This past week, I helped organize and moderate a colloquium centered on the topic of Engaged Scholarship.  We had four faculty members from our school describe their form of Engaged Scholarship, followed by a discussion with the other faculty and doctoral students in attendance.  Carol Gordon discussed her interest in action research especially in school library settings. Marya Doerfel entertained the audience while describing her network research in Croatia and amid the devastation left by Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans. Dean Jorge Reina Schement talked about the extensive and influential policy research he has performed and various types of policy researchers.  Todd Wolfson described his passions about community involvement and research related to independent media. Together, they provided a number of insights into not only different types of engaged research, but also some of the challenges and opportunities in doing this sort of scholarship.

My interest in this topic really began to develop back in August when I attended a conference on engaged scholarship in Aspen, Colorado. The conversations there made me think more deeply about my own research and what the role of graduate education might be related to this type of research.  Even though the conference was mostly centered on scholarship in the area of organizational communication, I think there is little question that the idea of engaged scholarship is one that transcends most disciplinary boundaries. As various scholars such as Pam Shockley-Zalabak and Kevin Barge have described it, the interest in engaged scholarship emerges out of a growing desire to address the split between theory and practice, between academics and practitioners, and between scientific and practical knowledge.  Historically, we have attempted to bridge these disparities through one-way translation of scholarly work to practitioners or by doing consulting and training (not research) related to organizational concerns. However, engaged scholarship reflects a somewhat different and more collaborative effort to produce better theoretical and practical knowledge.

For some, this ideal may sound appealing—but engaged scholarship also raises important questions and evokes varied reactions from people. I still remember a senior professor in a former department where I used to work introducing me (to a visiting faculty member) as someone “wanting to be a social worker” because of my community work/research with homeless service providers. Such views could be dismissed as ignorance, but they also emerge because people have questions about such work: Is engaged scholarship really rigorous scholarship? Can our engagement truly result in both scientific and practical knowledge? On the other hand, I also wonder: Shouldn’t everyone be doing engaged scholarship, especially at a public land grant university? Doesn’t better research result from paying attention to the needs/problems of the communities we wish to study? At some level these concerns and opportunities are partly linked to core epistemological assumptions about research.

I think all of us involved in graduate education (both students and faculty) should more often ask: What is the role of engaged scholarship in graduate education? I have not reconciled all this, but I do believe that the complex and interdisciplinary nature of many problems facing our society could likely benefit this sort of engaged research. We have something to learn from the communities we study—and they have something to learn from us. If both sides can get past some of the barriers that have too often kept them separated from one another—like language use, orientations to time, and even distrust of motives—I suspect we might all discover there is much to be gained in these sorts of approaches.  I believe that introducing and reinforcing such ideas early on in graduate education is essential if we are to ever take engaged scholarship seriously.  That is my proposal—that we not only develop some appreciation for this sort of engaged research, but that we encourage and support it at opportunities where it makes sense. I hope that exposing our students and faculty to some of these ideas through events such as this colloquium is a start in the right direction.

The Director has left the Deck.

Although it is true that I had a birthday about a week ago (complete with my favorite pie, various wonderful gifts from my family, and an evening at the movies), I am glad to still be several years from #50.  I did get a book chapter accepted last week (a fun collaboration with a faculty colleague and two doctoral students here), but I have not yet hit publication #50, either. I am still two states short of hitting all 50, hope to never find “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover,” and have never won $50 on a hand of blackjack.   

So what am I celebrating? This is the 50^th blog post from the Director’s Deck (strike up the band, cue the dancers, and eat some Halloween candy)!  I’m not one for too much navel gazing, but I thought it worth taking this small milestone as an occasion to examine the blog and ask/answer a few questions about it.

WHAT: I sometimes do not know exactly what I want to write until I begin composing—but there is always an intended message by the time I finish. The exact topics of the blogs are relatively varied. Some are about people (award winners, recruits, doctoral student association, scholarly moms) and others about fun (parties, food, rituals, and holidays). Some address program challenges/opportunities related to travel, diversity, excellence, advising, reviews and interdisciplinarity; others look at broader doctoral studies issues related to freedoms, rhythms, renewal, choices, and balancing it all. Regardless of the specifics, I hope others read the posts and either learn something or are encouraged to reflect anew on a certain issue.   

WHEN: I’ve been pretty faithful about posting these each Monday during the academic year. I think predictability, commitment, and regularity matter—in life generally and for something like a blog.

WHERE: Yes, there really is a “deck” right off my office, and no, I don’t usually actually blog from it.  In the warmer months, it is a pleasant spot to read and relax; in the winter, you can sometimes see the Raritan River from the deck. 

WHY: I’ve been asked, and not just in conversations with myself, why I write this blog.  There are several reasons.  Primarily, I want to use it as one of several ways to keep in touch with interested students (past, present, and future) and faculty about issues in the program. Second, as a researcher interested in tools like this (see my recent publication about blogging and anonymity), it seems to make sense. Third, I find it very therapeutic (and a form of writing that is sometimes difficult to do in more scholarly outlets).

WHO: You know who writes this.  The real question is who is reading it. The IT expert who has those numbers was on vacation this past week, so I don’t have exact current stats.  My guess is not that many people ever read any single blog, but I do know informally that at least a few people read it each week.  Occasionally a colleague will mention something about what was posted.  More often a current student might make reference to something in the blog. Surprising to me is the number of prospective students who will read the blog and then comment on why they like it. Perhaps this is nothing more than a thinly veiled attempt on their part to be nice to the director overseeing their admission—but I truly think it is more than that.  From what others have said, I think they find the idea of a regular blog to by symbolic of an active program—and perhaps even the content has had some impact here and there (though the number of posted comments back has always been small).

So, blog post #50 is a time to not only celebrate but also reflect and assess.  In lieu of a “Happy 50^th” card, your comments would be great...WHAT DO YOU LIKE ABOUT THIS BLOG? HOW COULD THE NEXT 50 BE BETTER? AND MOST IMPORTANT, IS ANYONE EVEN READING THESE? Please reply with the comments feature below--you can include your name or leave it blank. Thanks for your thoughts.

The Director has (for the 50^th time) left the Deck.

From the Gershwins’ “I Got Rhythm” to Rod Stewart’s “Rhythm of My Heart,” and from Janet Jackson’s “Rhythm Nation” to Gloria Estefan’s “Rhythm is Gonna Get You,” singers and songwriters have paid great attention to rhythm (in their titles as well as in their arrangements). As others have noted long before me, these rhythms not only describe but also enable and constrain our lives. As current and future academics, we have our daily scholarly routines, our semester- and yearly- rhythmic patterns, and the pacing of an academic career. As I think my former colleague Dawna Ballard at UT-Austin would describe it, these issues of time and how we talk about them are an important part of our lives and our work experience. Lately, I’ve been thinking a fair amount about these rhythms and their importance.

In my experience, October is like an intense dance remix that does not let up until you are exhausted. I’ve long contended it is the busiest academic month of the year (just looking at my own calendar this past month would seem to confirm: promotion and tenure cases, multiple recommendation letters due, conference deadlines, alumni award deadlines, multiple conferences to attend, a masters student institute, several faculty and other administrative meetings, revision deadlines, numerous colloquia, etc.—plus all the regular work that continues daily). We start the academic year anew each fall, and perhaps that is why once we get past the beginning of the semester in September, we are hit with all sorts of deadlines and events as we reach a crescendo by October.

A related pattern exists for scholarly conferences, which are more like a pop song that always returns to the same familiar and (usually) enjoyable phrasing.  Every year at nearly the exact time the professional associations hold their annual conferences—and every year at nearly the exact same time, there are deadlines for those meetings.  We recently provided doctoral students with a 12-page list of conferences relevant to the program, with every month containing at least one key conference (for example, Jan. – Assoc. for Library and Information Science Education; Feb. – iSchools Conference; March – New Jersey Communication Assoc.; April – Critical Themes in Media Studies Graduate Student Conference; May – International Communication Assoc.; June – Joint Conf. on Digital Libraries; July – International Assoc. for Media and Communication Research; August – Assoc. for Education in Journalism and Mass Communication; Sept. – European Conf. Digital Libraries; Oct. – Assoc. of Internet Researchers; Nov. – National Communication Assoc.; Dec. – International Digital Curation Conference). Getting in synch with this pattern of deadlines and conferences is an important part of doctoral and academic life.

Another rhythm can be seen in the sequence of moving through courses and finishing up one’s degree requirements. Like a movie score or soundtrack, there is a mix of rhythms—some predictable, some novel. Musical scores vary in their length and intensity, and so too do we move through requirements at our own pace.  In my view we are easily a 4-year program (2 years for coursework for those full-time students with a masters in hand, ½ year for qualifying exams, and 3 final semesters to propose, conduct, and defend a dissertation), but others do not see it that way nor finish on that schedule. Still, it helps to have milestones along the way (research displays, qualifying exams, preliminary proposal presentations, oral defenses, etc.) to keep us on pace and to make sure we maintain an appropriate rhythm in our studies.

As one final example, academic life has a most unusual—but eventually very recognizable—pattern that demands one be patient, yet actively responsive.  It is like a rock ballad that includes both the hard rock and the slow love song; it is the classical composition that evokes emotional extremes with its range of tempos. At times, the learning process and the publication cycle move at near glacial speeds. Yet, the days and semesters fly by at record pace. It is seminar sessions that move too fast and grading periods that never end. As I’ve suggested previously on this blog, I think the best academics are those who know when to sprint but who remember this career is more like a marathon. Pacing yourself appropriately is essential.

In short, sometimes the task is figuring out how to keep up with the rhythm, sometimes it is adjusting to a slower beat.  At other times you have to push the rhythm along or you have to slow it down to suit your needs. Simply finding any rhythm is perhaps the hardest task of all. Yet, doctoral studies and academic life are filled with rhythms that we have helped create.  I hope you find your rhythm and I hope you discover it is an incredible symphony you could listen to over and over again (but if not, I hope it at least has a good beat that you can dance to…).

The Director has left the Deck.