WHAT AM I DOING?

What methodology is appropriate? Here are some thoughts that came up for me:

• I want to sound like ME. Thesis formatting is so rigid and linear, so opposite to how my mind works. During my graduate studies, I have demonstrated my thinking through various modes, including crochet, animated videos, storytelling, and short films. I’m de/reconstructing what is considered “good”, “academic”, “rigorous” schoolwork, and for what? Now I have to spend hours censoring, correcting, and professionalizing myself? I understand why people rely on generative AI when academic demands push us to write like machines. How can my research resist dominant structures while truly reflecting what I mean in what I say?

• I keep asking myself, who is this research for? Why am I doing this? If I create a “publishable” thesis or a “thorough” journal article, will the communities I advocate for in such work truly get anything out of it? Or will it stay siloed in “research world”, for academics to read, cite, critique, and reproduce? The research-to-practice gap is so profoundly evident in education. Do I really want to contribute to this? 

I don’t have easy answers to these questions, but I ease these tensions by adopting critical arts-based autoethnography as my methodology.

WHAT IS CRITICAL AUTOETHNOGRAPHY?

The “critical” in critical autoethnography uses critical theory and personal experience to challenge oppressive power structures (Boylorn & Orbe, 2021; Holman Jones, 2018). 

The “auto” refers to the self, or my own subjectivity and stories (Ellis et al., 2011). Adams et al. (2021) argue that autoethnography generates insights that would not be possible using other methods, particularly regarding the nuances of lived experience. Who is better suited to write my story than myself? My story is more than numbers, more than facts, more than places or things; it is love, despair, yearning, ignorance, joy, pride, and enthusiasm all in one. However, the sole act of sharing my experiences does not equate to autoethnographic research (Adams & Herrmann, 2023). 

The “ethno” indicates a sociocultural context. Autoethnography requires a working, in-depth knowledge of such a context by which researchers identify, explore, and sometimes challenge cultural beliefs and expectations (Adams et al., 2021; Adams & Herrmann, 2023). 

The “graphy” indicates expressing or representing something through a process of art or science. Adams and Herrmann (2023) describe two forms of “graphy” that autoethnography requires: the autobiography (the art of writing about one’s life) and the ethnography (the art and science of representing cultural expectations and practices). All together, critical autoethnography becomes the process, art, and science of writing about one’s life in relation to culture and power structures.

Autoethnography is a methodology born out of a strategic mode of resistance to conventional ethnographic writing practices (Bochner & Ellis, 2022). Autoethnography addresses the need to “make human sciences more human” (Bochner & Ellis, 2022, p. 8), while critical autoethnography addresses the need to challenge oppressive norms (Boylorn & Orbe, 2021). Critical autoethnography interrogates the institution of academia. Academia is frequently critiqued for elitism and inaccessibility (Adams et al., 2021; Bochner & Ellis, 2022). Mykhalovskiy (1996) questions the true purpose and impact of having academics produce texts that circulate within academia to be read by only a handful of other academics. Furthermore, the linear structure of academic research is often restrictive (Adams & Herrmann, 2023). Adams and Herrmann (2023) warn of autoethnographic research reports that strictly follow the introduction-literature review-methods-findings-discussion-conclusion formula, arguing that this is sterile and not conducive to "good" autoethnography. They recognize that although researchers are encouraged to write this way, the format is generally a bad fit for autoethnography, and claim that autoethnographers who use this structure are likely unfamiliar with the creative demands of the genre (Adams & Herrmann, 2023). This voices the same barrier I have been experiencing. When I looked at how other scholars handle this institutional pressure to follow "proper" research rules, several strategies were conveyed for navigating this tension.

Kaufmann (2020) responds with the strategy of producing work that is so thoroughly grounded in respected theory that its validity cannot be denied. In this approach, a researcher may follow required headings but ensure the theory is not something to add on, it would be something that bleeds through the writing (Kaufmann, 2020). She claims this satisfies the institution's hunger for "rigor" while maintaining the power of the narrative. Larsen (2008) addresses the requirements of his thesis by writing his methodology as a dialogue between his own voice, a critic voice, and his mentors. By doing this, he was able to do the method justice while remaining authentic to the vulnerability and intimacy autoethnography requires, using his critiques as a site for further autoethnographic inquiry. Denejkina (2021) breaks her academic writing into shorter sections and places them across each chapter to provide a continuous framework for her narrative.

I realize that by choosing to keep these prescriptive headings, I walk right into what Adams and Herrmann (2023) called a “bad fit” for autoethnography. To counter the inherent inaccessibility in this structure, I employ the strategies of Kaufmann (2020), Larsen (2008), and Denejkina (2021). I aim to make my work undeniably grounded in theory, explicitly address the tensions between my creative processes and academic structural demands, and weave my art, crochet, and voice throughout a multimodal website that contextualizes academic language.

I choose to represent my study as a multimodal website that engages with digital collections of writing, videos, crochet, and other artistic visual media. I use a diverse range of data sources, which I analyze through Arts-Based Methods and Reflexive Thematic Analysis. Bartleet (2021) recognizes multi-modal presentation formats as opportunities to unlock broader social justice and artistic agendas in research. One example is Colin’s autoethnographic website (https://colinwebber.com), where they reflect on their identity and experiences as an Autistic musician (Webber, 2011), which has served as a source of inspiration for me in creating a website for my thesis. It excites me to know that this work will not be stuck behind a paywall or black and white lines on a page. Arts-Based Research (ABR) frames crochet as my primary research language (Barkved, 2021). Just as Barkved (2021) utilizes digital drawing to explore "experiences, senses, and emotions," my stitching functions as an iterative process of meaning-making that anchors my experiences into the weight and tension of yarn.

WHAT ABOUT CROCHET?

My creative urges have always been part of me. My mother is an artist, and she encourages all of her kids in our creative pursuits. I minored in Fine Arts in my undergraduate degree. I took every intro class I could-- from intro to painting to stone sculpture. It had less to do with developing my artistic abilities, and more of a sensory and exploratory process. When I fell in love with crocheting, it tapped into my creativity and my neurodivergence in a specific and overwhelming way. The sensory input, hypnotising repetition, and both practical garment-creation and creative, expressive potential astounded me. 

Arts-based research encompasses a wide range of research that uses art to "explore, understand, and represent human action and experience" (p.1). Savin-Baden & Major (2013) recommend that arts-related research is guided by a moral commitment, especially reflecting on transformative processes. They affirm arts-based research as holding potential to challenge and transform, and to be available and accessible to a wide and diverse audience. Artistic research allows audiences to not only read the work, but engage and relate to it. They warn that art must also support research goals in terms of aesthetics and holding meaning. This coherence is supported by a sense of authenticity to ensure consistency and rigor. Bartleet (2021) emphasizes the compatibility of arts-based research and autoethnography as a means of disrupting traditional academia and supporting accessibility in research. 

Images have always made more sense to me than endless sentences in essays. Daněk (2023) shares this experience. In an autoethnographic study, she shares her process of resisting and reflecting on doctoral work. She explains her process through a stitch journal-- every day she stitches small squares to express her feelings and experiences. She structures her process as stitching as resistance, stitching as sharing, and stitching as record. These three purposes serve to subvert traditional modes of research representation. Her autoethnographic account is a means of inspiration and mapping of where I could take this study. While she uses it as a daily journal, I am utilizing this as a means of engaging with and representing themes and ideas. A master’s thesis has many moving parts, and my neurodivergent brain is being pulled in hundreds of directions to actualize abstract concepts. Taking a crochet hook and yarn is me physically exploring these concepts. I explore crochet in two ways in this study: thesis organization and RTA. 

Thesis Organization 

I am an ADHDer. Brown (2022) proposes a theory of univocity in Critical ADHD Studies. This theory proposes that ADHDers have an attention that is univocal, meaning seeing many voices as interconnected. This articulates my simultaneous challenges and strengths in this process. The concept of dividing these into chapters was a very confusing process for me, because I view all of this process as interconnected. Why does the literature review come before my methodology, if they are connected? Why do they need to be separated? Why do I need a section to justify this study, when the justification is embedded? When I read hundreds of papers, I can visualize the patterns and ideas and concepts. However, when it comes to a sequential order, it is hard to decide on one. I do not see the patterns as words, I see them as images, colors, connections, interconnections, abstract symbols, and memories. Once I could visualize the concepts, I can make them physical through crochet. I looked through hundreds of crochet patterns to find ones that stood out to me. Sometimes I went in looking for something specific, other times I found inspiration from looking at patterns. I sometimes made my own pattern or adapted patterns. I sometimes find meaning in specific types of stitches, other times in the colors I use. The squares I crochet measure about 8 inches, and each of them either represent a concept or process. When I began organizing my thesis like this, it not only made more sense to me, but it was easier to describe to others. Visual representations offer an invitation to people who I could not typically reach outside of academia. 

Reflexive Thematic Analysis 

In this study, I adopt Braun and Clarke's (2020) 6-phase method of reflexive thematic analysis. Despite having 6 distinct phases, it is not a linear, sequential approach. It is a back-and-forth, reflexive process that is a blend of inductive and deductive approaches. I argue that arts-based research strengthens RTA by acting as a bridge between the internal-- conceptualizing ideas of themes and patterns, and the external-- identifying and naming themes and patterns. While the conceptual framework and research questions are deductive guides, crochet opens up the inductive process by choosing colors, textures, and tensions that reflect new meanings.

WHAT iS MY ROLE?

My role can be interrogated through what Hays and Singh (2022) define as a tool for self-reflection across three domains: the Researcher-Practitioner-Advocate (RPA) model. As I step into the role of Researcher, I engage in reflexive questioning and journaling. I interrogate the judgments I have carried about my own relationship with normativity and ask if I am implicitly judging my marginalized identities, such as my queerness or neurodivergence (Boylorn & Orbe, 2021). Hays and Singh (2022) define authenticity as striving for congruence between my inner world and the external text; thus, I will monitor whether my academic interpretations are actually aligned with my memories and experiences. I expect to find feelings of shame in my data, and as Jodi Kaufmann (2020) warns, this expectation might tempt me to "over-fit" my stories into a tragic story arc. Therefore, part of my reflexivity means allowing experiences to be nuanced, messy, and unfinished. I will practice unconditional positive regard for my process, accepting my incompetencies and assumptions as dimensions of my subjectivity rather than a failure of rigor (Hays & Singh, 2022). 

In my role as a Practitioner, I will employ the strategy of "waving the red flag," or stopping every time I use absolute language like "always" or "never" in my stories to uncover the "sometimes" that holds the real complexities of my realities (Hays & Singh, 2022). As Kawano and Kim (2024) suggest, I must ask how pervasive whiteness is as a cultural force in my own practice, noticing and taking responsibility for my stumblings and defensiveness. This overlaps with my role as an Advocate, where I acknowledge and reflect on the times I have unintentionally reinforced hierarchy by offering "good intentions" instead of actual justice. Stacy Holman Jones (2018) calls for an autoethnography that goes beyond personal growth and toward acts of social justice that connect the private to the public. Through a reflexive journal, I will document my thoughts, feelings, and reactions, asking myself critical questions to ensure my perceptions are truly aligned with the experiences I am uncovering (Hays & Singh, 2022). By engaging in these iterative cycles of self-reflection and acknowledging the privileges I experience alongside my marginalization, I use my lived experiences as sites of analysis (Boylorn & Orbe, 2021).

In individual autoethnography, the participant is the researcher, and the researcher is the participant. This could be categorized as a form of purposive sampling, where the researcher selects their own life experiences and relevant artifacts because they are information-rich cases that address the research question. The inclusion criteria for autoethnographic research are tied to having first-hand lived experience and possessing a particular cultural identity relevant to the study. In critical autoethnography, these criteria often focus on individuals who have overlapping, intersectional identities of marginalization. Regarding exclusion criteria, researchers can omit details or persons to maintain internal confidentiality or to protect others from potential harm. The context for participant selection for others in the study is rarely about traditional external recruitment; instead, participants are those who are already naturally implicated in the researcher's personal history (family, friends, community members, etc.).

Ethical Implications. Tolich (2010) advises that I should treat my autoethnography as a tattoo, noting that public disclosures regarding my stories and identity are permanent. Since the process of interrogating my "good student" mask requires reliving instances of trauma and masking, I will follow Denejkina’s (2021) advice to enact self-care by controlling what is revealed. As Kawano and Kim (2024) suggest, I will respect and respond to my emotions and mental health as a part of the research process and avoid retraumatization. To further protect myself, I decided to adjust my research topic to my adult experiences instead of my previous focus, which began with childhood schooling experiences.

There is debate in the field on who counts as a participant in autoethnographic research. They hold tensions over whether a brief mention of someone constitutes the level of participation. To minimize harm, they suggest approaching participants as early in the process as possible. Tolich (2010) advocates for informed and process consent and questions acts of retrospective consent, claiming that doing so can have coercive implications. On the other hand, Adams et al. (2021) critique these claims of alleged coercion, saying it lacks nuance of the complex, diverse contexts researchers are situated in. Because the degree to which other people are implicated is highly dependent on the study, there is no single or universal procedure for obtaining consent. Adams et al. (2021) suggest considering the timing of the research, the content, and how prevalent others are in the text.

My journey specifically tracks my own internal processes over a six-year time frame, the content includes course assignments and field placement reflections in elementary school classrooms, spanning six elementary schools. In the field placement reflections, I explore my observations and experiences in elementary classrooms. I redacted the names of schools and teachers who are implicated in my data set. Additionally, I speak about students using pseudonyms. Tolich (2010) also warns about the risks of internal confidentiality, noting that even if I use pseudonyms, people who know my history might recognize themselves in my writing. When considering the timing (spanning over a long period of time), the content (mostly focusing on my personal reflections and coursework), and prevalence of others (briefly mentioned or peripheral to my reflections), I must determine how to ethically navigate consent. To maintain confidentiality, I will not disclose any names of students or school locations in any part of the study. I will remove all personal identifiers. Instead of reporting on students' actions or characteristics, this research focuses on my metacognitive process. Past educational interactions provide context for my reflection, but the students themselves are de-centered and are not the subjects of the inquiry. 

My ethical responsibility does not stop with the people in my stories. Adams et al. (2022) remind me that I must also consider my audience. I can never fully know how the audience will react to my research. I understand that disclosing intimate details of my story may be unsettling. Knowing that I will engage others through my writing, art, and multimodal website, I justify the use of content advisories for any parts of my work involving potentially triggering content.

WHERE DOES MY DATA COME FROM?

I completed a four-year Bachelor of Arts in Elementary and Special Education, which required regular field placements and practicums. For field placements, we were assigned to observe a local elementary classroom a few times a week each term. For practicums, we were assigned a classroom to co-teach. Field placements span the first three years, typically changing classrooms twice per year. During the final professional year, practicums span the full academic year. It transitions from part-time during the fall semester to full-time in the spring semester, with a minimum of 9 consecutive weeks of solo/lead teaching. The special education practicum spans six weeks in a segregated, resource room setting. In addition to field placements and practicums, I took the following coursework:

• General Education: Intro to Education; Pre-Adolescent Theories of Development and Learning; Policies and Practices for Diverse Learners; Pre-Adolescent Health and Wellness for Educators; Foundations of Education; Children's and Adolescent Literature and Library; Pre-Adolescent Classroom Relationships and Management; Pre-Adolescent Curriculum and Instruction; Reading and Language Arts Methods; Fostering Creativity in the Classroom; Assessment; Mathematics & Science Methods

• Special Education: Language, Literacy & Culture; School, Parent, and Community Relations; Behavior Support; Functional Assessment: Curriculum and Instruction for Diverse Learners; Academic Assessment: Curriculum and Instruction for Diverse Learners; Language and Communication: Support and Strategies

A limitation of this study is missing course artifacts. Only materials retrieved from searches of my personal desktop, email archives, and Google Drive are included in the analysis. Instead of organizing data by the course, I organized artifacts chronologically and by media type to track the progression of my thinking over time.

I am currently enrolled in a two-year Masters of Arts program in Supporting Inclusive Education. It is course and research-based. In this study, I have only included courses relevant to education. I took the following coursework:

• Classroom Inclusion of Blind & Visually Impaired Students; Critical Issues in Special Education; Designing Inclusive Learning Communities: From Theory to Practice; Inclusive Assessment and Programming for Students Requiring Targeted Supports; Fostering Self-Regulated Learning; Indigenous Pathways Through Social and Emotional Learning; Organization of Special Education Services

 Educational artifacts include school projects/assignments, field placement reflections, and lesson plans will come from various storage spaces (laptop storage, Google Drive, email archives, and physical storage units). These provide a tracking system to contextualize my educational experiences and analyze traces of normativity throughout.When I begin gathering data, I will use an digital archive organized by year and type of data source. All raw data will be named to represent the type of data (e.g., personal journal entry) and the date originally created. Raw data will be stored in a secure network location with folders for each type (Nowell et al., 2017). I will use an Excel spreadsheet to log all raw data and to detail my progress. I anticipate data collection taking about a few weeks to locate and organize them. Reflexivity throughout this process will ensure alignment and reflective practice. 

For some data sources, particularly graduate school assignments, I chose to make videos to represent my thinking. For these videos, my transcription will include paralinguistic cues such as pauses, sighs, or specific bodily movements. I will make minor grammatical adjustments to when it enhances the readability of the narrative without stripping its original nuances. Additionally, I will maintain reflexive journals to capture my thinking and responses to my younger self and will write descriptive context for each artifact. Other multimodal data will be coded in terms of the intended meaning.

The data analysis for this study is a systematic and reflexive process of meaning-making involving transforming raw data into a text, themes, and tactile art that bridges personal experience, cultural understanding, and critical lenses. This study utilizes Reflexive Thematic Analysis (RTA), following the six-step framework established by Braun and Clarke (2006): 1) data familiarisation and writing familiarisation notes; 2) systematic data coding; 3) generating initial themes from coded and collated data; 4) developing and reviewing themes; 5) refining, defining, and naming themes; and 6) writing the report.

Data Familiarization 

In the data familiarization process, I will establish prolonged engagement with data and document initial theoretical and reflective thoughts and judgments. Nowell et al. (2017) claim that becoming immersed in the data involves the repeated reading of the data in an active way to search for meaning and patterns. When I read through the data, I will highlight phrases that stand out, record initial thoughts in speech-to-text memos, and write comments in the margins. These are not yet codes, they are modes of recording my initial thoughts and judgments. Speech-to-text memos will continue throughout the data analysis process. 

Systematic Data Coding

During systematic data coding, I will review the data once again, this time focusing on specific characteristics of the data and recording them on an Excel spreadsheet. Braun and Clarke (2006) recommend that researchers give full and equal attention to each data item and identify interesting aspects in the data items that may form themes. 

Generating Initial Themes 

When generating initial themes, I will orient myself towards the research question and conceptual lens. The research question relates to normativity, and the conceptual lens provides reflection questions of how normativity is embedded in schooling systems. I am wary of the critique of deductive coding being less reflective of the data, and will try to balance the deductive nature of the literature and research question as guides while being open to the data. To ensure answering my research question, I will note instances of (1) internalizing; (2) perpetuating; and (3) deconstructing normativity in the data set.

Refining, Defining, and Naming Themes

Instead of searching for an objective stopping point, I will look for meaningful coherence, acknowledging that while my story could be explored from infinite angles. I will crochet squares that express the finalized themes, and be open to the process of crocheting. Crocheting may bring up new thoughts and feelings that I have yet to explore. Crocheting, again, serves as an inductive analysis that extends data synthesis beyond limits of textual coding and deductive analysis. When crocheting, I experience moments of calmness where the repetitive motion of the hook and yarn puts me in a meditative, reflective state. Tamas (2022) describes this as a “slow scholarship”, which they claim is a necessary resistance against the excessive demands of neoliberal academic cultures. Crocheting helps me value my natural inclinations, where I can connect with my authentic self without the pressure of constant verbal processing. It also challenges me to think about physical choices-- the yarn weight, texture, color, vibrance, and pattern become metaphorical representations of data. Analyzing the themes through this lens helps me to better understand my research question and thematic patterns. In this phase, crochet surfaces emotional nuance. The sensory nature of fiber art translates research into something I can physically feel and touch. Refining themes through this mode leaves room for new realizations.

Writing the Report

 In the final phase, I will synthesize my findings into a report that articulates themes in a table, with crocheted granny squares naming each theme. Traditional qualitative research often dismisses personal experience as being biased (Kawano & Kim, 2024). Thus, what constitutes “rigor” in autoethnography is a palpable tension in the field. Le Roux (2017) argues that when we try to fit autoethnography into standard qualitative markers like transferability or dependability, we miss the unique goals of the method. She suggests that because autoethnography can range from the highly evocative to the highly analytic to everything in between, the criteria used depend on the specific paradigm used. Le Roux (2017) proposes a five-point framework: subjectivity, self-reflexivity, resonance, credibility, and contribution.

Subjectivity and self-reflexivity are the basis and topic of this study. Resonance occurs when the audience connects intellectually and emotionally. My visual art and media come together on a multimodal website with layered, thick description that invites the reader to feel the experience from multiple access points (Le Roux, 2017; Bartleet, 2021). Credibility, according to Le Roux (2017), has less to do with credibility through checking findings against evidence and more to do with providing an emotionally authentic account. By showing emotional, descriptive, and critical nuances of a journey, it allows the audience to trust and enter the subjective world. In regard to contribution, Le Roux (2017) suggests that rigorous autoethnography must extend knowledge, empower others, or contribute to social change. This formal list of standards further complicates autoethnographic work. Critics warn that rigid checklists and criteria for autoethnography are precisely what autoethnography rejects. Still, I find Le Roux’s criteria helpful as a starting point in navigating autoethnographic research.

I will synthesize my findings into a thematic synthesis table. I recognize that utilizing RTA and displaying my data in this traditional table may fragment my lived experience into units, which is what I critique throughout this thesis. I recognize that the research process is nonlinear and messy, and that these themes overlap and intertwine with each other. I use these themes to locate patterns in my lived experiences and anchor my narratives in recurring themes. This table makes my thinking visual as a map that adds on complexities through multiple modes of representation. I will have photographs of the crocheted granny squares, similar to how I have done thus far, organized by themes. Thick, contextualizing description of the themes will accompany these photos to intertwine my lived experiences with critical theoretical lenses. The organization of moving from the clarity of the structural map to the reality of the craft ensures that the analysis honors the interconnectivity of my experiences as they are eventually pieced together into a blanket.