Building a narrative to frame experiential learning

Narrative has informed the human race at every juncture of its place within the world since first taking coloured earth to forge images on the walls of caves.  It defines our every step in thought, word and deed and is as inseparable from the human kind as is sight.  Narrative follows mankind throughout each ponderous tread through the vast history of evolution leaving an indelible bond between then and now and allowing the tentative steps to the future.  Narrative is etched into every human experience and is an inextricable facet of humanity; it forms a true association between our innermost concepts and the prying ears and eyes of the world about us.  To tell a story is to affirm and confirm that we are alive, sentient and aware of our place and relevance within our race.  To tell stories is to be human.  H Porter Abbott, in discussing the significance of the narrative in defining the human condition and its presence in all matters of discourse ‘there is little wonder that there are theorists who place it next to language itself as the distinctive human trait.’  (Abbott 2008, Kindle Locations 231 - 232)

That our evolution is informed by narrative conventions is self-evident; that is has allowed our evolution is irrefutable.  That narrative should play a part in the reflective practice of those working in education and those being educated is as irrefutable as it is unavoidable.

The main claim for the use of narrative in educational research is that humans are storytelling organisms who, individually and socially, lead storied lives.  The study of narrative, therefore, is the study of the ways humans experience the world.  (Connelly & Clandinin 1990, p.2)

This is indeed a fascinating statement and one which rings very true with respect to the teaching profession.  Indeed, Connelly and Clandinin expand on this statement to envelop the world of education, be it teaching, academic study or learning, is governed by the ‘construction and reconstruction of personal and social stories.’  (1990, p.2) So when building a definition of reflective practice, the role of narration is crucial; when applying reflective practice as a personal or educational tool the employment of narrative is fundamental.

There is a difference in meaning when referring to stories and narrative.  The distinction lies between who and how the story or narrative is being relates.  Connelly & Clandinin suggest the following:

To preserve this distinction we use the reasonably well-established device of calling the phenomenon "story" and the inquiry "narrative."  Thus, we say that people by nature lead storied lives and tell stories of those lives, whereas narrative researchers describe such lives, collect and tell stories of them, and write narratives of experience.  (Connelly & Clandinin 1990, p.2)

However, the application of the terms narrative and story are used often as interchangeable nouns as are the verbs narrating and telling.  As the concept of an ordering of events, a plot, a scenario, a history it is therefore vital that there be no distinction between the terms story or narrative to avoid inconsistent definitions and unavoidable ambiguities.

H Porter Abbott declares with an assured tone that for an experience to be recorded it has to have an event.  A sole description will not necessarily provide an event, whereas a description contextualised with reference to an event has inherent narrative properties:

Without an event or an action, you may have a “description,” an “exposition,” an “argument,” a “lyric,” some combination of these or something else altogether, but you won’t have a narrative.  (Abbott 2008, p.14)

So the need for a narration to refer to events, to experiences couched in time, referred to and recording events or happenings relates directly to the very human quality of the teller, the raconteur, the story maker, the chronicler.  That we are story telling creatures is testament to our linguistic base for understanding the world about us.  That we have self-monologues and internal conversations and reflections, so the connection to thought processes and narrative is indicative of our connection to language and the orderly use of story by which to frame our experiences.

Although the employment of narrative is highly varied it plays a very important function of the everyday life and defines the shape of our existence and our understanding of the self and of others.  Recall the last moment of communication with a spouse, friend or colleague and the communication will often use narrative conventions to convey actions, thoughts and experiences.  These narrative exchanges are often mundane but provide vital bridges that allow the connection between the narrator and the listener.  And thus the more complex the experience the more involved and detailed the narrative will be.  As the phenomenon of chronology is so important in the reflective process then the core role of narration is thus defined by an ordering, a chronology of events.  However, the chronology of a narrative can be complex.  Take this statement as an example of how time in narration is a malleable concept:

I drove into town to buy some groceries but before that I had to write a shopping list.

Here the chronology is the wrong way round but the sense of the statement is not altered.  This statement is like many of the everyday mundanities of life which we depict in conversations; the order over events is reversed but the listener’s comprehension would not alter; neither would they think twice about the chronology of events.

I wrote out a shopping list and drove into town to but some groceries.

So in text, time has different properties, most of which we either take for granted, as a given, or that we simply have never thought about it as anything unusual.  This seeming lack of recognition is possibly evidence that the sense of narrative and time are inherent traits, skills that have been acquired and honed since the first narrative text appeared and the first attempts at communicating actions, occurrences and events.  Abbott tells of the awareness of two distinct aspects of narrative time:

…when we read a narrative, we are aware of, on the one hand, the time of reading and the order in which things are read, and, on the other hand, the time the story events are supposed to take and the order in which they are supposed to occur.  (Abbott 2008, p.16)

This is a complex phenomenon but highlights the sophistication of the human capacity to traverse chronology and to rearrange events in order to suit the drama or to clarify certain experiences.  It is with such profound variety which narrative can bring as a tool for reflection and reflective teaching it is invaluable.  Yet understanding time and the ordering and reordering of events is a quality which is inherent in many art forms; indeed, it is this very plasticity of time which imbues pictorial art with potency through implied narrative order.  Consider the magnificent The Raft of the Medusa by Gerico, where the narrative of the fateful events are shrunk to a moment, a mere second, without detriment to the narrative or dramatic impact of the painting.

Paul Recoeur (1981) recognises the close relationship between narrative and time and considers the relationship of the two as reciprocal, that is mutually dependent:

I take temporality [time] to be the structure of existence that reaches language in narrativity and narrativity to be the language structure that has temporality as its ultimate reference.  (Ricoeur 1981, p.165)

This is a convoluted statement which seeks to explain a phenomenon which is fundamental to the nature of time and the telling.

His argument is that in general, narrative and time are considered to be linear.  That narrative can exist outside of this chronology is evident, but the habit of considering narrative to function in a straight line in time is understandable.  In relation to this Ricoeur adds: ‘Narrative function and the human experience of time thus remain strangers.’  (Ricoeur 1981, p.166)

That narrative is a constant feature of the daily routine is evident in how an experience such as a news item.  How many times with that item be the subject of media coverage, speculation and comment?  How many times will these telling be subsequently retold by the public, each retelling laced with supposition and personal comment?  How many times will these personalised tellings be synthesised with similar news events or personal experience?  The concept of narrative forms the backbone of the entertainment business and narrative informs computer games and the playground activities of young children.  At the core of religion lies the concept of story, of allegory, of parables and of morality tales.

Narrative now plays a vital part in many studies, be they intellectual or scientific to which the concept of the ordering of events within a cogent and logical structure is a prime factor.  Connelly & Clandinin (1990) outline the use of story within education; even in subjects that do not inherently use story will contain narration.  Whereas trainee Music teacher Robin Palmer (Palmer, 2015) conceive the lesson in terms of it being a gig, a concert, Connelly and Clandinin suggest that the lesson should be conceived as a story.  This is a compelling argument and one which it is difficult to counter.  If the human condition is almost wholly defined by narrative and encounters with narrative, then the lesson story is a powerful model; after all is a lesson plan simply a plot?  A scenario?

Fred Korthagen (1983) discusses J A Allender’s work with teachers using the concept of storytelling to aid the process of understanding experiences that inhibit or promote learning.  These narratives are called Guided Fantasies and certainly point to a highly inventive and stimulating method of reflection-on-action.  In order to set the scenario by way of an experiential portal to the session Allender asks the students to perform an exercise designed to relax the body as a way of accessing and stimulating their imaginations.

I tell everyone to find a comfortable spot, to close their eyes and I then turn off the lights. (This always produces a lot of stirrings and giggling.  Remember that most of these students are used to a traditional lecture series.) I then proceed to have them quietly breathe deeply for 2-3 minutes, listening to the air flowing in and out of their bodies, and then 2-3 minutes tensing and untensing [sic] each part of their bodies beginning from the feet up to the head. When I feel they are relaxed I begin the activity. (Allender 1982, pp. 37 - 38 in Korthagen 1993, p.323)

This brief experiential ritual is then followed by the prompting of the student teachers’ imaginations to transport their imaginations back to the time that they were fourth grade students.  They are then to spend ten minutes in their fantasy classroom where they recall images of the room, its furnishings and atmosphere.  On returning to the here-and-now they sketch their mental images which become the basis for small-group storytelling.  This is then augmented to be shared with the class as a whole.  (Korthagen 1993, pp.323 - 324)

That Allender’s method is not new but has been a stock tool in the hands of teachers working in theatre and the arts that it is used outside of this concept is highly innovatory and challenging both the students’ and the teacher’s abilities, beliefs and modes of practice.  As a reflective agent this is undoubtedly a very potent force for unlocking the reflective storyteller, their imaginations, aspirations and self-awareness.  As a proxy for reflection the narrative structure allows for the recollection of experience and thus enabling the student teacher to contextualise their experiences as a young student to their experiences in the classroom as teachers.

By requiring her students to recall past images as part of her fantasy method she is allowing the fusion between truth and invention to occur.  That their recollections are based, founded in actual biographical fact is evident but by framing the task within the concept of fantasy allows for a natural departure from a thorough recollection which is rounded by the truth.  Such recollections are innately coloured by past recollections and by the maturation of the intellect, so what Allender is asking her students to recall are the current versions of the stories.

People make sense of their lives according to the narratives available to them.  Stories are constantly being restructured in the light of new events, because stories do not exist in a vacuum but are shaped by lifelong personal and community narratives.  (Webster & Mertova 2007, p.2)

References

Abbott, H. Porter., 2008. The Cambridge Introduction to Narrative (Cambridge Introductions to Literature) 2nd Ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kindle Edition.

Michael Connelly, D. Jean Clandinin. 1990. Stories of Experience and Narrative Inquiry [online]. Educational Researcher, Vol. 19, No. 5 (Jun. - Jul., 1990), pp. 2-14. Available at: https://www.tc.umn.edu/~dillon/CI%208148%20Qual%20Research/Session%2012/Narrative-Clandinin%20ER%20article.pdf [Accessed 13th August 2015]

Korthagen, F., 1993. Two modes of reflection [online]. Teacher & Teacher Education, Vol. 9, No.3, pp. 317-326 Available at https://teachsource.files.wordpress.com/2013/05/korthagen-1993.pdf [Accessed 13th August 2015]

Palmer, R., 2015. Interview at Clarendon College Nottingham. [19.05.15]

Ricoeur, P., 1981. Narrative Time, in Mitchell, WJT., ed., On Narrative. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, pp.165 – 186.

Webster, L., Mertova, P., 2007. Using Narrative Inquiry as a Research Method: An Introduction to Using Critical Event Narrative Analysis in Research on Learning and Teaching. Abingdon: Routledge

From In search of the untethered mind: Reflective practice in education (in progress) Dr Nick Redfern  https://www.cloudfactory-ltd.com/the_untethered_mind.html