Introduction

The learning and development of doctoral students has attracted increased analytical attention in Australia across the past three decades, parallel to growing student enrolments in PhD programs (Dobson, 2012; Harman, 2003; Holbrook et al., 2014). This reflects the significance of the doctorate in generating new knowledge and making original contributions to various fields (Bentley & Meek, 2018; Halse & Mowbray, 2011). Within this vein, the knowledge and skills that doctoral graduates accrue represents a burgeoning area of higher education research and policy (Bryan & Guccione, 2018). Recent examples support efforts to increase student readiness (McDowall & Ramos, 2023) or better understand the personal and social benefits of PhD programs (Bryan & Guccione, 2018, Cuthbert & Molla, 2015). However, codifying doctoral students’ learning is not straightforward. While autonomy is foundational to the PhD, variability amongst particular programs creates tensions in how ‘content’—including skills, behaviours and competencies (Bryan & Guccione, 2018)—can be made explicit (Halse & Mowbray, 2011).

We consider experiences of fieldwork as significant, but easily overlooked, periods of learning during PhD programs. The catalyst for this paper was a presentation at a postgraduate conference given by the first author (Matthew), which explored researcher identities during his experience of fieldwork in Australian classrooms. Having attended the talk, the second author (Kathleen) was struck by the resonance of key themes in relation to her fieldwork in a Zimbabwean classroom. Subsequently, we met to discuss our experiences including the surprising overlap in practical and personal challenges despite obvious contextual differences between the two research settings and different aims of our projects.

In education, the focus of this paper, fieldwork usually spans myriad settings which might differently shape the skills doctoral students acquire. To demonstrate how these processes can unfold betwixt and between being ‘in the field’ and other spaces, we compared our individual fieldwork experiences in two vastly different contexts—Australia and Zimbabwe. Building on previous research, we show that fieldwork—which is necessarily difficult work that requires serious preparation and personal reflexivity—cannot be overlooked as a critical experience in developing researcher identities and skills (Ballamingie & Johnson, 2011; Benjamin, 2002; Holbrook et al., 2014; Naveed et al., 2017; Siwale, 2015; Wolcott, 1995).

Literature review

Fieldwork presents a reservoir of potential ‘hidden treasure’ (Elliot, 2022). That is, fieldwork can enable ‘genuine and useful learning’ in the absence of the typical official and unofficial support structures (Elliot, 2022, p. 4). This outlook positions ‘fieldwork’ as a necessarily generic term that covers a range of projects that education doctoral students may undertake. Hence, in this paper, we refer to fieldwork as any occasions in which doctoral students are situated in particular research settings and use observations, interviews or other data collection methods over time. In doing so, we acknowledge that school-based research, such as ours, is often undertaken in ever-changing, unpredictable environments (Lonergan & Cumming, 2017). In such contexts, support in a range of domains is vital, including: the organisation of research activities; moral support for developing identities; and emotional support for coping with uncertainty and understanding personal growth (Elliot, 2022).

Doctoral students are typically guided on the process of institutional ethics approval and institutional processes of ‘doing’ research (Hutchings & Michailova, 2022). However, ethics across a project is an intrinsic component of the research process, with institutional approvals just one component (Guba & Lincoln, 1994). That is, researchers make decisions in the ‘day-to-day’ of their research that are equally important ethical considerations for the project design, participants and outcomes. These decisions are made in the moment and, therefore, often without immediate access to support from more experienced researchers, such as doctoral supervisors. This creates a gap in the support that doctoral students might need. For doctoral students entering classroom settings, these decisions can be made even more complex due to the busy and multifaceted environments of schooling (Lonergan & Cumming, 2017). As such, data gathering may not be as straightforward as planned or outlined in ethics applications.

Although research textbooks provide information in recognising what fieldwork might involve, the focus is usually procedural rather than on guidance about making ‘in situ’ decisions. This is problematic given textbooks and doctoral supervisors are rarely immediately accessible in negotiating day-to-day events and interactions (Hutchings & Michailova, 2022). For example, if a student faces an ethical dilemma during a classroom observation it is very difficult for them to ask their supervisor what to do, as these dilemmas require immediate actions. Gallagher (2008) details these in situ decisions:

Several children who had not been selected for the group drifted over to join in during the lesson. I responded to this with lines such as ‘I can only have four people over here’ and ‘you’re not supposed to be over here’. I felt quite uncomfortable with these directing and excluding practices, which seemed distinctly ‘un-participatory’. (p. 141)

In a situation such as the one detailed by Gallagher, doctoral students must quickly decide how to respond, affecting the research process and their positionality within the setting. Accessing official guidance or deliberating with a more experienced researcher is impractical in the moment.

Doctoral students must navigate unexpected, challenging situations (Naveed et al., 2017). In doing so, there is a need to interrogate their positionality and engage in reflexivity—both exercises that require vulnerability regarding one’s identity (Ballamingie & Johnson, 2011). Often this means doctoral students are placed in a position of examining their own identity during fieldwork, when embedded power relations and expectations make themselves known. While the binary of insider/outsider status pervades discussions of positionality, doctoral students who are studying at universities might instead be ‘neither inside nor outside of the school’ and ‘engaged in messy, continuously shifting relationships’ (Thomson & Gunter, 2011, p. 18). Positionality is also about how researchers are perceived by others (McGinity, 2012; Milligan, 2016). Researcher identity, then, involves the space in-between; that is, ‘the different ways in which people are perceived as a certain type of person in the context in which they find themselves’ (Hoang & Pretorius, 2019, p. 144). Hence, it is important for doctoral students to feel confident and prepared in handling these relational tensions.

The idea of ‘going into the field’ is wrapped in colonial conceptions of preparation for the unknown and unfamiliar (Griffiths, 2017). It can create the assumption that those conducting research in their home country may need less preparation or instructional guidance because the study site is more ‘familiar’. There are growing discussions in other fields regarding the appropriateness of this divide (c.f. Brummans & Hwang, 2018). Of particular interest to us is the relative lack of literature regarding Australian doctoral students that bridges the divide between fieldwork ‘out there’ and fieldwork conducted in a student’s local area (one notable exception is Palmer et al., 2014).

Research methodology

Research context

In the Australian setting, the PhD program typically takes 3-to-4 years to complete full-time. Students enrol in the PhD at various life stages, often having diverse expectations about research and training, seen through a potential ‘mismatch’ between their initial expectations and lived experiences (Holbrook et al., 2014). Unlike other doctoral contexts, such as in the United States, most Australian universities do not include comprehensive exams within the PhD program or require an oral defence to complete the doctoral process (Mantai, 2019). As the programs are more condensed relative to institutions overseas, there is increasing pressure for doctoral students to get their fieldwork ‘right’ on the first try.

Both authors were enrolled in the same doctoral program at a regional university in Australia. A description of each of our studies is provided in the following section; however, both were in the second year of our doctoral studies when we engaged in fieldwork. We received institutional ethics approval for our studies (University of Newcastle, Human Research Ethics Committee, Approval No. H-2018-0447 and H-2020-0431). All names and institutions reported in this paper are pseudonyms.

Methods

Given our fieldwork involved multiple encounters with various people in the school community, we reviewed our fieldnotes to create separate summaries of our identities. This step provided a comprehensive snapshot of our interactions, highlighting the fluidity of our fieldwork experiences. Specifically, we organised our review according to ‘people’, ‘my identities’, ‘spaces’ and ‘events’—as displayed in Tables 1 and 2. This resource functioned as a tool that we referred to throughout our analyses.

Table 1 Matthew’s identities
Full size table
Table 2 Kathleen’s identities
Full size table

To explore our doctoral experiences of fieldwork, we used combinations of independent analytical work and rich discussions, reflecting a similar process to Palmer et al. (2014). Analysing fieldnotes enables ‘researchers to scrutinise their personal challenges and emotions in relation to the research process’ (Punch, 2012, p. 87). We framed our analysis through the lens of ‘fluid identities’ (Thomson & Gunter, 2011) and a shared metaphor (see Hatton & Aitken, 2018)—that of ‘rapids’ (Lonergan & Cumming, 2017). Using the concept of fluidity enabled dynamic analysis of the notion of insider/outsider identity, while the shared metaphor provided a framing device to explore commonalities and differences between our experiences.

We utilised deductive coding of our fieldnotes, in line with themes related to Matthew’s conference presentation. We discussed and refined these through regular meetings, determining three interconnected themes as being most illustrative that were also based in the existing research literature: (i) the multiple roles of the researcher; (ii) reflecting on researcher presence; and (iii) balancing needs of the researcher and the school. Returning to our fieldnotes, we then individually produced brief narratives about our own experiences based on these themes, similar to Hatton and Aitken (2018). These narratives are now presented, with a discussion of the connections between the narratives to follow.

Matthew’s story

My PhD study investigated secondary mathematics and drama across a 10-week term at a government school in NSW, Australia. The aim was to better understand the role of school subjects in relation to teaching practice and students’ learning experiences. Using mixed-methods, I observed the lessons of two specialist teachers—one mathematics (Peter) and one drama (Kylie)—as they taught units of work to two of their classes. I collected data in the form of: pre- and post-unit interviews with both teachers; lesson observations; focus group discussions with students; and programming and assessment documents. I also kept a journal to record daily events and interactions; track data collection activities; and reflect on every school visit.

In preparing for fieldwork, I drew on prior experience as a research assistant. I was familiar with processes for contacting schools and ‘gaining access’ to study sites. As a research assistant, I had facilitated interviews and focus groups, and conducted more than 50 lesson observations in multiple subjects. However, I still felt underprepared at the school given the relatively prolonged nature of my fieldwork. I had barely considered my researcher identity until I was ‘doing fieldwork’ and began to feel a palpable sense of uncertainty (Elliot, 2022).

I organised my research activities according to Peter’s and Kylie’s timetables. I typically observed two or three lessons in 1 day, moving from one classroom to another or waiting in the staffroom between lessons. My roles readily shifted from ‘the observer’ to a more ambiguous, ‘non-observer’ role:

While my presence at the school feels ‘sporadic’ because I am in and out at different times depending on when lessons are scheduled, my presence is actually becoming regular and familiar. The Head Teacher of mathematics brought this to my attention, as she said it doesn’t seem sporadic for them… I’m so conscious of imposing on their daily professional lives.

I was chatting with Peter after his Year 11 mathematics class. One of the other mathematics teachers called out to say hello and added that I was like a ghost because he turns around and I’m suddenly there. I felt awkward, but not unwelcome. It did make me think that perhaps I should make a greater effort to do some of my work at the school to have less of a ‘ghost effect’.

These reflections show how my researcher presence became influenced by the perceptions of others (McGinity, 2012; Milligan, 2016). I had initially assumed that minimal interaction with teachers beyond specified research activities was ideal. However, the counter-intuitive notion that my presence was still ‘regular and familiar’ signalled a dissonance between my identity and how my daily presence was perceived by the teachers. I remained aware that my work was different to that of the teachers because it involved distinct researcher activities—observations, interviews, focus groups. Initially, I thought of my fieldwork in terms of efficiency and pragmatics, overlooking the significance of adopting a more immersive approach. The comment, ‘like a ghost,’ struck me for this reason, prompting me to rethink my engagement in the school environment.

My day-to-day interactions also dismantled my initial sense of adopting a ‘fixed’ researcher role. The study was announced in the school newsletter before I commenced school visits, meaning that I naively expected those within the school community to know who I was, why I was there, and what my role would be. A conversation with Kylie’s students enabled me to see otherwise:

Today some students asked me if I wanted to become a teacher. After explaining to them that I am ‘technically’ a teacher already, they asked about my current degree. Our discussion landed on me becoming a researcher – students seemed highly interested and wondered how I stay focussed on one topic for so long.

Despite Kylie introducing me to her class as a PhD student researching mathematics and drama, her students associated my role with that of a student intern. This points to shortcomings in my assumption that students would know why I was in their classroom. It highlights that the initial introduction and the ‘blanket’ newsletter announcement were ineffective in reaching all the school community, forcing me to rethink the interrelated nature of my positionality.

Becoming relatively settled in the school environment across the course of my fieldwork carried implicit expectations for me to share insights about my research outcomes. This resulted in unanticipated tensions which I navigated alone in situ:

At the office, the principal came over to speak to me. She was curious about how [my study] was going and most interested in findings from the student focus groups.

Kylie said to me during the lesson she was looking forward to seeing what I find. She asked me what stands out so far – I said something about the discussions between students…though this comment was vague.

My reflections on these interactions highlight struggles in meeting the expectations of others while implementing my study design as intended, with limited biases. I did not disclose any key insights. My reasoning was twofold: I had not conducted preliminary analyses and so had no results to report, only impressions; and my study aimed to gain insights from multiple perspectives, meaning it was incomplete at that point in time. This reflection also raises a tension between doing research about, compared to with, participants, which was a result of my initial research design.

Finally, fieldwork revealed the intricate balancing my needs as a researcher with the needs of participants and the school. Thinking about ‘needs’ encompasses notions of the imposter and the imposition of my research. It also involved an ebb and flow (McGinity, 2012) of manageable and necessary decision-making.

The mathematics faculty were under the pump today…I offered assistance and helped to organise paperwork for a cover class. I also asked Peter if he was still happy for me to stay to observe his Year 11 class…

Today was incredibly frustrating...I was disappointed because both teachers had forgotten to contact me to say they would be away. I am reminding myself not to take it personally. If anything, it shows I’m not at the front of their minds.

My reflections highlight how my research became adaptive on a day-to-day basis. I was astutely aware that my researcher needs were secondary to the needs of the school, the teachers, and their students. I assumed that adopting a ‘helper’ role was suitable in the circumstances; however, I was simultaneously aware that this role might be seen to serve my research interests alone. At the same time, my research was a peripheral, lower priority amid general school matters, including teacher absences.

Kathleen’s story

My PhD study was conducted in one primary school in Matabeleland North, Zimbabwe over 4 months in 2019. I am a white Australian woman, who was born in Zimbabwe but has since lived in Australia for most of her life. The aim of the study was to examine tourism in the school and its effect on the school day (see Smithers & Ailwood, 2022). I was a participant observer/classroom teacher 3 days a week and attended a local non-government organisation office, who worked closely with the school, on the other 2 days. I participated in school life by standing with teachers during assembly, taking class attendance in the morning, and marking student work. The research methods included children’s drawings of interactions with tourists, semi-structured interviews with students and teachers, and ethnographic fieldnotes. I had hoped to develop the role of ‘least adult’, which positions the researcher as contrary to most adult roles (Mayeza, 2017). For example, in the least adult role, the researcher involves themselves in activities as a neutral observer who avoids disciplining children or providing instructions.

A dilemma was my presence in the school, I found myself balancing my wishes with the school’s needs. From the outset, I planned to be a participant-observer in one class for the term, supporting the classroom teacher as needed. Instead, the teacher I was paired with (Zibusiso) frequently asked me to teach the class without them being present in the classroom, often with little guidance as to the planned lesson or its links to the curriculum. As a qualified high school teacher (Grade 7–12) in Australia, I was out of my depth teaching Grade 4 and often did not know where my paired teacher was or when they would be coming back.

Collaboration and the formation of relationships are a constant process and there were many renegotiations of my role at the school. Initially, I felt unable to have the conversations that were needed to clarify my role. There were occasions I was left alone in the classroom and uncertain of the next step. I found myself asking, should I follow Zibusiso out of the classroom? Should I teach the class? Should I wait for Zibusiso to return? Eventually, feeling as though I had no choice, the role I performed was that of a teaching assistant who sometimes filled in for the teacher. My early fieldnotes demonstrate the pressure I felt about stepping into this ‘teacher’ role:

Following the tourist demonstrationFootnote 1 we returned to our classroom, and when I say ‘we’ I mean just me and the students. Zibusiso had disappeared. After about 5–10 min sitting there, I realised Zibusiso was not coming back and I got up and continued through the list of vocabulary words. I don’t think I would have usually done this, because I don’t want to be seen as a replacement teacher but there were tourists in the school and I didn’t want them to see the kids all rowdy. After all, all of the teachers had been telling the students I was a teacher for the term and I was introduced to the tourists as a teacher at the school, so I felt I had to step up!

In these moments, I felt incredibly awkward and almost paralysed in my indecision as I waited to see if Zibusiso would return. I had no idea what was expected of me or how I should fulfill my role as researcher in this position. There is a level of performativity implicit in working in a school environment, in which there are discourses about what a ‘good’ teacher–researcher might do or how they might act. With the added pressure of the tourist gaze (see Smithers, 2021), I felt the need to ‘step up’ and conform to the image of what ‘good’ teaching might look like—leaving my role as ‘researcher’ aside for the moment.

Throughout the term there was an expectation that I would easily perform the ‘teacher’ role. One day, several teachers were absent from school and I played the role of ‘casual’ teacher:

After the announcements the lead teacher mentions they are two teachers down: the Grade 1 and Grade 4 teachers. Two of the teachers say, ‘but the Grade 4 teacher is here’. And then I feel awkward and they tell me I have to teach the whole day. I say ‘okay’, and Bridget intercedes by saying ‘she was meant to be my visitor today’ and they conclude that my classroom visits must wait until all staff are at school. I’m very annoyed by this but try not to show it.

The arrangements of my role and what it entailed were in constant flux. In the extract above, the role of teacher impeded my role as researcher, in which my visit to another teacher’s classroom was placed on hold. I had hoped to develop the least adult role; however, I was not quite ‘least-adult’ and was not quite a teacher as I moved in and out of roles. Abebe (2009) refers to this identity as the ‘atypical adult teacher’ (p. 459).

The tension between my own needs as a ‘researcher’ and the school’s needs of me as a ‘teacher’ were at the forefront of most of my reflections and decision making during the research:

The teachers are called into the Grade 5 classroom and we are given a purple MazoeFootnote 2 and an orange Mazoe each. Zibusiso tells me they are for drinking at school, they get one per term and in winter they get coffee or tea. I feel privileged to be included in the group of teachers, although my role is confusing. Do I want to be a teacher, or would I prefer to be on the periphery as the outsider researcher?

Building and maintaining relationships with research participants is key to enabling research based in reciprocity and respect. During the research, I was unsure about the ‘in between’ role I played in the classroom. The ‘in between’ shaped the relationships with other teachers and my fieldnotes, in which I was constantly assessing and reassessing my role, and my relationships at the school.

As part of my aim of ‘giving back’ (Gupta & Kelly, 2014) and ensuring I minimised disruption to the school, I undertook a range of duties outside of the researcher and teacher roles. I moved through the roles of secretary, cook, and classroom assistant:

Today we serve food to some important visitors to the school. It took a long time, and when we are eventually allowed into the room, we dish out the meal across 10 plates. They have beef stew, potatoes, coleslaw, rice, and potato salad. It was made by Precious and it looks so much nicer than the school lunch food.

Zibusiso had referred to me as the secretary earlier today because of all the extra administration tasks I am helping with lately. Today, I ended up typing up a letter for parents, printing the copies, and then stamping each one with the school stamp. All in all, an interesting day, especially regarding the concept of giving back (i.e., being secretary) and also the concept of getting in the way (i.e., am I?)

I intended to maximise the ways I could ‘give back’ and this included conducting any tasks asked of me. For Zibusiso I photocopied exam papers, tidied the class storeroom, and undertook other roles of support. Chacko (2004, p. 57) identifies that ‘every label the researcher or informant adopts, or is given, produces specific discourse’. By accepting roles assigned to me, I was hoping to minimise the power relations inevitably produced by my own position as a relatively wealthy, white, outsider—although I remain unsure about the extent to which this approach was successful.

Discussion

Alongside previous research, our stories highlight how the three key themes unfold during fieldwork. These processes are (i) the multiple roles of the researcher; (ii) reflecting on researcher presence; and (iii) balancing needs of the researcher and the school (e.g. Abebe, 2009; Chacko, 2004; Lonergan & Cumming, 2017; Thomson & Gunter, 2011). These processes overlapped through complex relational interactions in the distinct settings, echoing ‘the rapids of research’ (Lonergan & Cumming, 2017, p. 142) in which we experienced instability, unpredictability, and exhilaration across the research. We both described visceral tensions linked to establishing a sense of ‘place’ and role whilst conducting our research with minimal disruption to general school operations. These experiences complicated the formulaic path we took in conceptualising our research projects, challenging us to think in more nuanced ways about the ethical implications of our projects (Guba & Lincoln, 1994). We now explore similarities between our fieldwork experiences, uncovering ‘hidden’ learnings which we suggest might better support doctoral students.

There was a multiplicity of roles that emerged through the enactment of our research, including daily interactions with people in various spaces. The concept of ‘fluidity’ enabled us to make meaning from these experiences given it provided language to expand our perspectives and better recognise the complexities of identity, including issues in upholding a ‘fixed’ researcher status in social contexts (Thomson & Gunter, 2011). For example, we both acted in support roles when helping with preparation for classes and a variety of other roles across the school. Transformation beyond that of observer formed part of a process of reciprocity in which we felt compelled to conform to the school’s culture and expectations, to assist rather than further impose upon the school. Navigating these roles and circumstances is usually discussed in relation to cross-cultural research (see, for example, Gupta & Kelly, 2014; Milligan, 2016; Russell, 2005), but considering our stories side by side highlights that researchers experience unexpected roles and identities no matter the context or purposes of their studies.

We engaged with people in myriad ways, reflecting our flexibility amid the ‘rapids’ of classroom-based research (Lonergan & Cumming, 2017). Our positionality in the school was influenced by a variety of people, enabling us to embody a variety of identities (see Tables 1, 2). At times we questioned our presence in the school, whether it was as a ‘ghost’ or someone who had to fill in the role of a teacher. However, over time we found ourselves becoming comfortable with the fluidity, accepting the ever-changing needs of the school. Aligning with Thomson and Gunter (2011), we experienced fluid relationships with various people that were ‘messily blurred in particular places and times’ (p. 26). Rather than adopting a narrowly conceptualised ‘researcher’ role, we became empowered to enact multiple roles as needed.

Our emotions shaped our feelings of presence, as we grappled with the level of involvement we had in the school. Indeed, over the course of the fieldwork we both felt anger and frustration, but also joy and happiness. Some encounters generated unexpected or unwanted emotions (Roberts & McGinty, 1995) and challenged our preconceptions about managing and conducting fieldwork in a timely, appropriate, and ethical manner. In considering awkward or frustrating moments, we reassessed our ways of conducting our research and reflected more on our presence as a researcher. Interestingly, such interactions and emotional experiences are rarely featured within formal coursework, which traditionally omit discussions of emotions or methods for managing emotions ‘in the field’. Our experiences show, however, the value of taking time to understand our ‘assembly of feelings, failings and moods’ (Fine, 1994, p. 246) in our research practice.

A range of tensions emerge in dynamic environments such as schools, meaning that research becomes a new element in already complex interactions (Thomson & Gunter, 2011). Throughout our fieldwork we witnessed ‘a multiplicity of circumstances… [and] needs’ (Lonergan & Cumming, 2017, p. 144). Despite outlining research activities and protocols in our ethics documentation, our stories highlight moments of ‘misalignment’ between our needs and the needs of the school or participants (Lonergan & Cumming, 2017); we experienced tensions between disruptions and a desire to conduct our research successfully. However, rather than letting our experiences slip into the ‘hidden history’ of what happens during doctoral research (Russell, 2005), we became cognisant of the importance of reciprocity and our fluid identity. This gradual realisation was critical to our learning and development, whereby fieldwork was a source for finding ‘hidden treasure’ as part of the hidden doctoral curriculum (Elliot, 2022).

There is value in discussing the complexities of classrooms and the ways in which novice researchers should approach their position in a school (Lonergan & Cumming, 2017). We both experienced the ‘rapids’ of balancing our needs with the schools’ needs, in which we had to rapidly adjust or change plans in the moment with little time for consultation. With one of us geographically ‘close’ and the other far away from our supervisors, we were both unable to access their knowledge in the moments of shifting plans. Our reflections highlight the need for doctoral students to anticipate the unexpected and prepare to be emotionally challenged during experiences of fieldwork—whether these are short term or long term experiences. Further, as our reflections affirm, there is a need to resist the ‘sociological practice of fixing and naming’ (Thomson & Gunter, 2011, p. 27) to better prepare for the realities of fieldwork.

Conclusion

We have demonstrated how the fieldwork dilemmas for doctoral students can be strikingly similar across different education contexts. Using fieldnotes we have explored the shifting roles we encountered, alongside emotional aspects involved with fieldwork. This reflexivity (c.f. Griffiths, 2017; Honan, 2014) necessitates a dual focus, whereby doctoral students look to and beyond their immediate fieldwork experiences. Honan (2014) cautions on the use of reflexivity as a stopgap for considering ethical tensions present in research:

We are all ‘good’ qualitative researchers who have learned about our powerful positions, and carefully use words and space to describe these relations. But then we move on, done with the confessional, we jump out of the wooden cubicle to sin again, cleansed for the moment by the sacrament of reflexivity. (p. 11)

Aligning with this argument, we recognise the importance of preparation and anticipation, as well as emergent feelings of discomfort and a sense of imposition in the context of fieldwork. However, looking beyond these experiences is crucial in the process of doctoral research and in understanding how one might change or come to understand their approach in future projects. In turn, we identify here some key practical insights for doctoral students to consider in pre-empting problems they may encounter.

Our stories illuminate our values about communication protocols. Although we followed protocols regarding information statements about the research, misunderstandings about our roles invariably arose. While we might assert our positioning in future projects, we can also better anticipate the realities of fieldwork, including sensitivity to our needs and the needs of others. This awareness will help guide our ongoing efforts in communicating research—whether in fieldwork or otherwise. We encourage doctoral students to establish their role in the school early in the research process and remain open to shifting roles in the spirit of fluid identity (Thomson & Gunter, 2011).

It is important to establish and maintain rapport with research participants in any context (Abebe, 2009; Chacko, 2004; Wolcott, 1995). Our sense of rapport—building and maintaining it—emerged through daily interactions, tensions, and visceral reflections, including: the potential need to change or adapt our research; choosing to keep research ‘findings’ undisclosed during data collection; being a conduit to conversations beyond the purpose of the research; and performing the ‘helper’ role by stepping outside planned roles. Some of our fieldwork encounters, however well anticipated at the outset, were amplified due to the inherent complexity of school settings and the everchanging nature of classrooms (Lonergan & Cumming, 2017). Our experiences of establishing and nurturing rapport were betwixt and between spaces and interactions in the field (McGinity, 2012; Thomson & Gunter, 2011). We now see these aspects of fieldwork as vital to the overall success of a project. Keeping fieldnotes enables one to reflect on these experiences in due course, such that doctoral students might better prepare by thinking through note taking structures, identity theory, and reflexive methods.

Our stories highlight the emotional work of fieldwork, evoking the metaphor of ‘rapids’ (Lonergan & Cumming, 2017). Over the course of our projects, we moved through mixed emotions—including frustration, disappointment, and happiness. There is value in sharing field diaries that demonstrate emotional and academic pressures involved in doctoral research (Punch, 2012). By sharing personal reflections from fieldwork, we add to the insights about doctoral students’ learning; that is, we now see emotions as crucial alongside intellectual development. Doctoral research students might prepare by recognising expectations and the emotional aspects involved in ‘doing’ research. We do not anticipate this work is only the responsibility of doctoral students; instead, it constitutes an area warranting structured support and resources (Elliot, 2022).

We have demystified some aspects of ‘the unanticipated’ which characterised our fieldwork experiences. Our stories address inter-personal relationships and our self-reflection; highlighting evidence of resilience, perseverance, adaptability, and higher-order thinking. The nurturing of these skills might be overlooked in the process of preparing doctoral students and undervalued outcomes of the PhD that might, in fact, appeal to industry beyond academia (Pitt & Mewburn, 2016). At the same time, these reflections illustrate the privileged, powerful status of researchers in any school context (Honan, 2014). This status transcends our fieldwork experiences, over and above conflicting priorities, changes to plans and in-situ ethical tensions (Lonergan & Cummings, 2017). Our paper further unravels hidden domains of doctoral learning, offering fruitful insights to help spur others along in preparing for fieldwork, whether that field work is ‘out there’ or ‘at home’.