Relevance and Relational Responsibility in Justice-Oriented Science Education Research
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| Title: | Relevance and Relational Responsibility in Justice-Oriented Science Education Research |
|---|---|
| Language: | English |
| Authors: | Tolbert, Sara (ORCID |
| Source: | Science Education. Jul 2018 102(4):796-819. |
| Availability: | Wiley-Blackwell. 350 Main Street, Malden, MA 02148. Tel: 800-835-6770; Tel: 781-388-8598; Fax: 781-388-8232; e-mail: cs-journals@wiley.com; Web site: http://www.wiley.com/WileyCDA |
| Peer Reviewed: | Y |
| Page Count: | 24 |
| Publication Date: | 2018 |
| Document Type: | Journal Articles Reports - Evaluative |
| Descriptors: | Scientific Research, Social Justice, Equal Education, Cultural Differences, Research Methodology, Educational Practices, Educational Researchers, Relevance (Education), Experimenter Characteristics |
| DOI: | 10.1002/sce.21446 |
| ISSN: | 0036-8326 |
| Abstract: | In this article, we critically examine what a commitment to equity, diversity, and social justice in science and science education means for our research practices and methods. Using a blend of critical cross-cultural and feminist lenses, we explore relationships of power in our research, specifically in terms of knowledge production, representation, and positionality. We also consider our ethical obligations and relational responsibilities as researchers in terms of caring and solidarity. We argue that relevance should be measured as a function of the transformative impact of the research enterprise. We also argue that to do this, researchers need to examine and expose their own positioning and positionality. We propose a variety of strategies, drawn from our work and from that of many others, which illustrate how to build and sustain more caring, ethical, responsive, and responsible relationships with research participants. |
| Abstractor: | As Provided |
| Entry Date: | 2018 |
| Accession Number: | EJ1181511 |
| Database: | ERIC |
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| FullText | Links: – Type: pdflink Url: https://content.ebscohost.com/cds/retrieve?content=AQICAHj0k_4E0hTGH8RJwT4gCJyBsGNe_WN95AvKlDbXJGqwxwHlpe9YvJ1YN9S-bpABQYdrAAAA4zCB4AYJKoZIhvcNAQcGoIHSMIHPAgEAMIHJBgkqhkiG9w0BBwEwHgYJYIZIAWUDBAEuMBEEDCrmoNC6dNFdn381ZQIBEICBmy4uTDZyT_WIJL5wNVmQaRltV-HjxTae9ArfPOgrsHQBKLrM6Wlbaaflvn4nLzzgmEW9JWymQAGN07IS7HrUfdeeW3eAt10q9FIjb_c1GJC2QcDfPEsnrKakEsjiTYarDxyqUcWsM3_oH2hGiPhbk5Y14CCn-h_hcMZslut6wugOkqDe7ePOwJ7jpuSFZj4GXkiEuvVGVuktKWpv Text: Availability: 1 Value: <anid>AN0130001520;sed01jul.18;2018Jun08.10:13;v2.2.500</anid> <title id="AN0130001520-1">Relevance and relational responsibility in justice‐oriented science education research </title> <p>Abstract: In this article, we critically examine what a commitment to equity, diversity, and social justice in science and science education means for our research practices and methods. Using a blend of critical cross‐cultural and feminist lenses, we explore relationships of power in our research, specifically in terms of knowledge production, representation, and positionality. We also consider our ethical obligations and relational responsibilities as researchers in terms of caring and solidarity. We argue that relevance should be measured as a function of the transformative impact of the research enterprise. We also argue that to do this, researchers need to examine and expose their own positioning and positionality. We propose a variety of strategies, drawn from our work and from that of many others, which illustrate how to build and sustain more caring, ethical, responsive, and responsible relationships with research participants.</p> <p>critical theory; decolonizing methods; feminist theory; justice; research</p> <hd id="AN0130001520-2">INTRODUCTION</hd> <p>Over the past few years, we (authors) have deliberated with each other and colleagues over what it means to do justice‐oriented research in science education. Each of us has entered the field of science education research as a pathway for pursuing social and ecological justice through scholarship that is socially transformative, i.e., effecting social change in the name of justice, and grounded in the needs of the public—with a focus on those who are most marginalized in society, science, and science education. Through these discussions, we have considered the tensions, opportunities, possibilities, and challenges that emerge from our efforts to ensure that both the content and process of our work adhere to principles of justice in/through science and science education. We recognize that across the world and across various disciplines within education research, scholars and activists have long been challenging what counts as knowledge, how to pursue it through educational research, and what our role should be as public intellectuals and scholar activists (e.g., Erickson &amp; Gutierrez, [<reflink idref="bib25" id="ref1">25</reflink>] ; Harding, [<reflink idref="bib38" id="ref2">38</reflink>] ; Tuck &amp; Yang, [<reflink idref="bib75" id="ref3">75</reflink>] ; Tuhiwai Smith, [<reflink idref="bib76" id="ref4">76</reflink>] ). In this paper, we engage the important challenges identified within our own conversations as well as by these scholars. Specifically, we critically examine the role of research methodologies and research relationships within justice‐centered science education inquiries, particularly given the settler colonial histories of both scientific and educational research. Our primary goal is to consider, if we are truly committed to equity, diversity, and social justice in science and science education, how do/should those commitments play out in our research practices? Furthermore, as scientists and science educators are encouraged to take on a more explicitly justice‐oriented stance in our research and the public arena more broadly (Prescod‐Weinstein, Tuttle, &amp; Osmundson, [<reflink idref="bib55" id="ref5">55</reflink>] ; Tolbert &amp; Bazzul, [<reflink idref="bib71" id="ref6">71</reflink>] ), it is imperative that we revisit questions such as who does our scholarship serve, and how does our research serve the interests of the public, particularly those who are most marginalized in schools and in science, and what are our ethical and relational responsibilities to research participants? In the sections below, therefore, we explore relationships of power in the content of our research, focusing in particular on knowledge production, participation, representation, and positionality. We also analyze relationships of power in the research process, reframing our ethical obligations and relational responsibilities in terms of caring and solidarity.</p> <p>Some scholars in science education have urged the field to consider critical and political lenses as a form of praxis in research. Calabrese Barton ([<reflink idref="bib16" id="ref7">16</reflink>] ) made a case for this with her contention that “to achieve a more just science education for all urban students explicitly political research methodologies must be considered and incorporated into urban education” (p. 899). She argued that critical ethnography could shift the field of science education from “research on or even research for to research as participatory pedagogy, that is, research with” (p. 912, emphasis added). We expand upon Calabrese Barton's work here by outlining additional elements of critical praxis in justice‐centered research in science education. One of the key aims of this piece is to work through the challenges of what it means to do justice‐oriented research in practice—in a way that permeates through the processes and relationships of the research in addition to the content and outcomes. Of all the research traditions, feminist and decolonizing methodologies have attended in more nuanced ways to the dynamics of power and relationships in research methods, including the complex, intersecting positionalities we bring to any research project. Thus, we draw heavily from these traditions.</p> <p>This paper emerged from several years of conversations and reflections between the authors, throughout which we critically reflected upon our roles as researchers working within what we identified as social justice contexts in science education. We have attempted to engage a feminist ethic of thinking with care (Puig de la Bellacasa, [<reflink idref="bib57" id="ref8">57</reflink>] ) as our method for these critical reflections: “Thinking in the world involves acknowledging our own involvements in perpetuating dominant values, rather than retreating into the secure position of an enlightened outsider who knows better” (p. 197). From these conversations emerged several central themes: relevance, public, scholarship‐activism, representation, positionality, care, and solidarity. We decided to individually record written reflections along these themes and to share them with each other before meeting to discuss our reflections in April 2016, at a national science education conference. After discussing our written reflections on these subjects, we refined and regrouped the themes as they are now represented in this article. We then reviewed critical methodological studies in education in relation to the themes that we identified, with particular attention to the concept of power in research relationships, processes, and products, and used this review to expand upon our ideas. In coauthoring this paper, we have sought to maintain the integrity of our initial critical and reflective approach by connecting our personal experiences as science education researchers with larger debates and concerns for education research and social justice. We specifically focus on research relationships working with school participants and within marginalized communities. As such, we hope science education scholars who work within school contexts, those who work in contexts in which relationships of power and positionality are concerns, and those who are new to researching aspects of social justice within science education will find this article particularly useful. We also hope educational researchers in other contexts will also find these conversations relevant.</p> <hd id="AN0130001520-3">THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK: JUSTICE, POWER, AND KNOWLEDGE</hd> <p>Naming and disrupting hegemonic systems designed to oppress, dominate, and dehumanize groups of people and individuals on the basis of their race, ethnicity, (dis)ability, gender identity, class, immigration status, language, sexual orientation, etc., are two key goals of social justice education and social justice research. Because of the deeply entrenched nature of hegemony and oppression, however, even justice‐oriented approaches to education and research can have the effect of reproducing oppressive power relations (Fine, Weis, Weseen, &amp; Wong, [<reflink idref="bib27" id="ref9">27</reflink>] ). Power and positionality are always present within research; yet they are often disguised and underacknowledged in science education research, particularly within positivist traditions that, in the name of empiricism or objectivity, attempt to hide the role of the researcher. Though qualitative research traditions have sought to “minimize the distance and separateness of researcher–participant relationships” (Karnieli‐Miller, Strier, &amp; Pessach, [<reflink idref="bib40" id="ref10">40</reflink>] , p. 279), even as distance and separateness are minimized, power and positionality are still very much present, and merit careful consideration.</p> <p>In this article, we ground our examination of power and relationships in science education research within egalitarian theories (e.g., Young, [<reflink idref="bib84" id="ref11">84</reflink>] ), feminist scholarship (e.g., Harding, [<reflink idref="bib38" id="ref12">38</reflink>] ; hooks, [<reflink idref="bib39" id="ref13">39</reflink>] ; Lather, [<reflink idref="bib41" id="ref14">41</reflink>] ; Noddings, [<reflink idref="bib51" id="ref15">51</reflink>] ), decolonial theory (e.g., Tuck &amp; Yang, [<reflink idref="bib75" id="ref16">75</reflink>] ; Tuhiwai Smith, [<reflink idref="bib76" id="ref17">76</reflink>] ), and critical pedagogy, or science education as empowerment (e.g., Darder, [<reflink idref="bib22" id="ref18">22</reflink>] ; Dimick, [<reflink idref="bib23" id="ref19">23</reflink>] ; Freire, [<reflink idref="bib30" id="ref20">30</reflink>] ; Rodriguez, [<reflink idref="bib58" id="ref21">58</reflink>] ; Tolbert, Snook, Knox, &amp; Udoinwang, [<reflink idref="bib73" id="ref22">73</reflink>] ; Wheeler‐Bell, [<reflink idref="bib82" id="ref23">82</reflink>] ). All of these theories directly address relationships of power in research and provide important tools for reflecting on how justice‐oriented scholars in science education can attend to issues of power and positionality in their roles as researchers. Drawing upon these egalitarian theories, we articulate a relational justice perspective to affirm how “obligations of justice arise between persons by virtue of the social processes that connect them” (Young, [<reflink idref="bib85" id="ref24">85</reflink>] , p. 102), acknowledging that relationships are constituted within particular material, historical, social, and political contexts. Feminist scholars have helped us to consider issues of subjectivity as well as feminist ethics of care as central to de/reconstructing power dynamics in research relationships (e.g., Butler, [<reflink idref="bib15" id="ref25">15</reflink>] ; Noddings, [<reflink idref="bib51" id="ref26">51</reflink>] ; Puig de la Bellacasa, [<reflink idref="bib56" id="ref27">56</reflink>] ). Indigenous scholars make explicit the role of settler colonialism within what we have come to accept as “standard” research practice and ideas about objectivity and knowledge production. Indigenous theories of decolonization have also been integral in our discussions about how to create less exploitative and more participatory research projects, as well as how/when to altogether refuse the research process and/or inclusion of the Academy in collaborations with minoritized communities (e.g., Tuck &amp; Yang, [<reflink idref="bib75" id="ref28">75</reflink>] ; Tuhiwai Smith, [<reflink idref="bib76" id="ref29">76</reflink>] ). We draw upon critical pedagogy and empowerment scholarship to (re)read and (re)write our own research experiences and to offer more empowering avenues forward for all those who participate in the field of science education (Freire, [<reflink idref="bib30" id="ref30">30</reflink>] ).</p> <p>It is important to understand how power dynamics in research are constituted by microlevel interactions (e.g., between researchers and participants), as well as by institutions that wield power, such as professional organizations (NARST, American Association for the Advancement of Science, etc.); the Academy (particularly in terms of tenure and promotion); national/global education discourses (e.g., that are situated within histories of racism, patriarchy, neoliberalism, and globalization); federal/state organizations (e.g., National Science Foundation, Department of Education, state/federal accountability measures, the National Research Council's Next Generation Science Standards); and neoliberal/corporate influences (e.g., Pearson, Educational Testing Service [ETS]).[<reflink idref="bib1" id="ref31">1</reflink>] These larger discourses and institutional contexts raise questions that we feel have been largely underinterrogated, for example: How do discourses of power materialize in science education research practices and agendas? What counts as “rigorous” research? What forms of research are explicitly and implicitly supported and accepted by journal review boards, international science education organizations, faculty hiring committees, funding agencies, and so forth? How might larger institutions of power influence both the processes and the end goals of research and in what ways might they also foster social justice‐centered goals? For instance, Carter's ([<reflink idref="bib19" id="ref32">19</reflink>] ) critique of science education reform documents how curriculum standards have been influenced by globalization, as a system of power, in ways that are often limiting and regressive.</p> <p>(In)equality also materializes in the complicated and often messy social relations between and among researchers and participants. As academics, power and privilege are certainly at play when we conduct research within school settings, where a distinct hierarchy from administrators to teachers to students dominates most school structures. Power differentials in school research settings are further entangled within each individual's (researcher, student, teacher, administrator) social/political positionalities (i.e., race, gender/gender identity, sexual orientation, ability, language, country of origin, class) and are negotiated and performed through interpersonal interactions. We ask, how do these structures of power constitute science education researchers’ roles in schools? How might researchers create and negotiate more socially just research relationships and roles? How do researchers’ own social, political, and gendered/classed/racialized positions influence the research relationship, particularly when research is conducted within economically oppressed or historically marginalized communities?</p> <p>In recent years, some justice‐oriented science education scholars have taken on critical and participatory approaches in an attempt to use more anti‐oppressive research methods (e.g., Basu, [<reflink idref="bib7" id="ref33">7</reflink>] ; Calabrese Barton, [<reflink idref="bib16" id="ref34">16</reflink>] ; Elmesky, [<reflink idref="bib24" id="ref35">24</reflink>] ). Even well‐intended, critical, and/or participatory research, however, “can still impose agendas that support particular versions of what constitutes appropriate thoughts, behaviour, and action” (Barrett, [<reflink idref="bib5" id="ref36">5</reflink>] , p. 212). In other words, the research process in critical participatory methods might not result in as “full and equitable participation” (p. 213) as intended when researchers and participants unwittingly reenact oppressive social and political positions and behaviors (e.g., racism, classism, heteronormativity, sexism).</p> <p>While critical and participatory paradigms of research may play a key role in disrupting oppressive power relations in the research process, their ability to actualize more just relations depends upon the researchers’ ongoing deep reflection to reveal contexts of oppression and power dynamics. Freire ([<reflink idref="bib30" id="ref37">30</reflink>] ) describes this as an</p> <p>issue of indubitable importance …: the fact that certain members of the oppressor class join the oppressed in their struggle for liberation, thus moving from one pole of the contradiction to the other. Theirs is a fundamental role, and has been so throughout the history of this struggle. It happens, however, that as they cease to be exploiters or indifferent spectators or simply the heirs of exploitation and move to the side of the exploited, they almost always bring with them the marks of their origin: their prejudices and their deformities, which include a lack of confidence in the people's ability to think, to want, and to know. (p. 60)</p> <p>Because a key goal of research is often the production of new knowledge, issues of power are inevitable. As academics, we are inevitably imbued with a certain level of power and status that is not generally bestowed (at least, from a hegemonic, societal/institutional perspective) on teachers, students, and (marginalized) communities with whom we work. In other words, our forms of knowledge production (and the knowledges generated) are institutionally privileged. As Gaventa and Cornwall ([<reflink idref="bib32" id="ref38">32</reflink>] ) contend:</p> <p>Knowledge, as much as any resource, determines definitions of what is conceived as important, as possible, for and by whom. Through access to knowledge, and participation in its production, use and dissemination, actors can affect the boundaries and indeed the conceptualization of the possible …. [A]gency in the process of knowledge production, or co‐production with others, can broaden these boundaries enormously. (p. 72)</p> <p>The production of knowledge is an important and central role of universities. Knowledge production, however, is complex, situated, and wrought with interactions of power (micro and macro), such as those we described previously. Thus, the production (and consumption) of knowledge must always be accompanied with the imperative to question: “Whose knowledges? Where and how obtained, by whom, from whom, and for what purposes?” (Olesen, [<reflink idref="bib52" id="ref39">52</reflink>] , p. 129). We recognize that the Academy “produces knowledge shaped by the imperatives of the nation‐state, while claiming neutrality and universality in knowledge production” (Tuck &amp; Yang, [<reflink idref="bib75" id="ref40">75</reflink>] , p. 233). We academics, therefore, must be relentless in our own ongoing attempts to revolutionize ourselves (Tolbert &amp; Bazzul, [<reflink idref="bib71" id="ref41">71</reflink>] ). Our interest in examining knowledge production is to reveal how alternative methodologies and alternative forms of participation within research relationships can broaden the boundaries of research so that knowledge is co‐constructed and shared widely, with respect to the self‐determination of participants, and research is counter‐hegemonic, attending to radical and progressive social needs (Apple, [<reflink idref="bib3" id="ref42">3</reflink>] ).</p> <p>In this paper, we attempt to lay out some considerations in response to the questions we have raised. In the sections that follow, we examine “relevance” and “relational responsibility” as they relate to power, justice, solidarity, and the production of knowledge in science education. We interrogate our own positions and experiences as opportunities for self‐reflection. In the sections below, we introduce our two overarching themes, (<reflink idref="bib1" id="ref43">1</reflink>) relevance in research and (<reflink idref="bib2" id="ref44">2</reflink>) relational responsibility—which we follow with more detailed descriptions for subtopics that emerged from our conversations and review of the literature. Several of these subtopics are illustrated as vignettes inside text boxes that more concretely exemplify our own ongoing efforts and challenges related to each of these topics. For each major theme, we also propose areas for further consideration and dialogue. Finally, we consider how our professional science education research communities might better incorporate practices of caring and solidarity.</p> <hd id="AN0130001520-4">RELEVANCE IN RESEARCH</hd> <p>In this section, we take up the concerns we raised in our introduction, mainly: who does our scholarship serve and whether it serves the interests of the public. We pay particular attention to the products and outcomes of research in this section and highlight mainstream/dominant perspectives on science education scholarship, while considering what is/should be the focus of our work. We critically analyze how “imperatives of the nation‐state” (Tuck &amp; Yang, [<reflink idref="bib75" id="ref45">75</reflink>] ) shape institutional practices, acting as (re)territorializing forces that dictate what counts as acceptable scholarship in our field, and consider how we might open up new spaces for relevant, creative, and socially transformative science education projects.</p> <p>Traditional approaches to research and scholarship in science and science education have often been rooted in dominant, positivist perspectives of objectivity and empiricism, frequently grounded in the idea that there is no place for politics in the pursuit of knowledge (Harding, [<reflink idref="bib38" id="ref46">38</reflink>] ; Tuhiwai Smith, [<reflink idref="bib76" id="ref47">76</reflink>] ). Feminist science philosopher Sandra Harding debunks this conception of objectivity and empiricism as “far too weak a strategy to maximize the objectivity of the results of research that empiricists desire” (p. 56), “let alone the more difficult projects called for by feminisms and other new social movements” (p. 51, 1993). Haraway ([<reflink idref="bib37" id="ref48">37</reflink>] ) has argued that our problem is one of how “to have simultaneously an account of radical historical contingency for all knowledge claims and knowing subjects, a critical practice for recognizing our own ‘semiotic technologies’ for making meanings, and a no‐nonsense commitment to faithful accounts of a ‘real’ world …” (p. 187). Bazzul and Kayumova ([<reflink idref="bib10" id="ref49">10</reflink>] ) point to the largely depoliticized nature of science education scholarship and call for more rhizomatic approaches that encompass multiple material and sociopolitical realities of our current moment:</p> <p>Science educators are often stuck with depoliticized, completely objective images of science and science education, where everything follows a coherent and linear progression….For science education to be critical and social justice‐oriented, it must steer away from close‐ended, depoliticized science activities, which work to reproduce subjects, teachers, students, and researchers, through depoliticized repetitive practices (Bazzul, 2014), and engage with relevant and rich social and political contexts for learning. (p. 284)</p> <p>Our primary interests here are to encourage a more expansive consideration of scholarly work that can allow researchers to ethically explore the complex research questions and creative projects that socially and politically engaged researchers should pursue.</p> <p>Recent critical scholarship has revealed ways that politics of domestication serve to tame our overall commitment to justice‐oriented and activist work (Bazzul &amp; Siry, [<reflink idref="bib9" id="ref50">9</reflink>] ; Rodriguez, [<reflink idref="bib59" id="ref51">59</reflink>] ). We continue to seek ways to become better listeners of marginalized voices, such as those represented by the aforementioned scholarship. Discourses of professionalism in academic settings are discourses of power that socialize members of a field into what is and is not acceptable behavior, worthy lines of scholarship, etc. (Rodriguez, [<reflink idref="bib59" id="ref52">59</reflink>] ; Tolbert &amp; Eichelberger, [<reflink idref="bib72" id="ref53">72</reflink>] ). We work toward rejecting these domesticating discourses of professionalization as conformity to the status quo in education, such as being told not to pursue activism as research and not to publish in alternative journals. Instead, we encourage standards of professionalism that promote creativity (vs. standardization), critique, and transformation of unjust educational conditions and opportunities.</p> <p>One criticism we often hear about research focused on social justice issues is that the research overemphasizes qualitative research on the affective domain (i.e., on teachers’/students’ attitudes, dispositions, or feelings about science). Yet, research that emphasizes only “achievement” outcomes and/or only on affective outcomes is an incomplete representation of learning. We argue that we must strive to provide more evidence (be it through quantitative, qualitative, or hybrid methodologies) of the impact our research has on multiple dimensions of participants’ growth, including their ideological locations, (socio)scientific understandings, identities/orientations, and their ability to engage those understandings within scientific and sociopolitical contexts. Some researchers are pursuing more activist‐ and transformative‐oriented research that attend to these multiple dimensions, e.g., through critical and feminist ethnography, decolonizing and critical race methods (counterstorytelling), critical quantitative studies, critical action research, and phenomenology to name a few (e.g., Aguilar‐Valdez et al., [<reflink idref="bib1" id="ref54">1</reflink>] ; Basile &amp; Lopez, [<reflink idref="bib6" id="ref55">6</reflink>] ; Bencze &amp; Alsop, [<reflink idref="bib13" id="ref56">13</reflink>] ; Garibay, [<reflink idref="bib31" id="ref57">31</reflink>] ; Morales‐Doyle, [<reflink idref="bib49" id="ref58">49</reflink>] ; Rodriguez, [<reflink idref="bib61" id="ref59">61</reflink>] ; Tolbert et al., [<reflink idref="bib73" id="ref60">73</reflink>] ). In addition, researchers interested in transformative research often use multiple metrics, such as students’ community‐ or school‐based projects; students’ exhibits of their findings at school or at other public venues; teacher and/or students’ presentation of findings at research conferences, and other products. All of these approaches provide multiple data points to assess the transformative impact of the research enterprise on participants.</p> <p>We also contend that to better assess the impact of transformative research (i.e., that which utilizes multiple metrics, alternative critical methodologies, and/or multiple forms of evidence), researchers should measure the catalytic validity of their work. Lather ([<reflink idref="bib41" id="ref61">41</reflink>] ) explains that catalytic validity measures the local usefulness of the research for the participants. This notion resonates well with Freire's social pragmatism because it seeks to clearly define what was truly beneficial to the participants from the actual improvements in their practice, working conditions, learning environment, and/or ideological and sociocultural locations from their own standpoint and using their own voices. Therefore, catalytic validity is best exemplified when the participants’ voices are significantly brought into the research narrative as evidence of transformation instead of the traditional disembodied, detached, and omnipotent voice of the researcher describing meaning for the participants’ experiences.</p> <hd id="AN0130001520-5">Narratives of engagement</hd> <p>Simple stories of victimization, with no evidence of resistance, resilience, or agency, are seriously flawed and deceptively partial … equally dreary, however, are the increasingly popular stories of individual heroes who thrive despite their difficulties, denying the burdens of surviving amid such circumstances.</p> <p>(Fine et al., [<reflink idref="bib27" id="ref62">27</reflink>] , p. 197)</p> <p>As Fine and colleagues ([<reflink idref="bib27" id="ref63">27</reflink>] ) suggest above, narratives that embody victimization without honoring the agency of participants, or heroism without acknowledging real contexts of oppression, are problematic. One approach that can be used to enact relevant and transformative research is by sharing narratives of engagement instead of narratives of despair or cheery narratives (Rodriguez, [<reflink idref="bib61" id="ref64">61</reflink>] ). Narratives of despair represent the common approach of focusing on what students, teachers, parents, administrators and others are not doing. This deficit approach to conducting research often positions the researcher as “the fly on the wall,” whose purpose is to objectively capture and then reinterpret the lived experiences of the Other. Furthermore, if we are committed to social change through our scholarship, we must remember that “cynicism and despair can only assist those who wish to remain in power” (Apple, [<reflink idref="bib3" id="ref65">3</reflink>] , p. 7). At the other extreme are the cheery narratives used by some researchers who only focus on describing how well everything turned out in the research enterprise without ever explaining any challenges, outlining perspectives or pitfalls.</p> <p>As an alternative, we suggest that narratives of engagement are possible through relevant and transformative research (Rodriguez, [<reflink idref="bib61" id="ref66">61</reflink>] ). These types of narratives acknowledge the complexity and struggles associated with working with minoritized students in increasingly challenging school contexts. Thus, narratives of engagement provide rich descriptions of the struggles and successes encountered; whereby each new struggle—and what is done collectively to address it—becomes part of the on‐going research enterprise. Similarly, each success becomes a stepping stone to continue gaining new insights and building success as the research enterprise progresses, while simultaneously revealing spaces of possible action and pockets of resistance (Tolbert, [<reflink idref="bib70" id="ref67">70</reflink>] ). The following vignette illustrates a narrative of engagement.</p> <hd id="AN0130001520-6">Narratives of engagement: An example of sociotransformative research</hd> <p>In this example, I worked with Gary—an Anglo‐male, former geologist, who had decided to switch careers and go into teaching. Following an ethnographic approach, I worked with Gary through his teacher preparation when he was a student in my science methods course, and then during his first 2 years as a certified teacher assigned to teach astronomy and physics at an economically disadvantaged high school. This study was guided by sociotransformative constructivism (Rodriguez, [<reflink idref="bib58" id="ref68">58</reflink>] ), which is a critical orientation to teaching and learning that blends cross‐cultural education (as a theory of social justice) with social constructivism (as a theory of learning). Gary was selected to participate in this study because of his strong commitment “to give back to the community.” As a mature individual with children attending public schools, he wanted to make science more culturally and socially relevant to everyone; thus, sociotransformative constructivism appealed to him as a framework that could guide his emerging teacher persona. However, during his first year, Gary encountered a myriad of sociocultural pressures (e.g., culturally diverse students vs. mainly Anglo teacher population; students from mainly low‐income backgrounds), historical pressures (e.g., long standing history of low interest and participation in science courses—especially by female students; no extracurricular science activities) and institutional pressures (e.g., mandated standardized testing; lack of professional development support; lack of science equipment and materials; lack of English language support) that worked against his desire to effect change. These constraints and Gary's efforts to work against them are documented in Rodriguez ([<reflink idref="bib61" id="ref69">61</reflink>] ), but one important aspect to highlight here is the negative socialization pressure Gary encountered. During his first year, he was shocked to see the level of low expectations that permeated the school culture. He talked about how some teachers put pressure on him not to “care too much,” and not to assign homework “because students just don't do it.” On the other hand, he was disheartened by how students had bought into the culture of low expectations and similarly expected little from most of their teachers. One student said in one of our focus group interviews, “there are two kinds of teachers here. Those who want to be here and those who shouldn't be here.” We saw Gary struggle with these tensions as a beginning teacher during our onsite visits, informal conversations, and ethnographic interviews. Since the guiding framework of our project was sociotransformative constructivism, we used dialogic conversations as a tool to engage meaningfully with Gary and to help him reflect on the kind of teacher he said he wanted to be and the kind of teacher he was becoming in his new teaching context. Dialogic conversations draw from the work of Bakhtin ([<reflink idref="bib4" id="ref70">4</reflink>] ) and the notion of dialogicality and multivoiceness of mind (Wertsch, [<reflink idref="bib81" id="ref71">81</reflink>] ) to engage in honest, direct, and transformative conversations based on trust, respect, and the desire to grow as a person. In response, Gary decided to take personal and pedagogical risks and began to push against the culture of low expectations. He began to assign more and more challenging homework; held students accountable for all assigned work; began to provide scaffolding support to students struggling with content and/or language; created an astronomy club and began parents’ nights to increase parents’ participation; and began to gather more resources for his students. All of these efforts resulted in a more positive response from students, parents, and the administration, and at the same time created new challenges for Gary (which are explained in the full article, Rodriguez [[<reflink idref="bib61" id="ref72">61</reflink>] ]).</p> <p>This example illustrates how narratives of engagement could provide more representative and balanced snapshots of the challenges and successes of teaching for social justice, and the transformative role researchers can (and should) play. What is significant here is the way in which the published research products seek to highlight a different and more active role for the researcher. Unlike other studies in which researchers often observe and document the struggles of the other for publication purposes in scholarly journals, narratives of engagement require situating the researcher within the study to demonstrate a more transformative, socially responsible, and collaborative approach to research that assists in better understanding the obstacles, as well as whatever sources of support might be available to catalyze transformative action. We argue that it is at this phenomenological intersection where the root cause of challenges is understood and where the material, emotional, and/or cognitive resources needed to take next steps are identified.</p> <hd id="AN0130001520-7">Thinking with care: Collective knowledge making</hd> <p>In our reflections on relevance, we also encourage the continued growth of multiple critical traditions and perspectives within our field (Moore Mensah, [<reflink idref="bib48" id="ref73">48</reflink>] ). We argue that such an approach avoids reductionism, serves to counter neoliberal, racist and heteropatriarchal attacks on education and critical education research, builds solidarity, and facilitates the creative exploration of new world‐making possibilities. Harding ([<reflink idref="bib38" id="ref74">38</reflink>] ) reminds us that “the very best science is always an assemblage of heterogeneous elements … This kind of disunity, too, is a source of sciences’ objectivity and creativity” (p. 124).</p> <p>Collective knowledge making can also act as a way to politicize what counts as knowledge production within science education research. Drawing from multiple theoretical perspectives in our work is a complex and rigorous practice that requires “awareness of multiple roots and [an] openness to follow[ing] lines of surprising connections” (Puig de la Bellacasa, [<reflink idref="bib57" id="ref75">57</reflink>] , p. 202). Puig de la Bellacasa ([<reflink idref="bib57" id="ref76">57</reflink>] ) includes this idea as part of thinking with care, a construct she develops, in part, from the work of feminist science philosopher Donna Haraway. In addition to the diffractive layering of multiple theoretical perspectives, she includes in her articulation of thinking with care “acknowledging a collective of knowledge makers—however loose its boundaries and complex its shapes” and argues for “a style of connected thinking and writing … rather than using the thinking of others as mere ‘background’ against which to foreground one's own” (Puig de la Bellacasa, [<reflink idref="bib57" id="ref77">57</reflink>] , p. 202). This practice of thinking with care also means acknowledging those with whom we collectively engage in thinking (and world making), who may not be academics, who may be human or other‐than‐human, despite the fact that academic settings do not generally value this “eclectic” approach. We offer up</p> <hd id="AN0130001520-8">Knowledge coproduction in a teacher inquiry group</hd> <p>In an attempt to learn with and from science teachers engaged in social justice teaching, we (Sara and Alexa) established a teacher inquiry research project, which is a collaborative project between researchers and teachers in which teachers identify and share incidents in their classrooms that they feel act as important moments where students experience aspects of empowerment toward social justice. We also established this project in an effort to create a space where teachers could collaborate, build, and learn from one another's practice. Two teachers participated in the first year and five were involved in the second (and seven in our now third) year of the study. We meet online each month for 1 hour discussion after reviewing teachers’ reflections and artifacts about incidents. The majority of the participating teachers are those we have known and worked with for several years as colleagues and friends and in other research projects. All are secondary science teachers of minoritized students in low‐income schools.</p> <p>When we began the inquiry group, we established a common language to talk about social justice in the classroom by exploring how students experience empowerment through different curricula and instruction (see Dimick, [<reflink idref="bib23" id="ref78">23</reflink>] ; Tolbert et al., [<reflink idref="bib73" id="ref79">73</reflink>] ). Initially student empowerment focused on academic, social, and political empowerment. Academic empowerment means that students are taught scientific knowledge and skills so they can be successful in schools and society. Social empowerment involves creating classroom social relationships and interactions between teachers and students and among students that are safe, supportive, and nondiscriminatory. In political empowerment, students have opportunities to act upon and transform current inequitable conditions in their lives and within and outside of schools. In a concurrent study on social justice teaching, however, that one of us was conducting with several of the teachers who were in or later joined the inquiry group (Tolbert, [<reflink idref="bib70" id="ref80">70</reflink>] ), they jointly concluded that these three categories were incomplete and theorized a new category “emotional empowerment” to refer to the development of relationships in the classroom that support students’ mental health and emotional well‐being. In this act, the teachers brought an</p> <p>aspect of the students’ needs and experiences into view that we as researchers had insufficiently acknowledged. Because of this, emotional empowerment became a fourth dimension to our inquiry group.</p> <p>The inquiry group evolves and is shaped by the participants’ interests and needs. While a majority of our meetings are spent examining specific curricular and instructional incidents, the focus of meetings changes when teachers want to share pressing justice‐centered needs in their classes and schools. They turn to the collective expertise of this group to explore concerns, such as a recent one in which one teacher, Vee, posed the following question to the group: “What is just good teaching that you would do in any “privileged” school setting and what REALLY is teaching science for social justice? What are the basic tenets of teaching science for social justice?” Her question was grounded in two significant events: First, four students were shot in the school parking lot (fortunately, none died though some were hospitalized). Second, in response to the growing incidence of explicitly racist discourses following the 2016 presidential election, her students helped organize a citywide walkout and sit‐in at the school. The following quotes are excerpts from this conversation:</p> <p>Vee: We need to understand who our kids are, we need to understand what trauma informed teaching is, we need to understand what restorative practices are, we need to understand what inquiry student‐based science is, all of those things … those are all [aspects of] good teaching. But what is teaching for social justice?</p> <p>Ella: First and foremost, I think it's preparing the students to be successful under whatever system. And I think a lot of people don't do that … I would always joke that I had friends who were social justice teachers whose kids could make protest posters but couldn't do simple algebra problems or couldn't write a coherent paragraph. So for me the first part honestly is—society is what it is, these constructs are what they are, the status quo is what it is—and we are doing a disservice if we are not preparing kids who are equipped [to succeed academically] and not to just get by. So that's the first part. The second part for me is the nearest and dearest I guess to my heart is also giving them the skills and language to understand, deconstruct, and subvert that very system that they are trying to be successful in.</p> <p>Jonathan: I agree that teaching for social justice starts with providing the skills and the content, or at least providing them with the opportunity to learn them in a way that lets them be successful in whatever definition they choose and that takes a little of knowledge of the world to the point where you can understand what successful looks like for yourself, but then to use that to change the world in the way that it needs to be changed.</p> <p>The science teachers in this inquiry group emphasized the two most salient aspects of social justice education for them: high expectations and support for academic success, and social/political transformation. They do not compartmentalize these characteristics in practice but distinguish them here as a way to analytically express the significance of each.</p> <p>the following vignette (see Box 2) from one of our projects as an illustration of thinking with teacher participants as collective knowledge making.</p> <p>When teachers (and students) enter as researchers, and experts in their own right, science education research becomes richer (or more rigorous), democratized, and relationally responsible. The teachers’ participation in data analysis and critical reflection has helped deepen the theoretical and analytical lenses, expanding our collective understanding of youth empowerment and teaching science for social justice. Likewise, as the teachers voice their authentic concerns and desires for what they want to address, traditional researcher/researched roles are disrupted and new opportunities emerge for participants to explore meaningful problems and questions of their own choosing. The process of widening and redefining participation in research highlighted in this vignette, whereby participants collectively contribute to knowledge production, is one that we often see in fields outside of science education (see Cammarota &amp; Fine, [<reflink idref="bib18" id="ref81">18</reflink>] ) yet much less frequently within it. Notably, this process may often occur behind the scenes (i.e., through informal research participation and conversations). We argue that the research relationships and scholarly products are strengthened when participants’ roles become more formalized and publicly recognized. Being more transparent about researcher/participant interactions also provides critical guidance to new scholars who are learning to navigate the ethical boundaries of these complex relationships.</p> <hd id="AN0130001520-9">Public</hd> <p>We consider the concept of “public” as central to our conception of “relevant” research. Public originates with the Latin publicus, meaning “of or belonging to the people, State, or community” (https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/publicus#Latin). Invoking the word public, we characterize the work of education researchers as inherently dependent upon and responsive or accountable to the people and communities with whom we work. Taking this view of public, we contend that schools of education and education researchers occupy special status at (public) universities—that of intellectuals whose work ought to respond to the communities most in need of our attention and to the most pressing educational concerns that affect them. We contend that the current context of public science education places a special demand on science education researchers to address this primary concern: How do science education researchers address and seek redress for persistent social and ecological justice issues and concerns through their research? To tackle the challenges associated with working in schools facing complex historical, institutional, and sociocultural factors that obstruct the opportunities for access and success of marginalized students, we must be public intellectuals whose intellectual work engages with social justice concerns. In this section, we consider the public accountability of our research and related work for the most persistent and salient problems in the field of science education and contend that our vision of relevant research should be meaningful, accessible, and productive for participants and practitioners through public accessibility and accountability. Wineburg ([<reflink idref="bib83" id="ref82">83</reflink>] ) presses education researchers to question: “What does it mean to have a palpable effect on the lives of people in schools in ways that actually matter?” Accepting that this question is relevant to our research and intellectual work means that we also consider the role of power in collecting, producing, disseminating, and utilizing the knowledge produced. Power is a central feature in the production of knowledge because power imbues human interactions. Therefore, equitable opportunities for access and success in any community involve a series of transactions mediated by power dynamics. This means then that to effect positive transformations at the personal and/or collective levels, we need to acknowledge that “power is the currency of social change” (Rodriguez, [<reflink idref="bib58" id="ref83">58</reflink>] , p. 599).</p> <p>To examine publicness in relevant research, we draw from the values of "social accountability" in health professional education to explore aspects of accessibility and responsiveness in research (see The Training for Health Equity Network, [<reflink idref="bib69" id="ref84">69</reflink>] ). The public accessibility of education research must be problematized. Although journal articles are ostensibly "public" or accessible, they are not in actuality publicly accessible. Accessing the vast majority of published research requires a library account with a college or university that provides access to the particular journals in which the research is published. Open access journals and policies as well as online publication sharing networks make research more accessible. Yet other barriers persist, including inaccessible academic writing, lengthy manuscripts, and disjuncture between research findings and schooling practices. How often do the "researched" benefit from the research? We contend that our scholarship/intellectual work must become more public by (<reflink idref="bib1" id="ref85">1</reflink>) seeking to work with and write for members of communities outside our chosen research field and journals—including students, teachers, administrators, and community members engaged in science learning and teaching and (<reflink idref="bib2" id="ref86">2</reflink>) communicating to a wide array of audiences inclusive of as well as beyond academic ones.</p> <p>In our research, we have sought to increase accessibility in several ways. One of these approaches is by ensuring that the participants’ voices are authentically and centrally embedded in the research findings and conclusions of the study (this is discussed in the next section). Another approach includes democratizing our dissemination practices, such as writing articles for open‐access and practitioner journals, as well as coauthoring with participants for academic journals (e.g., Calabrese Barton &amp; Darkside, [<reflink idref="bib17" id="ref87">17</reflink>] ; Guilford et al., [<reflink idref="bib33" id="ref88">33</reflink>] ; Rodriguez &amp; Berryman, [<reflink idref="bib62" id="ref89">62</reflink>] ; Rodriguez, Collins‐Parks, &amp; Garza, [<reflink idref="bib63" id="ref90">63</reflink>] ; Schindel &amp; Tolbert, [<reflink idref="bib67" id="ref91">67</reflink>] ; Tolbert et al., [<reflink idref="bib73" id="ref92">73</reflink>] ). This public sharing relationship that we develop does not endanger the credibility of the research but rather increases its relevance. Because we have a commitment to sharing the findings with the participants with whom we work, generally over the duration of several years, we strive to maintain the reliability and authenticity of the written scholarly product such that it is verifiable by the participants themselves. Furthermore, we are committed to sharing our work with multiple audiences including those outside of the Academy. Indeed, if we are to include socially transformative potential as a measure of relevance then being able to communicate our scholarship to multiple audiences using a variety of registers is essential.</p> <hd id="AN0130001520-10">Relevant research in 21st century schools</hd> <p>Educational research in the 21st century—whether it is qualitative or quantitative or hybrid–should be assessed by how relevant it is to the community of practice to which it belongs, as well as to the participants engaged in the research enterprise. Furthermore, relevant research should engage multiple theoretical perspectives, positionalities, and lived experiences of researchers and participants; and catalyze socioscientific and transformative action. We recognize the tensions of pursuing nontraditional methods for many academics, who are pressured to secure funding and/or publish. However, we urge science education scholars to consider the ethical, moral, and professional responsibilities we have as privileged intellectuals to give back to the communities with which we work. We can also better serve our academic communities by pushing back against any research methodology that attempts to restrict the advancement of knowledge by imposing one‐fits‐all standards or instrumentalities. We are in agreement with Lather ([<reflink idref="bib42" id="ref93">42</reflink>] ), who explains:</p> <p>Method is political and it is a good thing to think with as we explore how much the development of a counter science “on our own terms” can be community based, community sustaining, and community serving in ways that might help alter the structures of institutions in more expansive democratizing ways. (p. 642)</p> <hd id="AN0130001520-11">Suggestions for relevant and socially transformative research</hd> <p>Public intellectualism is critical in times of political conservatism, marked by the further dismantling of public education, and the continued oppression of marginalized communities within both schooling and society. Central tasks of critical scholars in science education, then, must include revealing the ways that oppression plays out in educational policy and practice while expanding our understanding of what counts as research; ensuring that knowledge production serves progressive public and social needs and is communicated to a wide variety of audiences; and contributing to educational transformation that involves both redistributive and relational aspects of social justice (Dimick, [<reflink idref="bib23" id="ref94">23</reflink>] ). We find these critical and transformative research tasks are useful in terms of specifying what our commitments must be as scholars who are invested in justice work, and therefore as public intellectuals. Science education researchers understand the current context of public schools and are uniquely positioned to assess the challenges of and opportunities for transformative teaching and learning in science education and to seek redress for social injustices facing science education. We pose the following questions to continue reflection on the public‐ness and relevance of science education research:</p> <p>How can the science education research community work toward more relevant and socially transformative forms of research, and expand what counts as research (e.g., for publication, promotion, and funding) and the impact of research?</p> <p>In what ways should our work as education researchers be accountable to the broader public and specifically to the current students and educators who work in the real and complex contexts of schools in the United States?</p> <p>How relevant is existing research to students and teachers currently engaged in teaching and learning science in and out of schools? How can it be transformed for greater catalytic validity?</p> <p>How does our research seek to be responsive to the changing needs and requirements of science education in schools and to the changing needs of the participants with whom we work?</p> <p>How useful or productive is our research and what can be done to make it more meaningful to the participants?</p> <p>How is our work aligned with and supportive of broader social and political movements that are working to disrupt oppressive contexts?</p> <p>How are we sharing research findings in ways that inform (or disrupt) science and education policies?</p> <p>To what extent is the research produced or the production of research equitably available and accessible to schools, students, and teachers?</p> <p>How can we communicate research findings more broadly to the general public?</p> <p>How can we open up the standards and norms that have constituted science education scholarship to welcome more politicized, creative, and deviant lines of thought?</p> <hd id="AN0130001520-12">RELATIONAL RESPONSIBILITY</hd> <p>Given our commitment to considering how the content and processes of justice‐oriented research adheres to the commitments of justice we have outlined, we turn our attention in this section to the responsibilities we take on for being in research relationships. One way we have navigated the ethical responsibilities brought on by the demands of publishing research and holding ourselves to the commitment to conduct research that matters to participants in schools is by conceiving of research as being in relationship with participants. As we have described in the section on relevance above, we endeavor to conduct research that is relevant, applicable to, and holds significance for the teaching or learning of participants in the schools where we conduct research. To accomplish this, we establish relationships with the participants in which they have opportunities to participate in research that is meaningful to them. What is "meaningful" varies among participants and is inevitably locally and relationally contextualized. For example, though we have been involved in research that has developed into long‐term relationships with teachers or schools as we work together, we recognize that, even in the context of doing critical and participatory research, issues of power and ethics remain vital considerations. In the sections that follow, therefore, we discuss the role of caring and solidarity with/for research participants and reflect on the dynamics of power enacted through our own positionalities. We end by reflecting on how the politics of domestication (Rodriguez, [<reflink idref="bib59" id="ref95">59</reflink>] ) impact our roles and positioning as researchers who do critical work and propose questions for ourselves and those who are committed to striving toward critical, participatory, and justice‐oriented scholarship in science education.</p> <hd id="AN0130001520-13">Caring and solidarity with/for research participants</hd> <p>We draw upon our theoretical framework to explore how researchers in science education can foster ethics of care, solidarity, and reciprocity in justice‐oriented science education research relationships. In our work, practices of care and solidarity have become integral to our roles as researchers. We cannot separate care from the work we engage in—care for the research, caring about and for the participants, and care for how our roles as researchers influence the lives and work of participants and beyond. Feminist scholars have long been addressing questions of care in qualitative research (Stacey, [<reflink idref="bib68" id="ref96">68</reflink>] ). In conceiving of these relationships of care, we align with the work of critical and feminist caring scholarship in education that considers the multidimensional needs, dreams, and desires of participants throughout the research process. We understand compassion and care as not only moral and ethical lenses through which biases and power can be analyzed but also as labor and material practices invested to sustain, or engender, interdependent worlds (Puig de la Bellacasa, [<reflink idref="bib57" id="ref97">57</reflink>] ). We contend that care is central to students’ full participation in school science, particularly among marginalized youth (Noddings, [<reflink idref="bib51" id="ref98">51</reflink>] ; Rolón‐Dow, 2005; Ware, [<reflink idref="bib79" id="ref99">79</reflink>] ; Watson, Sealey‐Ruiz, &amp; Jackson, [<reflink idref="bib80" id="ref100">80</reflink>] ). Our conception of caring also highlights care within the research process, which we discuss in this section, including (<reflink idref="bib1" id="ref101">1</reflink>) how care is foundational to our research relationships and (<reflink idref="bib2" id="ref102">2</reflink>) how an anti‐oppressive caring research relationship begets solidarity with participants (and vice versa).</p> <hd id="AN0130001520-14">Care as foundational to research relationships</hd> <p>Notably, we are concerned that caring is an integral aspect of our educational practice and research, yet largely absent from academic conversations within the field of science education. Our goal, however, is not to prescribe a universal standard for caring in science education research, but rather to bring the construct of caring more prominently into our discussions of power, ethics, and responsibility in our research relationships. This discussion of care and caring in research relationships is inspired by many stories—stories of our own and others’ work within schools and specifically with teachers. As one example, one teacher with whom Alexa worked was extremely hesitant to work with anyone from a university after having been badly spurned by a university science education researcher. In this case, the teacher felt that the researcher had attempted to undermine his expertise by trying to take over the teacher's youth leadership program, which had taken years to develop. After this experience, he had no desire to work with researchers, whom he viewed as caring only about their own vested interests in schools. When Alexa and he met, they developed a relationship through their mutual involvement in environmental activism (in a nonresearch context). This formed the basis for a trusting relationship and helped the teacher overcome his prior hesitation to work with researchers. Before ever considering to work with Alexa in a research relationship, he had to know whether her interests were aligned with his interests in wanting to positively influence the lives of low income and minoritized youth in his school through environmental activism, and that Alexa would not undermine (or take over) his efforts. Similarly, a teacher in Elmesky's ([<reflink idref="bib24" id="ref103">24</reflink>] ) research shared her and her colleague's apprehension of working with researchers, stating:</p> <p>Most of the teachers were suspicious about the university researchers. They tried to avoid them, were apprehensive about being interviewed by them, and afraid that they might accidentally say something that might put them in "trouble" … I wasn't comfortable letting a university researcher into my classroom. I was worried that, if things went out of control, those events would become the focus of their research findings. When I shared this information with one of my coworkers, Ms. Cloud, a 30‐year veteran teacher, her reactions were negative, mainly because in her opinion educational researchers always concluded their findings without any input from the classroom teacher or students. (p. 83)</p> <p>These feelings of apprehension may be more common than not. Teachers, students, and families may be apprehensive about research for all kinds of reasons. We know that research has had (and continues to have) devastating effects on minoritized communities in particular and that research relationships are complicated, dynamic, and imbued with incongruent power dynamics (Smith, [<reflink idref="bib76" id="ref104">76</reflink>] ). In schools, the research relationship is one that can add value to and/or undermine teachers’ senses of professionalism and commitments. Similar concerns should be raised for experiences with youth participants, who may have fewer experiences with university researchers and have different vulnerabilities.</p> <p>Given the complexities of caring with/for participants who engage willingly with us in research via informed consent, our ethical responsibilities do not end upon approval from an institutional review board. Instead, we understand ethics as our relational responsibilities throughout the research and beyond as/through “maintenance of the caring relation.” Yet, we also recognize that this endeavor is inevitably complicated and wrought with tension. Therefore, we must attend both to ethics of caring as well as to ethical practices of responsibility in our research, ensuring, for example, that we are not imposing a “caring” relation on a participant who may not have the power or status to refuse the proposed research (Miller, Birch, Mauthner, &amp; Jessop, [<reflink idref="bib46" id="ref105">46</reflink>] ; Walker, [<reflink idref="bib78" id="ref106">78</reflink>] ).</p> <p>Puig de la Bellacasa ([<reflink idref="bib56" id="ref107">56</reflink>] ) discusses how attending to matters of care in our scholarship and research impels us to consider not only who we are caring for but also why we care, who cares, what for, and, most importantly, how we care. She also reminds us that caring is context dependent; there may be “specific needs for caring in each situation,” and therefore there is not “only one way of caring” (p. 96). In other words, how we care in one research relationship may not be exactly the same as how we care in another. Consideration of the how to aspects of caring aligns with Noddings ([<reflink idref="bib51" id="ref108">51</reflink>] ) assertion that the single universal component of caring is the “maintenance of the caring relation” (p. 85).</p> <p>In our qualitative and participatory research projects in science classrooms, we have found that caring, indeed, is a constant thread to which we attend throughout the work (and beyond). We recognize that caring brings up ongoing tensions and questions which we must thoughtfully consider, and that “A feminist inspired vision of caring cannot be grounded in the longing for a smooth harmonious world, but in vital ethico‐affective everyday practical doings that engage with the inescapable troubles of interdependent existences” (Puig de la Bellacasa, [<reflink idref="bib57" id="ref109">57</reflink>] , p. 199). Among these inescapable troubles lie inherent tensions, such as whether or not the research is truly beneficial for participants or whether or not it is “the most useful or appropriate intervention” (Tuck &amp; Yang, [<reflink idref="bib75" id="ref110">75</reflink>] , p. 236). Other tensions we have experienced include how/if to proceed when institutional politics or contexts shift or if/when interpersonal relationships with research participants or supporting staff (e.g., other administrative leaders at the school) become strained, due to differences in political and ethical commitments, etc. In long‐lasting research relationships, the research context and participants’ lives can change, people move, etc. Another tension lies in how we negotiate blurred boundaries between researchers and participants (Stacey, [<reflink idref="bib68" id="ref111">68</reflink>] ). Fine et al. ([<reflink idref="bib27" id="ref112">27</reflink>] ), citing Stacey ([<reflink idref="bib68" id="ref113">68</reflink>] ), highlight that “in our fieldwork, the lives, loves, and tragedies that informants share with researchers are ultimately data … the greater the intimacy … the greater the danger” (p. 180, 181). These blurred boundaries arise as researchers and participants develop close relationships and as participants share intimate details. Researchers must ultimately consider whether some intimate details are research findings versus information revealed within a personal context, and, ultimately, whether such information should be shared in a research context. For example, on a field trip with youth participants who had consented to be in the critical ethnographic/participatory research study, students in the van that Sara was driving chatted very openly and honestly about some of the challenges they faced, as immigrant youth, as adolescents trying to work out future directions for themselves, as young people navigating the complexities of teenage social life. Some of the details were things that had come up in other conversations with Sara, but other details were of a more personal nature. Suddenly, one student blurted out, “Oh my God, I forgot you were in the car!” These personal details were ones that Sara felt should not be shared or disseminated, given that they did not arise through conversations or interviews with youth as part of the project per se, but rather through students talking to each other about their lives without being fully aware that an adult (researcher) was present.</p> <p>Relational responsibility requires us to consider how participants want to be included in the research process, from project design to data collection and analysis to dissemination of findings. This can be a dialogic engagement with give and take on each side—as youth and teachers push for what they want, researchers may also push a little and together we create new openings and new practices. In the prior section on relevance, we discussed how catalytic validity cannot be achieved unless research practices and products are shared, reflected upon, and built upon with participants. But we also know that participants have different expectations for participating in the research process, and it is our responsibility to find ways to collectively meet the expectations of all involved, including ours. For example, for some teachers with whom we have worked, having opportunities to reflect deeply on their practice with another educator is a meaningful experience. For example, one member of the inquiry group described in Box 2, when asked if she wanted to continue to participate in the second year, responded, “Yes, this is the only opportunity I have to participate in a professional conversation about science teaching.” We have also found that while some participants are interested in collaborating or even taking a lead role on research design and analysis, others prefer a less participatory role, given the significant time commitment required of these tasks. It is our view that regardless of the extent to which teachers or students contribute to these research‐focused tasks, their intellectual contribution as teachers, learners, curriculum developers, contributors to the classroom conversation, etc., must be represented, recognized, and valued. We have also found that youth and teacher participants are often eager to share their perspectives and experiences and/or findings from collaborative research projects with local and national audiences (Andrade, Perez, &amp; Preston, [<reflink idref="bib2" id="ref114">2</reflink>] ; Tolbert et al., [<reflink idref="bib74" id="ref115">74</reflink>] ). What works within each study differs and evolves when we treat research as a process that occurs in relationship with participants (as opposed to research that is preset and solely defined by researchers).</p> <hd id="AN0130001520-15">Solidarity in research practice</hd> <p>A significant aspect of maintaining the caring relation within research involves how we act in solidarity with participants and what solidarity might look like in practice. Solidarity remains a significant issue regarding representation (e.g., the ways in which findings, data, and participants are represented in research products). We consider how to both honor and interrogate the data while maintaining the caring relation and also working in solidarity with participants so that caring does not become colonizing (e.g., Valdes, [<reflink idref="bib77" id="ref116">77</reflink>] ). What we encourage is not necessarily answers or guidelines, but rather more direct and honest discussions in our reports of findings that reveal how we decide what/how to report and not to report—and how we attend to the complicated political dimensions of representation while striving to maintain caring relationships and solidarity with/for participants.</p> <p>Solidarity also emerges as a significant aspect of our positionalities in the research process. More specifically, we reflect on how we (strive to) act in solidarity with research participants. Notably, our positionalities influence our interpretations of school and classroom events. Furthermore, attending to the relationships that we develop with participants (i.e., teachers, students) demands careful attention to our multiple positionalities, and to our relational responsibilities to participants who grant us access into their workplaces, lives, emotional selves, etc. Qualitative researchers often attend to issues of authenticity in our representations through member checking, peer debriefings, and triangulation as general trustworthiness practices, we are still confronted with the fact that it is “we” who are most often communicators of the narratives from our research. Referring to our prior example (see Box 1), we find that striving to avoid narratives of despair while also avoiding overly and misleading cheery narratives and aim instead for narratives of engagement not only increases the relevance of our work, but also represents an act of solidarity.</p> <p>We draw from ethnographic refusal as a method of research that centralizes the concerns, interests, and representational rights of the communities with whom we collaborate (Tuck &amp; Yang, [<reflink idref="bib75" id="ref117">75</reflink>] ). Though this tradition has a long history within Indigenous and decolonizing research methods (Tuhiwai Smith, [<reflink idref="bib76" id="ref118">76</reflink>] ), critical participatory and activist scholars have begun to apply these methods more broadly to research contexts with other marginalized communities (Liboiron, [<reflink idref="bib44" id="ref119">44</reflink>] ; see also Zahara, [<reflink idref="bib86" id="ref120">86</reflink>] , [<reflink idref="bib87" id="ref121">87</reflink>] ). Two key tenets of ethnographic refusal are (<reflink idref="bib1" id="ref122">1</reflink>) studying up, not down, whereby the focus of analysis, and representation, is on the oppressive systems rather than those suffering from them; and (<reflink idref="bib2" id="ref123">2</reflink>) through collective negotiation among researchers and participants, particular information from the research is purposefully withheld from publication and dissemination—with the explicit purpose of ensuring that communities maintain the self‐determination and capacity to respond to challenges on their own terms and timelines. Sometimes being in solidarity with research participants means not doing the research at all.</p> <hd id="AN0130001520-16">Positioning and positionality</hd> <p>A key issue in terms of representing ourselves in research is that of positioning and positionality. A researcher's positionality influences the research process in every aspect, from orienting toward a particular topic of study through research questions and theoretical paradigms, to identifying themes and disseminating findings. Math education scholars highlight the lack of attention to positionality in math education research and have pointed to its centrality, arguing that “everything about who the researcher is and what kinds of assumptions and operating theories that a researcher brings to the work that they're doing influences the design of that research, how participants are selected, what kind of data are collected, how one interacts with participants, [and] how research is analyzed” (p. 12, Gutierrez in D'Ambrosio et al., [<reflink idref="bib21" id="ref124">21</reflink>] ). We also recognize that, like mathematics education, issues of positionality are underattended to in science education scholarship. We call on scholars in science education to more explicitly identify positionality and more openly address issues of power and identity as we relate not only to “the researched” but also as we relate to our own roles as researchers—those who interpret and represent stories of/from “the Other.”</p> <p>Perhaps the most central aspect of positionality is a science education researcher's critical reflection on their own identity and positioning within macrosocietal racialized, gendered, classed, LGBTQ and other similar identities within varying research and schooling contexts (Moore Mensah, [<reflink idref="bib48" id="ref125">48</reflink>] ). By positionality, we refer to our multiple and varied identities, roles, and positions that are “intricately and inextricably embedded in the process and outcomes of education research” (Milner, [<reflink idref="bib47" id="ref126">47</reflink>] , p. 389). Issues of positionality in science education research and settings may differ from other (nonacademic) settings, and, therefore, demand additional critical reflection and attention.</p> <p>Positionality also plays a role in how we are perceived and received as professionals in our various fields. For example, Women of Color (WoC) in science settings experience oppression related to their status as both women and members of a minoritized racial/ethnic group “plus … oppression in the chosen career, science” (Malcom, Hall, &amp; Brown, [<reflink idref="bib45" id="ref127">45</reflink>] , p. ix). Oppression in this case can be enacted in the form of micro‐ and macroaggressions, sometimes referred to as the “double bind” in science, because women of color experience contexts of marginalization as both people of color and women (Ong, Wright, Espinosa, &amp; Orfield, [<reflink idref="bib53" id="ref128">53</reflink>] ). In STEM fields, this double bind affects WoCs retention, persistence, achievement, and overall experiences in STEM education and careers. Yet, similar issues of positionality are also at play more broadly for education researchers. We see this, for example, in the underrepresentation of faculty members of color in higher education (Gutiérrez y Muhs, Flores Niemann, González, &amp; Harris, [<reflink idref="bib35" id="ref129">35</reflink>] ; Rodriguez, [<reflink idref="bib59" id="ref130">59</reflink>] ).</p> <p>Issues of positionality also arise through the underattention to authors’ positionalities in science education research publications. Addressing this need involves explicit discussions of how researcher positionalities influence all aspects of the researcher role, including the questions researchers choose to ask, the way(s) in which researchers are received among various participants in research settings, as well as the way(s) in which various approaches (particularly anti‐oppressive approaches) to scholarship are received by the broader science education research community. For example, science education researchers may be more forthcoming about the positionality of the research participants and context than about their own positions (for a notable exception and exemplary positionality statement, see Morales‐Doyle, [<reflink idref="bib50" id="ref131">50</reflink>] ). Danny Martin (in D'Ambrosio et al., [<reflink idref="bib21" id="ref132">21</reflink>] ) has noted that, for him as a Black man, it is much more common and expected of him that he positions himself as such within his work. He contends, “we rarely hear people say, well I'm a white scholar and this is what this means relative to this research. And I think people are afraid to do that, quite honestly” (D'Ambrosio et al., [<reflink idref="bib21" id="ref133">21</reflink>] , p. 15).</p> <p>Finally, we view our role as critical and feminist scholars to draw heavily from and widely cite the intellectual contributions of women and people of color in our conference papers and publications. All too often, there is a (colonizing) appropriation of theories, methods, and pedagogies that focus on issues of justice, marginalization, and oppression with very little attention given to scholarship from within these communities who researchers claim to be working with/for. This can be seen even within critical scholarship, and, as Foster ([<reflink idref="bib29" id="ref134">29</reflink>] ) points out, is an act of marginalization:</p> <p>Even though there is a substantial and steadily accumulating body of research written by African American scholars from an African American perspective, it is too often the case that this work is marginalized from mainstream academic discourse….My early work on the performative aspects of “sharing time” (Foster, 1982) and my subsequent work on the Black tradition of performance … remain largely overlooked in scholarly considerations in favor of alternate, more mainstream, and Eurocentric explanations … (p. 144)</p> <p>We now turn the lens on ourselves to explore several aspects of positionality. As White cisgender women born in the United States, we (Sara and Alexa) recognize that our linguistic, racialized, and gendered identities are aligned with those of the majority of teachers in the profession, which grants us access, status, and privilege entirely based on our appearance not similarly granted to racially minoritized and/or queer‐identifying colleagues doing the same kind of work, while at the same time we experience marginalization as women in science—particularly women interested in what are referred to as “soft skills” such as caring, empowerment, ethics, etc., and interdisciplinary projects such as environmental studies (vs. “hard sciences”) in science and science education. Alberto, while having the privileges associated with being a middle‐class male, continues to encounter discrimination and obstructionism in and outside academic and school contexts by those who only see the immigrant, English as a second language speaker, dark skinned Latino who is interested in conducting equity and social justice research in science education. We must reflect constantly and with a particularly critical lens on how these complicated and potentially thorny issues of positioning and positionality play out, or are obstructed, in our research contexts and interpretations of our research by virtue of who we are and by virtue of with whom we wish to work. In the two vignettes below, we bring attention to some of the issues we have encountered.</p> <hd id="AN0130001520-17">Being the other, “studying up” and the diversity tax</hd> <p>In the vignette described above in Box 1, Narratives of Engagement, I described my work with Gary—an Anglo, male high school teacher. One important aspect that may go unnoticed about that vignette is the challenges associated with my positionality as a Latino (male), new immigrant, second language learner, science educator. In other words, by virtue of my physical appearance and my accent, I look like most of the students with whom Gary was working in that economically disadvantaged and predominantly Latin@ school. Thus, I looked like the Other—the students often identified as the subject of study and the people in need of “assistance.” However, in my position as a teacher educator and researcher, instead of being the subject of study, I was the one driving the research enterprise with a member of the predominant culture (the teacher). Needless to say, this context created an interesting dissonance among students—who seemed pleasantly surprised that I could communicate with them in Spanish, knew science, and I was the one “helping” their teacher (who looked like most teachers at their school). On the other hand, gaining access and trust from the school administration and other teachers was often more challenging because I looked and sounded like most the parents with whom they had to interact—and as I mentioned before there was a pervasive culture of low expectations at this school.</p> <p>Over the years, I have learned a variety of direct and indirect strategies for gaining respect and access to teachers from the predominant culture. While these are not always successful, I have learned to accept that these extra steps or struggles that minority scholars must encounter are part of the “diversity tax” we must pay for doing the job we were hired to do and that we are first and foremost passionate about. Diversity tax is the extra efforts, struggles, and institutional obstacles that underrepresented scholars encounter by virtue of their positionality, that members of the predominant culture often take for granted because of their exempt status. For example, I often feel that my credentials and experience are more closely scrutinized by teachers and administrators who are not accustomed to working with Latin@ professors (currently, I am still the only Latin@ in my college). Similarly, given my interest in social justice issues and the fact that I look like Other parents or their children, I often feel that I have to overemphasize that my goals are to collaboratively work with teachers and the administration to increase student engagement and achievement.</p> <hd id="AN0130001520-18">Positionality, access, and representation in international and indigenous contexts</hd> <p>As a science education scholar interested in socially transformative approaches to science education, I sought to learn more about teaching science with Indigenous (and other minoritized) students from the highly successful Te Kotahitanga Maori education project in Aotearoa New Zealand. I contacted, via a mutual connection and well‐established scholar in multicultural education, the Maori director of the program to, first, find out if there might be mutually beneficial interests at hand, and then together brainstorm possible research questions and methods for learning more about science education in Te Kotahitanga schools. The director responded enthusiastically and identified and facilitated connections with possible sites for the research. Each school had a different vetting process for me as an outside, White researcher. At one school site in which the majority of students were Maori, the leader of the local iwi (tribe) was consulted about the research. Before any research could begin, he led a powhiri (welcoming ceremony), which are Maori cultural ceremonies for determining whether a potential newcomer to a community is friend or foe. There certainly existed the possibility that he might decide I was not welcome to conduct the research project at that school. Not all communities need/desire to be a site of research, regardless of the justice‐oriented goals or intentions of the proposed work. Once being invited to conduct research in classrooms with Maori students and their predominantly White teachers, I also worked to carefully represent and avoid deficit narratives regarding the efforts of the teachers who were learning to become more culturally responsive. As an outside researcher and visitor to the classrooms, a highly critical account of their work would have been exploitative (i.e., a way to make myself appear as more "justice knowledgeable" and "woke" at their expense).</p> <p>During this study, I developed a strong friendship with one of the Maori teacher mentors. She became someone with whom I would often discuss my interpretations of the data I had been collecting. In addition to her work as a Te Kotahitanga mentor, she also was involved in domestic violence and sexual assault prevention. At one point, I discussed with her the issue of gender discrimination in Maori communities, based on interactions I had observed in the schools and classrooms I was visiting, as well as the practice of women being prohibited from speaking during a powhiri. Specifically, I asked her if Maori girls and women were perceived as lesser than, or subordinate to men, in Maori communities. Her response was a resounding, “No.” At that point, I realized that my initial interpretations of gender inequities were naive and essentializing, particularly given my perspective as a non‐Maori scholar from the United States, and should not be included in my analysis. Furthermore, I was not invited to the schools under the guise of exposing gender inequities that could be used to further support colonizing/essentializing claims about Maori (vs. non‐Maori) communities in conversations about gender discrimination. Since then, I've also followed up on the issue and learned more about how Maori women became more subordinated through British colonization and the imposition of English law, as the British brought with them legal discourses and parameters that effectively institutionalized gender discrimination across the country.</p> <p>Alberto's vignette in Box 3 illustrates that becoming aware and embracing one's positionality in context (and from whatever sociocultural background) provides a better sense of agency; by which, we do not allow ourselves to be paralyzed by unfair diversity taxes, obstructed by institutional constraints, nor deterred from our social justice goals by the very discriminating cultural norms we are there to disrupt in the first place. In Sara's example of her work with Maori communities in Aotearoa/New Zealand (Box 4), we see how her positionality was woven within and throughout the research process—from her introduction to the community to her development of relationships within the project and honoring local protocols for the approval of research. We also recognize her positionality of an international researcher associated with a North American university as facilitating her ability to do this type of work, including securing grant funding, and negotiate access through academic connections with high status researchers in the United States and New Zealand. Her positionality as an outside researcher also played a role in both data collection and analysis, as she deliberated over how to represent the work ethically, highlighting the challenges teachers experienced while avoiding both deficit and overly cheery narratives, and recognizing how her positionality as a non‐Indigenous North American woman might render her initial understandings of gender‐based interactions (re)colonizing and essentializing. These examples highlight how we as science education scholars need to more explicitly describe positionality in research relationships, processes, and products. It is a disservice to the research relationships as well as the field to avoid locating ourselves in the work. Positionality is inevitably connected to power and status and reflecting on this within published research provides a more accurate account of how issues of positionality were navigated by researchers in all aspects of the research process. Positioning and positionality matter in all of our research projects. We feel too little attention has been given to positionality among those of us (particularly White, male, middle class, able‐bodied and/or hetero/cisgender scholars) doing science education research among marginalized communities.</p> <hd id="AN0130001520-19">Suggestions for attending to our relational responsibilities in justice‐oriented ...</hd> <p>As we have described above, care and solidarity are integral aspects of critical and participatory research. However, these forms of research often require time and significant commitments that go beyond those found in more traditional research processes. Caring work is labor that is not sufficiently recognized as such by the institutions to which we are held accountable. We struggle within conservative political, academic, and social contexts to repeatedly argue the importance of justice‐oriented work within schools and the time‐intensive nature of building relationships to do it justly. For example, some of the ways we have attended to relationships are through extensive service commitments to the school sites in which we work, and maintaining personal and professional commitments to the students and teachers involved in our research. In one of our projects, involving students in conference presentations has meant helping them fund‐raise for travel and meeting with them weekly to prepare and to organize logistics, etc. Service commitments have included organizing field trips (including transportation, scheduling, etc.), serving on school committees (e.g., curriculum committees, governing committees), leading enrichment activities for youth, showing up for other volunteer commitments (e.g., as guest judges for youth competitions, chaperones for overnight trips, volunteer teaching, etc.), seeking out youth/teacher scholarships, leading classes/subbing for busy, sick, or overwhelmed teachers, writing recommendation letters for research participants, etc. Attending to personal relationships also means making time to be both physically and emotionally available when needed, and not only when convenient.</p> <p>We care for teachers and youth (and vice versa) by acting in solidarity with each other in a variety of ways, such as by showing that we have each other's backs. For example, several of our teacher participants have benefited from being able to process challenging school political climates—including intense scrutiny environments in schools deemed “failing” by high stakes measurements, particular student concerns, intimidation from administrators, among other related problems—with us as researchers and, when possible, accomplices who can listen and commiserate as outsiders, helping identify strategies for creative insubordination (Gutiérrez, [<reflink idref="bib36" id="ref135">36</reflink>] ). Many specific examples cannot be shared publicly, but we think it is important to call attention to this underacknowledged form of caring in the research process as well.</p> <p>In summary, we pose the following questions to continue reflecting on the role of caring, solidarity, and positionality in science education research:</p> <p>How are we consistently communicating with research participants in ways that demonstrate a commitment to care in our research practices?</p> <p>In what ways do we “show up” for (i.e., act in solidarity with) research participants and teacher/student collaborators (and vice versa) beyond what is required of the research collaboration?</p> <p>How do we carefully attend to the politics of representation? How do we avoid speaking for and instead seek to speak with?</p> <p>How do we more thoughtfully engage participants as collaborators while honoring their institutional and personal limitations (e.g., time, workload, etc.)?</p> <p>How are we explicitly addressing and attending to complex issues of positioning, positionality, and status?</p> <hd id="AN0130001520-20">Caring and solidarity within our professional research communities</hd> <p>These themes of caring and solidarity would fall short (or fail) if we did not also turn our attention to the ways that we as researchers show care for and solidarity with one another. We would be remiss if we did not acknowledge the personal and professional risks we experience when embarking upon critical, activist, or justice‐oriented projects. To engage in explicitly justice‐oriented scholarship is to expose oneself to a certain type of vulnerability, marginalization, and exclusion, particularly now as right‐wing attacks on the academic freedom of justice‐oriented scholars has become more organized and visible (see https://equitymathed.wordpress.com/2017/10/29/history-of-istandwithrochelle/). In‐class tensions around discussing issues of justice have also increased (https://<ulink href="http://www.npr.org/sections/ed/2017/10/26/559914440/teachers-report-stressed-anxious-students-in-the-age-of-trump">www.npr.org/sections/ed/2017/10/26/559914440/teachers-report-stressed-anxious-students-in-the-age-of-trump</ulink>). As scholars encourage each other to disrupt current standards of practice, modes of scholarship, professional norms, etc., we must also consider what it means to do this critical work in solidarity (e.g., Liboiron, [<reflink idref="bib44" id="ref136">44</reflink>] ).</p> <p>Liboiron ([<reflink idref="bib44" id="ref137">44</reflink>] ) cautions against calling people to activism if it is not obvious who one's allies are, or how those allies might be able to come to the defense of the scholar/activist who is most visibly engaged in a particular political struggle. Part of taking up this challenge means making ourselves (particularly senior, tenured scholars) visible as allies, or rather, accomplices. We can begin by asking ourselves and each other: in what ways can we re/build institutional practices and structures at the university and within research organizations so they work to promote and protect dissenting counter‐hegemonic voices and scholarship activism? What are the politics of domestication (see Rodriguez, [<reflink idref="bib59" id="ref138">59</reflink>] ) at work and how can we strive to both illuminate and dismantle these negative acculturation processes that inhibit our activist/creative potential? Even unity with one other person willing to take on these same risks can help foment a collective resistance—a collective resistance required to challenge normative structures of professionalization/socialization that are entrenched within a larger juridico‐political order (Bazzul &amp; Tolbert, in press).</p> <p>Liboiron ([<reflink idref="bib44" id="ref139">44</reflink>] ) addresses the call for more interventionist research, or engaged scholarship, within STS (science–technology–society) fields of study. Here we extend her arguments to science education research and scholarship. Liboiron points out that despite the call for more interventionist research, little guidance has been offered with respect to “maneuvering crisis” (p. 68), and proposes that care and solidarity must be conditions for interventionist research. Liboiron relays how the Union of Concerned Scientists stands in solidarity with climate change scientists by providing legal support through a partnership with Columbia University and the Climate Science Legal Defense Fund 2016, but laments the fact that very few networks or supports are available for STS scholars who take on the personal and professional risks of doing justice work. Liboiron points out, “Who my department head is and who my collaborators are significantly impact my willingness to do certain kinds of interventionist research … When we are wading into the fray, we need a strong network of specific allies to support us” (p. 69).</p> <p>In activist work, Liboiron argues, activists know that if one is jailed, others will work to post bail and be waiting with a clean shirt and water. Who are the allies in science education that will be waiting with a clean shirt and water “when we are wading into the fray?” We ask this same question of ourselves and our colleagues, and call on each other, especially senior scholars, to support those who wade (or jump!) into the fray.</p> <p>Part of promoting care and solidarity in our scholarly communities also means that as reviewers of manuscripts and tenure files we are cognizant of our own subjectivities (Butler, [<reflink idref="bib15" id="ref140">15</reflink>] ) and welcome new perspectives and lines of thinking/doing in the field that may deviate from long‐standing research norms, or theoretical approaches, that have implicitly or explicitly governed science education research and practice. For example, when we suggest (or require) revisions to manuscripts that demand scholars draw from mainstream (establishment) science education literature, or when we review a tenure file and make judgments about scholar‐activists who, in their pursuit of creative and political lines of flight, have not published in mainstream journals, we severely constrain the types of knowledges, and activisms, that can be generated in our field—reproducing the ideologically conservative and masculinist forms of knowledge production for which our field has been critiqued (e.g., Bazzul &amp; Sykes, [<reflink idref="bib11" id="ref141">11</reflink>] ; Fifield &amp; Letts, [<reflink idref="bib26" id="ref142">26</reflink>] ; Lemke, [<reflink idref="bib43" id="ref143">43</reflink>] ; Scantlebury, [<reflink idref="bib66" id="ref144">66</reflink>] ).</p> <p>We argue that justice‐oriented scholarship in science education must collectively reject mediocrity and the politics of domestication (Rodriguez, [<reflink idref="bib59" id="ref145">59</reflink>] ) so often communicated under the guise of professionalism. We recognize that White scholars are more insulated (i.e., via the reproduction of Whiteness through social and economic networks) from the backlash that can result from a rejection of domestication. Undeniably, any form of public rejection of the status quo and the politics of domestication involves varying degrees of risk. We encourage more vocal, preemptive, and organized efforts in providing public support for those who have the courage to speak out against the institutional injustice, including those who speak out against injustice within of “our own” research communities and funding agencies, as well as against the larger societal injustices that are so rarely addressed within/on behalf of our professional organizations. We propose that justice‐oriented scholars must engage in mentoring practices in which students and junior scholars are encouraged and supported do the work of justice now, not after securing a job and not after getting tenure. Tenure and promotion without meaningful opportunities for scholars to develop their chosen academic identity is a hollow milestone that celebrates the subjugating power of the politics of domestication over the individual's desire to construct their own identity and choose their own professional path.</p> <hd id="AN0130001520-21">CODA</hd> <p>Using a blend of critical cross‐cultural and feminist lenses, we have sought to draw attention to the need to reexamine research practices—both the content of our research and the process of research relationships and products—for justice‐oriented research in today's culturally and linguistically diverse schools. As the currently polarized political climate, global social unrest, and pervasive socioeconomic disparities between the haves and have nots show, we cannot afford to ignore the ways these pressing issues play out in schools and in and through science education. In this article, we make an appeal to members of the research community to critically reflect and take action on research contexts and methods, particularly on knowledge production and the researcher's role or positionality. To this end, we reflected on examples drawn from our own research experiences and the scholarly work of many others who are committed to advancing social justice through education to examine our ethical obligations in research practices.</p> <p>For us, conducting social justice research in today's schools is an on‐going professional development journey for all involved—and it is a journey that we could appreciate much more deeply by examining our relational responsibility with participants; by openly centering our positionalities in the research process; and by assessing relevance as a measure of the transformative impact of our work on the participants’ lives from their points of view.</p> <p>We view our research projects as collaborations with teachers and youth and are committed to “becoming” anti‐oppressive researchers (Potts &amp; Brown, [<reflink idref="bib54" id="ref146">54</reflink>] ). We use the term “becoming” because we do not feel that one ever fully arrives at a state of anti‐oppression, but rather takes on “the challenge of continually reflecting, critiquing, challenging, and supporting [our] own and others’ efforts in the process of research and knowledge production to transform the enterprise of research, social work, and ultimately the world in which we live” (Potts &amp; Brown, [<reflink idref="bib54" id="ref147">54</reflink>] , p. 260). We draw on decolonizing and anti‐oppressive methodologies as we prepare, conduct, and reflect upon our research collaborations (Brown &amp; Strega, [<reflink idref="bib14" id="ref148">14</reflink>] ; Sandoval, [<reflink idref="bib65" id="ref149">65</reflink>] ; Tuhiwai Smith, [<reflink idref="bib76" id="ref150">76</reflink>] ). We consider how any research project we undertake can be is cultivated from a place of standing with (versus standing up for—i.e., saviorism) the teachers, youth, and communities with whom we work, and that the knowledge produced “can be acted on, by, and in [their] interests” as well as in the interests of marginalized communities more broadly (Potts &amp; Brown, [<reflink idref="bib54" id="ref151">54</reflink>] , p. 262). This includes how we position ourselves and our participants within written research.</p> <p>Finally, very rarely do researchers ever reveal our own vulnerabilities and ethical shortcomings in our work (e.g., Ceglowski, [<reflink idref="bib20" id="ref152">20</reflink>] ). Even as we write this piece, we consider how we have likely fallen short of living up to the responsible research practices we encourage. For example, we recall times when we have had to change the nature of relationships with a school or district due to differences of opinion about administrative practices that we found to be unethical. Though we have tried to work out differences with school leadership whenever possible “to maintain the caring relation” with teachers and students, there have been times when those differences have been irreconcilable. To be in a research partnership with the school is to give the school a certain kind of public support, and the most ethical response to those differences of opinion in some cases was to leave the relationship. Still, it is reasonable to expect that some of the youth and teachers with whom we had worked in those situations would have experienced it as a betrayal. In any research project that is ethical, critical, justice‐oriented, in relation and in solidarity with participants, etc., we argue for more focused attention to questions of representation in terms of not only how we represent others, but also how we represent ourselves, in the research.</p> <p>We posed many questions in this article, and we close with one more: Whose interests are really served by our research work in our changing society, and how do we know those interests were met?</p> <ref id="AN0130001520-22"> <title>Notes</title> <blist> <bibl id="bib1" idref="ref31" type="bt">1</bibl> <bibtext>For a critique of the National Research Council's power dynamics in developing the Next Generation Science Standards, see Rodriguez (); see also Gunckel and Tolbert (). </bibtext> </blist> </ref> <ref id="AN0130001520-23"> <title>REFERENCES</title> <blist> <bibtext>Aguilar‐Valdez, J. R., LópezLeiva, C. A., Roberts‐Harris, D., Torres‐Velásquez, D., Lobo, G., &amp; Westby, C. (2013). 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| Items | – Name: Title Label: Title Group: Ti Data: Relevance and Relational Responsibility in Justice-Oriented Science Education Research – Name: Language Label: Language Group: Lang Data: English – Name: Author Label: Authors Group: Au Data: <searchLink fieldCode="AR" term="%22Tolbert%2C+Sara%22">Tolbert, Sara</searchLink> (ORCID <externalLink term="http://orcid.org/0000-0001-5246-7110">0000-0001-5246-7110</externalLink>)<br /><searchLink fieldCode="AR" term="%22Schindel%2C+Alexa%22">Schindel, Alexa</searchLink><br /><searchLink fieldCode="AR" term="%22Rodriguez%2C+Alberto+J%2E%22">Rodriguez, Alberto J.</searchLink> – Name: TitleSource Label: Source Group: Src Data: <searchLink fieldCode="SO" term="%22Science+Education%22"><i>Science Education</i></searchLink>. Jul 2018 102(4):796-819. – Name: Avail Label: Availability Group: Avail Data: Wiley-Blackwell. 350 Main Street, Malden, MA 02148. Tel: 800-835-6770; Tel: 781-388-8598; Fax: 781-388-8232; e-mail: cs-journals@wiley.com; Web site: http://www.wiley.com/WileyCDA – Name: PeerReviewed Label: Peer Reviewed Group: SrcInfo Data: Y – Name: Pages Label: Page Count Group: Src Data: 24 – Name: DatePubCY Label: Publication Date Group: Date Data: 2018 – Name: TypeDocument Label: Document Type Group: TypDoc Data: Journal Articles<br />Reports - Evaluative – Name: Subject Label: Descriptors Group: Su Data: <searchLink fieldCode="DE" term="%22Scientific+Research%22">Scientific Research</searchLink><br /><searchLink fieldCode="DE" term="%22Social+Justice%22">Social Justice</searchLink><br /><searchLink fieldCode="DE" term="%22Equal+Education%22">Equal Education</searchLink><br /><searchLink fieldCode="DE" term="%22Cultural+Differences%22">Cultural Differences</searchLink><br /><searchLink fieldCode="DE" term="%22Research+Methodology%22">Research Methodology</searchLink><br /><searchLink fieldCode="DE" term="%22Educational+Practices%22">Educational Practices</searchLink><br /><searchLink fieldCode="DE" term="%22Educational+Researchers%22">Educational Researchers</searchLink><br /><searchLink fieldCode="DE" term="%22Relevance+%28Education%29%22">Relevance (Education)</searchLink><br /><searchLink fieldCode="DE" term="%22Experimenter+Characteristics%22">Experimenter Characteristics</searchLink> – Name: DOI Label: DOI Group: ID Data: 10.1002/sce.21446 – Name: ISSN Label: ISSN Group: ISSN Data: 0036-8326 – Name: Abstract Label: Abstract Group: Ab Data: In this article, we critically examine what a commitment to equity, diversity, and social justice in science and science education means for our research practices and methods. Using a blend of critical cross-cultural and feminist lenses, we explore relationships of power in our research, specifically in terms of knowledge production, representation, and positionality. We also consider our ethical obligations and relational responsibilities as researchers in terms of caring and solidarity. We argue that relevance should be measured as a function of the transformative impact of the research enterprise. We also argue that to do this, researchers need to examine and expose their own positioning and positionality. We propose a variety of strategies, drawn from our work and from that of many others, which illustrate how to build and sustain more caring, ethical, responsive, and responsible relationships with research participants. – Name: AbstractInfo Label: Abstractor Group: Ab Data: As Provided – Name: DateEntry Label: Entry Date Group: Date Data: 2018 – Name: AN Label: Accession Number Group: ID Data: EJ1181511 |
| PLink | https://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&site=eds-live&db=eric&AN=EJ1181511 |
| RecordInfo | BibRecord: BibEntity: Identifiers: – Type: doi Value: 10.1002/sce.21446 Languages: – Text: English PhysicalDescription: Pagination: PageCount: 24 StartPage: 796 Subjects: – SubjectFull: Scientific Research Type: general – SubjectFull: Social Justice Type: general – SubjectFull: Equal Education Type: general – SubjectFull: Cultural Differences Type: general – SubjectFull: Research Methodology Type: general – SubjectFull: Educational Practices Type: general – SubjectFull: Educational Researchers Type: general – SubjectFull: Relevance (Education) Type: general – SubjectFull: Experimenter Characteristics Type: general Titles: – TitleFull: Relevance and Relational Responsibility in Justice-Oriented Science Education Research Type: main BibRelationships: HasContributorRelationships: – PersonEntity: Name: NameFull: Tolbert, Sara – PersonEntity: Name: NameFull: Schindel, Alexa – PersonEntity: Name: NameFull: Rodriguez, Alberto J. IsPartOfRelationships: – BibEntity: Dates: – D: 01 M: 07 Type: published Y: 2018 Identifiers: – Type: issn-print Value: 0036-8326 Numbering: – Type: volume Value: 102 – Type: issue Value: 4 Titles: – TitleFull: Science Education Type: main |
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