3.3. METHODS OF DATA COLLECTION
3.3.1. Memory work
Memory work is described by O’Reilly-Scanlon (2000, p. 66) as “…a research method that serves as a technique for memory retrieval, as well as a procedure for the assessment, evaluation, re-evaluation and eventual theorising of those memories”.
The theoretical underpinnings of memory work are based on the assertion that what we remember, and how we construct what we remember, are of crucial importance to how we construct ourselves in the present. We have a symbiotic relationship with our memories in that we do not simply create them. They create us and are the living embodiment of us (Haug, 1987). The past is never dead. When people document their memories they become engaged in the construction of their own worlds. Brink (1998, p.
30) notes that “…the individual constitutes and invents her/himself through the constant editing and re-editing of memory”.
It follows that the past can be changed. It is argued by Ricoeur (2004) that while the past is absent it is nevertheless represented in the present. O’Reilly-Scanlon (2000) contends that instead of our memories lying stagnant within us they are fragile and
prone to being reshaped as we work with them within the context of our present lives.
As we do so, what happened in the past is taken into a different context and this could well change how we remember and tell it. By way of support, Brink (1998, p. 33), notes that “…it is not the past as such that has produced the present or poses the conditions for the future…but the way we think about it”. The same point is made succinctly by Nuttall (1998, p. 76) when she says that memory “…is always as much about the present as it is about the past”. In the case of my study, the socio-political present from which I now write could hardly be more different from the socio-political context of so much of my past. African majority rule which now prevails in all three of the geopolitical spatial contexts of my southern African experience is the very state of affairs I was taught to resist at all costs. Whichever way I look at it, this constitutes a loss to the whiteness I once enjoyed. I need to ensure that this does not change the way I remember and tell aspects of my past.
Brink (1998, p. 39) adds that people’s memories can become greatly influenced and changed by “…the notoriously unreliable complex of private motivations, hidden agendas, prejudices, suspicions, biographical quirks, chips on the shoulder and conditionings that constitute the idiosyncratic individual mind”. A person’s present state of mind can also be significant in influencing how and what we remember and thus changing the past. Anxiety or depression, for example, could impact negatively on effective remembering while embarrassing and hurtful experiences are often suppressed. It is also the case that people tend to recall positive and pleasant experiences, particularly with the passage of time, as they romanticise the past and long nostalgically for the ‘good old days’ that were probably never quite as good as is made out in the writing of memory (McAdams, 2011; O'Reilly-Scanlon, 2000). Adults also tend to recall a disproportionate number of life events from late adolescence and early adulthood (McAdams, 2011). This departure from the normal pattern of linear sequencing is because it is during the late adolescent and early adult years that individuals begin the process of trying to put their lives together in story form (McAdams, 2011). It might also be that the memories of adolescence and childhood have a high visual content and strong ‘mood considerations’ (Holmes, 2008). The remembering process, once started, improves with age since older adults are better able to construct stories of a more complex and coherent nature. Their stories reflect a
greater ability to draw summary and over-arching conclusions and to interpret events and to connect them to life’s larger themes and ideas (McAdams, 2011)
I dealt with these problems of remembering in several ways. I made every effort to gather my data as carefully as I could and then to reflect upon it and present it with commitment, honesty and integrity so as to create an experience of believing for my readers. I was mindful of the requirements of verisimilitude throughout and once I had written my narrative I subjected it to various tests in an endeavour to ensure that they were met. These aspects are all discussed further on.
The point is made by Ricoeur (2004) that the past might also be changed because aspects of it can be forgotten. He explains that forgetting is integrally bound up with memory in that what he calls ‘block memory’ denies access to the treasures which are buried in memory. In support of this, Robins (1998, p. 124) speaks of the instability of memory and notes that it is invariably “…compromised by the passage of time”. While
‘Mnemosyne’ is the goddess of memory, Holmes (2008) notes, there is not a goddess of forgetting. “Yet there should be”, he argues, “…as they are twin sisters, twin powers, and walk on either side of us, disputing for sovereignty over us, and who we are, all the way until death” (Holmes, 2008, p. 95). What is forgotten, Holmes (2008) adds, can be as weighty as that which is remembered. As I have trawled through the folds of my past in order to gather data for the construction of my narrative I have, despite having read and understood the literature which has been referred to, indeed wondered about what it is that I have not remembered, despite the operation of the various memory prompts to which I refer further on, and how the same might have affected the story I tell.
It should be remembered that there is a difference between forgetting and repression (Ricoeur, 2004), with the latter applying to cases where a conscious effort is made, such as in case where individuals have been hurt and they seek to protect themselves, to block out a memory. Account should also be taken of suppression which goes further in that individuals now go to the extreme of remodelling an entire past which contains no trace of that which has been suppressed (Loftus, 2008). As I reflect on my personal narrative I feel that I have not held back in revealing hurtful or embarrassing aspects of my past. I could have done so in respect of the hurtful time I spent at Jameson High School, for example, but chose to make myself vulnerable by relating what I
experienced. Further on I comment in more detail on the place of discomfort in autoethnographical work.
Our understanding of how and what we remember is enhanced by O’Reilly-Scanlon (2000) when she makes reference to the process of ‘schematization’, which is an organisational framework to facilitate the recall of everyday, repeatedly occurring experiences. She explains that in terms of schematization memories that fit into a
‘schema’, namely generic memories, which are characterised by a monotonous sameness, are accommodated in broad overarching terms. Detail is invariably lost, although things or events that individuals find particularly interesting may well be remembered. There is generally a far better chance that people will remember something that does not fit neatly into a schema, something which is clearly out of the ordinary or problematic in some way. This is embodied by O’Reilly-Scanlon (2000) when she points out that while the gist of what we typically remember about school, for example, is usually correct (an overarching memory of rules, bells, uniforms and rows of desks) the rich detail of what we are able to recall is often lost. By contrast, unusual events, those which ruptured our experience of school, are invariably remembered with ease. I can attest to the validity of the assertion. Much of my experience of school was unusual. The large number of schools I attended in a variety of different geopolitical and geographic contexts was unusual in itself and this may help to explain why I have been able to remember what I have about my school days. My longest stays at school were at Luanshya Primary School in Northern Rhodesia and St. Stephen’s College in Rhodesia. In respect of these I do indeed have an overarching memory of the routines set by bells, uniforms and rows of desks. I fully agree that in the case of unusual events which ruptured the routines, I have far more than simply a general, overarching memory. Listening to Mr Ian Smith, declare independence from Britain is a case in point. My memory of us listening to him on transistor radios in the dining hall of St.
Stephen’s College was a different experience indeed and I can recall the detail of the occasion vividly and with ease.
Considerations such as these incline one to ask about factual accuracy as a consideration in autoethnographical writing. Our stories are described by McAdams (2011, p. 106) as “…acts of imagination that creatively select, embellish, shape and distort the past so it connects causally and thematically to an imaginatively rendered and anticipated future, all in the service of making meaning”. In pursuit of this line of
thinking, Kermode (2008) warns that people often omit things or fabricate them so as to add to their stories and factual accuracy is compromised. It is suggested by McAdams (2011), however that it is important for story tellers to tell a good story and that there should not be a preoccupation with factual accuracy. This is because the facts and the story line need to be merged to take due account of “…the physical, biological, psychological ideological, economic, historical and cultural realities in play” (McAdams, 2011, p. 107). None of this should not be taken to suggest that a measure of factual accuracy should not be pursued however, since credibility and plausibility are also important (McAdams, 2011; Van Manen, 1990).
Verisimilitude is important in all of this. (Adler & Adler, 1994; Austin, 2001; Ellis, 2004;
Grossi, 2006). First coined by Bruner (1986), verisimilitude refers to the appearance of truth and reality in the sense that events and experiences which are described by a storyteller should be felt by readers to be authentic, life-like, believable and possible.
Clough (1999) Holt (2003), Morse, Barrett, Mayan, Olson and Spiers (2002) and Richardson (2000) focus on the importance of reader responsiveness when they suggest that how credible a narrative is depends on the degree to which the text creates for the reader an experience of believing what is being read. Tierney (2000) adds that if readers are indeed to believe and trust what is written should be portrayed with integrity and honesty. Britten (1995) agrees, noting that much also depends on the author’s sense of commitment to what is written and on his/her persuasive ability. This is supported by Barone (1995), who notes that a requirement of verisimilitude is that writing should lead people into identifying with what they read. Throughout, researchers should seek to be as principled and rigorous as possible (Sikes, 2008).
I believe that my study meets the requirements of verisimilitude in key respects. Certain areas of my narrative hold up well against published material as is clear from the degree to which, in my analysis chapter, I am able to use published material to confirm and embellish what I have written. Furthermore, my recognition of silences in my narrative and my giving voice to those silenced, again in my analysis chapter, adds weight to the ethnographic component of my study and speaks to the integrity I seek and the degree of commitment I have to my text. It is necessary to be cognizant of the voices behind these silences if the trustworthiness of my account is not to be one sided. I believe, furthermore, that having gathered my data as carefully as I could, I have written my text
with integrity and honesty and shown a commitment to it in such a way as to create an experience for my readers which is both impactful and believable.
I also tested for verisimilitude by asking a number of persons to read my narrative and to respond to it. I asked them to confirm the accuracy of what they read and to indicate whether their recollection of the same or similar events, people and experiences confirmed or differed from mine. I asked them also to add memories of their own if they felt so inclined. I directed such ‘response requests’ to the individuals listed below. Their responses are contained in the appendices.
My mother, Mrs Joan Jarvis, to cover my childhood years in particular (Appendix B)
Mr Peter Morris, the school archivist I refer to further on, to cover my years at St Stephen’s College (Appendix C).
Dr Dudley Forde, a former headmaster of several schools, not least Michaelhouse in KwaZulu-Natal, a school cast in very much the same mould as St .Stephen’s College (Appendix D).
My daughters, Mrs Carin King and Mrs Laura Röttcher, to cover their own childhood years growing up with me as their father (Appendices E and F respectively).
My wife, Dr Janet Jarvis, to cover the 20 year period she has known me in both a professional and personal capacity (Appendix G).
Dr Thabo. Msibi, a former student and colleague, to cover my Edgewood years, following the incorporation as a university faculty (Appendix H).
Since these individuals are close to events, people and experiences in the time periods mentioned I felt they would be able to attest to the likelihood of my narrative being believable and credible. The responses of each were confirming of this, even if differing perspectives were sometimes forthcoming, and in some cases insights which went further than what I had written were offered. I comment further on the responses in Chapter 6.
Given the fluidity of the past there is strong support in the literature for the notion that individuals can rework their pasts in such a way as to anticipate the future (Bowie, 2008;
Haug, 1987; Mitchell & Weber, 1999; Mitchell, 2004; Moletsane, 2011). As they do so
they engage in what Mitchell (2004, p. 46) describes as “future oriented remembering”.
Memory, in this sense, needs to “…inhabit the future tense, to bring new worlds into being” (Bowie, 2008, p. 14). Rather than yearning for a past that no longer exists, which can be destructive, individuals reflect on their past in such a way as to create a better future. Such remembering inhabits the future. When such thinking is applied specifically to education it is possible that education can be reimagined as future possibilities are explored.
A good example of future orientated remembering is Delport’s (2005) personal journey of engaging with her past as an Afrikaner in a transforming South Africa since she reflects upon her past to facilitate her own personal journey of transformation. As she does so, and as others engage with her text, there is the possibility that there will be healing in the broader society. I believe that my personal journey is similar to Delport’s (2005) in many ways and my hope is to be able to join her and others in discovering South Africa and its people afresh.
Assessing and evaluating memories are core components of memory work as a research method (O’Reilly-Scanlon, 2000) and in this regard it is necessary to ‘read’
memories for both ‘social structure’ and ‘culture’ (O’Reilly-Scanlon, 2000). To read for
‘structure’ is to refer to how the world which is being remembered was shaped and organised. The reference is to social institutions such as the family, church and school, along with the nature and organisation of work and the provision of such social givens as housing and health care. To read for ‘culture’, by contrast, is to focus on the writer’s own experiences and to ask how he or she has fitted into, and perhaps been moulded by the existing social structures. A sign that individuals have fallen victim to social moulding occurs when the memories are cliché ridden for then, as O’Reilly-Scanlon (2000) explains, they are not only saying something about themselves but also about the kind of things they have internalized and accepted as givens. In the case of my text,
‘structure’ would refer, for example, to my references to the nature of Rhodesian society, and of the type of school that was St. Stephen’s College. ‘Culture’ would encompass how I experienced and how I fitted in with and responded to the same. It is also appropriate at this juncture to be reminded of the ‘spatial turn’ of my study and of what has been said about Symbolic Interactionism as the theoretical framework which provides a convenient lens through which to view the kind of interaction involved here.
Integral to memory work as a research method are the notions of memory retrieval and the writing of memories, both of which are integral to the remembering process (O’Reilly-Scanlon, 2000). ‘Retrieval’ is facilitated by the selection of a topic, and within it, a particular focus. Memory ‘prompts’ are important in this regard. According to Mitchell and Weber (1999) they can take the form of particular situations, emotions, objects or symbols. In a school context a particular lesson could be an example of a particular situation. Happiness or pride in receiving a prize could be an example of the emotions serving as a prompt. A school badge or a tie might be an example of an object or symbol. The senses also serve to trigger memory. School-related examples could include “…the smell of new school supplies, the feel of a blackboard eraser, or the sounds of children playing in a schoolyard” (O'Reilly-Scanlon, 2000, p. 92). Memories themselves might become prompts for other memories and the same can be said of the memories, stories and questions of others (O’Reilly-Scanlon, 2000). This notion is developed by Plantinga (1992) when he notes that while some memory prompts can be regarded as memory ‘resources’ (a witness to an event, for instance), others function as memory ‘supports’ (such as diaries, letters, photographs and old textbooks). He adds that since our memories are also the memories of individuals who were there with us in particular situations, places and times, these individuals can serve as triggers in their own right. That I am able to attest to the validity of this is clear from what I have to say in the next sub-section.
It is relevant to mention at this juncture that as I gathered the data for the writing of my narrative my own memory prompting was facilitated by my having memory sharing conversations with my mother and Mr Peter Morris, my reading of published material, my perusing of archival material and personal fieldnotes and my visits to key places of my past. In addition to serving as memory prompts these served, as has already been mentioned, as methods of data collection in their own right.
What are described as ‘memory boxes’ by Holmes (2008), can be instrumental in triggering memories. These would typically contain objects from the past, such as a box of matches, a bar of soap or a school tie or badge. While such objects may be worthless to some, they may be keys to the unlocking of the past for others. In support of this sentiment Cole (2011) writes of the role that can be played by different kinds of objects in helping people to remember.