In thinking about Victoria’s work (work sounds too small to encompass what she has created/experiences/put forth) I kept coming back to the ideas of collage and assemblage and how they can be used to honor the full reality of the research experience.

It was a fascinating to go through her written dissertation and the website, to move back and forth, sit with one for a while and then move again…I tried to pull myself away from the content and consider how each mode allowed me to see, to feel, to connect with the teachers, to reflect on my own practice and more. I realized I couldn’t actually separate out the ways different modes worked and that I was totally okay with that because taking it all in in a “random” way reflected how I experienced life in general.

I appreciated Victoria’s comments on the way collage refuses seamlessness – that it honors the messy, seemingly haphazard way that our research (and life) is experienced. Returning to our comments on the piece by Wang, categories are helpful in distilling out some ideas but they can create a false notion of neatness and order that seem to be valued so much in academic writing, even in our beloved qualitative world…which still wrestles with its century old inferiority complex of not being “scientific” enough…In fully honoring teachers and the work they do in caring, Victoria does not shy away from the “darker” more difficult sides of work teachers do – because to honor someone or something, we have to see it in its full dimensions, not just romanticize the “positive” traits.

I was moved by the rubbings in Betty’s class. The physicality of the work – getting dirty, being directly connected to the classroom albeit separated by thin paper, honoring the everyday pieces that often go unnoticed – and then putting that into conversation with her own thoughts and feelings made me emotional as I experience that section of her site. I was not prepared for that…at all. But there was such a sense of honor and care in tending to different parts of the classroom. It brought me back to my teaching years. To scouring every thrift shop in the area for the best lamps and cozy tables. To creating cleaning products with essential oils that helped to calm or energize. To spending many hours with kids – and alone – in the classroom cleaning it and refreshing it and reimagining it.

I was thrilled to see the next page addressed these affective parts of such physical work and brought the two ideas together. ” Pressing tenderly—hard enough to get a clear line, but not too hard so as not to rip the paper. This kind of touch tells stories—about the smooth edges of the particleboard shelves, about the bits of grit under foot, about the rust on the doorframe and hinge.”

I wonder how many stories go untold because we gloss over the furniture in the room without a second glance. We ignore the crack in the sidewalk, the caress of the breeze from the air conditioning unit…how does attending to these moments, to objects shift us into being more attentive, caring researchers with the people with whom we work as well?

Clearly my thoughts today are their own collage of memories, reflections, observations and fleeting thoughts!

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