Seeing the forest for the trees

So on the bus last week I finally got the time to read an interesting article that’s been staring at me from the ever growing “articles I should read” pile that sits on my desk, judging me for not actually reading any of them.

Office (via stock.xchng)

Yeah, you know, that pile.

This article by Greg Duncan from University of California Irvine hit on something that I’ve been thinking about a lot lately: interdisciplinary work.

This relates some to the topic I wrote about a few weeks ago here where I discussed the need for a variety of perspectives and ways of knowing in order to successfully get the job done.

Duncan takes the position that the field of child development could really benefit from broadening its scope to begin enhancing the collaboration with experts in other disciplines to more fully understand the human condition. He notes that child development research, partly due to its relative infancy in terms of scientific progress, has not yet begun the necessary branching out to encompass other disciplines’ conceptualizations of the world to better advance existing developmental theories.

He uses some great examples of cases in which combining child development research with data from economic studies has enhanced our understanding of complex social problems in a way that provides useful information for decision makers.

Really, in this article, Duncan relays something I think we all need to hear occasionally:

There are things others can tell us that are valuable, worthwhile.

The thing is, despite child development research being in relative nascent stages compared to things like physics or astronomy, it is constantly in the public limelight. Nary a legislative session goes by without bills being debated that are pertinent to the welfare of kids and families. I don’t often hear of bills that require physicists to weigh in on important social or economic matters, unless it’s in support of more research funding. Matters of physics are usually considerably less controversial than things like funding for education or health.

Education and health are so prominent in our lives because we all are, or have all been, kids and families.

There is need for research understanding in child development to weigh in on matters of policy – to help bridge the gap between what we know is good for kids and what we do for the good of kids. But the ability of child development research to coherently address the breadth of what’s required for major policy decisions is limited. Unfortunately, tackling issues of ensuring positive outcomes for children while also providing assurances of return on an economic investment, is something that basic child development research can seldom do effectively.

And it's because we lack the breadth of scope Duncan is talking about.

So why doesn’t this breadth of interdisciplinary knowledge exist, especially when there is clearly a need for it?

Well there are a few reasons for this that I see:

Six silos (via stock.xchng)

1.   Scientific process: Fields like child development are constantly pressured to follow a strict scientific method, complete with randomized control trials and complex statistical modeling. Applied research, which is considerably more messy because it operates in the real world, often lacks that intensive rigor. Applied research is then often viewed as a less worthwhile form of research, despite the fact that it might be more pertinent to the big questions at hand.

2.   Academic silos: Researchers traditionally live a very isolated existence. They know “their people” very well, and become incredible experts in their very specific field, but often do not branch out to learn about experts in other fields. (If I had a dollar for every time people within MY OWN UNIVERSITY asked what my group, the Extension Children, Youth and Family Consortium, does—even though we’ve been around for over 20 years—I’d be a very rich woman.) 

3.   Career pressures: To survive in academia you have to publish, A LOT. And the only way to ensure you publish is by carving out your niche and keep chipping away at that niche until it gives you a career. Unfortunately, that chipping away also prevents you from focusing much outside of your little corner of the world. You’re driven to focus on the minutia, rather than the bigger picture, because the minutia is where the career, and funding pressures, come from. Until that changes (don’t hold your breath), little else will.

I don’t mean for it to sound so bleak, because truthfully it’s not. There have been sizable advancements made in application of child development theory and practice over the last 10-15 years.

But we could always do more.

Duncan’s point is that only through deepening AND broadening the scope of the field can we truly make the progress that is encouraged, even required of us. The cross-disciplinary process requires creative thinkers and innovators to make connections across fields of study we’d never imagine could help inform questions about the biggest social and economic issues of our day.

And who are scientists but creative thinkers?

We just need an ever so slight shift in that creative energy. We need a call to look up from the lab bench to see the world around us.

To see the forest for the trees, and do something about it.

Forest sunrise (via stock.xchng)

Reference: Duncan(2012). Give us this day our daily breadth. ChildDevelopment, 83(1), 6-15. 

Book Club Reflections: Living in the Gray

So I’m in this book club. We meet every 4-5 weeks or so and (usually) read a book in between. Inevitably I (and many others like me) often do not finish the book, but we meet anyway. There is no judgment of those who have not finished the book of choice as it is well understood that life so often gets in the way. Plus some of us (me) are just really bad at making time to read. 

Vintage old book (via stock.xchng)

But we meet every month not just to discuss the book, but to gather together and enjoy one another’s company. I think many book clubs operate like this – more focused on the togetherness than on the topic.

Last night we met and had our usual 30-45 minutes of actually talking about the book of the month. Then, for the remaining two hours we devolved, as we usually do, into discussing life (work, religion, politics, etc.) and our love of nerdy things (Doctor Who, The Avengers, Sherlock, etc.).

At some point we began discussing the polarization of the American people – how it seems opposing viewpoints are getting further and further away from one another, leaving any middle ground barren and destitute. We lamented how difficult it is these days to have truly worthwhile discussion without the fear of damaging relationships and making enemies.

Perhaps this is not an experience wholly unique to our time. Yet we all related to having those difficult discussions where we either felt attacked or judged for our views on a variety of topics. Of being categorized, labeled, and scorned because of an opinion.

The weird thing is, I know there are so many people out there who feel this way. Who are frustrated by the polarizing nature of our self-imposed societal and political constructs. And the people who try desperately to live in the middle, in the gray space, keep repeating over and over: “the world is not black and white.”

Colors Twirl (via stock.xchng)

I mean, let’s face it, we are all products of our environments and experiences. Any good developmentalist will tell you that. Those varied experiences bring color and light to our lives. Shades and hues that are unique and embedded in the very fabric of our beings. It is what we make of those environments and experiences that shape how we will respond in the future. Those differences make our world interesting, and make our lives unique.

Our world is full of varied colors and shades. Even in black and white photos there are shades of grey. How boring and dull would our lives be if there were only two colors, only two sounds, only two tastes? So why does society insist that we live our lives in a state of black and white opinions?

We are constantly categorized, chastised, and curtailed by the very institutions that we’ve created, and told to embrace only the black or only the white. No gray space allowed.

And fighting this barrage is exhausting. You’re bound to get bruised and battered if you choose to fight. So instead of trying, we disengage, sitting silently by while the world becomes increasingly divided.

But it is through championing those unique experiences, opening the dialogue, encouraging ranges of diverse perspectives, that change can really take root.

Thankfully, there are still places where these kinds of discourses and discussions can live. There are environments where people can come together and have meaningful dialogue. Safe spaces where the goal is not busting down the door to change people’s minds, but just opening the door a crack to let a different shade of color and light come in.

Unfortunately, this type of dialogue is all reliant on openness and safety. Two commodities that seem exceedingly hard to come by these days.

But despite this, today, on a beautifully calm, cool, and serene Friday, I am grateful. Grateful for a group of individuals who allow me to be myself and have my opinions that are different from theirs. Who do not judge me for the experiences that have shaped me. Who are open to having dialogue that might be hard, but will certainly stretch and change us for the better. Because those discussions shape us, no matter how minutely, and perhaps open doors once barred shut to let the tiniest bit of light peek through the crack. A different perspective. A fresh look at the world. The possibility of something new and unique.

This book club group gives me hope that maybe there are others like us, who gather to discuss difficult issues openly, wholly, completely and without agenda. Because it’s groups like these, where open discourse abounds, yet friendship and respect remains, that have the power to change everything.

Stories: A researcher’s dream (read: nightmare)

So lately I’ve been working on a qualitative research project. 

Report (via via stock.xchng)

For all of you out there who speak normal non-jargony English, it’s basically thinking about the content of what people say and making sense of it.

Which is a lot harder than it might sound. Especially because often the people whose content you’re trying to decipher are not the great writers or speakers of our generation. No, often they’re just everyday people. Full of life, meaning, and perspective that has incredible value and importance, but whose thoughts sometimes come out in a big explosion of gobbledeegook (much like this last sentence).

So when it’s my job to make sense out of the gobbledeegook, and when the researcher in me wants to make sure I don’t miss anything important and that I’m really capturing the whole story, I get a little anxious.

Because there’s a lot that’s being said, even (and perhaps especially) when the speech ceases. Even in the smallest pause, there is meaning. The ‘ums’ and ‘uhs’ convey the process of thought – of finding the right words to say. The processes of thought, speech, and communication are so complex that it’s virtually impossible to capture all of it sufficiently.

And maybe embracing that is the first step to making sense of it all.

Part of the problem I have is that I was trained to be a numbers person (quantitative researcher). I’m used to working with numbers and statistics to tell me what I need to know about an individual or group of people. It’s clean(er), easy(ier), and all together less (usually) complicated.

Passion (via stock.xchng)

But the thing that I’ve realized since I started working in the field of stories is that though numbers provide a certain perspective on a problem or group of people, they do not tell the whole story. Reducing people to a series of numbers does not capture the inherent complexity of the human condition. When we talk to our neighbors, we don’t talk in numbers. We tell stories. When we give presentations to convey meaning, we use words, not just numbers, to get the point across.

There is value in numbers to be sure. It gives a certain type of perspective. It provides a semi-detached and clean look at a particular problem of interest. But to assume that that perspective is complete limits our understanding of the complex humanness of our lives. The stories people tell provide a window into that human condition, a view of the challenges and triumphs faced everyday by everyday people. And there is a profound complexity to understanding those stories, to make sense of them in a way that does not do disservice to the story-sharers, or to the bravery of their sharing.

The truth is, it’s hard to combine the words, phrases, or even the ‘uhs’ and ‘ums’ so that they coalesce into some sort of coherent meaning that tells the story of the whole without losing the voice of the one.

Because every person’s story and voice is unique. And the qualitative research process seeks to honor that, while still distilling the uniqueness of individual thoughts to form a collective and representative whole. And it’s really hard to get that just right.

But that’s my challenge.

Wish me luck. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Perfect Summer Days

I really love summer in Minnesota. I mean, yes, we only get like 2 weeks of it, but still. It’s pretty awesome.

It’s those long summer days where the sun is up at 5am and doesn’t set until 9:30pm, where you can spend all day long outside because the sun is shining and there’s a gentle breeze off the lake and the temperature never crests 82 degrees – those are the perfect days.

I find, on those days, taking a walk in the woods, swimming along the lakeshore, or canoeing down the river are the things that life is made of, and for.

This weekend I had some family in town and we took a hike at a nearby state park. We brought our two dogs and I strapped them around my waist and off we went. I loved seeing how many families and kids were out on the trails. There were classes going on where kids were learning all about rock climbing, and plenty of people and pets enjoying the hiking trails through the woods. And it was one of those perfect days.

I found myself enjoying letting my brain just go – no restrictions, nothing specific to think about or focus on. And wouldn’t you know, I can’t remember a single thing I thought about during that hike, but my brain felt about 100 times calmer and more collected afterward.

Nature has that rich, cleansing power that few other things have.

In short, I’m breathing easier today, despite a jam-packed family-filled weekend. Just the opportunity to be outside and enjoy the great outdoors was enough to calm my mind and heart to prepare for the week ahead.

It’s that time that rejuvenates the mind, body and spirit. The time where you unplug for a while and realize how small and insignificant, but also how incredibly unique you really are. The time where you can connect with your humanness at a uniquely cellular and transcendental level. Those moments when the pace of life slows with your heartbeat, and your breathing matches the gentle and rhythmic wash of water on the beach.

That’s what life is all about.

And I could spout off a bunch of science for you about the benefits of things like Vitamin D from the sun, or the restorative benefits for the mind of being outside, or the importance of unscheduled time in nature for kids – but the thing is, at our core, we all know about the need for the natural. We don’t need science to tell us that nature is good for us. It’s already in our genes – a historical remnant of past ancestors that we can never quite shake.

Good thing too.

In nature, we breathe easier. We feel the warmth and water, and experience the redemptive relaxation in the natural hum of the earth.

And we can’t help but smile on those preciously perfect days.

How science and experience keep your house from falling down

Demolition (via stock.xchng)

So we recently had some construction guys over to demolish the heck out of our basement in preparation for some remodeling and it got me thinking…

…not about interior design, though I’ve been watching WAY too much HGTV lately, so it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility….

No, as they were pounding and sawing their way through the walls and shaking the entire house in the process, I was thinking about the role of science in our lives. Not just in how we construct (and deconstruct) houses, but also in how we construct children’s lives.

Yes. I’m a total nerd.

What got me pondering this was the fleeting thought: “I wonder what would happen if they cut the wrong beam. Would the house collapse in on itself into a pile of rubble with me inside?”

Technically yes, if they cut the wrong beam it would. But these guys are professionals, so they know what beams to cut and which beams to keep.

The point is that my house is of sturdy construction, and the people working in it know what the heck they’re doing. There are construction standards in place; things that we as humans learned from centuries of attempting to build shelters that wouldn’t collapse. Things that were learned from geometry, physics, and a whole lot of trial and error. Over centuries, science and experience informed the practice of building houses so they wouldn’t fall in on themselves and take their owners with them.

So have we learned enough through science and experience to build sturdy kids?

I would argue, yes, probably. But frankly, I believe that we’re still in the nascent stages of the process. We’re just learning how science can help inform the process that is child development. We’ve certainly made advancements and we know a lot more about the development of things like the brain, emotions, thinking, etc., than we did a few decades ago, but we don’t always consider the practical uses for that knowledge. There exists a pretty wide gap between what we know, and what we do. That gap is, arguably, lessening to some extent, but it still exists.

Why?

Well, for a few reasons. Science tends to live in the laboratory and in sophisticated journal articles. Scientific advancements are not always communicated in a jargon-free way. And even when they are, often the public response, rightfully so, is “uh, okay, so what do I DO with that information?”

Scientists also have a propensity to believe science is the ultimate way of knowing. If it’s not a randomized control trial with the right variables, a big enough sample size, and sufficient background literature to back it up, it’s not really telling you anything. Every other type of knowledge, practical or otherwise, is often viewed as less important, and not supported by substantial evidence.

Now, don’t get mad at the scientists, they can’t help it, that’s just how they’re raised.

But as any practitioner, or anyone who works in the real world for that matter, can tell you, scientific knowledge is a just one piece of the puzzle. An important piece, but not more important than the knowledge gained from living.

It’s the combination of the scientific and “real world” knowledge that facilitates solid construction. Each, if used in isolation, is incomplete.

To return to our construction metaphor: If a builder builds a house using only the rules of physics, while not incorporating any prior experience or knowledge that his fellow builder has about building a house on a flood plain, it doesn’t matter how sound his use of physics is, that house will still wash away the next time the river bank overflows.

It’s the same with science and practical experience in child development. For example, if we design a treatment program that is “evidence-based”, but the evidence it is based on only comes from upper-middle class suburban white families, it may not be successful in other diverse communities because it does not account for any differences of experiences or lifestyles in those communities. If we only look at the science but don’t incorporate varied life experiences and knowledge, we get only part of the picture.

Bouncy Castle with Kids (via stock.xchng)

The point is that incorporating multiple perspectives or “ways of knowing”, including, but not exclusive to, scientific knowledge, is the most comprehensive way to build the developmental house. Using all those experiences and varieties of knowledge, we’re better able to build a house that is flexible to later remodeling.

Because let’s face it, life is full of remodeling. But if you use diversity of knowledge and experience to make sure you’re always facilitating the most solid construction, you won’t have to fear that the house will fall down while you’re inside.