Dismissive
This is a reading response for the Research Colloquium course 6719.
“By writing about the things that haunt us, saying what must be said, we can speak eloquently as researchers, writing and speaking the voices that are often unheard.”
(Dunlop, 1999, p. 17)
I was a dismissive reader. That realization surprised me.
I rambled through the poetic writing by Guiney Yollop and dismissed it as less than academic. As I contrasted this dissertation against the dense, rhetorical text written by McClelland (2006) I reflected on my own intention to create an alternative dissertation, using multimodal media to share my research and findings. Will others dismiss my work, as I did with the poetry in Guiney Yollop’s dissertation? How can this insight shift how I write and speak for the voices unheard, about what haunts me?
Reading Rhisma Dunlop’s (1999) dissertation brought several thoughts to the forefront.
“If a literary text affects its readers, it also simultaneously tells us something about them. Literature becomes a divining rod, locating our dispositions, desires, inclinations, and reflecting the phenomenological nature of human existence.”
(Dunlop, 1999, p.5)
I went back and reread the poetry in Guiney Yollop’s dissertation to see what my reading would reveal about me – my disposition and inclinations toward the text. The divining rod revealed my bias and dismissive attitude to poetry as scholarship. When rereading, I found elements that resonated to my experiences as an educator (Teacherhood p. 41 ; My Teacher’s Desk, p. 53). Some poems I could reread for greater understanding when actively engaging the author’s lens (If I Could Stand; Boxes of My Life, p. 59). As I reread, I saw flashes of the phenomenal life of the author, like an old fashioned slide projector where trip images are out of order and don’t always connect to my own experiences, but are powerful in sharing lived experiences.
“In university scholarship, we are rarely called upon to regard the writing work that we do as an act of passion. Forms of writing research that have been established as standard paradigms in the world of academia are frequently privileged over creative forms and artistic or alternative forms of writing.”
(Dunlop, 1999, p. 6)
Can poetry be considered academic? Can writing a novel by accepted as dissertation? My dismissive reaction is now tempered by these words by Dunlop. I accept and revel in the poetry shared in Guiney Yollop’s dissertation. As I reread the warning of ‘inkorrect thots” (p. 12) and poems shared as academic text, I became aware of revelations and deeper insight (An Honest Reflex, p. 57). I look forward to gaining additional insight when reading the exegisis section of Guiney Yollop’s dissertation in the weeks ahead.
“I believe in the reality of work. Period. I do not distinguish between creative and critical writing because all writing is creative…. And all writing is critical, requiring the same shifting, selection, scrutiny and judgment of the material at hand”.
(Mairs as cited in Dunlop, 1999, p. 6).
My initial reaction when reading the poetry in Guiney Yollop’s dissertation was that it was less rigorous or critical as compared to the highly academic, rhetorical texts written by McClelland (2006). As I reflect on Dunlop’s comments, I see the ‘inkorrect thots’ I had in dismissing poetry as academic writing. I look at these individual gifts of prose differently and see beyond the text to glimpse the semiotic struggle in creating the rhythm and the careful selection of words, lines, spacing and topics.
“If writing novels—and reading them—have any redeeming social value, it’s probably because they force you to imagine what it’s like to be somebody else. Which, increasingly, is something we all need to know. (1982, p. 119)”.
(Atwood cited in Dunlop, 1999, p. 9)
If this can be said about novels, it’s probably true about poetry. Guiney Yollop’s poems, as critical text in the dissertation, forces me, as reader, to imagine what it was like to be a gay man in education, teaching in a primary school classroom. While these poems resonate with the teaching experiences I’ve had, the elements of homophobia, leaving the priesthood, or living with a gay partner are outside my experience, but can be imagined through the poetic text shared by Guiney Yollop. As McClelland (2006) suggests, our reflective habits expand experience’s potential, thus resulting in enriched meaning of the world.
In my efforts to speak eloquently as a researcher, I also need to honour and intentionally consider the merits of the words written by others and not dismiss that which haunts them. This is my emergent rather than teleological cognition (McClelland, 2006).
References:
Dunlop, R. (1999). Boundary bay: A novel as educational research. [Doctoral dissertation]. University of British Columbia, Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. Retrieved from https://open.library.ubc.ca/cIRcle/collections/ubctheses/831/items/1.0078142
Guiney Yollop, J. (2008). Out of place: A poetic journey through the emotional landscape of a gay person’s identities within/without communities. (Doctoral dissertation). Western University, London, Ontario. Retrieved from https://central.bac-lac.gc.ca/.item?id=NR39350&op=pdf&app=Library
McClelland, K. (2006). Opening Truth to Imagination: The Pragmatism of John Dewey and Richard Rorty. (Doctoral dissertation). Brock University, St. Catherine’s, Ontario. Retrieved from http://dr.library.brocku.ca/handle/10464/1438
