sixteen who exhibited challenging behaviour. Questions asked during the semi-structured interview were based around four key themes (gender; labelling; choice, responsibility and agency; and training), which were all explored in the literature review. As part of the interview a vignette was used to apply the questions to a fictional and ambiguous case study. Discourse analysis was used for the analysis of the transcriptions of the tape-recorded interviews. The therapist explained in her research the theory behind this part of the methodology: first, a social constructionist understanding of language explores how it dominates social practice and action (Burr 1995), and second, language allows an understanding of one’s own subjectivity as well as other people’s. This enables an experience to be expressed as an objective construction. The latter depends on the available discourses and ways of speaking (Berger and Luckman 1966). Foucauldian discourse analysis allows an understanding of the role of language in exploring society, including issues such as power relations, which means that an analysis can take place of ‘what can be said, by whom, where and when’ (Willig 2001: 107). Practically, the therapist researcher immersed herself in the texts, reading each text at least once without marking it (Smith et al. 1999). She then went through the transcripts and coded them according to the research question and aims and objectives (Willig 2001). This included looking at key themes that were important in the literature review as ways to understand and talk about challenging behaviour. This required an awareness of her position as researcher and her understanding from previous work about this area of study (Foster and Parker 1995). Texts were then broken down into gender, child sexual abuse, and behaviour, and extracts were selected and separated under these headings. The extracts were selected according to how the object (i.e. gender, child sexual abuse, or behaviour) was constructed, how the object was talked about, and what contradictions and tensions occurred (Willig 2001). The focus of the analysis was on the language used in the interview data and its relationship with wider social contexts and institutions. This allowed an understanding of the active nature of language – including the gendered positioning, and the way that this constructs reality rather than simply being a perception of reality (Ellis 2006).

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Congruence with therapy and the hybrid research paradigm As discussed earlier, research by counsellors and psychotherapists will inevitably reflect the general ethics of the profession, but there are further aspects of therapeutic practice that can be integrated into the creation of your hybrid methodology. In this section, ideas about emotion and reflexivity are explored. Both of these are foundational to therapeutic work, but our awareness of both can be sidelined once therapy becomes formulated into theory, or evaluated, or is seen as part of (especially) a qualitative research project. It is inevitable that we are emotionally involved in our writing and in our research – it can be central to the research experience. We are emotionally linked to the researched and also have much of our self invested in the process. The role of empathy has been explored earlier in the book, but it is through our capacity for empathy that we enter into the experiences of those whom we research. It has been suggested recently that the emotion involved in research needs to be acknowledged more openly (Gilbert 2001), and even seen as an epistemological factor ‘crucial to the construction of knowledge’ (Lewis 2008). Using the terminology of psychodynamic work, one might even say that the researcher needs to be aware of her countertransference to the research subjects as well as the transference to the research process (discussed earlier in connection with writing assignments). For example: A therapist researching levels of stress among a group of clergy noted that as the research continued he began to feel both increasingly stressed himself, and to feel a level of despair about the futility of research and the meaninglessness of such academic achievements. During supervision sessions it became important to focus on the contamination that appeared to be taking place. The despair and depression masked by the high levels of stress that the clergy were conveying had seeped into the therapist. The way to manage the emotional impact of the material lay in acknowledging and analysing the countertransference and understanding the feelings as part of the data gathered. The therapist also needed to separate his own stress over the research and plan ways to reduce this. In contrast there is an interesting paper by Birchard (2006), who recounts his experiences of researching the sensitive and distressing subject of paedophilia, a project from which he eventually withdrew. From his descriptions it seems that acknowledging and analysing his feelings was not enough. He gives the warning that ‘research material has the capacity to enter, in a disturbing way, into the personal process of the researcher . . . It is the heuristic nature of qualitative psychotherapy research that brings the leakage as well as the insights to bear’ (2006: 165). He notes the weight of the shame that he began to feel as a researcher of this subject.

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Rolls and Relf (2006) suggest a way of managing emotion through bracketing personal feelings from the research interview – in other words, putting aside assumptions. They identify three voices of the researcher in response to upsetting or distressing data: the first is the voice of academic discourse, which is written in the third person; the second is the voice of the co-researchers, ‘we’; and the third is the ‘I’ of the individual researcher. Lewis (2008), who also refers to the work of Rolls and Relf, stresses the importance of selfmonitoring and supervision. In summary, it is about being aware of the emotional impact on ourselves as researchers as well as all the positive and negative emotion that we bring to bear before, during and after the research. Reflexivity is a formal development in acknowledging and analysing emotion, and again something that therapists already know a great deal about in the clinical context. In terms of research the word can be used in a variety of ways. In some contexts it is seen as another aspect of heuristic research and as a methodology that sits alongside narrative enquiry, autobiography or subjective observation studies. It can be a way of checking out the context of the research and another contribution towards biographical-situated awareness. Critical reflexivity can be a method to use in researching one’s own clinical practice – perhaps alongside input from peers or a supervisor. It can also be a way of monitoring the research, perhaps through using a reflexive journal which can be included as part of the research data. Etherington suggests that reflexivity can be a means of checking against possible sources of subjective bias (2004b: 47) and thereby increase validity through a process of triangulation across different qualitative data sources. She notes the dilemmas involved in using reflexivity in research – accusations of self-indulgence and so on – and reminds us that a certain degree of selfawareness is needed in order to make the reflexive process meaningful. Perhaps the most helpful way to think about reflexivity is as a contribution towards emotional literacy and transparency in research and the researcher. It is consciousness-raising and helps develop congruence and integrity in therapeutic research.

Key learning points

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How supervision can support your research. The three key times for supervision support:




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as you choose your research question discussion of the most appropriate methodology and research design consideration of how to interpret and analyse the data.

A simple summary of research paradigms and methodologies. A good way of identifying what type of research paradigm your research project falls into is to be able to answer the following question. What do you want your research project to achieve: To prove something relative to some

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hypothesis? To improve something relative to some social manifesto of change? Or to discover/understand something from a social situation? Generally speaking:








the ‘prove’ methodology tends towards the classic positivist research framework wherein quantitative approaches are used to ‘prove’ some hypothesis the ‘improve’ methodology tends towards action enquiry and an action research qualitative paradigm agenda towards some form of personal and/or organisational social change the discovery/understand methodology tends towards a social enquiry approach located within the qualitative paradigms of field work and ethnography and adopts a grounded theory stance towards identifying emergent social theory.

Your project might fall into any of the above three research typologies, but could be a combination of the second and third. It is unlikely that you will want to combine the first with the second or third.

Exercises for Chapter 5 Eliciting your research project and enquiry Please use the Spidergram from Chapter 2, Figure 2.2, to explore the following focus questions to determine your research project and enquiry. 1 2 3

What professional concerns and interests do you currently have with your work? Of all the professional interests identified, which one most motivates you towards becoming the focus of a research project? What are your main professional needs and objectives relative to this interest?

Eliciting your research question and methodology Now that you have identified a potential research project you can try the following. 1

2

Can you identify the type of research question that your project will be based on, i.e. from the section on empirical methodologies are you concerned about questions that ask about experience, try to understand reasons or try to quantify some process? Given one of the above three typologies of research, what specific overarching question can you now come up with? Put this research question at the centre of a Spidergram and elicit what key issues are related to it.

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From this position conduct another Spidergram with the focus question ‘what are your research sub-questions?’. Now identify a set of key research methodologies/methods that relate to your identified research question and set of sub-questions.

Eliciting an overview of your intended research project Use the academic writing scaffold in Figure 2.3 to elicit all your academic assumptions, objectives and literature sources, making reference to the above information gleaned so far in the previous exercises. Share this summative overview of your research project with your supervisor and be prepared to deconstruct and reconstruct your core ideas and assumptions. Use your research sub-questions as focus questions for your literature review, and use these in conjunction with the literature scaffold in Figure 2.4 and your key identified sources to produce some key abstracts and arguments related to your research subject and framework.

Chapter 6

Research using focus groups in an organisational setting Jane Whitehead

The future of the profession of counselling and psychotherapy hangs on the successful education of the next generation of research-savvy practitioners. (Wheeler and Elliott 2008: 134–135)

This chapter will explore some of the implications for would-be ‘researchsavvy’ practitioners wanting to research within an organisation. It is not intended to be a step-by-step guide (there are many publications like that) but offers some straightforward suggestions that may help to negotiate the terrain of qualitative enquiry, and in particular the use of focus groups. The chapter will be especially relevant to those intending to undertake a research project at work in a counselling setting, mental health or education department, as well as for those teaching in a college or on a training course; however, the ideas discussed are also applicable in other organisational settings. The underpinning for the chapter and the example used to illustrate various points come from my own qualitative research enquiry undertaken in a further education (FE) college where counsellors are trained. The emphasis throughout this chapter is on ‘making it easy’, on building on what is already known and using the resources already to hand, especially for data collection. There are four central themes. The first takes an overall view and considers how to go about such research; here the general premise that counselling/psychotherapeutic practitioners have a predisposition to want to understand – in other words, a natural curiosity to find meaning as a basis for a heuristic research project – is highlighted. The second theme – on power and authority – builds on the idea that practitioners come equipped with the necessary qualities for social science research (Etherington 2004a), and considers the relationship dynamics involved in an organisational setting. Theme three – on focus groups – discusses the advantages and disadvantages of using them for data collection. Attention is drawn to the ‘natural’ group settings within institutions and the implications of group interaction with the researcher’s interest. Theme four – on data analysis – explores ways in which one might set about analysing focus group data, and how language is

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used to construct versions of the world. In this section the guiding principles of discourse analysis are outlined, suggesting that analysis constitutes more than merely data description. Key points and a reflective exercise end the chapter.

How to go about research in an organisational setting Research and evaluation have become part of our everyday concerns and are common currency in most organisational settings. In the light of the UK government’s directive Increasing Access to Psychological Therapies (Department of Health 2008), we as practitioners can expect, as emphasised throughout this book, growing pressure to demonstrate and evaluate therapeutic outcomes as they compete for continued funding and ensure public accountability. Counsellors and therapists may well find themselves working in agency settings and organisations where there will be increased pressure to demonstrate that the service being provided is one that meets its mission statement. The growing emphasis on research outcomes is seen as important in establishing the legitimacy of the counselling profession, not only in the eyes of its clients, but also in the eyes of regulators and stakeholders (McLeod 2003; Hasenfield 1992). Research need not be seen as needing a set of special technical skills, but can be viewed as being close to the way we act in everyday life (cf. Schratz and Walker 1995). In certain ways, research can be seen as a natural extension of the work of therapists, as we are particularly practised in reflective processes in training, supervision and client work, and also develop reflexivity through noticing our own process in response to the relational process we are engaged in. Some of the points raised in this chapter are illustrated from the research project that I completed in an FE college that looked at how students viewed their training, the particular training model used on the course, and its relevance to them as counsellors. This was a qualitative research enquiry seeking to understand training situations as the participants saw them, as opposed to how theory might suggest they see them. From my experience, no matter the angle from which you approach a research project, it is as well before launching into it to find and be personally excited about the topic. It is likely that in your day-to-day practice you will come across some puzzle, some area of interest in or about an aspect of your work, or you may simply be intrigued by something you’ve read and want to find out more about it, or want to test your own hypotheses. No matter how you get to your topic, it is useful to ask yourself the following questions. These general questions are noted in earlier chapters, but it is important to re-emphasise them.

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Will my topic sustain my interest over a period of time? Who is my research for? What difference will my research make, and to whom?

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Generally speaking, a good project will be interesting to you, your supervisor and your colleagues or research community, and therefore it is probably best to pick a narrow, well-defined topic in a field that is familiar to you, so that when you get to the literature review you will already have some knowledge of the field. Ultimately, your research subject should add productively to your own knowledge and/or that of the counselling community in general. It may also benefit the institution at the centre of your research. Conducting research in an organisational setting has, of course, advantages and disadvantages. Barker et al. (2002) list a number of reasons why counsellors and therapists do not engage in research, suggesting that counsellors often feel that research is unrelated to their practice concerns, or that research is too ‘intrusive’, or has too many ethical dilemmas, or that the conclusions of research will be disturbing. The competing demands of time are clearly a limiting factor, especially for those working in organisational settings as lecturers, tutors or trainers where research activity is not a requirement of the job. However, with a little planning it is possible to take advantage of the resources to hand, such as colleagues, students, technical equipment and break periods. Being realistic about what you can accomplish in a given time is probably obvious, but it can be all too easy to feel swamped by the amount to do when the task is viewed in its entirety. Breaking the project into smaller pieces is a good tactic, especially if it’s feeling unmanageable. Taking advantage of thinking time is especially useful: walking the dog, washing up, driving to work or on the train can all provide spaces when you can allow yourself to freely think about your research. Sometimes, doing something else instead – so-called procrastination tactics – can be the start of a creative incubation process and can produce really important moments of inspiration and focus (Charles 2000). It is important to capture and make concrete random thoughts by writing them down where they can gather momentum and become something more substantial, even if you do not use them all later. Generally speaking, counsellors and therapists are good at maintaining the necessary boundaries of their therapeutic work and this can help when conducting research, as it is equally important to keep yourself emotionally safe. Denscombe recommends that research be timely in the sense that it ‘takes place at an appropriate moment’; this gives it an added dimension that serves to increase its value and make it more worthwhile (2002: 47). While it may not always be possible to keep track of the hottest topic or the latest trends, it is worth looking around to see what issues are currently being discussed in related circles. Taking the time to read professional journals and current research papers can keep you up to date with what is important in the professional and public domains. An instance of your research having an appropriate link with contemporary concerns may come even after you have written up the project. The research cited in this chapter was selected for presentation to the UK’s annual BACP research conference, because it fitted

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the conference theme: ‘Research and regulation – towards a knowledge based profession’ (BACP Annual Conference, Cardiff, 2008). However, being topical, as Denscombe (2002) suggests, does not mean that research cannot also meet the demands of long-term concerns.

Power and authority The issue of power and authority is a familiar one in counselling and psychotherapy and has formed an ethical backdrop to all approaches to therapeutic practice. Etherington (2004a) considers that counsellors and therapists as researchers come equipped with the necessary qualities for social science research, since their training already provides theoretical understanding and an ethical framework from which to form contextual relationships. Etherington maintains that it is therefore not necessary for the practitioner to adopt the new role of researcher, as s/he can draw on existing skills and knowledge. However, it is important to note the differences between the therapeutic and research relationships, where the dynamics are subtly altered with the change in focus. The main difference is that as a therapist my purpose is to assist my clients’ research (into themselves and their lives), and in my role as researcher the positions are reversed; they are to assist me in discovering something about a topic or concept that I am curious about. (Etherington 2004a: 110) Power and authority is also a central aspect of research in an organisational setting, as it is likely that you will need to rely on the help, support and co-operation of colleagues. You may also have to obtain permission from managers, directors or trustees. In most organisational settings you will have technical resources on hand as well as having access to data, literature and research subjects, i.e. people (students and staff). Making use of colleagues and staff groups as part of your research is an ethical decision and one that must consider the power relationship. For example, while students or colleagues may be a valuable resource for data, the relationship changes with their participation in the trainer’s research, meaning that they are facilitating the researcher’s learning. While this is noted as simply being a difference in emphasis with the maintenance and guiding principles of professional practice still in place, an important consideration is compliance. For example, in the role of teacher it is likely that you have been the subject of at least some students’ transference. It could be said that students (particularly adult ones) tend to want to be good students and, as such, may simply comply with your research request or hypothesis, thereby providing data that they believe will please you rather than data that is an accurate account of their experience. In this respect, careful thought is needed so that your project retains its ethical

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integrity. In the collection of data for my own research, the problem of researcher influence and transference was attended to by deciding to use unstructured, self-facilitating focus groups, as opposed to one-to-one interviews. In the focus group the researcher was not present during the data collection, in an attempt to facilitate data that came from the free and open participation of the group. Standard ethical considerations need to apply, with special emphasis on the protection of the participant’s interests, strict levels of confidentiality and informed consent. During my own research, limitations to confidentiality were set out in the invitation letter and I indicated that although participants’ voices would be identifiable by the researcher, names would not appear in any part of the notes, analysis or any subsequent written results of the study. All data were securely kept and care was taken throughout writing processes not to disclose personal identities. Finally, the need for researchers to avoid deception or misrepresentation is also central in an organisational setting, with the researcher expected to be open about the nature of their investigation and data collection. The aim is to be faithful to the research by presenting data that justifies and supports the research and research that justifies and supports the data.

The use of focus groups Despite their roots in the world of marketing and the more recent association in politics, the use of focus groups has become a key method for the collection of qualitative data in social research (Krueger 1994; Morgan, in Morgan and Krueger 1993). The focus group is a group of people, usually between six and ten in number, who have come together to express their views about a particular topic which has been defined by the researcher. Focus groups can be self-contained or used in conjunction with other research methods, and can provide the researcher with the reasoning behind the views and opinions of the group as well as a method for exploring the underlying factors that go towards explaining why people hold the views they do. [Focus group members] share their experiences and thoughts, while also comparing their own contributions to what others have said. This process of sharing and comparing is especially useful for hearing and understanding a range of responses on a topic. (Morgan 2006: 121) Counsellors are more than familiar with group settings and activities; indeed, much therapeutic training involves working in groups to facilitate both personal and professional learning. According to Morgan (1997), to test a focus group’s appropriateness to the research project one should ask how actively and easily the participants would discuss the topic of interest.

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Two defining features of focus groups are highlighted by Morgan. First, as a weakness, the reliance on the researcher’s focus and the group’s interaction, he cautions, ‘creates and directs the groups [making] them distinctly less naturalistic than participant observation’. The second defining feature is seen as a strength, in that focus groups have the ability to produce concentrated amounts of data on the topic, quickly and easily, as they have ‘relative efficiency in comparison to individual interviews, at least in terms of gathering equivalent amounts of data’ (1997: 13). Denscombe (2002: 178) provides a useful summary of the function and use of focus groups, and highlights three distinctive points pertaining to them.

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There is a focus to the session, with the group discussion being based on an item or experience about which all participants have similar knowledge. Particular emphasis is placed on the interaction within the group as a means of eliciting information. The moderator’s role is to facilitate the group interaction.

In terms of facilitation, Morgan (1997) considers the benefits of both low and high levels of moderation (or facilitation). Low-level moderation, by definition, means that the facilitator’s role is kept to a minimum; here it is usual for the researcher to introduce a broad topic, for example ‘why do people use counselling?’, then withdraw from the conversation, thus preventing the group from using the facilitator for guidance. High-level moderation, in contrast, sees the facilitator assuming a high degree of control over the direction of the discussion. In high-level facilitation, questions are specific, with little opportunity to deviate. Morgan’s own preference is for selfmanaged groups; his concern is that the researcher who is also moderating the group process could influence the group’s interactions and it would consequently be difficult to be sure how natural these interactions were. A further opposite weakness in the use of focus groups is the question of how the group influences the individual, seen as a classic issue in social psychology. This highlights concerns that focus groups can have a tendency towards conformity – that is to say, the group discussion can lead to a consensus, with members of the group largely agreeing and arriving at the same point of view. This is not altogether a bad thing, and certainly for some researchers it is desirable because it represents a collective opinion on the topic. In the research study used to illustrate this chapter, I was concerned that the seemingly overly positive outcome of the data analysis suggested that something was missing in the data, notably any critical discussion of the counselling training and training model used.

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Sampling, selection, composition In the planning stage of your project you will need to think about how to find samples from your target population, as your strategy for selection will have a direct correlation to the project’s goals. The recruitment of participants to the focus group is crucial to the research itself, and consideration will need to be given to the group’s composition. Selecting group members for focus groups is quite specific as groups will need to be made up of people the researcher knows something about, as opposed to selecting people at random. This is because they are selected on the basis of who they are and their knowledge or experience of the subject. For my research it was useful to select focus group members in a deliberate attempt to represent differences in terms of gender and cohort, thus ensuring that data was accurately representative of the students’ views from the various training cohorts. By way of triangulation (getting another perspective), two groups of post-qualifying, practising counsellors were targeted and a letter that contained details of the project was sent out to as many potential participants that met the selection criteria as possible. The final composition consisted of two groups, of five and six respectively, a mix of those who had previously known each other and those who were relative strangers. They had completed the same training programme, with the same theoretical model, but trained at different times in different cohorts. As they shared similar social and professional identities, it was expected they would be able to talk at length about their training experiences (albeit from slightly different frames). This dynamic was useful, as it avoided what Morgan describes as ‘the assumption among acquaintances (that) includes invisible boundaries around the subject that they have tacitly agreed not to discuss’ (1997: 38). I used a sampling technique known as probability sampling, which, as the name suggests, is based on the idea that the researcher considers that the people chosen will be representative of the views of a cross-section of people with relevance to the topic. Inviting practising counsellors from former training groups fitted the premise of using the resources you have to hand. Interestingly, Stake makes the point: ‘Our time and access for field work are almost always limited. If we can, we need to pick cases which are easy to get to and hospitable to our enquiry (1995: 4). However, convenience itself does not constitute a justification for the inclusion of people in the sample; that is to say, we can’t get away with simply saying they were the easiest participants to get. As Denscombe points out, ‘the practice of convenience sampling is hard to equate with good research’ (Denscombe 2002: 18, 19). In other words, who you select and how you gather your data needs thought, and you will have to justify the choices you make in order for your research to maintain its professional integrity.

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Time and place How and when data will be gathered is another important factor, especially in terms of both time and resources; for my research in an organisational setting, getting the timing of data collection right meant that the analysis could be done during the summer break. Consideration will need to be given to venue and location of data collection and should suit both the research project and participants. The venue that was clearly appropriate to me as researcher and the research group was the room where the participants had trained. Green and Hart (1999) provide an interesting account of the way in which locations can affect levels of participation. Providing a location that is accessible to all parties will be important, and it is good policy to check the venue prior to the meeting for fairly obvious reasons, including: minimum distraction and interruption; availability of electrical sockets for recording equipment; ensuring participants can see and hear each other easily, and that they are as comfortable as possible and have access to necessary facilities. It is good practice, in terms of hospitality, to have refreshments available as well.

Trust and confidentiality within the focus group Issues related to power and authority and the extent of researcher influence on the project have been outlined; however, to enable a free-flowing discussion to ensue in focus groups (as well as in one-to-one interviews), participants will need to feel confident that a degree of trust is operating among its members. It is equally important that the research participants feel adequately assured that shared personal information will be treated as confidential. While counsellors in training are familiar with the boundaries of confidentiality and are somewhat used to moving between group and one-to-one settings in skills activities, it would be unwise to assume that confidentiality is a given in an organisational setting and context. It is as important to establish a research group working alliance, setting out the boundaries and limitations of confidentiality, as it is in the therapeutic working alliance or in the training group: for example, reminding the group that the information discussed will be confidential but that should the discussion uncover instances of counsellor incompetence, exploitation or criminal offences, then some kind of action would be necessary (BACP 2004). Writing up the research findings might necessitate quoting some of the recorded material; every effort should be made to disconnect participant identity from the quotation. McLeod (2003) maintains that it is good practice to explain these procedures to participants at the start of the study so that they can see the researcher is doing all she can to protect confidentiality; participants will hence be more willing to be open, honest and forthcoming – thereby increasing the validity of their data.

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Analysis of focus group data Our earlier discussion considered the value of focus groups as a reasonably efficient way to gather a number of participants’ views on the focus subject, and so, by definition, to gather unique data. Many kinds of data analysis methods are available to the qualitative researcher, and in general researchers do not rely on one approach. However, in the early stages of analysis it is actually the repeated listening to the audio tape that is imperative in terms of the researcher familiarising themselves with the data material and beginning the process of writing up and thinking theoretically about the transcript texts. This is the first stage of interpretation of the data material and a form of immersion (Moustakas 1990). This invariably requires numerous returns to specific parts of conversation in order to highlight certain nuances, pauses and interactions. As a research process this closely resembles Moustakas’ (1990: 139) six-stage cyclical model – each stage can be returned to.

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Initial engagement: a connection with the research topic, participants and literature. Immersion: deep involvement in transcribing and listening to the data, analysing and reading. Incubation: a period of withdrawal from the research, allowing space for new understanding to emerge. Illumination: new insights and understandings develop, there is recognition of patterns or themes. Explanation: refinements and corrections are made; sense is made of the material; core or dominant themes are developed. Creative synthesis: once knowledge of the material is gained, the researcher is challenged to articulate the integration of data, personal knowledge and understanding of meanings.

In our example research project, the audio recordings from the groups were made into verbatim transcripts and followed Owen’s (1984) criteria for thematic analysis. This analysis method notes:

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recurrences – where at least two parts of the discourse reflected the same thread of meaning repetition – key words, phrases and sentences that are repeated in at least two parts of the discourse forcefulness – the significant changes in volume, inflection, etc. within the discourse.

As the material becomes familiar, recurrent conceptual themes can emerge that begin to answer the research question. Polkinghorne refers to this as ‘the analysis of narratives’ (as opposed to ‘narrative analysis’), in which the

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narrative is used as data to ‘locate common themes or conceptual manifestations among the stories collected as data’ (1995, cited in Etherington, 2004a). Analysis can then be based on two concepts: those derived from previously known theories that are applied to the data and those derived from the data. To illustrate: in our example project, themes from the analysis emerged directly from the data and then reference was made to related literature, helping to formulate themed statements; these were then interwoven into the fabric of the texts to create five fields of discourse. Qualitative analysis requires a rigorous and close inspection of data in order to identify themes and concepts contained therein and, for our example project, a further reading of the data was completed utilising the guiding principles of discourse analysis (DA). DA attends to the overall rhetorical effects of the text and provides a framework from which to consider its internal workings, which Potter and Wetherell (1995) refer to as the interpretive repertoires at work within discourse. The focus of analysis is on the discourse itself, as opposed to being concerned about the various psychological constructs it may contain. Put another way, DA does not seek to use language as a way of gaining information about another’s internal world, but seeks to examine how people use language to construct versions of their worlds and gain from those constructions (Coyle 2000). This methodology looks to see how people in the focus groups are communicating, who they are in that communication, and what they are doing by the way they construct language (Gee 2006). As a consequence, analysis of the research described revealed further themes, which I entitled ‘the silent discourse’ to indicate the unintended or unconscious results of the focus group repertoires. This kind of analysis constitutes more than simply describing data, and as such it accomplishes two intentions set out in Gee’s (2006: 8) introduction to DA. (a) Illuminating and gathering evidence for our theory of the domain, a theory that helps to explain how and why language works the way it does when it is put into action; and (b) contributing, in terms of understanding and intervention, to important issues and problems in some ‘applied’ area (e.g. education) that interests and motivates the researcher. In the research project described, the in-depth analysis of the focus group data revealed three areas of ‘silent discourse’. It was noticed that participants were unconsciously creating a discourse which reflected the idea that therapy is more dependent on the faith of therapists retaining the positive benefits of therapy than on any scientific basis, suggesting that therapy is best understood as a secularised form of religion (cf. Halmos 1965, cited in Spinelli 1996). Second, as discourses are always embedded in a range of social institutions (Gee 2006), the focus group analysis offered examples of the cultural settings in which participants practised and the way in which they were building their identities as counsellors in and through language. Finally,

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as briefly referred to before as the potential weakness (dependent on perspective) of using focus groups for qualitative data collection, the DA highlighted the linguistic strategies used by the participants to convey their impression of the overall effectiveness of the core model to their practice and demonstrated the work being done to reconcile conflicting ideas or uncertainties in the group, thus revealing the potential weakness of using self-contained focus groups in the research methodology. However, it is not suggested here that another method of data collection would have been preferable or indeed as valuable in terms of learning about the participants’ perceptions and group interactions. As Morgan (1997: 60) points out: although influences of the group on individual participants is undeniable, this is a far cry from demonstrating that the group should then be the unit of analysis in focus group research . . . Neither the individual nor the group constitutes a separate unit of analysis.

Key learning points

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We will continue to see an emphasis on evidence-based, empirical research within the field of counselling and psychotherapy, and research will be a familiar aspect of all counselling/psychotherapy training in the future. Completing a research study demands a lot of effort but it is also a highly creative activity and has enormous potential to add to both personal and professional development. There are merits of doing research within an organisational setting in terms of time and resources. There is great value in using focus groups for data collection and in research design. Awareness is needed of the strengths and weaknesses, and care is needed in the composition of the sample.

Exercise for Chapter 6 The following is a series of questions intended to help you as you begin to think about your own research project. You may find you generate even more questions.

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What areas of interest would you consider as potential for a research project within your practice/workplace setting? Are you aware of any other research that covers the same or similar area? Could this question be the ‘focus’ for a focus group composed of your colleagues? Do you need to obtain permission for your study? From whom? What are the ethical requirements pertaining to your study?

Chapter 7

Research in the voluntary sector Marilyn Barnett

Questions that I find important to hold in mind when working with a client are: ‘What is prompting me to ask this, or to act in this way, and for whose benefit is it?’. With the reader in mind, perhaps a useful starting point for this chapter is to say why, at an age when I was established in my own practice and many of my colleagues were considering retirement, did I decide to embark on a research project? It has been observed that the motivation to undertake research may ‘arise just as much from the personal needs of practitioners as from external organisational or social demands’ (McLeod 2003: 2). Certainly an academic postgraduate degree would enhance my continuing professional development portfolio and satisfy the possibility of such a qualification becoming a requirement under UK government regulation, but, with my accreditations and registrations already in place, it was by no means essential. For me it was a personal choice, made for two principal reasons. I had undergone rigorous counselling and psychotherapy training and had already been involved in the profession for a decade and a half. I had worked within a voluntary agency for many years but more recently, apart from supervisory work in a similar setting, I had been in private practice. With the benefit of considerable experience as a practitioner, I now felt ready to face the challenge of a research degree. I also felt that the time had come to repair something at a personal level, but that is another story. The second reason for my decision was a controversial issue, about which I had some strong feelings and which I wanted to explore further. This was the deciding stimulus, as I hoped that the findings of my research might reach beyond personal benefit and have some useful impact within the counselling profession at large. I suggest that passion and curiosity are essential ingredients both for the sustenance of the researcher and for meaningful research. The focus of this chapter is on important issues likely to be encountered when undertaking research, as I did, among one’s fellow professionals, either within a voluntary agency setting or as a private practitioner. By no means do I speak from a position of authority in this field, but I hope to convey to the reader something of my personal experience and the

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thinking that lay behind my choice of approach and methodology. I shall describe the effects of the process on both researcher and participants, and have attempted to encourage further thinking around ethical issues in respect of data of an extremely personal nature. In writing this, the participants who gave so generously of their time and of themselves were never far from my mind. I was touched both by their interest in my research and by their trust in me. I remain grateful to them all.

Historical perspectives At the beginning of the twentieth century Freud’s Wednesday night meetings in his own home provided an informal setting for colleagues to gather and discuss their work, with Freud himself as the undisputed authority. Analytical theories evolved from experience and observation. Knowledge and understanding were passed on to newcomers to the profession through discussion and the writing of papers. Over time there has been a shift in the ownership of such knowledge, moving from the authoritative approach of Freud to a more multi-perspectival, co-constructed exploration of meaning. Psychoanalytic training institutes have long upheld a tripartite model of learning involving teaching, supervision and personal therapy. The introduction into the United Kingdom of voluntary counselling organisations provided both an opportunity for those with limited financial means to seek therapeutic help and also a more accessible setting within which to offer counsellor training. One of the earliest such organisations was the Westminster Pastoral Foundation (WPF), which was established within a church context at the end of the 1960s by William Kyle (Black 1991). In 1989 its counselling course was the first to receive national recognition by what was then known as the British Association for Counselling, and it is now a major provider of counsellor and psychotherapy training, with a network of centres nationwide. Originally the emphasis of training in that setting tended to be on the necessary personal and practical skills and consequently it attracted wouldbe therapists of all ages, often without formal academic qualifications. Within a culture of part-time unpaid work, many counsellors have, over time, acquired a wealth of clinical experience and understanding from which newcomers to the profession may benefit. The introduction of accreditation procedures within organisations such as the British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy (BACP) and the creation of paid counselling posts within workplace settings were accompanied by an increasing demand for the work of counselling to receive greater acknowledgement as a profession in its own right. From the early 1990s onwards, many universities and colleges of further education began to establish their own counselling and psychotherapy courses and nowadays, within voluntary organisations such as WPF too, training programmes are often linked to master’s degrees validated by universities.

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What it means to work and research in the voluntary sector Disadvantages for me as an independent practitioner undertaking research were primarily of an emotional and financial nature. There were times when the enormity of the task I had taken on seemed overwhelmingly daunting. Previous training experiences had involved seminars and discussion, a peer group with whom I could exchange ideas, laugh, cry or simply have a good moan. This time, although I had the invaluable support of my academic supervisor, there were periods when it was necessary to endure real feelings of isolation and self-doubt. My own narcissistic need undoubtedly stepped in at such times and enabled me to keep going. I believe BACP is, at the time of writing, in the process of establishing a research funding database and I would advise would-be researchers to make enquiries in respect of financial support. I was not personally in receipt of any funding and the cost was considerable. However, while that may appear as an immediately obvious disadvantage, it also meant I had the freedom to organise my research in my own way and furthermore, with a relatively busy private practice, it was important that I could organise it in my own time. This enabled me to safeguard my own integrity as I did not feel under pressure to accommodate the expectations or requirements of any statutory body nor, in my own case, a training organisation, as my professional qualifications and accreditations were already in place. It has been noted that psychotherapy researchers are more likely to get funding for their projects if they choose topics which hold hope of increasing cost-effectiveness or shortening treatment time, thus influencing or limiting the scope of the researcher’s exploration (Hass 2001).

Methodological issues I believe there needs to be congruence between one’s chosen method of research and the way one practises. Hinshelwood, describing an observational study of the dynamics of health care institutions, considered that the ‘key element of psychoanalytic research is the foreground position of subjectivity’ (Hinshelwood and Skogstad 2000: 15). The psychoanalyst observes his own subjective experiences as much as the experiences of the other. Furthermore, as a psychodynamic practitioner, the manifestation of unconscious processes within the relationship between therapist and client is central to my work, and my chosen area of research also concerned the unconscious (Barnett 2007). It was clear to me that a qualitative method would be required and a narrative format seemed a natural choice. Bond noted the frequent exclusion of subjective awareness from traditional approaches to research and described the significant difference between a narrative method and a more scientific one as ‘the shift of researcher from independent and impartial

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observer to centre stage’ (2002: 136). In the same paper he suggested a wider definition of research as ‘the systematic study of experience in order to create or refine knowledge’ (2002: 137). The particular demands of narrative research have been well documented (Gottlieb and Lasser 2001; Smythe and Murray 2000, 2001; Walsh 1996). It has also been criticised by positivist thinkers for being less scientific than traditional research as interpretations are concerned with implicit meaning. Walsh (1996), however, is critical of what he sees as ‘rigid rules’ equating science with quantification and statistical methods and has described objective observation as a ‘myth’, as every researcher carries their own assumptions. The similarities between a narrative research methodology and the practice of counselling and psychotherapy, especially of a psychodynamic orientation, are clear (McLeod 1996, 2003; Smythe and Murray 2000; Walsh 1996). Indeed, therapy is commonly described as the ‘talking cure’. An interest in people, a curiosity about their attempts to make sense of their own experience, an awareness of a multiplicity of meanings and an ability to sit with uncertainty until understanding begins to take shape appeal to the psychodynamic practitioner. The results of narrative research, described by Chase (1996) as an ‘unfolding process’, cannot be anticipated. Consequently there is a tension between the valuing of uncertainty and possibility in psychodynamic work and the government/public expectation of ‘evidence’based research. The interview is the usual tool for collecting data in this form of research, which has led to it being described as intrusive and as presenting particular ethical dilemmas. It is a flexible and fascinating way of obtaining personal information but a process that requires a huge investment of time, as well as considerable stamina on the part of the researcher (Grafanaki 1996). McCormack (2004), citing Riessman (1993), describes how researchers who engage in in-depth conversations with participants can sometimes feel that they are ‘drowning in a sea of interview transcripts’, before a distillation of common themes begins to emerge from immersion in the data. Words are the symbols that shape and reveal our experience and qualitative research requires a process of ‘deep reflection’ on the meaning of the words of the participants (McLeod 1996). Without reflexivity, on the part of the participant and the researcher, analysis risks being little more than an articulation of the researcher’s assumptions; whereas interpretive analysis attempts to reach beyond that which might appear immediately obvious. In line with other qualitative researchers, I believe that knowledge evolves from listening to and reflecting upon the intellectual and emotional reactions of both ourselves and others, and that it is constantly subject to change. McLeod (1996) has stressed the importance of the qualitative researcher’s ability to suspend their beliefs and examine their own assumptions when conducting research, in order to enter fully the world of their participants. However, he also describes as a ‘cruel paradox’ the researcher’s dilemma of

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balancing the need to be obvious, i.e. to depict a recognisable reality, with the need to transcend the obvious. Narrative accounts are told from multiple perspectives and contain multiple meanings. It follows that any interpretation will be personal in nature and concerned with implicit meaning rather than the revelation of some indisputable ‘truth’. As with dreams, being an interpreter of the narrative does not make one an expert, especially when it involves another person’s dream or story. In narrative research, participants are seen as co-researchers and understanding is deepened aesthetically, emotionally and cognitively by listening to their own perspectives on their experiences (Stiles 1993). It is incumbent upon qualitative researchers to strive to document that process as honestly as possible. In December 2005, the International Journal of Psychoanalysis presented a series of papers about the analyst Wilfred Bion, who died in 1979. One of the main foci of Bion’s writing was around man’s instinct to know and the importance of being able not to know: being able to wait until a meaning begins to take shape. Ferro (2005) writes that the analyst has to dare to enter the unknown, as opposed to the geographer who needs mapped-out certainties. Perhaps this is not so very different from the journey undertaken by the qualitative researcher. Indeed, Polkinghorne has highlighted the limitations of a background knowledge base, given the complex and unique characteristics of therapy, and exhorts the practitioner to venture into ‘areas of incertitude’ (1999: 143).

Choosing participants and data collection procedures Smythe and Murray (2000) have emphasised the researcher’s responsibility to exercise discretion when assessing the suitability of individuals to participate in a project. Areas of concern are around the potential vulnerability of participants, their ability to understand the concept of multiple meanings and the researcher’s power and influence in relation to them. My own area of investigation did not involve client participation and this was a very conscious choice on my part. I was strongly of the opinion that to seek permission from any of my clients, past or present, would have had an unfavourable impact on our work together. The participants in my study were therapists themselves, and of the eleven to whom I originally wrote, nine agreed to take part. A brief factual questionnaire was returned in advance of the interviews and, guided by a pilot interview, I decided to inform the participants in advance of the main areas I would be covering. Each interview lasted an hour, was semi-structured within a framework of four open questions and was audio-taped. Anonymity and confidentiality are more difficult in qualitative research as

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people are not being, as McLeod (1996) describes it, translated into numbers. Mindful of this, tape-recordings were heard only by me and I transcribed them myself. I coded and stored the tapes separately from other material and they were destroyed once I no longer had use of them for my study. The transcription process in itself was an onerous task, demanding a considerable number of hours. I also left the choice of interview venue to the participants as, despite in most instances resulting in many miles of travel and additional expense for me, I felt this ensured their privacy and comfort as far as possible. It also seemed right to pay participants their usual fee for the interview time involved, although three of them chose to waive this. Interpretive analysis opens up the possibility of multiple meanings and the process involves reflexivity on the part of both researcher and participant that continues beyond the interview itself. It was necessary to listen to the tapes and examine the transcripts over and over again in order to draw out all the recurring themes. The demands of analysing narrative research are considerable, involving ‘immersion’ (McCormack 2004; Smith et al. 1999; Walsh 1996), reflexivity, and a search for meaning and interpretation. Not surprisingly, this led to further questions and further exploration of the literature.

Researcher effect and effect on researcher Smythe and Murray (2001) have stressed the importance of the qualitative and narrative researcher constantly monitoring the effect he or she is having on the process in order to prevent harm to participants. Skills in both active listening and empathic responsiveness need to be well developed in order to promote a good ‘research alliance’ with participants (Grafanaki 1996; McLeod 1996), and the importance of the creative sense-making ability of the qualitative researcher has also been highlighted (Reason 1994). In these respects the practitioner/researcher has the advantage of his/her training and clinical experience, although the need to maintain the distinction between using therapeutic skills and acting as therapist may present more difficulty for him/her. Qualitative research demands researcher flexibility, a willingness to examine personal beliefs and biases and suspend assumptions. Grafanaki (1996) has drawn attention to the fact that the researcher may well be challenged in unexpected ways, citing cancellation of appointments, participant withdrawal and equipment failure as examples. I had personal experience of the first two situations and, while my equipment never actually let me down, the fear of such a thing happening was certainly present. Perhaps I can count myself fortunate that I never had to compete with a loudly ticking grandfather clock, as did Etherington (2004c)! Alongside these challenges there were moments of surprise and moments of shared humour. It has been said that the researcher possibly gains more

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personally and professionally from doing qualitative research than he or she contributes to the field of research (Grafanaki 1996). Whether that is true or not, the process contributed hugely to my personal learning. I was touched that practitioners who were well established professionally and, in many instances, considerably more experienced than me, were willing to talk to me about very sensitive and personal aspects of their lives. The interest they expressed in my project and the respect they showed to me were quite humbling.

Ethical issues ‘No matter how gentle and sensitive our touch, we still entangle ourselves in others’ intricately woven narcissistic tapestries. When we write about others, they feel it in some way’ (Josselson 1996: 70). Psychotherapy and counselling organisations have their own codes of ethics and ethics committees with the aim of ensuring safe practice and investigating complaints. In 2002 the British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy abandoned the word ‘code’ and published its Ethical Framework for Good Practice in Counselling & Psychotherapy, perhaps in an attempt to embrace the idea of ethical mindfulness, as opposed to a set of rules (Bond 2000). However, I suggest that therapists may still find themselves in a double bind, caught up in a tension between the welfare of the individual and the demands of the public or government. For researchers this may pose particular difficulties, especially perhaps within the voluntary sector where the participants, if therapists themselves, may not share the researcher’s own values or may subscribe to codes of ethics different from the researcher’s own codes. Perhaps one can take heart from West (2002), who argues that it is preferable to face doubts and uncertainties, rather than strive to create an allencompassing ethical code. Smythe and Murray (2001) believe that it is not more rules that are needed, but increased awareness and reflexivity on the part of the researcher. Lepper (2001) cautions the researcher to take into account and acknowledge responsibility for the implications of the research process not only for the participants but also for the communities they work in, and of the longerterm impact. That may be of particular relevance within a voluntary agency setting where there is little hope of statutory funding or support. With so much energy needing to be focused on economic survival, it is perhaps hardly surprising that there appears to have been little published research in the voluntary sector. This is despite evidence that people referred to voluntary counselling agencies may present with problems as severe as those met within the NHS psychiatric service (Armstrong and McLeod 2003; Winter et al., 2003). A request to carry out research may feel like an unwelcome intrusion into a community that is already overworked and operating on a shoestring, especially if it is perceived to be in the researcher’s own interest and without

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any long-term benefit for the agency itself. In my own study, the participants were working independently but any future encounter, even within the formal framework of professional meetings, would inevitably be coloured by the fact that they had shared with me some deeply personal aspects of their own lives. Perhaps the fact that this has become clearer to me with hindsight is confirmation that the research process does not end with the final chapter of one’s dissertation. Britton (1998) writes of an intermediate area of experience outside a belief system where subjective beliefs may be objectively viewed. In the clinical situation the therapist’s own narcissism may struggle with the need to behave ethically, and in research too there is a danger of the researcher’s own agenda and desire for supporting evidence getting in the way at times. There is more to fear perhaps from misplaced certainty than from uncertainty. Solomon (2001), writing about clinical work, reminds the therapist that, although they may not be constantly aware of their ethical attitude while practising, there is an ethical dimension to every aspect of our clinical work that we dare not ignore. I suggest that this must equally apply to research and the researcher. Although all types of research pose ethical dilemmas, it has been noted that there are special difficulties associated with narrative research. ElbazLuwisch (1997) has observed that while the most personal stories are the most instructive, the owners of those stories are at their most vulnerable when presenting them. I believe that this is what Smythe and Murray (2000) are describing when they refer to the intimate entanglement of epistemological and ethical issues in narrative research, together with the researcher’s need to recognise their own biases and prejudices. For them the question of ownership of the story is the main ethical issue, and they highlight the need to focus not only on a multiplicity of narrative perspectives but on a multiplicity of ethical perspectives also. Grafanaki (1996) exhorts the researcher not to lose sight of the fact that it is always a privilege to have a private view of the life of another. The BACP advises that the rights of research participants should include the right to freely given and informed consent (BACP 2007). If research is regarded as a ‘process’, the participant becomes part of that process and therefore liable to be changed by it, as indeed researchers themselves are changed, and I find it hard to believe that consent can ever be truly ‘informed’ or ‘freely’ given, especially at the beginning stage. ‘Process consenting’ has been considered more appropriate to narrative research than a single informed consent form, in the belief that it offers greater protection and freedom (Grafanaki 1996; McLeod 1996; Smythe and Murray 2000; West 2002). In my own research, participants were informed that I would stop taping at any point in the interview if they wished me to do so. There were a few occasions when, conscious of a heightened emotional state in them, and intuitively feeling that perhaps they were saying more than they might wish to, I chose to check out that they were happy to continue.

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I believe my clinical experience served me well at times like these. It would have been far more difficult to sustain such difficult feelings had I been a purely academic researcher. I also invited the participants to let me have some feedback on the impact of the research procedures on them, if they so wished. Some of them felt that the interview had prompted new memories or new perspectives on past events and situations, in ways that they had not anticipated and that they found helpful. I too was touched. It was deeply moving at times to be aware of the level of trust they had invested in me.

Summary When working as counsellors and therapists we are, in a sense, undertaking research in every session with every person we see. If practising psychodynamically we construct our knowledge and understanding through exploration, observation, reflection, and trial interpretation. Previous clinical experience is constantly being built upon and, in the process, old perspectives may be discarded and new ones adopted, not just by the client but by the therapist also. Perhaps most importantly, our clinical work demands of us openness to difference and the unexpected. In addition to clinical competence, a need for self-discipline and organisational skills perhaps applies especially to the researcher in order to avoid feeling overwhelmed by unwieldy amounts of material. Furthermore, I would suggest that for the qualitative researcher it helps to have an interest in language and a genuine desire to write. The voluntary sector has been described as the bedrock of counselling in Britain, and five years ago it was thought likely that half of all counselling was carried out in voluntary agencies (Armstrong and McLeod 2003). Such organisations have even been described as subsidising the NHS (Buckroyd 2003). It seems important, especially at a time when the UK government is about to invest huge amounts of money in the provision of cognitive behavioural therapy within the NHS, that we do not lose sight of the valuable contribution made by the voluntary sector to those in need of psychological help. Such organisations frequently contain a wealth of experience, expertise and enthusiasm among their workforce but are often small and struggling to survive, and are likely to be in special need of support and financial assistance when it comes to carrying out research. If the necessary resources can be found for this, the credibility of work being carried out within the voluntary sector is likely to be enhanced and additional funding generated, especially within smaller local communities where the need is perhaps greatest.

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Key points

• • • • •

The desirability of congruence between one’s chosen method of research and the way one practises. The need for reflexivity, awareness and flexibility on the part of the qualitative researcher. An ability to remain open to uncertainty and the unexpected. Voluntary organisations often contain a wealth of experience from which newcomers to the profession may benefit. The need to hold in mind the likely impact, both immediate and longer term, of requests to undertake research, not only on the participants but also on the communities in which they function. This may be especially necessary within voluntary agencies that are already overworked and struggling financially.

Exercise for Chapter 7 Take a few moments to ask yourself the following questions, and try to answer them honestly.

• • • • • • •

Why do I wish to undertake this research? Why now? Who stands to benefit from it? What might be the likely effect on participants in the longer term? Am I able to manage, sustain and contain the levels of emotion and anxiety that may arise both in me and in others during the course of the work? Can I be sufficiently organised? Is writing something that I really enjoy?

Chapter 8

Research in the public sector Amanda Larcombe

Following the example of Casement (1991), who wrote about ‘learning from the patient’, the intention in this chapter is to offer ‘learning from the process’. The chapter offers help for those who may be considering research in the public sector by developing understanding of the core issues involved while being as practical and supportive as possible. The chapter is a reflective consideration highlighting personal learning and insight that draws in part from my experience of a piece of workplace research. This involved a large public sector body (approximately 5,500 employees) based in the south-west of England, and the research spanned a three-year period (Larcombe 2006). The choice of organisation and the focus for the research question were largely determined by the following factors.

• •

•

•

Very little research of the kind being proposed had been undertaken by this organisation, at either a national or a regional level. Of the few pieces of research that had been completed, all were achieved by researchers who were either existing employees working within the organisation or contractors employed by the organisation to deliver the service they then researched. In other words, they were not independent researchers. As an independent researcher it was then possible to cite this piece of work as a first. While I was independent in the sense of not being a professional in the organisation, I did have a personal connection and therefore had an understanding and knowledge of the organisation, which increased the chances of the research being supported by the organisation and therefore taking place at all. I also had previous experience of working within the public sector and was familiar with the structures and processes associated with this type of organisation. The organisation had a specific interest in the proposed research subject, although this only became known in the early stages of setting the project up.

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Once under way, the research process was not without event. In response to the needs of the organisation the research question changed five times in the course of roughly an eighteen-month period, including at one stage the organisation wanting to pull out completely. It was only through negotiation, determination and adaptation that the project was completed at all. The core issues that emerged during this research process are discussed and seen as especially pertinent to any research in public sector organisations.

Expectation management and the balance of power As the research process unfolded, so the juggling of expectations and the full appreciation of where the power to influence this project lay became evident. Some problems were expected; some were not. The reason for detailing this aspect of research in the public sector is to highlight the fact that expectations exist and that they need to be actively managed, something that can be achieved by identifying and including the research stakeholders in the design process and thereafter to its completion. If not, in the context of who has the power to influence the project, unmanaged expectations are liable to sabotage the research process. Public sector organisations serve the public and are, by default, linked to the political system, guided and influenced by the demands of both national and local government policy priorities and processes. This means that if a public organisation chooses to take part in field research they are doing so for a reason. Whether this is implicit or explicit, there is usually an agenda. The challenge for the researcher is to find out what this is and to see if this matches their own expectations regarding their research. The challenge is extended when we realise that there is more than one stakeholder with expectations to manage. Table 8.1 reflects on the expectations of the stakeholders in relation to research projects undertaken within the public sector. It then introduces the parallel aspect of power – who has the power to do what. What is apparent is that the researcher has little, if any, power over whether or not the research takes place at all. What counts is the influence and motivation of the key stakeholders and how this might be tapped for mutual benefit. Developing this opportunity to conduct research lies with the contact and networking skills of the researcher to conduct a needs analysis, with a willing public sector organisation, other associated stakeholders, and indeed with the influence and enthusiasm of the researcher’s supervisor. So what are the consequences of this juggling and arbitration process? How is the research affected and influenced by these stakeholders and their expectations? For this researcher the inability to meet fully the needs of the organisation at one point meant that the research process very nearly came to an

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Table 8.1 Expectation management and the power to influence in the context of public sector research Who has expectations? Who are the stakeholders?

What might these expectations be or what ‘needs’ will influence them?

Me – the researcher

I want to achieve an MA I may want to do a PhD I want to make a difference I want to do something original I want to enjoy the process I want to achieve it as costeffectively as possible (as I’m self-funded!) I want to be ethical and professional I want this to be a credible piece of research

Researcher power over the process Can

Cannot

Do the work Resource the project (with limitations) Motivate/support myself Be energetic/ enthusiastic STOP THE PROCESS AT ANY TIME

MAKE the organisation comply with all my needs MAKE the organisation comply with all the needs of my college MAKE participants participate

Supervisor/ Does this project fulfil all the academic organisation academic criteria demanded by the college – ethical/word count/originality etc.? Is this person up to the job?

Advise, guide, encourage Pass or fail the project STOP THE PROCESS AT ANY TIME

Influence the research organisation/ participants

Head of the organisation

Who is doing this research?/Are they credible? Are we having to pay for it? How would this research serve my organisation at this time, in the context of what is being asked of us as a public sector body? How will it serve me as head of the organisation?

Approve/not approve the application STOP THE PROCESS AT ANY TIME

Do the work

Researcher’s point of contact within organisation/ designated head of research project (in role associated with research subject)

How does this research support the organisation in the context of my role? How does this meet my needs – politically, economically, personally? What would meet my needs politically, economically, personally? How much of my time is involved?/Am I prepared to give? What risks are involved – what might be found? What resources are required? Who else will this involve?

Approve/not approve the research application Influence the head of the organisation Support/advise the researcher STOP THE PROCESS AT ANY TIME

Do the work MAKE the head of the organisation support the project

(Continued overleaf )

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Table 8.1 Continued. Who has expectations? Who are the stakeholders?

What might these expectations be or what ‘needs’ will influence them?

Researcher power over the process

Contributor – research participant

Why should I get involved? What is in it for me? How safe/confidential is the process? How could it influence my work/my job? Who is doing the research – the organisation or someone else? Do I trust them?

Get involved or not Influence how the research is used by the organisation

Contributor – organisation’s Employee Assistance Programme (EAP)

Why should we get involved? What do we stand to gain/lose from this, at this time? What input does it require?/ Is this feasible? Who is the researcher?/How credible/safe/commercially aware are they? How long is this going to take?/ Does this fit with our needs? How can we use this research for our benefit?

Support/provide access to data for the research STOP/withhold their support at any time

MAKE the organisation take part in the research

Contributor – human resources team

Why should I get involved? What is in this for me/my department? Who is sponsoring the research – the organisation or is the researcher independent? How much of my time is this going to take? Whose budget is this coming out of? How might this research be used in the context of my role?

Support/provide access to data for the research STOP/withhold their support at any time

MAKE the organisation take part in the research

Can

Cannot

abrupt end. For the project to continue, the research question had to be flexible and reworked for a fifth time such that the organisation’s needs were completely met. The researcher’s expectations needed to be refined and remodelled accordingly in order to fit into the expectations and social needs of operating in the real world. The key point is therefore to expect to have to be adaptable and to negotiate to reach a mutually accepted research project.

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Research design and methodology The second core issue in research in the public sector links to the choice of research design and the methodology – in other words, the research paradigm. The influence of the organisation will affect the focus of the research question and therefore the research design and methodology. Figure 8.1 offers a visual reflection on the range of influences on this process; the stakeholders or elements involved and their associated perspectives and influences. In relation to the influences detailed in Figure 8.1, the following key elements were included in the final design of the research I undertook; again I am suggesting that experiences linked to my own research will be generally applicable to other public sector bodies. 1. The ‘independence’ of the researcher Contact with the organisation and its employees revealed the presence of a general attitude of suspicion and distrust among employees of any research that was overtly sponsored by the organisation, particularly if it was associated with them as individuals. Though this may not be unique to the public sector, it is most definitely not an uncommon situation. To develop trust and reduce the potentially negative impact of this element of organisational culture, you as the researcher may need to distance yourself consciously from the organisation, remain ‘self-funded’ and make clear in all communications that the research is being conducted ‘independently’. 2. The ethical design incorporated high levels of confidentiality Where a suspicious culture is identified in a public sector organisation, there will be a need to promote and develop trust in both the researcher and the research process through transparency. All communications need to detail clearly what is being done, by whom and to what ends. In the process of establishing the participant pool and then collecting the data it is advisable to give participants complete control over the level of anonymity they want to maintain. For example, perhaps contact with you as researcher is possible by email or telephone, with both electronic and hard copy questionnaire options available for participants. 3. The inclusion of quantitative data Public sector organisations have what could be classed as a cultural reliance on and requirement for producing quantitative data. They need it so that they can monitor and reflect on their performance. Without significant quantities of quantitative data, research projects may not be seen by

Figure 8.1 Influences on the design/methodology of public sector research.

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the organisation as useful research and therefore will not be approved or completed. 4. Design of the questionnaire acknowledges the organisational culture and known approach to research The culture of a public sector organisation needs to be considered in the design of any questionnaires being used. One that is designed to meet these needs then stands a greater chance of being completed. For example, perhaps one way to make it as easy as possible for participants to complete is to incorporate a simple ‘tick box’ style. To support the need for confidentiality, give participants the choice of having either an electronic or a hardcopy version. To increase the likelihood of participants completing it, check the suitability of the wording and the information asked for by checking with some other employees of the organisation not involved in the research process.

Setting the research up and making it happen Having your initial research idea and identifying the public sector body of interest is one thing. Making the research happen is quite another! As Table 8.1 has detailed, the control over whether or not the project starts, and is continued to completion, is held almost entirely by the organisation. When I approached the organisation initially I was informed that around 85% of research applications made to them are rejected. Therefore, to increase the chances of the research being supported it is crucial that both the first contact and the subsequent research proposal are developed in such a way that the chance of success is increased. In the context of working in the public sector, three things appeared to contribute to this, as follows. 1. Understanding the organisation’s structure and respecting the associated hierarchies and/or chains of command All public sector bodies have very specific organisational structures. They tend to have a well-established hierarchy with formal lines of communication that acknowledge the associated ‘chains of command’. In approaching any public sector organisation with a view to undertaking research, the following are suggested as the key points of contact that would need to be included:

• • •

the head of the organisation heads of departments associated with the research, e.g. occupational health, human resources heads of associated professional bodies that might increase participant confidence in the research process, e.g. Police Federation, trades unions

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the organisation’s points of contact with associated research stakeholders, e.g. the Employee Assistance Programme (EAP) representative.

The first approach needs to be to the head of the organisation. If this is successful, it is likely to be passed then to the associated heads of department for consideration. Once these two stakeholders have been satisfied, the remainder are contacted to complete the supporting team. 2. Establishing exactly what style/content is required in the application, in relation to the proposed research area and question Public sector organisations will need to justify any research that they agree to engage in. They will also need to ascertain quickly that the proposal is relevant and in their interest. With this in mind, the first approach to the head of the organisation acts in much the same way as a curriculum vitae: the aim is to get the interview, so that you then have a chance to get the job. The following is a suggested checklist of details and content for this letter.

• • •

• • • • •

Check/confirm the title, name (including any ‘decorations’) of the head of the organisation. Check/confirm the full address of the head office/headquarters. Give the letter a clear and attractive subject heading under the salutation. This acts in much the same way as a newspaper headline in that it is designed to encourage the reader to read on. For example: Support of Police Officers – Independent Research Opportunity. State clearly the reason for the contact, the opportunity being presented and the context for that. Include a paragraph on who you are, why you are doing this and what qualifies you to do this research. Include some contextual information for your research proposal that highlights the significance of the opportunity being offered in relation to the organisation, and how the subject relates to it. Highlight the benefits of the project to the organisation: what it will gain from it. Include a rough estimate of the timescale for the project.

Assuming this contact is successful, it is likely that you will then need to formalise your research proposal. The format for this will need to be established from within the organisation. In the case of this researcher’s experience, it was achieved by holding a meeting with the head of department directly associated with the research subject: occupational health. In this case they requested a brief document (one side of A4), which was to contain the following:

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the question (as agreed by the organisation) a brief account of the methodology, focusing on data sources and the requirements of the chosen approach access required by the researcher – whom to and what for submission – what documents will be submitted to the organisation on completion of the project, e.g. executive summary and data analysis.

It is highly advisable, and potentially an organisational requirement, that this submission is checked by them before it is submitted for approval by the head of the organisation. It is also likely that this will need to go to more than one person, a point that will need to be clarified with your point of contact in the organisation. 3. Doing the research at a time when the subject is of relevance to the organisation (politically/financially), i.e. when the organisation has a need for this research A review of the literature is likely to give you an idea of the potential relevance and timeliness of the research, particularly if you include journals/ publications associated with the public sector body. An understanding of the ‘timeliness’ of your proposed research may be gained from meetings with your organisation’s contacts, or you may never know other than by the fact that your research was accepted!

Managing and maintaining the process Most research projects take some time to complete. Along with the generic considerations of support for the researcher, finance, time management and so forth, the public sector focus demands additional attention in terms of managing and maintaining the process. One suggestion is to set up ongoing lines of communication with key individuals; establish a level of regular reporting with the main point of contact; and ensure that everyone involved or associated with the project is informed of its progress. What information will be needed, by whom, in what format and by when is likely to be agreed with the main point of contact. However, researchers need to be open to being able to meet the individual needs of all the research stakeholders (as detailed in Table 8.1). These would include face-to-face meetings, telephone, email and letter contact.

Completion and follow-up Along with relief and a sense of achievement, completion brings issues of follow-up that need to be considered. Most needs will have been agreed at the outset with the organisation, e.g. the required reporting/submission, and with

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the academic body regarding the dissertation format. Others will depend on the researcher’s aims and ambitions for their work. This could include variations of the following:

• • • • • • •

supplying an electronic and hardcopy version of the complete research document to all of the key stakeholders producing and supplying a hardcopy ‘executive summary’ of the research to the same stakeholders contacting all research participants, informing them of the completion of the project, thanking them for their input and offering to provide either a hardcopy or electronic version of the complete research document submitting an abstract of the research to the BACP and subsequently presenting this at a research conference planning and preparing for possible publication, including press releases to professional public sector publications and an editorial submission to the Association for Counselling in the Workplace Journal planning and preparing submissions to research journals and other professional publications, e.g. People Management (the UK Chartered Institute for Personnel and Development’s national journal) preparing to contact the organisation with a view to further research.

Ethical dilemmas As with most counselling research, the ethical dilemmas faced in the public sector setting are numerous and complicated. There may be complications linked to the subject that is being studied (especially if it covers emotional and well-being issues); the nature of the organisation that is the subject of the research; the cultural system that surrounds the research; the attitude of the stakeholders involved; and, inevitably, the manner in which the researcher relates to all of these. You can anticipate some ethical concerns but others will become apparent in the course of the project. The key to managing ethical dilemmas effectively is to draw significantly on fundamental therapeutic principles of relationship management, so for example by applying Rogerian core conditions (Rogers 1961) (unconditional positive regard/congruence/empathy) and the maintaining of healthy boundaries. One further aspect to add is corporate and also commercial awareness. Table 8.2 presents the ethical dilemmas that you may experience and the manner in which these could be worked with.

Conclusion and summing up Working with public sector organisations can be frustratingly challenging and yet hugely rewarding. The issue of power and control that is by definition held by public sector organisations throughout any research process is highly

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Table 8.2 Ethical dilemmas experienced, associated issues and solutions used Ethical situation/ factor

Key issues/dilemmas

Research design solutions

1. The researcher married to a policeman

•

•

• •

•

Possibly being known by a research participant Maintaining a position of independence Potential for the researcher to make assumptions/have a view about the organisation that could influence the research process The researcher’s husband possibly compromising confidentiality by recognising participants through email contact with the researcher

• • •

• • •

2. The research organisation being a public sector body

• •

3. The involvement of a corporate/ commercial body, i.e. EAP

• •

The research potentially dealing with politically sensitive material The relationship between the organisation and employees potentially influencing the research process/ researcher

•

The relationship of the corporate body with the organisation, which will be contract-based Potential for both the organisation and the corporate entity to influence the research process

•

• •

•

Researcher’s name was clearly visible on all mailings so participants were aware of who the researcher was Informing all organisational contacts of the position Actively establishing and maintaining clear boundaries throughout the process Self-awareness, monitoring the researcher’s own process and congruently acknowledging any element of personal influence/ assumptions Sole access to the office space/ access to email for the duration of data collection/processing Setting up secure email filing system to ‘hide’ all contact from participants and reduce risk of confidentiality compromise Storing all hard copies of participant data in secure cabinet Consciously ‘tuning in to’ politically sensitive aspects, clarifying and checking with key contacts what can/cannot be included in the final document Establishing a confidentiality agreement, which includes the confidentiality of participants Working systemically and objectively throughout the process, ensuring that the organisation and participants are treated equally, with respect and objectivity Active/careful boundary management Establishing clear guidance on levels of access to data – the restrictions in this case being that the only data that would be provided had already been processed/presented by the EAP and had to be used in the format used by them (Continued overleaf )

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Table 8.2 Continued. Ethical situation/ factor

Key issues/dilemmas

Research design solutions

•

Commercial confidentiality Accessibility of data Use of data, both during and after the research process Maintaining an independent position as researcher

•

Establishing a confidentiality agreement to cover all aspects of commercial confidentiality

Potential for organisational culture of ‘mistrust’ to influence participant involvement Potential for attitudes to research to limit participant involvement Sensitivity of research subject Influence of organisational structure on potential participant involvement, i.e. the more senior a participant was in the organisation, the easier it was to identify who they might be

•

Establish/explain independence of researcher at the outset Gaining support of professional body to give credibility Giving participants control over the manner in which contacted by the researcher Giving participants the option of hardcopy or email versions of the questionnaire, and control over where it was sent Giving each questionnaire a unique numerical identifier to maintain anonymity Within the data analysis process, not including any information that would in any way identify the participant Reassuring/reminding participants of confidentiality measures in place Keeping participants informed and being accessible regarding their queries/questions Maintaining professional boundaries throughout the process

• • • 4. Participant involvement

•

• • •

• • • • • • • •

significant. Indeed, it can reach the point where the researcher is potentially limited to solely meeting the needs of the organisation. Such a limitation in turn has the potential to influence how the resulting research is received, in that meeting the needs of the organisation may mean compromising the credibility of the work in the eyes of fellow researchers. However, the central key to getting the most out of research in the public sector is to work with them in the way that you would with a client in counselling or psychotherapy:

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understand and accept them for who they are, while at the same time respecting and working with their unique qualities.

Key learning points

• • • •

Be prepared to be flexible and to compromise. Be prepared for the unexpected. Researchers need to be comfortable knowing that they do not have complete control over what they are doing. Know and understand the organisation, how it exists and functions.

Exercises for Chapter 8 Think through the following on your expectation management and the balance of power

• • • •

What are your needs/expectations in relation to your research? From this list, can you identify which needs are ‘absolute’ and which have scope for compromise? Who are the stakeholders in your research? What are their needs/expectations, both implicit and explicit? How do you feel, as a researcher, knowing that your chosen research organisation could choose to pull out at any point?

Reflective questions for the field researcher in the public sector workplace

• • • • • •

What are you aiming to achieve with your research? How might your research be used, and by whom? Who would be interested in your research? Are you considering further research with this organisation? If so, how might you maintain a relationship with it? How might your possible desire to be published influence the need to have an ongoing relationship with it?

Chapter 9

Research in the community with a feminist approach Victoria Cole

Where to start? This is the first question a researcher has to face. Your desire to ‘do’ some research may have evolved from a personal interest, but how do you know that other people may be interested enough to take part? And where can you find all those willing participants? If you are working in a large organisation or have a clutch of like-minded colleagues, then your research might get off to an easy start. However, a lot of counsellors and psychotherapists work in private practice like myself, which can be quite a solitary existence; thus the thought of carrying out research can be a daunting one. Using one’s own clients as participants in research can create difficult ethical dilemmas, and dual relationships may already exist between counselling colleagues who may also be friends, competitors or supervisees. Inviting them to become part of your research project may produce additional complications. This chapter will discuss issues that the novice researcher might face when starting their research project. Drawing on my own experience of conducting research and supervising others through their dissertations, I will discuss how to access participants through the use of a gatekeeper, utilise an online community and select an appropriate methodology that fits with one’s own beliefs and view of the world. My research project evolved from my own experience of having a baby. This felt like a profound life change for me and yet I didn’t hear other mothers discussing openly what an effect it had on their lives, especially in relation to their working selves. My drive to understand how other mothers felt was enough to prompt me to undertake the research. In other words, I knew that this subject was an interesting proposition and likely to hold my sustained interest, unlike the experience of the student in this example: Jonathan was keen to impress the head of his department. He therefore chose a subject to research that he knew his boss had an interest in; however, he found it difficult to maintain enthusiasm for his studies and over time had increasing difficulty writing up the research.

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Again, back to the question ‘where to start?’. I had contact with other mothers on a social basis, but I felt slightly uncomfortable about asking them to take part in my research, as I was aware it might have been difficult for them to say no. I was also concerned as to whether it would affect our existing relationships in some way. I then had to think about how I could access participants who were willing to take part in my research project and who, preferably, I had no other relationship with.

Gaining access to research populations At the beginning, I felt as if I had only a small number of people I could ask. This needed to be expanded for the sake of the research. I therefore felt I needed to enlist the help of what Mauthner et al. (2003) call ‘gatekeepers’. These are people who are in a position to permit access to others for the purpose of interviewing. Miller (2000) adds that gatekeepers have the ability to exert leverage in the research setting. I knew from my experience as a dissertation supervisor that access to participants could be severely limited without the help of someone in this role. For example: Janice wanted to conduct research with the siblings of children who had a life-limiting illness; however, she was turned down by every hospice she approached. The gatekeepers were protective of their clients and had decided what was in their best interest. Janice had to change her research focus completely. As Mauthner et al. (2003) clearly state, gatekeepers are in a position of being able to exert power and decide who takes part in the research. This raises a couple of points to consider.

• •

The type of relationship you form with a gatekeeper is likely to influence your ability to access participants for your research. They will need to think that your research focus is ‘a good idea’. Will the designated gatekeeper approach prospective participants in a respectful and ethical way, giving them the opportunity to say ‘no’?

The second point could potentially have an adverse effect on your research. It is important to brief your gatekeeper and provide materials, such as posters, consent forms and questionnaires, that will convey information to potential participants, as you want it conveyed.

Research using an online community I wanted to extend the research beyond the local participants I had recruited, and after reading an article in The Times espousing the popularity of the

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‘Mumsnet’ website (Mahoney 2004) I decided to post a message there, requesting participants to take part in my research. Within twenty-four hours a steady stream of emails started to trickle, then pour through, mainly nationwide, but also as far away as Greece, Spain and the USA. I now had to ensure that the questionnaire that I had devised was just as easy to complete online and in a format that was accessible to most. Furthermore, in trying to maintain a feminist perspective, I did not want the participants feeling constrained by the questionnaire and unable to convey what they really felt. I therefore created a questionnaire that was semistructured and had text boxes at the end of each question where participants could add any comments they felt were not addressed by the question. Stage 2 of my research had been to interview some of the participants who had completed the initial questionnaire. As I wanted to extend the interviews beyond the local participants, I was faced with the challenge of finding some technical equipment to record over the phone or deciding to travel hundreds of miles in order to do further interviews face to face. In the end I did neither. Instead I decided to send the interview questions as an attachment and asked that the participants write at length about their experience of becoming a mother. The women openly shared their feelings of love, confusion, disappointment and guilt. A theme of ambivalence emerged. I could not have imagined how powerful the raw data was. For example: I tried to be a ‘super mum’ and ‘hero’. Instead, I burnt myself out . . . Do all you can with all the guilt. Drawing on the work of Anthony and Goss (2001) can explain why the data was so powerful. They suggest that a documented effect of online counselling work, facilitated by the lack of physical presence, is called the disinhibition effect. This results in the client being able to open up about their feelings and problems easily and quickly. Fenichel et al. (2002: 5) agree with their theory, and remind us that Sigmund Freud himself treated some patients exclusively through written text, from a distance rather than in person, and he ‘saw’ others on the couch rather than face to face. Freud’s psychoanalytic technique was designed to foster the very disinhibition which naturally occurs so easily on the Internet. Interestingly, the Internet participants were more open about their feelings of boredom and resentment relating to their role as mothers than the participants I interviewed face to face. From my perspective, I felt that I had developed relationships with the women who responded to my questionnaires. I felt just as much compassion and empathy for the virtual participants as I did for the ones I met face to face. This apparently is not uncommon; in an

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article researching peer group counselling supervision online, Cummings found that ‘contact and relationship were established, understanding and empathy were expressed, and appropriate and supportive information was shared’ (2002: 228). I can only conclude that the disinhibition effect enabled the participants to open up and share so easily and enabled me to develop a strong sense of connection with them.

Choosing a methodology Etherington (2004a: 71) provides us with a good answer as we return to the original question of ‘where to start?’. When setting out on any research journey I need to find ways of working that fit with who I am: my underlying values, my philosophies on life, my views of reality and my beliefs about how knowledge is known and created. My view of reality or the nature of being or what is (ontology), and my understanding of what it means to know (epistemology) are intertwined . . . My understanding of, and connection with, these concepts guide the decisions I make about my choice of methodologies and methods, and the ways I make sense of the data and represent it. Let us apply Etherington’s statement to the decision-making process I used for my own research. First, through my observations of many different parenting styles, I believe that motherhood, the intended focus of my research, is not a universally agreed term but is socially constructed. Social constructionism takes the view that there is no objective social reality, rather the way we understand the world is a combined result of interactions and negotiations between people. It also rejects the traditional positivist approach as being insufficiently reflexive (McLeod 1996). Using a quantitative approach would not have been appropriate as I wanted to know about the participants’ experience of motherhood and, as Carter and Little (2007) state, quantitative research is more about numerical data and statistical significance while qualitative research is more about data derived from text. Questionnaires are often seen as a tool of quantitative research, yet with some modification I found they yielded rich data. As Kelly et al. (1994) cited in Letherby (2003) state, it is not the particular method that makes the research feminist, but the way it is deployed. Adapting the questionnaires to include text boxes so comments could be added enabled the participants not to feel constrained by the check boxes. I was also indebted to some of the participants who emailed me with helpful suggestions about how to improve the questionnaires. Some of these were implemented, and I felt this action was representative of a feminist research approach that emphasises equality in research relationships (Etherington 2004b). On reviewing the literature, there seems to be no consensus on what a

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feminist research approach is (Letherby 2003; Stanley and Wise 1993), and indeed even the notion that feminist research is more compatible with a qualitative approach has been challenged by Oakley (2000), so instead I have included some principles of feminist research that felt particularly relevant to my own study:

• • • • •

transparency about the aims of the research the importance of representing the subjects’ views and experiences (Watts 2006: 387) valuing the personal and private as worthy of study (Letherby 2003) ‘emphasis upon women’s experience as being the only true source of knowledge about women’ (Hitchcock and Hughes 2001: 70) the use of ‘self’ as a legitimate part of the research process (Etherington 2004a).

Data-gathering tools I used the ‘voice centred relational method of data analysis’ (Doucet and Mauthner 1998). This method is based on the idea of a relational ontology that views people not as individuals but, as Gilligan (2003) suggests, as being embedded in a complex web of both intimate and wider social relationships. The voice-centred relational method involves reading the interview text on at least three separate occasions, each with a different emphasis. The first reading looks for the plot or the story being told. In the second reading, the researcher looks for similarities between her own background and that of the person interviewed. As Doucet and Mauthner state, ‘The researcher essentially reads the narrative in her own terms – how she is responding emotionally and intellectually to this person’ (1998: 5). The aim of the second reading is to highlight the issue of reflexivity, which I will return to later. The third reading focuses on the interviewee. This is carried out by highlighting any narrative that includes personal pronouns. The purpose of this is to intensify the terms in which they see and present themselves. Brown and Gilligan (1992), cited in Doucet and Mauthner (1998: 6), stress the importance of this stage of the data analysis: Spending this time carefully listening to the respondent creates a space between her way of speaking and seeing and our own, so we can discover . . . how she speaks of herself before we speak of her. From transcripts of my own research, I have included some narrative where the personal pronouns were highlighted: ‘I tried to be “a super mum” and “hero” – instead I burnt myself out.’ (Talia)

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‘I feel I have to be “all things to all people”. I feel I must help my mother, support my sisters, give constant A-grade attention to both my daughters, keep the house spotless, cook gourmet meals, bake cakes, sew fancy dress outfits, invite school friends round to play, organise birthday parties, work/study to keep my brain in gear . . . and still look fabulous, slim and sexy for my husband.’ (Natalie)

Reflexivity and reflexive practice As Taylor and White (2004) state, reflexivity is a curiously elusive term. In this section, I define reflexivity and explain its importance in qualitative research using an example from my own research project. Reflexivity takes reflection a stage further and critically evaluates issues that reflection takes for granted. Drawing on the work of Boud et al. (1985), Johns (2000) and Schön (1983), reflection is a way of thinking about what we do, with the aim of increasing self-awareness, learning from experience and ultimately improving our practice. Ixter (1999), cited in Taylor and White (2004), suggests that reflexivity enables us to interrogate previously taken-for-granted assumptions. Using my own research project as an example, I discovered how the findings challenged my own assumptions about how women construct their role as a mother, and how generally the literature is distorted by the influence of popular culture. The following quote exemplified my initial approach to the research: ‘Culture tells us what it means to be a mother, what behaviours and attitudes are appropriate for mothers, and how motherhood should shape relationships and self-identity’ (Johnston and Swanson 2003: 21). However, after finding that the majority of participants (70%) cited their mothers as a major influence in their way of ‘being a mother’: I was surprised at just how significant the participants’ own mother was as a major influence in their own way of becoming a mother. On one level, as a colleague recalled, ‘it goes without saying’ yet on another level this relationship is no longer explicitly acknowledged as a major influence in our culture. (Cole 2005: 49) The purpose of reflexivity needs to be addressed here. Most qualitative researchers would acknowledge that they are part of the social world they are studying and it would be unrealistic to assume that the researcher’s position is neutral, amoral and apolitical. It’s important to remember that it’s not only the researchers but also the respondents who have their own values, beliefs and prejudices that they bring to the research project. As Letherby states, ‘Thus, research relationships are complex encounters and the “reports” that arise from them are complex too’ (2003: 76). Letherby argues convincingly that researchers carry the responsibility to

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provide accounts of their research process in order for the reader to access the way in which knowledge is constructed and presented by the researcher. So reflexivity not only subjects existing knowledge to scrutiny, but also can enhance the validity of the research (Etherington 2004b: 46). McLeod concurs with this view and claims that taking a reflexive stance implies awareness of the moral dimension of research and invites consideration of the processes through which text is co-constructed (2001: 196). But just how do you take a reflexive approach to your research? Etherington (2004a: 46) suggests that: Reflexivity requires researchers to operate on multiple levels: being aware in the moment of what is influencing our internal and external responses, while also being aware of what influences our relationship to our topic and our participants. Those influences inform personal, cultural or theoretical constructs that we use to guide our interactions as we engage in the research and represent our data.

Power relations and the research process One of the principles of feminist research is that the research relationship should not be an exploitative one, yet as Acker et al. (1983) point out, power is embedded in the research relationship in favour of the one who has the power to define, i.e. the researcher who writes the report. This presents the feminist researcher with a problem. Drawing on my own experience, I can say that my assumptions about power were naïve. I thought that as a woman doing research with women, there would be equality in any relationships formed. Initially, help was offered by some respondents in the questionnaire design; this was gratefully received and, to me, this demonstrated reciprocity and a fairly balanced power ratio. However, when it came to interviewing, I noticed that inequalities began to creep in. The work of Oakley (1981) had influenced my approach to interviewing. I believed that interviews had to be a two-way process born out of relationship, and I had expectations that the respondents would ask questions about the research and perhaps about my motivation to conduct the research. What I did not expect was that some of the women looked to me for answers about their children’s behaviour. I was asked such questions as, ‘Is this normal?’ and ‘When will this stage pass?’. I felt an imbalance in power as I was imbued with expert status. It was very difficult responding to such a request as I felt that if I failed to deliver an answer, I would disappoint the respondent. Adding to the pressure to provide an answer was the awareness that these women had willingly given up time to be interviewed when they had young babies to attend to, had invited me into their own homes and all had been very hospitable. I wanted to give them something in return. My answers were framed ‘From my own experience . . .’.

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I was left feeling unsure as to whether I had given them what they wanted. Interestingly, this mirrored the findings of the research, that many new mothers felt anxious about their new role and conducted information-seeking behaviour. However, the study concluded that women felt more enabled and more confident in their role as mother when they were able to synthesise the experiences and information available to formulate their own model of mothering. Perhaps I suffered from what Stacey (1991), quoted in Ramazanog˘lu and Holland (2002: 106), call a ‘delusion of alliance’, in that I assumed common interests with the respondents because I was researching women who had become mothers like myself. As is pointed out, even if there is identification with the people being researched, relationships are rarely balanced. Smith (1989), also cited in Ramazanog˘lu and Holland (2002), suggests that inequalities in power are most acute when it comes to data analysis. How can you be sure that your interpretation of the data accurately captures the essence of the interview? As Mauthner et al. (2003: 161) wisely state: Transcripts are artefacts and we should acknowledge that we researchers produce, rather than retrieve them shell-like from the sea-bed. We are active in producing the particular account and that transcript therefore bears traces not only of ourselves as interviewer, as the culturally situated and particular individuals we are, but also as interpreters. One method put forward is to carry out ‘member checks’ (Etherington 2004b; McLeod 2001; Oakley 2000). This is where the researcher takes the interpretation of the data back to the participants to confirm that the meaning of what they conveyed has been accurately captured. This seems like a rational step towards equalising the research relationship; however, as Oakley (2000) and Bloor (1997) cited in McLeod (2001) argue, it is not as straightforward as it seems. Mel spoke at length in the interview about her expectations of motherhood not being met. She felt she had given up her career; her freedom and the quality of her relationship with her partner had been affected. The reward of having a baby did not compensate for her losses. When the transcript was returned to her, she said it did not accurately capture how she felt and claimed that motherhood was very rewarding. Did this negate all that she had said during the interview? (Cole, research diary 2005) As McLeod (2001) points out, if the information from the ‘member check’ matches the original findings then there is no problem; however, if the

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information contradicts the original findings then it creates a dilemma for the researcher. Bloor (1997), cited in Oakley (2000: 66), suggests an alternative perspective: Everything informants share with researchers is ultimately grist for the researchers’ mill. All research represents an intrusion and intervention into a pre-existing system of relationships; thus, taking research data back to the researched is an example of a social event rather than a scientific test.

Me, myself and I The final topic I want to address is the use of self in qualitative research. This is a difficult subject to tackle because traditional academic literature has maintained an impersonal, third-person approach and for the novice researcher to deviate from this may feel like taking a huge risk. As Morley (1996), cited in Letherby (2003), argues, the use of ‘I’ throws down the gauntlet to traditional academic authority. On reviewing the literature you will find that many qualitative researchers support the inclusion of self (Etherington 2002; Letherby 2003; McLeod 1996; Ramazanog˘ lu and Holland 2002; Stanley and Wise 1993). ‘Research’ is a process which occurs through the medium of a person – the researcher is always and inevitably present in the research. This exists whether openly stated or not: and feminist research ought to make this an open presence. (Stanley and Wise 1993: 175) The other reason why it is difficult to put yourself in the picture is that it is an incredibly vulnerable position to be in. As a novice researcher, I felt that including ‘I’ statements put me in the position of ‘baring all’; after all, taking this personal stance may mean including information about yourself, such as your motivation to conduct the research and an admission of any problems or flaws experienced when conducting the research. The whole purpose of this study was influenced by my desire to understand my own struggle to become a mother. It began when my own daughter was two, I had returned to work part time, but was left feeling that being a mother was not enough (even though part of me felt it should be). I wanted something for myself. By acknowledging my own struggle, I also made the assumption that others might be experiencing similar difficulties too. This raises the question, if I had found motherhood ‘plain sailing’ would this piece of research exist at all? (Cole 2005: 68–69)

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In conclusion, although I have spoken about the vulnerabilities encountered when conducting a piece of qualitative research, about the challenges of including oneself in the process, about working reflexively and about the strategies and pitfalls encountered in recruiting participants, I want to state that for me, it was definitely worth it on both a professional and a personal level. Professionally, I feel much more aware of the power imbalance in the counselling room and attempt to address this consciously as part of the therapeutic process. Personally I have benefited too; I feel more secure in my role as mother, knowing that the struggle I encountered was not just mine, but a consequence of the strong but conflicting messages within our society. Finally, I want to quote McLeod (2001: 195), whose words capture my own experience. Qualitative research is a personal activity, involving a personal struggle to challenge assumptions and achieve understanding, and usually also involving entering meaningful relationships with people who are the research ‘informants’ or ‘participants’.

Key points If you are contemplating undertaking a piece of qualitative research:

• •

try to find an academic supervisor with experience in this area and one whose views are compatible with your own check the university guidelines to see if ‘pushing the boundaries’ is acceptable.

Exercise for Chapter 9

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Before you commence, spend some time trying to elicit your beliefs and values relating to your own research project. Keep a research journal in order to capture your emerging thoughts. Note when any of your assumptions are challenged. Consider how to include yourself in the writing-up of your research project. You may want to include extracts of your research journal, or transcripts of both interviewer and interviewee along with process comments.

Chapter 10

Going public – getting your work out to a wider audience Amanda Larcombe, Fiona Gardner and Steve Coombs

It may feel a big step for us to write up our counselling sessions and discuss our work in supervision, or write an essay or a case study; perhaps an even bigger step is embarking on a research project connected with our therapeutic work. In all these situations we are opening the door of the consulting room to share what previously has been a private relationship. Going public in the sense of conveying our work outside the counselling training course or beyond the university or college can feel even more daunting. However, as has been discussed in different parts of this book, in addition to personal and professional reasons for publishing our work, we need to share and explain therapeutic work partly in order to spread awareness of good practice and also to attract official recognition and funding. The counselling profession needs us to share our findings, our ideas and our good work. It is not only counsellors who feel uneasy about getting their work out to a wider audience. Britton comments on the naturalness and ubiquity of the emotions aroused by publication, ‘the conflict between subjectivity and objectivity . . . with its inevitable concomitants of anxiety, betrayal, guilt and shame’ (1997: 13). We may feel guilty that we are betraying our private affiliation with our client, but surely we are also anxious and shameful about our own exposure to the imagined judgements, censure, envy and hostility from those who read what we publish. There are conflictual feelings both from those who are afraid to publish and in those over-ready to publish – feelings that Briton labels as ‘publication anxiety’. He posits two sources for this anxiety: one is the fear of rejection by our intended audience or readers; the other is the fear of recrimination and criticism that could lead to our being disaffiliated from those to whom we are professionally affiliated (Britton 1997: 14). The result is that we might distort our texts to fit with perceived understanding and so move from a place of ethical integrity. Therefore, as counsellors, our first step is to understand all the feelings that will arise and to try and analyse them sufficiently in order to prevent inhibition about or avoidance of publication. Our emotional responses will recur during the process of preparation, submission and publication, but we know as therapists that awareness, owning and discussion of our feelings will of course help.

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In this chapter alongside emotional awareness we offer some practical ideas about how publication can be achieved. In Table 10.1 are ideas about the Internet, events, media and professional journals. We need to consider the most appropriate options and there are questions to consider at this stage. Table 10.1 Options for going public General heading

Suggested options

Specific methods/avenues

Internet

Your own website

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Research directories

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Professional body websites/organisations associated with subject matter

Events

•

Email

•

Research conferences – associated with professional bodies

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Professional body/ divisional events

Subject-associated events

• • • • •

Networking events

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As an article or feature As an abstract with an ability to request further details Professional bodies e.g. BACP University/college research database As an article or feature published through their associated journal, i.e. e-journal As an abstract on a research database providing links to the referenced full text source Sent as an abstract or ‘executive summary’ to selected contacts (associated with subject matter) As part of an email group ‘newsletter’ Email e-conference events As a ‘poster presentation’ As a workshop As a paper presentation and/or within a symposium of similar topics For example: Association of Counselling in the Workplace conference or event As a workshop As a paper presentation Sector-specific, e.g. well-being in business, education or health service Subject-specific, e.g. bullying and harassment, mental health in the workplace, adult learning Local or national/international As a workshop or presentation Associated with professional bodies, e.g. Chartered Institute of People & Development (CIPD), BACP or UKCP Associated with organisations or sectors, e.g. Institute of Directors, Small Business Federation, Chambers of Commerce Local, regional or national As a workshop or presentation As a ‘handout’ (Continued overleaf)

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Table 10.1 Continued. General heading

Suggested options

Specific methods/avenues

Media

Television (local/national)

• • • • • • • • •

Radio (local/national)

Newspapers (local/ national)

• Publication

Research journals

Professional journals (counselling & psychotherapy)

Professional journals (business- or subjectassociated) Local/regional business publications

Write a book/ contribute to writing a book

• • • • • • • • • • • • •

Forwarded as a press release As a news item As part of a feature/documentary Forwarded as a press release As a news item As part of a feature As an interview Forwarded as a press release/editorial As an ‘advertorial’ – a way of guaranteeing publication by paying for editorial to be included with an advertisement Paid editorial – sometimes an option with local newspapers/publications For example: Counselling & Psychotherapy Research (CPR) For example: Journal of Workplace Learning For example: ACW Journal (Association of Counselling in the Workplace) For example: The Psychotherapist (UKCP journal) As an article, feature or interview For example: People Management (CIPD journal), Openmind (MIND journal) As an article, feature or interview Chamber of Commerce publication ‘Business2business’ magazines Voluntary sector publications As an article or feature Key publishers: Routledge etc. Publication associated with the workplace, the research subject or the business sector involved

There are also some thoughts about how to go about presenting work and some information about the process of submitting a paper.

Options for going public There are many options – the traditional and the less traditional. Table 10.1 gives an overview of some creative and unusual ideas for going public, with suggested options linked to a set of specific methods for you to consider choosing from.

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Given all these possible avenues for publication, you then need to consider which one, or ones, would be the most appropriate to use. Inevitably, many factors influence this decision; central is the nature of the work or the research. Alongside the personal and professional aims to consider are ideas about who is the most appropriate audience. Who is going to be most interested in your work, who will respect your work, and who offers the best response to your ideas and the integrity of your counselling work or research? Consider working through the questions given in the exercises at the end of this chapter.

Specifics on ‘how to publish’ Workshop or conference paper One of the more standard routes for publication is to offer to give a workshop or present a research paper at a professional conference. It may be that your training body offers regular one-day events. This raises the question of whether it is easier to present your work to colleagues ‘at home’ or to strangers ‘away’ (check out the fear of recrimination versus the fear of rejection above). If you feel that you would like to give a paper or lead a workshop, then you will need to follow carefully the requirements in the ‘call for papers’ instructions provided by the organisers. This usually involves a synopsis or an abstract of what you will deliver, in other words an outline. The main advice here is to contextualise and summarise your research briefly while also offering some new and interesting ideas – having an eye-catching title often helps. It can be helpful to link your presentation to contemporary professional issues and concerns. It’s prudent also to link to the conference title and the details provided by the organising committee. If accepted, your abstract will usually be included in the conference pack. You will probably need to list your qualifications and professional affiliations. When your paper or workshop abstract is accepted, remember to give yourself enough time to actually prepare for it. The secret is not to have too much material – we all tend to fall into this trap, as we are anxious about not having enough content. When presenting a paper, keeping in the allotted time frame allows you to be relaxed and confident with perhaps just enough time for one or two questions at the end. If you are running a workshop you need to plan time for participation and interactive involvement. Sometimes presentation software tools such as PowerPoint are a good way of presenting key ideas, but then there is always a worry about the efficiency of equipment and technical support arrangements. Check to see if it might be possible to email your presentation to the organisers before the conference so that it is already on their system. Another idea is to have workshop handouts or a copy of your paper including summary sheets of PowerPoint slides presented; try three slides printed per page with room for audience notes/questions to be

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written down – people like to have something to write on and take away. Make sure you also give them your contact details – phone, email etc., e.g. business card, details on the main front page of your paper and/or PowerPoint slide. For a workshop it might be useful to record interactive audienceinspired ideas and notes on a flip chart, or make an audio recording of the event for future reference. Journal submission Another standard route is to submit a research paper to an established professional journal for consideration as an article. The format for this is usually explained by the journal editor(s) and is included as guidance for authors. Having a paper accepted in a peer-reviewed journal is especially prestigious; this is because usually there are stringent assessment processes in place and it is quite hard to meet all the needs of the blind reviewers, so expect to have to make revisions. Again, follow the requirements outlined by the journal. These are usually outlined in the journal or on the webpage. This is particularly important regarding word count, style of writing, presentation of references and number of copies to be submitted. Your submission needs to be geared towards the interests of the readership and the journal brief – this sounds obvious, but it is not easy to do. Most journal submissions in the therapeutic field follow a traditional format; however, this will vary depending on whether you are publishing research with methodology and data analysis, or an in-depth study of clinical work or of a theoretical issue linked to clinical work. For publication of your research, the following rubric is the standard format to aim for (cf. Loewenthal 2007: 7–13, who covers each section or its equivalent in some detail).

• • • •

• •

Abstract – this is usually around 150 words, and should cover the central points from each of the sections; you may also need a list of key words. Introduction – rationale and aims of the research. Literature review/theory – contextualise your research in the literature, drawing from this account the influences on your own study. Research paradigm, methodology and methods to be used – you need to identify your adopted research framework (see Chapter 5) and also identify the epistemological and ontological assumptions and justify the range of actual methods used to gather data. Data analysis – the way you will analyse your raw data to identify themes, findings and results from your study, presenting these in a way that is reader-friendly. Discussion of key findings – this is the heart of the paper where the reader can understand the influence and significance of what you have done for their practice or for the profession in general. Highlight the central

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themes that emerge from your analysis of the data and if possible link these back to the literature review to highlight and make the case for the new and original knowledge gained. Conclusion – helpful summary of what has happened and ideas for the future and the professional gains made. You might also be able to provide a set of recommendations and guidelines for future professional practice and further research. Also, link all of these ideas back to the key critical theorists identified in the literature review and also connect back to the original research questions and sub-questions. References – make sure you follow the journal in-house adopted style and presentation format (e.g. APA or Harvard) to the comma and last full stop.

If you are writing a paper about your clinical work then there is strict concern about the ethical issues of confidentiality and client identification. If you have not got permission from your client, the material needs to be reframed so that the client cannot recognise themselves from what you are saying. You then also need to think about the ethical aspects of using such disguised material and your research policy on adopting pseudonyms. Alternatively, some therapists use characters from literature or film to illustrate issues. If you are writing a research paper about theory or clinical issues then a clear authoring structure is advised. The following is a rough format and rubric that can be adapted for either.

• •

• • •

Introduction to the paper – what are the key issues to be covered and why, and what is your own involvement and how did this professional concern arise? Contextualise your ideas and theory – this might take the form of an extensive literature review or a background summary from which you select a number of key themes for exploration. These are then bound up in your central research question. Research findings – selection of key emergent themes and/or case study clinical material to be discussed. Professional implications – identify these for future work and/or professional development policy. Conclusions – to be drawn out from the key findings and professional implications and converted into a set of key recommendations for the profession. These are to be linked into an appropriate set of key seminal references to back up any final claims argued and elicited from your research findings (cf. Gardner 2004).

The process of journal submission can be a very lengthy one, though you should be told when to expect a response. Most professional journals ask for a certain number of copies, which are then distributed to a board of reviewers,

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or advisory panel, who will meet several times a year to discuss contributions received. It is very common to be asked to rewrite your paper with a view to either publication or resubmission. Most journals will give you the feedback from their reviewers to help with this task. Even painful criticism can help you write a better paper, so being open to the feedback is helpful at this point. Once accepted you may have to wait some time for the publication date, but peer-reviewed journal publication is a great achievement and will give you professional credence and boost your self-esteem (and hopefully banish the publication anxiety described above!). Book proposal submission This is a bit like a journal submission, but there needs to be more of it and it will take longer to achieve publication. Again, different publishers have specific guidance that needs to be followed. For your book proposal generally you need to abide by the following rubric.

• • • • •

Working title Statement of aims and rationale – this includes why your book is justified and what market trends support that; the background to your book; the features that it will include. Synopsis and chapter headings – you need to include a reasonable summary for each chapter. Some publishers ask for a sample chapter to be included with the initial proposal. Readership and target market – explain why your book will be an original contribution to the therapeutic world and who will be especially interested in this. Go for as extensive a readership as you can. Competing books – this is partly to show that you know the competition and recognise the need to avoid duplication, but also confirms that you are aware of the literature. In this section you need to explain how your book will be different from those already published. The task is to persuade the publisher that your work is worth investing in.

Once your proposal is submitted it will be sent out to reviewers, and so you need to expect constructive criticism back. This feedback is always helpful as it exposes your weaknesses in the proposal and can also confirm what a good book you could potentially write. If you are offered a contract you then need to write the book in the timetable agreed upon. Do not expect great royalties unless you are a celebrity writing about your therapy, or were a celebrity before you became a therapist. When submitting either a book or a journal proposal it is good practice to consult texts such as Fowler’s Modern English Usage (1965) and Hart’s Rules (1983 or current edition) to help with grammar, syntax and style.

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Press release in, for example, a professional journal linked to your research subject Key points to note:

• • • •

the text is likely to be changed or edited prior to being used, without your input there are no guarantees that it will be used you will not necessarily know when it will be used they don’t cost anything but time!

Top tips:

• • • •

talk to/contact the editor (news or business) before submitting the press release send the press release out several times, by fax and/or email ask if any features are being run that it could be associated with, for example an article about ‘Health and well-being in the workplace’ submit a well-written press release, in a tone that suits the audience/readership, and you are less likely to have your submission changed.

Here is an example of the format of a press release. PRESS RELEASE www.yourwebsite.com or your address For immediate release: the date of submission

RESEARCH OFFERS BIG SAVINGS FOR BUSINESSES (make the headline interesting/engaging/large) Begin with a sentence that tempts readers to read on. For example: How much could be saved by businesses as a result of this research? This should be double spaced. Avoid abbreviations. Avoid academic, specialist/therapeutic jargon. ‘Including a quote, by yourself or someone associated with your research, will break the editorial up, engage your audience and make it more interesting to read’, commented A Researcher.

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Use the press release as a vehicle to signpost readers to other ways of seeing your research. For example, visit the researcher’s website at www.yourwebsite.com for further details. Editor’s note: Complete the press release with a ‘note to editors’. If you have any pictures available, either give the details of who is pictured in this space or simply say ‘pictures available on request’. Then set out your contact details – For further enquiries/background detail please contact A Researcher direct on 0070 123456.

Other options that give you practice and confidence

• • •

• •

Write a reflective journal about your work or keep a dream diary for at least a month – see if you can create something interesting from the material that you’ve gathered. Volunteer to write something for your in-house journal, e.g. a ‘viewpoint’ news article or a book review. See if colleagues are interested in forming a professional writing support group with a view to publishing a group of papers for distribution through your training body or professional connections. This professional network could also lead to coauthored articles and future projects. Write letters to the press around therapeutic and linked issues. Join a creative writing class and blend in ideas from work to your assignment topics.

Key learning points

• • •

Check out your emotions – what is stopping you from sharing your work and ideas with a wider audience? Think creatively – remain open to any new opportunities as they arise. If papers or proposals are rejected, ask for advice from someone who has been successful in publishing their work on why yours didn’t work out, and then give it another go. Good journals would also try to give constructive feedback on why a particular paper was rejected and what action to consider next as a result.

Exercises for Chapter 10 Choosing some options for going public Here are some questions to think through to help you identify the appropriate option(s). Try eliciting a range of different answers to these questions by using the Spidergram tool provided in Chapter 2 (Figure 2.2).

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1

Why do I want to go public? To what end? For example: personal development, professional profile or to influence change. 2 Who would be interested in my research? For example: similar organisations, particular business sectors (public, private, voluntary) or employers generally. 3 Who do I want to influence or reach? For example: decision-makers within business, politics or research. 4 Where will I find this audience/how best can I reach them? For example: bullying and harassment will be of interest to organisations that provide support and advice to prevent it, as well as employers who want to reduce the impact it has on their businesses. So what journals/publication options would reach these audiences? 5 Who are the stakeholders involved in this project? For example: research participants, the research organisation, providers of data or providers of finance/support. 6 What are their views on publication/how will they respond/do I need permission? For example: will it raise their profile positively, is the data commercially sensitive? 7 How might publication affect further research with my organisation? For example: will it help or hinder this possibility? 8 What ethical issues are there to consider? For example: commercial confidentiality, sensitivity of the issues researched, participant confidentiality. 9 How much control will I need over the publication process to ensure that all ethical/confidentiality issues are fully addressed? For example: you have more control over a pre-recorded interview than over a live interview for radio; you have more control over a journal article than over the use of editorial by the press. 10 What resources do I have available? For example: time, money, energy, expertise/knowledge, experience.

Authoring a research article or conference paper Before attempting the suggested rubrics given earlier in this chapter, try to summarise your research project and/or academic enquiry by completing the academic writing scaffold provided in Chapter 2 (Figure 2.3).

Chapter 11

The way forward Steve Coombs

This book is primarily a ‘how to’ book offering ideas and guidance on how to write up assignments on a training course, how to reflect on therapeutic work and how to structure a case study. It is also a book to encourage you to develop the motivation to articulate and put in writing your thinking about all aspects of therapeutic work – both clinical and theoretical. Furthermore, this book aims to inspire you to research therapeutic work and to publish your findings. Therapists have tended to remain behind the closed door of the consulting room, keeping quiet about their knowledge and their experiences of human life in all its trials and sufferings. This book is a timely reminder that we have a great deal to offer and our experiences, once in the public domain, can influence policy and practice and deepen understanding in many contexts. The examples of work-based research described in the book demonstrate that wherever therapeutic work takes place it can be researched. The compassionate understanding and listening skills of the therapist can be seen alongside the capacity for critical thinking and evaluation. In this final chapter we take the way forward and consider work-based research ‘futures’ and the role of professional master’s programmes to lever personal action research as part of a change management agenda for learning organisations. These master’s programmes are courses at postgraduate level (after a professional training which is seen as equivalent to a first degree) aimed specially at working professionals, where the actual therapeutic work that is already happening forms the basis of the master’s degree. In other words, the research is focused on the personal action you are involved in. There are many advantages to this agenda. The nature of the action research paradigm as a stimulus for the experimental ‘improve’ agenda and the way that this impacts in the workplace is seen as relevant for vocational master’s programmes that link qualifications to future professional learning opportunities in the twenty-first century. The generic nature of action research also means that professionals can share projects across divergent professional boundaries, and this kind of process-based continuing professional development (CPD) accreditation can operate as a common training platform to deliver initiatives such as the UK government’s Every Child

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Matters (Department for Education and Skills [DfES] 2004) agenda, and allows the development of Wenger’s ‘Community of Practice’ (Wenger 1998; Wenger et al. 2002) for participant members working across the Children’s Workforce. The role of technology to support such professional reflection and discourse will be explored in this chapter, and once again you are encouraged to make use of these tools as a way of organising your thinking. There will also be reflection on, as well as an attempt to reconceptualise, our ontological assumptions of what is meant by professional learning, work-based assessment and a meaningful interpretation of Schön’s (1983, 1987) reflective practitioner working as an agent of change in the twenty-first century within Senge’s (1990, 2006) notion of the learning organisation. This will help us to understand the synthesis between critical thinking reflection and research-based action learning within the professional workplace, and how such professional learning leads to new personal and wider knowledge.

The future for work-based research This section looks at the historical origins of work-based research and how action learning and research are linked to organisational change and learning. Work-based research has its origins with Lewin (1948), the pioneering psychologist who founded modern social psychology and was responsible for group theory, experiential learning and action research. His ideas of action learning and action research in the workplace started the movement towards organisational behaviour and management and, more latterly, change management. The basic concept behind Lewin’s action research ‘change’ model was the idea of a feedback cycle or ‘loop’ whereby the researcher would engage in identifying an idea followed by fact-finding and planning prior to taking a first ‘action’ step, then evaluating the result of this action to amend the plan and then take a second ‘action’ step and so on, repeating the action research spiral until achieving the desired result. This concept of learning through experience, or experiential learning, was further developed by Kolb (1984) and action research itself was applied to business through change management and education by pioneers such as Stenhouse (1975) and Elliot (1991). Lewin also pioneered the way forward with group learning theory and linked this to task management and sharing. Dewey (1938) had much earlier linked action and experience in education as a form of action learning, and this was further refined by Carr and Kemmis (1986), who linked critical reflection to the process of obtaining new knowledge through action research field work in education. However, most of these ideas are transferable to any workplace and Senge (1990) took this a step further by linking people as change agents operating as task managers within a learning organisation. In the context of this book, a learning organisation can be any setting where

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assessment and evaluation of therapeutic work takes place. Senge introduced five disciplines or ‘component technologies’ that underpin individual mastery and when converged help to innovate policy and practice in learning organisations. They are: 1 2 3 4 5

systems thinking personal mastery mental models building shared vision team learning.

Senge recognises that people can operate as change agents, whereby they are able to act on the professional structures and systems of which they are a part; this could include an agency, institution, professional body or public sector. Senge maintains that all five disciplines are ‘concerned with a shift of mind from seeing parts to seeing wholes, from seeing people as helpless reactors to seeing them as active participants in shaping their reality, from reacting to the present to creating the future’ (Senge 1990: 69). Thus, critical thinking is now developed into system thinking solutions that can be experimented with in any workplace through an action research and enquiry change management agenda. Later in this chapter we will develop this systems thinking theme to argue that action researchers benefit from critical thinking scaffolds to help develop Senge’s five disciplines and achieve new knowledge and practice through work-based action research. It is our contention that developing personal and professional practice through the use of critical thinking scaffolds applied to meaningful work-based CPD is the future approach for work-based research. This approach to work-based research not only enables the individual practitioner to reflect in a more systematic way, but also contributes to the development of learning organisations when operating across teams.

Levering impact in the workplace through accredited research We have now introduced the nature of work-based enquiry as a form of practitioner action research and enquiry, and have earlier linked this methodology (see Chapter 5) to an ‘improve’ experimental agenda that we and others (e.g. Lewin 1948; Senge 1990) would argue is more useful in delivering social impact and work-based change than that of the traditional positivist ‘prove’ paradigm. Master’s programmes that accredit work-based change through practitioner action research assume a process-based rather than a contentbased curriculum, whereby professional knowledge is valued and accredited from the researching and critical reporting of professional experience and such grounded theory approaches applied to the world of work represent the

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case study findings of such applied field research. To accredit work-based practitioner action research also helps to develop organisational learning, and the data gleaned from such action can provide evidence of impact as the primary ‘improve’ agenda goal. Thus, impact evaluation of professional work-based change is a key part of the practitioner action research methodology and when linked to master’s-level accredited research potentially becomes part of a wider professional knowledge base. Hence the rationale and key purpose of this book, which is to enable professional practitioners from the counselling, psychotherapy, social work and caring professions to critically reflect on and write about their own work-based action research and enquiry. As outlined in Chapter 1, all therapists are required to take part in CPD. For many this can become a formulaic task or even part of a ‘what can I get away with?’ frame of mind. There is an alternative, which is meaningful CPD. This is CPD that impacts on the work setting and includes a workbased action research agenda. This idea of accredited in-service training at postgraduate level was originally explored by Harland and Kinder (1997). They proposed and recommended the following nine-point CPD typology and framework as a basis for the instructional design of programme outcomes: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

material and provisionary outcomes informational outcomes new awareness value congruence affective outcomes motivational and attitudinal outcomes knowledge and skills institutional outcomes impact on practice.

This CPD design framework can be used in different ways, including on work-based action enquiry postgraduate accredited courses. It offers a freedom to explore within the framework of critical reflection. We have deliberately used the term ‘content-free’, which means that it is the action enquiry process that is accredited, not any specific course content. This means that the individual professional practitioner is ‘free’ to identify with their supervisor their own work-based experiential content from their own analysis of their professional situation and what might need to be enquired into. This is, in effect, a CPD policy that both designs and enables the Rogerian principle of ‘freedom to learn’ within a professional learning context, and is particularly useful to all those professionals working within the context of counselling, psychotherapy and the helping professions extending across all adult and children’s services. A work-based action enquiry model

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that assumes the ‘improve’ agenda methodology of action research through personal case study related to workplace needs is therefore to be highly recommended. It is also a work-based epistemology and approach to levering useful research that develops professionals as proactive change agents within their learning organisation and immediate sphere of professional and personal influence.

Professionalising the professions through authentic action research projects There seems to be no doubt that levering the action research agenda enables professionals to engage in a meaningful and highly motivational form of CPD that not only develops personal and professional confidence, but also has the potential to contribute new knowledge and understanding to their profession via democratic and grassroots means. This book has provided some interesting case study examples of such change and the impact it can deliver. For instance, in Chapters 6 to 9 we have explored a number of work-based case study research examples ranging from focus group work in further education colleges to research in the voluntary and public sector, and a feminist perspective and approach towards community-based research. All these approaches adopt a proactive form of action research/enquiry and/or action learning within authentic work-based professional settings. We therefore argue that the professions can be better professionalised and served through implementing a CPD policy that engages professionals to participate in work-based enquiry and/or change management projects. The impact of such a CPD policy benefits the individual professional as well as the wider profession through an enhanced knowledge base, and also has the power to deliver greater benefits and impact more meaningfully on the wider community. An interesting and diverse range of work-based research case studies can be found in journals such as Counselling and Psychotherapy Research; Educational Action Research; Action Learning – Research and Practice; and Journal of In-service Education. They all report work-related case studies across a number of professions including business, education, health and social work, and also show how the linkage of work-related research to higher education can provide a means of deepening the critical engagement of such reflective practitioners who also operate as change agents for their profession. Developing an interdisciplinary approach towards research across the professions is particularly important in the UK, where we are currently seeking to cross professional boundaries across the Children’s Workforce with a common training and qualifications CPD agenda. The Children’s Workforce includes all health workers, teachers, social workers and carers, youth and community workers and the police. This initiative was motivated by the

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Every Child Matters (DfES 2004) government policy agenda that wishes to improve services to help better safeguard vulnerable children and therefore seek their better operation by working more smoothly across current professional barriers. This government policy document was followed up in the Children’s Plan (DCSF 2007), which seeks to support children’s welfare by attempting to join-up children’s services communication and training systems across the current professional divides and ‘silos’. This has led to the reform of local authorities in England by combining the separate Departments of Education and Social Work into a single Directorate of Children’s Services. This reform has happened in parallel to the formation of a Children’s Workforce Development Council (CWDC, see: www.cwdcouncil.org.uk, accessed February 2009) that has the government remit of developing a crossprofessional CPD training agenda in the form of an Integrated Qualifications Framework (IQF, see: www.iqf.org.uk, accessed February 2009) to span all professional qualifications from the lower vocational levels to the higher academic postgraduate levels. This demands new forms of multidisciplinary working and training platform systems, e.g. the CWDC’s common assessment framework (CAF). However, apart from some common content core interdisciplinary courses such as ‘Child Protection Safeguarding Procedures’ and ‘Counselling Skills across the Professions’, we would argue that for multidisciplinary middle managers and senior professionals the best way to operate together is to take part in joint middle leadership action research and enquiry projects. Such ‘content-free’ postgraduate accredited projects share a common assessment process that can be linked to small-scaled, but highly relevant, change-management projects within each professional’s area of work, working potentially within and across the boundaries of the wider Children’s Workforce depending on individual needs and circumstances. In this way we believe that professional practitioners can then contribute their CPD work as part of developing the wider knowledge base through externally supported accredited means. Such action research accredited CPD levers impact and enable the local work-based ‘improve’ agenda of developing multidisciplinary critical practice across a huge and diverse set of professions.

The technology of thinking: critical thinking scaffolds as templates of the mind This section looks at the epistemology and conceptual framework that underpins the notion of a critical thinking scaffold and helps to explain why the scaffolds employed in this book help the professional researcher to critically think, reflect and write about their work in a new-found way. The scaffolds introduced in Chapter 2 have been offered as simple Word templates and therefore demonstrate how technology can help people to think

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and critically reflect on their experiences in a systems thinking way that builds on Senge’s (1990) notion of the fifth discipline to support organised learning. So what we have used are specifically designed reflective templates that psychologically operate as a form of technology-assisted experiential scaffolding, or e-scaffolding (Coombs 2007). These e-scaffolding tools provide an underlying psychological repertoire that enables the user, as reflective learner, to elicit and connect their experiences as new personal constructs (Kelly 1955) and thereby identify new understanding and knowledge relative to the learning task in hand. The critical thinking scaffold templates (Coombs 2000) themselves are ‘content-free’. Here this means that they are in fact free of any specific experiences. It is the user that elicits and places their experiences within the critical thinking scaffold framework provided. In other words, such e-scaffolds operate as ‘experiential free’ templates and provide a form of pre-designed psychological focusing to draw out specific learning purposes relative to the learning task at hand. You could say that they represent a form of psychological thinking algorithm. We would define a psychological thinking algorithm as a psychological personal construct that is a ‘content-free’ thinking process enabling a specific conceptual modelling of experience. This means that our critical thinking scaffolds are designed as psychological ‘algorithmic’ templates (we could also call them ‘psychograms’) and act very much as Jonassen’s (1996) notion of ‘mind tools’ to enable deep and focused critical thinking. These scaffolds are especially useful for therapists, provided you can overcome any initial feelings connected to unfamiliarity, as they enable an ordering of concepts and thoughts within carefully delineated boundaries. All critical thinking scaffolds are designed from the conceptual framework of a knowledge elicitation system (KES) first proposed by Coombs (1995). Scaffolding within a KES comprises a three-step thinking design rationale derived from Harri-Augstein and Thomas’ (1991) notion of conversational learning, and operates within their epistemological framework of the selforganised learner (S-o-L) using the following simple rubric:

• • •

KES-1 – elicitation of items of meaning (experience and idea capture phase) KES-2 – sorting of their relationships (sense-making or idea focusing phase) KES-3 – display of the final pattern (conceptual model and new understanding phase).

These self-organised thinking steps underpin the nature of a critical thinking scaffold and develop within the adult learner a psychological repertoire that enables achievement of higher-order critical reflection and knowledge elicitation relative to some focus question, issue or task.

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Well-designed and effective KESs that follow the above three-step reflective learning design criteria therefore operate as a critical thinking scaffold. HarriAugstein and Thomas’ S-o-L thinking steps represent a refinement of Kelly’s three-phase creativity cycle adapted by Coombs (1995) for action research project management: 1 2 3

initial brainstorming as a loose construing process – idea capture phase key issues focused into an operation strategy as a tight construing process – idea development phase project control (and understanding) through a ‘recursive-cycle’ – operational management phase.

These three phases represent a personal reflective management approach for the professional development action researcher operating in the S-o-L paradigm. And this can be then used as a systems thinking procedure from which to design project management critical thinking scaffolds as e-learning templates (Coombs 2000, 2005, 2007) to both support and capture qualitative reflective practice as part of the action researcher’s research toolkit (Coombs et al. 2003). We are therefore introducing both the concept and the strategy of designing professional development scaffolds that operate in the workplace as critical thinking templates. Useful ‘content-free’ templates that support practitioner action research include:

• • •

qualitative systems analysis tools for action research project management (operating as a form of researcher discourse analysis) conversational tools that link literature to action research practice tools to capture and self-evaluate action research field experiences.

In Chapter 2 we introduced three scaffolding tools: Figure 2.2, the Spidergram; Figure 2.3, the academic writing scaffold; and Figure 2.4, the literature scaffold. The final critical thinking scaffold we would like to introduce is the purpose–strategy–outcome–review (P-S-O-R), which is based on HarriAugstein and Thomas’ (1991) conversational learning rubric developed by Coombs (1995) into the Word template seen in Figure 11.1 to support systems thinking within an action research learning environment. The action research project management cycle is broken down into four key critical thinking phases, as follows:

•

Purposes: This represents the qualitative planning phase. The action researcher identifies the experimental intentions and future practice vision/goals/improvements to be achieved. Purposes can also include the identification of partners’ needs relative to the social and organisational setting.

Figure 11.1 The P-S-O-R scaffold.

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Strategy: The strategy is the actual on-the-job action research methods and techniques to be employed, including the identification and use of qualitative tools for data recording and analysis. Outcomes: Outcomes represent the identification of initial and subsequent findings. The action researcher can use action research qualitative tools and procedures for eliciting findings from data evidence produced, e.g. triangulation policy of data leading to key themes as research findings etc. Review: This is the final phase of the first action research cycle whereupon an evaluation and reflective review of the findings is conducted relative to the strategy employed and original intentions underpinning the purposes. From this evaluation and review the action researcher can redefine new project purposes and strategies in the light of learning from the first P-S-O-R recursive analysis, thus leading to a second action research cycle and repeat of the P-S-O-R critical thinking process.

A good example of how the P-S-O-R scaffold can be used has been employed by the authors to analyse critically the nature of how an academic argument (or thesis) can be developed using the Spidergram and literature critical thinking scaffolds, and this thinking is depicted in Figure 11.2 both as an exemplar and as a written record. You might like to try to map out your own research project using the supplied P-S-O-R scaffold. The evidence you obtain would be an analytical qualitative record of an action enquiry process that you have engaged in, and also represents a useful piece of researcherderived discourse analysis. The four scaffolds introduced to support action research field work and academic enquiry in general are summarised in Table 11.1. Table 11.1 Summary of critical thinking scaffolds to support action research and enquiry Critical thinking scaffold

Use of tool and type of research support

The ‘Spidergram’ (Figure 2.2)

For eliciting focus questions and connecting to associated experiences, events and ideas

Academic writing scaffold (Figure 2.3)

Allows researcher to identify key academic writing themes and authoring topics and to be able to elaborate these against different sections of an essay, project management report or dissertation

Literature scaffold – developing a source reference (Figure 2.4)

Allows the researcher to elicit key research project focus questions against literature sources being evaluated against and author original abstracts as written evidence

The P-S-O-R systems analysis tool (Figure 11.1)

Used for eliciting project management cycles or analysing any systems thinking process

Figure 11.2 Exemplar: Use of the P-S-O-R scaffold to analyse an academic argument using the other critical thinking scaffolds.

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Critical professional development: The way forward This final section brings together the key ideas of this chapter, and indeed a central part of the whole book, and how it enables work-based professional learning through practitioner research. We simply argue that critical reflection on practice can be achieved through meaningful and systematic action enquiry that operates within the ‘improve’ paradigm of research methodology, and that engaging in this process helps the participant both to articulate and to conceptualise new professional knowledge. This is achieved through making sense of empirical research case study evidence that will probably have a positive impact on the participant as well their peers, clients and/or wider organisation. Thus, research, critical reflection and writing are all viewed as part of a ‘symbiotic heuristic’, or a mutually related process that encourages self-discovery of one’s professional learning knowledge. Heuristic research operates in ‘real-world’ environments as a means of levering and articulating one’s own practice as a form of positive change management and on-the-job CPD. The symbiotic, or mutually connected, nature of writing and reflecting on action is articulated through critical thinking scaffolds that enable and facilitate focused knowledge construction from experiential learning. Within the counselling and psychotherapy world this approach is related mainly to supporting empirical case study action research of clinical practice, and a number of useful rubrics and exercises have been given to allow the reader to try out these ideas for themselves. We believe that the conceptual framework underpinning action research critical thinking scaffolding and the authoring of one’s experiential learning in this way is a powerful form of knowledge elicitation system. Linking Schön’s (1983) notion of critical reflection with practical experience to elicit new professional learning and wider knowledge is seen as a means of developing the practitioner as a Kelly-type (1955) ‘personal scientist’ researcher operating within Rogers and Freiberg’s (1993) epistemological spirit of ‘freedom to learn’ or, as we would say, ‘freedom to research’. We hope that we have inspired you to reflect on, write about and research into your professional practice, and to gain greater confidence and professional wisdom as a consequence of your actions.

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Index

Bandura, A. 14 Barker, C. 78 Barnett, M. 89 Barry, K. 116 Bion, W. 5, 91 Birch, M. 111, 117 Birchard, T. 72 Bond, T. 38–9, 40, 89–90 boundaries: ethical 33, 38; in groups 82; in research 78; in supervision 18 British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy: and ethics 11, 38, 42; and research 3, 78–9, 83, 88, 89, 93, 94, 106, 121 British Medical Association 11 Britton, R. 94, 120 Brockett, R. 16 Buckroyd, J. 95 Burr, V. 71

chapter templates see writing techniques Charles, E. 78 Chase, S. 90 Children’s Plan 135 Children’s Workforce 131, 134–5 Children’s Workforce Development Council 135 client descriptions 36–7 clinical psychology 2, 11 coaching and mentoring 4 Cole, V. 115, 117, 118 confidentiality 2, 34, 38, 43, 80, 91, 101, 129 consents: process consenting 94; in research 38, 42, 43, 80 continuing professional development (CPD) 1, 3, 4, 8, 12, 27, 87, 130, 132–5, 141 conversational learning 68–9 Coombs, S. 20, 54, 70, 136, 137 Costello, H. 93 countertransference 15, 67, 72 Coyle, A. 85 critical evaluation discourse 26 critical learning field events 52, 53 cultural differences 35, 64 Cummings, P. 113

Cafarella, R. 14 Carden, K. 70 Carter, S. 113 case studies: clinical material in 48, 49, 51; ethics of 34–6; in research 52–7, 134; session notes for 18, 36–8, 57; structure of 50–1; in trainings 45; types of 54, 57; see also discourse analysis; methodologies; writing techniques Casement, P. 97

data: analysis 64, 65, 68, 76, 84–6, 92, 117; anonymity of 43, 80, 91–2; gathering 57, 64, 76, 92, 114–15; probability sampling 82; quantitative 101, 103 Denscombe, M. 78, 79, 81, 82 Denzin, N. 64 Devereux, G. 15 discourse analysis 17, 63, 67, 68–9, 71, 77, 85, 86, 139

academic discourse 73 Acker, J. 116 analytical psychology 11 Anthony, K. 112 Archer, R. 93 Armstrong. J. 93, 95 Aveline, M. 62, 63–4

152

Index

disinhibition effect 112, 113 Donmoyer, R. 53 Doucet, A. 114 education: early experiences of 6–7, 11–12, 30–1; readiness to learn 12–13; resistance to 12–13; returning to 1–2, 6–7; self-direction in 13–14; support networks for 14; see also life/work balance educational psychology 2, 11 Elbaz-Luwisch, F. 94 Elliot, J. 28, 131 Elliott, R. 3, 76, 78 Ellis, G. 71 emotional involvement 4, 15, 35–6, 37, 72–3, 78 epistemology see knowledge essay writing see writing techniques Esseveld, J. 116 Etherington, K. 73, 76, 79, 85, 92, 113, 114, 116, 117, 118 ethics: and clients 7, 33, 34, 35–6, 42, 61, 67, 110; codes of 34, 38–9, 41–2, 93; and collaboration 39; committees 41–2; and institutions 41–2, 106–8; in research 16, 33–44, 72, 78, 79, 88, 90, 93–5, 120; see also confidentiality; value judgements Ethical Framework for Good Practice in Counselling and Psychotherapy 93 ethnography 67 Every Child Matters 130–1, 135 experience: experiential research 53; negative reactions to 14–15; openness to 5; writing about 6; see also knowledge feminism see methodologies; research Fenichel, M. 112 Ferro, A. 91 focus groups 8, 57, 76, 80–6, 134 free association 36, 44 Freiberg, H. 61, 141 Freud, S. 5, 28, 35, 52, 88, 112 Gans, S. 39 Gardner, F. 46, 65, 125 gatekeepers 111 Gee, J. 85 Gilligan, C. 114 Glaser, B. 55

Goss, S. 112 government agencies 3, 38 Grafanaki, S. 90, 92, 93, 94 Green, J. 83 grounded theory 55, 66, 74, 132 group learning theory 131 Guba, E. 64 Haraway, D. 40 Harland, J. 133 Harré, R. 39, 53, 54 Harri-Augstein, E. 14, 68, 136, 137 Harris, T. 63 Hart, L. 83 Hass, D. 89 hermeneutics 68 Hinshelwood, R. 89 Holland, J. 117, 118 Increasing access to psychological therapies 3, 77 Integrated Qualifications Framework 135 interviews: and data gathering 68, 69, 90, 92, 116–18; types of 8, 57, 65, 71, 112; see also member checks Jarman, M. 71, 92 Jessop, J. 111, 117 Johnston, C. 115 Jonassen, D. 136 Josselson, R. 93 journal keeping 55, 66, 73, 128 journals: academic and professional 69, 91, 121, 122, 134; publication in 124–6 Jung, C. 28 Kelly, G. 5, 53, 136, 137, 141 Keogh, R. 115 Kinder, K. 133 knowledge: creative 5; epistemology of 26, 61, 64, 67–9, 72; evidence-based 3; experiential 11, 90, 141; sharing 88; situated 16, 40, 67; see also ethics; power and authority knowledge elicitation system (KES) 136, 137, 141 Kohut, H. 33, 35 Krueger, R. 80 Kyle, W. 88

Index Larcombe, A. 97 Lepper, G. 63, 64, 93 Letherby, G. 113, 114, 115–16, 118 Levinas, E. 39 Lewin, K. 131, 132 Lewis, I. 72, 73 life/work balance 6, 13, 30, 78 Lincoln, Y. 64 Little, M. 113 Loewenthal, D. 39, 53, 54, 64, 65, 68, 124 McCormack, C. 90, 92 McDermott, R. 131 McLeod, J. 42, 54, 57, 64, 77, 83, 87, 90, 92, 94, 95, 113, 117, 118, 119 master’s programmes 2, 9, 14, 42, 88, 130, 132, 133 Mauthner, M. 111, 114, 117 member checks 117–18 Merriam, S. 14, 16 Metcalfe, C. 93 methodologies: for case studies 52–7; cooperative 65; empirical 62; feminist 65, 68; hybrid 8, 64, 72; for narrative research 47, 89–91; ‘prove’ and ‘improve’ 74, 132, 141; in public sector 101–3; for recording 15–18; for writing 18–21; see also data; discourse analysis; grounded theory; writing techniques Miller, T. 111, 117 Morgan, D. 80, 81, 82, 86 Moustakas, C. 84 Murray, M. 90, 91, 92, 93, 94 NICE 3 Nisbett, J. 52 Oakley, A. 114, 116, 117, 118 ontological assumptions 26, 61, 64, 65, 67, 68, 131 organisations: research in 8, 76–86 Osborn, M. 71, 92 Owen, W. 84 peer groups: and discussion 5; and supervision 113; and support 14, 34 Penny, R. 137 personal construct theory (PCT) 16, 28, 32n1, 53, 136 phenomenology 11

153

Pistrang, M. 78 Polkinghorne, D. 84–5, 91 postmodernity 64, 68 Potter, J. 85 power and authority: in focus groups 83; in institutions 8, 76, 79, 98, 99–100; in research 9, 33, 34, 36, 38, 68, 79–80, 116–18 process recording see session notes professional learning agreement forms 18, 19 public sector: expectation management in 99–100; research in 8, 97–109; see also methodologies publication 121–7 publication anxiety 120 Punch, M. 38 purpose–strategy–outcome–review (P-S-O-R) 137–9, 140 Quaite, A. 93 questionnaires 42, 57, 65, 91, 103, 112, 113, 116 Ramanazog˘ lu, C. 117, 118 Reason, P. 39–40, 92 Redmond, J. 68 references: logging 29, 125; requirements for 27 registration 3 Relf, M. 73 repertory grids 68; see also scaffolds; Spidergrams report writing see writing techniques research: action 9, 28, 38, 63, 67, 69, 70, 75, 130, 131–41; and case studies 52–7; community 110–19; cooperative 39–40; debates about 39, 40, 52, 53, 55; feminist 9, 68, 70–1, 110–19; funding for 89; online 111–12; paradigms 5, 7–8, 45, 46, 52–6, 58–9, 60–75, 101, 130; personal engagement in 11, 31, 76, 77, 87, 90, 118–19; postgraduate 21, 26–8; protocols for 38–9; questions 5, 15, 27–8, 62–3, 65–7, 71, 75, 102; see also boundaries; consent; ethics; gatekeepers; methodologies; writing techniques Research Governance Framework for Health and Social Care 41 Riding, N. 64

154

Index

Rogers, C. 28, 33, 35, 39, 61, 106, 133, 141 Rolls, L. 73 Rowan, J. 15 scaffolds see technological tools Schön, D. 5, 115, 131, 141 Schratz, M. 77 Seidman, I. 43 self-organised learning 136, 137 Senge, P. 131, 132, 136 session notes: for case studies 18, 36–8, 57; private 16; for supervision 16–18 Skogstad, W. 89 Smith, I. 137 Smith, J. 71, 92 Smythe, E. 90, 91, 92, 93, 94 Snyder, W. 131 social constructionist theories 40, 68, 70–1, 113 social work 2, 11 Solomon, H. 94 Spearman, P. 93 Spence, D. 6 Spidergrams see technological tools Spurling, L. 47 Stake, R. 53, 54, 82 Stanley, L. 114, 118 Strauss, A. 55 supervision: and data gathering 57, 72; and ethics 33–4; and research 75, 78; support 5, 14, 61, 73; writing up for 17–18, 120; see also professional learning agreement forms Swanson, D. 115 Taylor, M. 68 technological tools: analytical aids 131; conversation analysis 69; scaffolds 6, 7, 20, 22–5, 32, 58, 75, 129, 132, 135–40, 141; Spidergrams 6, 20, 21, 27, 31, 32, 58, 74, 75, 137, 139 technophobia 13 therapeutic outcomes 3, 77 therapeutic skills: emotional literacy 4,

73; empathy 34–5, 72; evaluating 6; intuition 4–5; listening 5, 34; personal receptivity 4; reflexivity 4–5, 72, 73, 90, 115–16; self-knowledge 15 therapies: cognitive behavioural 3, 26, 95; existential 11; integrative counselling and psychotherapy 11; object relations 35; person-centred 11; psychodynamic 11; transactional analysis 11 thinking see therapeutic skills Thomas, L. 14, 68, 136, 137 transference 2, 15, 56, 67, 72, 79 triangulation 26, 56, 57, 73, 82, 140 unconscious, the 61, 67, 89 value judgements 34–7 values: client-centred 2, 11 voluntary sector: and ethical codes 42; research in 8, 87–96 Walker, R. 77 Walsh, R. 90, 92 Watts, J. 52, 114 Wenger, E. 11, 131 West, W. 93, 94 Westminster Pastoral Foundation 88 Wetherell, M. 85 Wheeler, S. 3, 76 White, S. 115 Willig, C. 71 Wise, S. 114, 118 writing techniques: and case studies 18, 46–57; and chapter templates 6; and creative writing classes 128; and critical evaluation 6, 26; for essays 18, 20, 21, 31; for literature reviews 28; and personal timetables 13; for report writing 20; and sources 28; and structure plans 50; for supervision 16–18; on training courses 15–21; see also technological tools Yin, R. 52, 53, 54