Common use of Ethnographic field notes Clause in Contracts

Ethnographic field notes. As previously stated I generated approximately 204 pages of typed field notes from my observations at Hoshūkō69. Field notes are considered primary data in the doing of ethnography and they are key in producing constructions of the practices of the research participants (Xxxxxx et al., 2008). They are the researcher’s first attempt at transforming the lived experiences during participant observation into written accounts (Xxxxxxx et al., 2001). However, the ethnographer cannot record everything in the field notes and s/he will be exposed to various points of view and 67 Xxxxxx’s brother was a friend of my younger son. I was really surprised that Xxxxxx started talking to me as he hadn’t done this before even though I had given him a lift to Football Club Japan (FCJ) in the past. 68 This is the primary school which my two sons had attended. 69 In addition, I also wrote field notes from memory when transcribing the conversational interviews. priorities (Xxxxxxx et al., 1995). Xxxxxxxxxx and Xxxxxxxx (2007, p. 142) believe that ‘[f]ield notes are always selective: it is not possible to capture everything. And there is a trade-off between breadth of focus and detail’. Xxxxxxxxxx and Xxxxxxxx (2007, p. 147) argue that: Field notes cannot possibly provide a comprehensive record of the research setting. The ethnographer acquires a great deal more tacit knowledge than is ever contained in the written record. He or she necessarily uses ‘head notes’ or memory to fill in and recontextualize recorded events and utterances. Field notes ‘are often messy, fragmented and complex creations of ourselves and the other selves in the field’ (Xxxxxx, 1999, p. 122). This suggests that the writing of field notes is not a straight forward process as activities are ‘not linear and coherent but multiple, layered, chequered and unstable. […]’ (Xxxxxxxxx and Xxxx, 2010, p.11). What is more ‘Ethnography tries to […] describe the apparently messy and complex activities that make up social action, not to reduce their complexity but to describe and explain it’ (ibid). The way in which my field notes were constructed was sometimes dependent upon my level of participation at Hoshūkō. When I was positioned as a parent, for example, when volunteering in the library, observing my younger son’s class, and observing the institutionalised practices, I could not openly make notes. In the library note taking was not possible because I was trying to experience a ‘more natural, open experience of others’ worlds and activities’ (Xxxxxxx et al., 1995, p. 19) by participating in the day-to-day running of the library so it did not seem appropriate to start writing in this environment. The same was true when I was observing my younger son’s class and the institutionalised regulatory practices in the public gaze (see chapter 6) as the focus was on observation as a parent rather than as a researcher. This meant that I had to take ‘mental notes of certain details and impressions’ (ibid) and then write-up my observations from memory at a later date. This highlights the pivotal role that memory plays in the ethnographic construction of field notes (Xxxxxx, 1999, p. 127). When observing in the classrooms at Hoshūkō I was what Xxxxxxx et al. (1995, p. 19) refer to as ‘participating-in-order-to-write’. When observing new classes I took notes of my ‘initial impression’ including the physical environment, number of students in the class, gender, racialised features, and dress (ibid, p. 26). I tried to make notes in a chronological way writing the times next to the events at ten-minute intervals. So much seemed to be happening; the language practices were varied and diverse and there were so many low key cultural practices to observe, that it was difficult to organise ‘the chaos of life on a linear page’ (ibid, p. 358). I was also faced with the dilemma of what to write as there was ‘always more going on than the ethnographer can notice, and it is impossible to record all that can be noticed’ (Xxxxxxx et al., 1995, p. 63). I wrote about the events that seemed ‘significant’ and I ignored that which did not seem significant (Xxxxxxx, et al., 2001), which could be seen as highly subjective practice (see section 2.3.1). However, what I considered ‘significant’ was based on 25 years of tacit knowledge accrued while raising my two A- J sons. My field notes were more like ‘a filter than a mirror reflecting the “reality” of events (ibid, p. 358). At times I felt distracted from noticing other interactions and activities as I was writing my notes (Xxxxxxx et al., 1995, p. 23). I was torn between making notes and observing. As a result my notes were messy and often difficult to decipher at a later date. I wrote ‘immediate fragments of action and talk to serve as focal points for later writing accounts of these events in as much detail’ as I could remember (Xxxxxxx et al., 1995, p. 32). I disciplined myself to writing and/or constructing a full account of my observations on the same day as they had occurred. This was because I was aware of the importance of the writing-up of field notes immediately (Xxxxxx, 1996), which was not always easy due to my ‘hybrid pattern of commitments’ (ibid, p. 220). I often had to go to work straight after observing at Hoshūkō, and then come home and cook a meal for my family. On such occasions, I would find myself writing late in the evening. Typically, I divided my typed notes into three sections. First of all, I described the happenings in as much detail as possible relying on my field notes and/or my memory. This is because: producing full field notes from jottings is not a mechanical process. The fieldworker must construct something out of these bits and pieces of information together with the recollections of events, incidents and experiences […] (Xxxxxxx et al., 1995, p. 49). Typing detailed accounts shortly after participating in the library or observing cultural events at Hoshūkō with no ‘jottings’ to rely on was a way of ‘releasing the weight’ of all the happenings that I had recently experienced (Xxxxxxx et al., 1995, p. 40). In my typed accounts I often included pictures of Japanese cultural practices from the internet or from Snapfish70 as I was trying to convey something about the world that I had recently observed to my supervisor, who was unfamiliar with that world (ibid, p. 45) (see section 2.5). Then I included my observations of the events, which were my interpretations and analyses of the events based on my prior experiences. Finally, I tried to link my field notes to theory by linking them to my literature review and to my methodological chapter. This meant that I was writing descriptive notes, analytical notes, 70 Snapfish is a web based service for sharing photographs amongst its members. The photographs were taken by Xxxx (Japanese-Japanese mother or two A-J children) at Hoshūkō and she allowed me to view these photographs via Snapfish. theoretical notes and methodological notes (Xxxxxxx et al., 2001). The organisation of the 204 pages of typed field notes was facilitated by the use of NVivo software. I feel that my 94 hours and 45 minutes of participant observation at Hoshūkō in the library, in classrooms, in the hall, in the playground and on the field watching cultural events was consolidated by the 204 pages of typed field notes that I made. Although constructing field notes can be seen as highly problematic, I regard field notes as an important part of my data as they provide: the primary means for deeper appreciation of how field researchers come to grasp and interpret the actions and concerns of others. In this respect, field notes offer subtle and complex understandings of these others’ lives, routines and meanings (Xxxxxxx et al. 1995, p. 13). The next ethnographic tool I will focus on is the language questionnaire.

Ethnographic field notes. As previously stated I generated approximately 204 pages of typed field notes from my observations at Hoshūkō69. Field notes are considered primary data in the doing of ethnography and they are key in producing constructions of the practices of the research participants (Xxxxxx Creese et al., 2008). They are the researcher’s first attempt at transforming the lived experiences during participant observation into written accounts (Xxxxxxx Emerson et al., 2001). However, the ethnographer cannot record everything in the field notes and s/he will be exposed to various points of view and 67 XxxxxxTaishi’s brother was a friend of my younger son. I was really surprised that Xxxxxx Taishi started talking to me as he hadn’t done this before even though I had given him a lift to Football Club Japan (FCJ) in the past. 68 This is the primary school which my two sons had attended. 69 In addition, I also wrote field notes from memory when transcribing the conversational interviews. priorities (Xxxxxxx Emerson et al., 1995). Xxxxxxxxxx Hammersley and Xxxxxxxx Atkinson (2007, p. 142) believe that ‘[f]ield notes are always selective: it is not possible to capture everything. And there is a trade-off between breadth of focus and detail’. Xxxxxxxxxx Hammersley and Xxxxxxxx Atkinson (2007, p. 147) argue that: Field notes cannot possibly provide a comprehensive record of the research setting. The ethnographer acquires a great deal more tacit knowledge than is ever contained in the written record. He or she necessarily uses ‘head notes’ or memory to fill in and recontextualize recorded events and utterances. Field notes ‘are often messy, fragmented and complex creations of ourselves and the other selves in the field’ (XxxxxxCoffey, 1999, p. 122). This suggests that the writing of field notes is not a straight forward process as activities are ‘not linear and coherent but multiple, layered, chequered and unstable. […]’ (Xxxxxxxxx Blommaert and XxxxDong, 2010, p.11). What is more ‘Ethnography tries to […] describe the apparently messy and complex activities that make up social action, not to reduce their complexity but to describe and explain it’ (ibid). The way in which my field notes were constructed was sometimes dependent upon my level of participation at Hoshūkō. When I was positioned as a parent, for example, when volunteering in the library, observing my younger son’s class, and observing the institutionalised practices, I could not openly make notes. In the library note taking was not possible because I was trying to experience a ‘more natural, open experience of others’ worlds and activities’ (Xxxxxxx Emerson et al., 1995, p. 19) by participating in the day-to-day running of the library so it did not seem appropriate to start writing in this environment. The same was true when I was observing my younger son’s class and the institutionalised regulatory practices in the public gaze (see chapter 6) as the focus was on observation as a parent rather than as a researcher. This meant that I had to take ‘mental notes of certain details and impressions’ (ibid) and then write-up my observations from memory at a later date. This highlights the pivotal role that memory plays in the ethnographic construction of field notes (XxxxxxCoffey, 1999, p. 127). When observing in the classrooms at Hoshūkō I was what Xxxxxxx Emerson et al. (1995, p. 19) refer to as ‘participating-in-order-to-write’. When observing new classes I took notes of my ‘initial impression’ including the physical environment, number of students in the class, gender, racialised features, and dress (ibid, p. 26). I tried to make notes in a chronological way writing the times next to the events at ten-minute intervals. So much seemed to be happening; the language practices were varied and diverse and there were so many low key cultural practices to observe, that it was difficult to organise ‘the chaos of life on a linear page’ (ibid, p. 358). I was also faced with the dilemma of what to write as there was ‘always more going on than the ethnographer can notice, and it is impossible to record all that can be noticed’ (Xxxxxxx Emerson et al., 1995, p. 63). I wrote about the events that seemed ‘significant’ and I ignored that which did not seem significant (XxxxxxxEmerson, et al., 2001), which could be seen as highly subjective practice (see section 2.3.1). However, what I considered ‘significant’ was based on 25 years of tacit knowledge accrued while raising my two A- J sons. My field notes were more like ‘a filter than a mirror reflecting the “reality” of events (ibid, p. 358). At times I felt distracted from noticing other interactions and activities as I was writing my notes (Xxxxxxx Emerson et al., 1995, p. 23). I was torn between making notes and observing. As a result my notes were messy and often difficult to decipher at a later date. I wrote ‘immediate fragments of action and talk to serve as focal points for later writing accounts of these events in as much detail’ as I could remember (Xxxxxxx Emerson et al., 1995, p. 32). I disciplined myself to writing and/or constructing a full account of my observations on the same day as they had occurred. This was because I was aware of the importance of the writing-up of field notes immediately (XxxxxxLareau, 1996), which was not always easy due to my ‘hybrid pattern of commitments’ (ibid, p. 220). I often had to go to work straight after observing at Hoshūkō, and then come home and cook a meal for my family. On such occasions, I would find myself writing late in the evening. Typically, I divided my typed notes into three sections. First of all, I described the happenings in as much detail as possible relying on my field notes and/or my memory. This is because: producing full field notes from jottings is not a mechanical process. The fieldworker must construct something out of these bits and pieces of information together with the recollections of events, incidents and experiences […] (Xxxxxxx Emerson et al., 1995, p. 49). Typing detailed accounts shortly after participating in the library or observing cultural events at Hoshūkō with no ‘jottings’ to rely on was a way of ‘releasing the weight’ of all the happenings that I had recently experienced (Xxxxxxx Emerson et al., 1995, p. 40). In my typed accounts I often included pictures of Japanese cultural practices from the internet or from Snapfish70 as I was trying to convey something about the world that I had recently observed to my supervisor, who was unfamiliar with that world (ibid, p. 45) (see section 2.5). Then I included my observations of the events, which were my interpretations and analyses of the events based on my prior experiences. Finally, I tried to link my field notes to theory by linking them to my literature review and to my methodological chapter. This meant that I was writing descriptive notes, analytical notes, 70 Snapfish is a web based service for sharing photographs amongst its members. The photographs were taken by Xxxx Yuri (Japanese-Japanese mother or two A-J children) at Hoshūkō and she allowed me to view these photographs via Snapfish. theoretical notes and methodological notes (Xxxxxxx Emerson et al., 2001). The organisation of the 204 pages of typed field notes was facilitated by the use of NVivo software. I feel that my 94 hours and 45 minutes of participant observation at Hoshūkō in the library, in classrooms, in the hall, in the playground and on the field watching cultural events was consolidated by the 204 pages of typed field notes that I made. Although constructing field notes can be seen as highly problematic, I regard field notes as an important part of my data as they provide: the primary means for deeper appreciation of how field researchers come to grasp and interpret the actions and concerns of others. In this respect, field notes offer subtle and complex understandings of these others’ lives, routines and meanings (Xxxxxxx Emerson et al. 1995, p. 13). The next ethnographic tool I will focus on is the language questionnaire.

Ethnographic field notes. As previously stated I generated approximately 204 pages of typed field notes from my observations at Hoshūkō69. Field notes are considered primary data in the doing of ethnography and they are key in producing constructions of the practices of the research participants (Xxxxxx et al., 2008). They are the researcher’s first attempt at transforming the lived experiences during participant observation into written accounts (Xxxxxxx et al., 2001). However, the ethnographer cannot record everything in the field notes and s/he will be exposed to various points of view and 67 XxxxxxTaishi’s brother was a friend of my younger son. I was really surprised that Xxxxxx Taishi started talking to me as he hadn’t done this before even though I had given him a lift to Football Club Japan (FCJ) in the past. 68 This is the primary school which my two sons had attended. 69 In addition, I also wrote field notes from memory when transcribing the conversational interviews. priorities (Xxxxxxx et al., 1995). Xxxxxxxxxx and Xxxxxxxx (2007, p. 142) believe that ‘[f]ield notes are always selective: it is not possible to capture everything. And there is a trade-off between breadth of focus and detail’. Xxxxxxxxxx and Xxxxxxxx (2007, p. 147) argue that: Field notes cannot possibly provide a comprehensive record of the research setting. The ethnographer acquires a great deal more tacit knowledge than is ever contained in the written record. He or she necessarily uses ‘head notes’ or memory to fill in and recontextualize recorded events and utterances. Field notes ‘are often messy, fragmented and complex creations of ourselves and the other selves in the field’ (Xxxxxx, 1999, p. 122). This suggests that the writing of field notes is not a straight forward process as activities are ‘not linear and coherent but multiple, layered, chequered and unstable. […]’ (Xxxxxxxxx Blommaert and XxxxDong, 2010, p.11). What is more ‘Ethnography tries to […] describe the apparently messy and complex activities that make up social action, not to reduce their complexity but to describe and explain it’ (ibid). The way in which my field notes were constructed was sometimes dependent upon my level of participation at Hoshūkō. When I was positioned as a parent, for example, when volunteering in the library, observing my younger son’s class, and observing the institutionalised practices, I could not openly make notes. In the library note taking was not possible because I was trying to experience a ‘more natural, open experience of others’ worlds and activities’ (Xxxxxxx et al., 1995, p. 19) by participating in the day-to-day running of the library so it did not seem appropriate to start writing in this environment. The same was true when I was observing my younger son’s class and the institutionalised regulatory practices in the public gaze (see chapter 6) as the focus was on observation as a parent rather than as a researcher. This meant that I had to take ‘mental notes of certain details and impressions’ (ibid) and then write-up my observations from memory at a later date. This highlights the pivotal role that memory plays in the ethnographic construction of field notes (Xxxxxx, 1999, p. 127). When observing in the classrooms at Hoshūkō I was what Xxxxxxx et al. (1995, p. 19) refer to as ‘participating-in-order-to-write’. When observing new classes I took notes of my ‘initial impression’ including the physical environment, number of students in the class, gender, racialised features, and dress (ibid, p. 26). I tried to make notes in a chronological way writing the times next to the events at ten-minute intervals. So much seemed to be happening; the language practices were varied and diverse and there were so many low key cultural practices to observe, that it was difficult to organise ‘the chaos of life on a linear page’ (ibid, p. 358). I was also faced with the dilemma of what to write as there was ‘always more going on than the ethnographer can notice, and it is impossible to record all that can be noticed’ (Xxxxxxx et al., 1995, p. 63). I wrote about the events that seemed ‘significant’ and I ignored that which did not seem significant (Xxxxxxx, et al., 2001), which could be seen as highly subjective practice (see section 2.3.1). However, what I considered ‘significant’ was based on 25 years of tacit knowledge accrued while raising my two A- J sons. My field notes were more like ‘a filter than a mirror reflecting the “reality” of events (ibid, p. 358). At times I felt distracted from noticing other interactions and activities as I was writing my notes (Xxxxxxx et al., 1995, p. 23). I was torn between making notes and observing. As a result my notes were messy and often difficult to decipher at a later date. I wrote ‘immediate fragments of action and talk to serve as focal points for later writing accounts of these events in as much detail’ as I could remember (Xxxxxxx et al., 1995, p. 32). I disciplined myself to writing and/or constructing a full account of my observations on the same day as they had occurred. This was because I was aware of the importance of the writing-up of field notes immediately (Xxxxxx, 1996), which was not always easy due to my ‘hybrid pattern of commitments’ (ibid, p. 220). I often had to go to work straight after observing at Hoshūkō, and then come home and cook xxxx a meal for my family. On such occasions, I would find myself writing late in the evening. Typically, I divided my typed notes into three sections. First of all, I described the happenings in as much detail as possible relying on my field notes and/or my memory. This is because: producing full field notes from jottings is not a mechanical process. The fieldworker must construct something out of these bits and pieces of information together with the recollections of events, incidents and experiences […] (Xxxxxxx et al., 1995, p. 49). Typing detailed accounts shortly after participating in the library or observing cultural events at Hoshūkō with no ‘jottings’ to rely on was a way of ‘releasing the weight’ of all the happenings that I had recently experienced (Xxxxxxx et al., 1995, p. 40). In my typed accounts I often included pictures of Japanese cultural practices from the internet or from Snapfish70 as I was trying to convey something about the world that I had recently observed to my supervisor, who was unfamiliar with that world (ibid, p. 45) (see section 2.5). Then I included my observations of the events, which were my interpretations and analyses of the events based on my prior experiences. Finally, I tried to link my field notes to theory by linking them to my literature review and to my methodological chapter. This meant that I was writing descriptive notes, analytical notes, 70 Snapfish is a web based service for sharing photographs amongst its members. The photographs were taken by Xxxx Yuri (Japanese-Japanese mother or two A-J children) at Hoshūkō and she allowed me to view these photographs via Snapfish. theoretical notes and methodological notes (Xxxxxxx et al., 2001). The organisation of the 204 pages of typed field notes was facilitated by the use of NVivo software. I feel that my 94 hours and 45 minutes of participant observation at Hoshūkō in the library, in classrooms, in the hall, in the playground and on the field watching cultural events was consolidated by the 204 pages of typed field notes that I made. Although constructing field notes can be seen as highly problematic, I regard field notes as an important part of my data as they provide: the primary means for deeper appreciation of how field researchers come to grasp and interpret the actions and concerns of others. In this respect, field notes offer subtle and complex understandings of these others’ lives, routines and meanings (Xxxxxxx et al. 1995, p. 13). The next ethnographic tool I will focus on is the language questionnaire.