Academic literature on the topic 'Straight talk about communicationresearch methods'

Purpose: The aim of this study was to assess the effectiveness of CrossFit exercises over a period of 8 weeks in a group of high school students during their physical education sessions at the school. and to mitigate the deficits in fitness caused by COVID-19 prevention measures. Material and methods: 94 students subject aged (16– 17) years were randomly allocated into an included 46 students (2nd level:12 men 11 women; 3rd level: 12 men 11 women) and 1 control group included 48 students (2nd level:13 men 11 women; 3rd level: 13 men 12 women Experimental group (EG) that performed the 8 weeks CrossFit exercises and control group (CG). Physical fitness tests were done: lifting straight legs in height (number times); running on the spot with an intensity of 70% of the maximum to severe fatigue (c); "Shuttle" run 4 × 9 m (with); 60 m run (s) and cross twine (cm). Results: there are considering changes, development of the maximum dynamic force endurance, speed abilities, flexibility and mobility in the hip joints of the main groups, In the age aspect, there is mainly the improvement in results with age, both in the main and control groups (p>0,05). Conclusion: the study achieved a significant improvement in the physical condition of the students, also allows to talk about the effectiveness of training, built on the basis of a motivated choice of the target CrossFit high school program.

Purpose: The aim of this study was to assess the effectiveness of CrossFit exercises over a period of 8 weeks in a group of high school students during their physical education sessions at the school. and to mitigate the deficits in fitness caused by COVID-19 prevention measures. Material and methods: 94 students subject aged (16– 17) years were randomly allocated into an included 46 students (2nd level:12 men 11 women; 3rd level: 12 men 11 women) and 1 control group included 48 students (2nd level:13 men 11 women; 3rd level: 13 men 12 women Experimental group (EG) that performed the 8 weeks CrossFit exercises and control group (CG). Physical fitness tests were done: lifting straight legs in height (number times); running on the spot with an intensity of 70% of the maximum to severe fatigue (c); "Shuttle" run 4 × 9 m (with); 60 m run (s) and cross twine (cm). Results: there are considering changes, development of the maximum dynamic force endurance, speed abilities, flexibility and mobility in the hip joints of the main groups, In the age aspect, there is mainly the improvement in results with age, both in the main and control groups (p>0,05). Conclusion: the study achieved a significant improvement in the physical condition of the students, also allows to talk about the effectiveness of training, built on the basis of a motivated choice of the target CrossFit high school program.

The aim of this study was to assess the effectiveness of a CrossFit exercises over a period of 8 weeks in a group of high school students during their physical education sessions at the school and to mitigate the deficits in fitness caused by COVID-19 prevention measures. Stuff and Research Methods. 94 students aged 16–17 years were randomly allocated into an included 46 students (2nd level: 12 male and 11 female students; 3rd level: 12 male and 11 female students) and 1 control group included 48 students (2nd level: 13 male 11 female students; 3rd level: 13 male and 12 female students of experimental group (EG) that performed the 8 weeks CrossFit. During the study, students in the control group (CG) were based only on the general physical education and sports program for high school students in secondary school. Physical fitness tests were done: lifting straight legs in height (number times); running on the spot with an intensity of 70 % of the maximum to severe fatigue (c); shuttle run 4× m (with); 60 m run (s) and cross twine (cm). Results of the Research. Our conducted research shows the positive influence of the CrossFit. There are a considering changes, development of the maximum dynamic force endurance, speed abilities, flexibility and mobility in the hip joints of the main groups, In the age aspect, there is mainly the improvement in results with age, both in the main and control groups (p>0,05). Conclusions. The study achieved a significant improvement in the physical condition of the students, also allows to talk about the effectiveness of training, built on the basis of a motivated choice of the target CrossFit high school program.

When Dr. Jorge asked me to write something about Professor Egon, given that we are close friends, my first reaction was to feel very honored by the request. I thought it would be easy to talk about our Professor, but it didn’t quite turn out that way. Professor Egon was highly praised at our Congress in Gramado recently, for his work and his legacy of training resident students in Orthopedics at our HC – and previously at the Santa Casa – and in the Traumatology Unit of the HPS, where he was a doctor until his retirement. What’s more, he received the greatest of all homages that anybody could wish for; that of his own son, who literally, followed in his footsteps. It was then that, thinking again, I decided to speak about Prof. Egon and my special relationship with him. I met the Master during the 4th year of my medical course, when he was Chair of General Surgery, Orthopedics discipline, on ward 33 at the Santa Casa de Porto Alegre. It was a theory class, on a Friday morning, which was the curricular time slot for theoretical activities of the Chair on that ward. He had come straight from a night on duty at the Emergency Room of the hospital to the scientific activity, without showing any signs of tiredness. This was the first time I had heard his teachings on the “hallux valgus”, and on its anatomy and physiopathology. His marvelous capacity for description and his teaching methods, which are characteristic to him, seemed to set my very neurons on fire, and I am certain it was then that I, already with a propensity for traumatology, was bitten by the “ambition bug”. I followed him for the rest of the course, whenever I got the chance. In the fifth year, here in Porto Alegre, we took the internship at the HPS for the entire year. In our various shifts between the departments of the Hospital and the days of the week, I found myself, in the second semester, in the Traumatology unit on Thursdays. There, my observation of the Professor’s conduct, both medical and personal, was what most attracted my attention. And care of the traumatological patient demands close attention. He was a good listener, and he was “hands on”, as they say, not only transferring practical skills to the intern students, but also teaching how to do, by doing, and speaking, and explaining the pathology and its course. And so time passed for all of us. We never grew apart. On the contrary, we strengthened family ties, always with a great deal of pride and honor. We were together at most of the Congresses here in the South and those of the ABTPé. We often dined together, and we were always together in the relaxation areas of the Congresses. By together, I mean with our families. When I finally decided on Foot Surgery, at Dr. Mauro’s Congress in Curitiba, in 1992, I joined the SBMCP, with Prof. Egon’s signature as my referee. I have already commented about that time, in one of our Bulletins. Dr. Marcio Benevento, when he received my enrolment form, opened his eyes wide and said: “with this signature here (pointing to the signature), you’re already in! Congratulations!” Unforgettable. We continued to meet at the outpatient clinic of the HC, where I had now graduated from the internship in the IOT in São Paulo. We restarted the Foot Committee in Rio Grande do Sul. We traveled around the state with the whole Committee, presenting themes to update doctor’s knowledge. And amidst all this “youthful” thirst for information and action, there he was, sitting in a van, travelling for three or four hours, from one city to the next, giving his lessons, accompanying everything until the end of the dinners that we were offered, always being searched out, and asked questions about conducts in all types of clinical cases brought by colleagues from the interior of the country. That was the Teacher. He has always been a Teacher. On one of these occasions, I heard him utter a phrase that, at least for me, was one that defines him: “if they invite me to a celebration, I’ll think about it, but if they invite me to a class, a conference or a surgery, I’m ready to go”. I learned that conservative treatment exists, and should be used to its full extent, and that only then should surgery be considered. I also learned that when we go into the theater to perform an operation, the surgery is the most important thing of all; we don’t go into surgery to get it over and done, we go in to perform surgery. And while he was operating, that is exactly what you saw: clean, anatomical surgery, carried out methodically, step-by-step; he was never in a hurry, and he was always talking, explaining and teaching. And that’s what Professor Egon is like, even now. A teacher. A father. An intellectual father to us all.

The aim of this study was to assess the level of availability of HIV prevention strategies in secondary schools in Kabarole district, Uganda in order to inform the design of interventions to strengthen HIV Prevention and psychosocial support. Quantitative and qualitative research methods were used in eight secondary schools in Kabarole district to establish available HIV prevention and psychosocial support services. Questionnaires were administered to 355 students 12-24 years old. In addition, 20 Key Informant interviews were held with education service providers. Quantitative data was analyzed using Epi-data and qualitative data were analyzed by thematic content analysis. Seven of the eight schools had at least one HIV prevention strategy. Two teachers in each of the five schools had been trained in HIV prevention. No school had a nurse trained in HIV prevention, care and support. Education service providers had limited knowledge of HIV prevention support and care of students living with HIV. We found out that students had knowledge on how one can acquire HIV. HIV prevention services reported by students in schools included: talks from teachers and guests (19%), drama with HIV prevention related messages (16%), peer education clubs (15%), workshops and seminars on HIV (8%), sensitization about HIV/AIDS (7%), guidance and counseling (6%), talking compounds- (5%), abstinence talks (6%), keeping students busy in sports (4%), straight talk (4%). Sixty three percent reported receiving HIV reading materials from various sources. Preventing HIV infection among students in schools is still demanding with limited interventions for students. Efforts to support school interventions should focus on including HIV Prevention in the school curriculum, working with peer educators as well as education service providers who spend much of the time with the students while at school.

The article considers research methods and features of the functional state of the vestibular apparatus and vestibular disorders in children with sensorineural hearing loss. We used the methods of analysis, generalization and systematization of data from domestic and foreign literature sources on methods of studying the vestibular apparatus in children with sensorineural hearing loss. It was determined that the function of balance and coordination of movements is one of the most complex, and consists of several analyzers - visual, vestibular, proprioceptive and tactile. When studying the physical development of children with this pathology, attention is paid to the formation of the main static-dynamic and coordination capabilities according to the age of the child. In children with congenital sensorineural deafness, and especially double deafness, there are signs of vestibular insufficiency and impaired translational control, movement and gait. This affects the development of gross motor functions, such as sitting and walking, to a lesser extent affects fine motor skills, if there are no layers of other pathologies of the central nervous system. The pathological process in the auditory analyzer changes the function of the vestibular apparatus, due to their close location in the labyrinth and innervation by one cranial nerve, and in turn changes in the vestibular apparatus contribute to the formation of motor disorders. Therefore, we can observe a certain general principle of operation of the auditory and vestibular systems. At children who have low vestibular stability any turns, inclinations, sharp change of a direction of movement causes imbalance of coordination and balance of movements. All these delays in physical development, according to many authors, are cumulative in character and are caused by the hearing defect itself, insufficient information from the environment, difficulty expressing thoughts and desires verbally, as well as the state of the motor analyzer and vestibular activity. Children with hearing impairment have an insufficient level of coordination development, physical development, static and dynamic balance, spatial orientation. Researches of the vestibular apparatus, namely the functions of coordination and balance are carried out in several categories: the research of tonic vestibular reactions, coordination of movements and static and dynamic balance. Researches of tonic vestibular reactions are performed on the following tests: the test with outstretched arms, Vodak-Fisher test, pointing test Barani, finger-nose test, Holmagi test. Researches of static and dynamic equilibrium are carried out on the samples of Romberg, Grahe, Oppenheim, walking in a straight line. When analyzing these samples, we can talk about the degree of violation of coordination and stato-dynamic balance. As a result of vestibular compensation, children with sensorineural deafness can catch up with their peers with normal hearing with the help of visual and somato-sensory systems, pyramidal and extra-pyramidal systems.

Abstract Background/Aims Building on the success of NRAS’s New2RA Right Start service, and after speaking to families and healthcare professionals it was clear that there is a need for a New2JIA Right Start service. “Parents are given an overwhelming amount of information about a new disease, along with countless hospital appointments, blood tests, physio appointments and medication to administer. Add to the mix, trying to explain to your child (if they're old enough) what is going on with their joints and why they are in so much pain and discomfort when you don't really understand yourself! Parents have to deal with all of this, often trying to hold down their job and having other children to look after. Then there's the worry of how your child's future will look. New2JIA Right Start would have been my saviour and my husband’s too.” JIA Ambassador Methods Healthcare professionals will refer families to JIA-at-NRAS through a simple (GDPR compliant) form on our website. This is received by JIA-at-NRAS and a zoom call is arranged with up to 6 other families, also referred with children of similar ages. During the call, all aspects of JIA will be discussed, and parents will have the opportunity to ask questions. Families will have a follow up zoom call 10 weeks later to see how they are getting on. The service is being launched in phases throughout the UK, with phase 1 in November 2022, phase 2 in February 2023 and phase 3 in May 2023. Impact measurements will be imbedded to make sure that we are not only meeting the needs of the service user, but also having a positive impact to their lives, their children’s and ensuring they feel better equipped to manage their child’s condition. Results This new service not only benefits families but also healthcare professionals. The benefits to families are to: better understand what JIA is, know how it can affect their child and family, not feel alone during a daunting and overwhelming time, get the right support, feel more in control of managing their child’s condition, talk to another parent who has a child with JIA and access useful information resources. The benefits to healthcare professionals are: knowing families have support straight away (including peer-to-peer support), knowing that families are being given trusted information, reduced burden on their team and regular contact with JIA-at-NRAS. Conclusion Results from the Mental Health Survey, in collaboration with all other JIA charities in 2022, showed that 82% of families said having a child diagnosed with JIA has impacted negatively on their mental health. This service is there to help reduce these anxieties and give them the understanding and tools needed to help manage their child’s condition. Disclosure D. Wilson: None.

Photograph by Gonzalo Echeverria (2010)“Let us not doubt in philosophy what we do not doubt in our hearts.” (C. S. Peirce) Introduction Doubting has always had a somewhat bad name. A “doubting Thomas” is a pejorative term for one who doubts what he or she has not witnessed first-hand, a saying which derives originally from Thomas the Apostle’s doubting of the resurrected Christ. That doubt is the opposite of faith or conviction seems to cast doubt in a bad light. There is also the saying “He has the strength of his convictions” which seems to imply we ought correspondingly to say, “He has the weakness of his doubts”. One might recall that Socrates was likened to an electric eel because his peculiar form of questioning had the power to stun his interlocutors by crushing their pet convictions and cherished beliefs under the weight of the wise man’s reasonable doubts. Despite this bad press, however, doubting is a rational activity motivated by a vitally important concern for the truth, for getting things right. And our capacity to nurture reasonable doubts and to take them seriously is now more important than ever. Consider these examples: 1) In the modern world we are relying more and more on the veracity of the Internet’s enormous and growing mass of data often without much thought about its epistemic credentials or provenance. But who or what underwrites its status as information, its presumption of truth? 2) The global financial crisis depended upon the fact that economists and bank analysts placed unbounded confidence in being able to give mathematically precise models for risk, chance and decision-making under conditions of unavoidable ignorance and uncertainty. Why weren’t these models doubted before the crisis? 3) The CIA helped build the case for war in Iraq by not taking properly into account the scant and often contradictory evidence that Saddam Hussain’s regime had weapons of mass destruction. The neat alignment of US neo-conservative policy and CIA “intelligence” ought to have raised serious doubts that might have derailed the justification for war and its inevitable casualties and costs. (See Burns in this issue — Eds.) 4) On the other hand, it is quite likely that corporations that stand to lose large sums of money are fuelling unreasonable doubts about climate change—to what extent we are responsible for it, what the chances are of mitigating its effects, etc.—through misinformation and misdirection. In this paper I want to go a step beyond these specific instances of the value of appropriate doubt. Learning how to doubt, when to doubt and what to doubt is at the heart of a powerful pragmatist approach to philosophy—understood as reflective thinking at its best. After considering two ways of thinking about doubt, I shall outline the pragmatist approach and then briefly consider its bearing on the problems of dogmatism and bullshit in contemporary society. Two Notions of Doubt It is important to distinguish doubts about beliefs from doubts about certainty. That is, in everyday parlance the term “doubt” seems to have two connotations depending on which of these notions it is contrasted with. First of all, doubt can be contrasted with belief. To doubt a belief is to be in “twosome twiminds” as James Joyce aptly put it: a state of neither believing nor disbelieving but hovering between the two, without committing oneself, undecided. To doubt in this sense is to sit on the fence, to vacillate over a truth commitment, to remain detached. In this context doubt is not disbelief but, rather, un-belief. Secondly, doubt can be contrasted with certainty, the absence of doubt. To doubt something that we thought was certain is not to doubt whether it is true or reasonable to believe. If someone asks what the colour of my car is and I say it’s painted blue they might then say, “How do you know that someone has not painted it red in your absence?” This is, of course, possible but it is not at all likely. Even if it causes me to be very slightly doubtful—and, as we shall see, pragmatism offers reasons to block this step—it would not lead me to actually doubt what the colour of my car is. To be less than fully certain is consistent with continuing to believe and doing so for good (even overwhelming) reasons. Of course, some forms of belief such as religious faith may require certainty, in which case to doubt them at all is tantamount to undermining the required attitude. There is also a notion of absolute certainty, meaning the impossibility of doubt. Descartes inaugurates modern philosophy by employing a method of extreme and radical doubting in order to discover absolutely certain (i.e. indubitable) truths. His Meditations involves solipsistic doubts about whether there is an external world, including one’s own body and other people, since perhaps its all a myriad of one’s own subjective experiences. Clearly such philosophical doubt concerns matters that are not ordinarily doubted or even seen as open to doubt. As we shall see, pragmatism sides with common sense here. A Pragmatist Perspective on Doubt With this preliminary distinction in place we can now list four pragmatist insights about doubt that help to reveal its fruitfulness and importance for critical reflection in any field, including philosophy itself: 1) Genuine doubts require reasons. Genuine doubts, doubts we are required to take seriously, arise from particular problematic situations for definite reasons. One does not doubt at will just as one does not believe at will. I cannot believe that I am the Wimbledon tennis champion just by willing to believe it. So, too, I cannot doubt what I believe just by willing to doubt it. I cannot doubt that it is a sunny day if everything speaks in favour of its being so: I’m outside, seeing the sun and clear blue skies etc. Some philosophers think that the mere conceivability or possibility of error is enough to generate a live doubt but pragmatists contest this. For example, is knowledge of what I see before me now undermined because I am not able to rule out the possibility that my brain is being artificially stimulated to induce experiences, as seen in The Matrix? Such brain-in-a-vat doubts are not genuine for the pragmatist because they do not constitute a legitimate reason to doubt. Why? For one thing we have no actual machine that can create an artificial temporally extended “world image” through brain stimulation. These are merely conceivable or “paper” doubts, unliveable paradoxes that we think about in the study but do not take seriously in everyday life. Of course, if we did have such a machine—and it is not clear that this is even technically possible today—this situation would no doubt change. 2) There are no absolute certainties (guaranteed indubitable truths). As we have seen, ordinarily the term “certainty” stands for the actual absence of doubt. That is what we might call subjective certainty since where I am free of doubt another might be doubtful. Subjective certainty is the common state of most people most of the time about many things such as what their name is, where they live, who their family and friends are, what they like to eat etc. There is also Descartes’s notion of what cannot be doubted under any circumstances, which we might call absolute certainty. Traditional philosophy believed it could discover absolute certainties by means of reason alone, these truths being called a priori. At the heart of pragmatism are doubts about all propositions that were previously regarded as absolute certainties. That is, there are no a priori truths in the traditional sense according to the pragmatist. Nothing is guaranteed to be true come what may, even the truths of logic or mathematics which we currently cannot imagine being false. It was at one time thought to be a necessary truth that two straight lines both perpendicular to another straight line never meet… that was, until the nineteenth century discovery of Riemannian geometry. What was supposedly a necessary a priori truth turned out to be false in this context. That anything can be doubted does not mean that everything can be doubted all at once. The attempt to doubt all one’s worldly beliefs presumably includes doubting that one knows the meaning of the words one uses in raising this very doubt (since one doubts the meaning of the term “doubt” itself)—or doubting whether one knows the contents of one’s thoughts—in which case one would undermine the sense of one’s doubts in the very attempt to doubt. But that makes no sense. The moral is that if doubt is to make sense then it might be wide-reaching but it cannot be fully universal. The human desire for absolute certainty is probably inescapable so the lessons of fallibilism need to be hard won again and again. Anything can be doubted—in so far as it makes sense to do so. This is the pragmatist doctrine of fallibilism. It is the position one gets by making room for doubt in one’s system of beliefs without lapsing into complete skepticism. 3) Inquiry is the fallibilistic removal of doubt. Doubt is an unsettled state of mind and “the sole object of inquiry is the settlement of opinion” (Peirce, "Fixation" 375). We are, by nature, epistemically conservative and retain our body of beliefs, or as many of them as possible, in the face of positive reasons for doubt. A doubt stimulates us to an inquiry, which ends by dissolving the doubt and, perhaps, a slight readjustment of our network of beliefs. Since this inquiry is a fallible one nothing is guaranteed to be held fast: there are no eternal truths or indispensable methods. Ancient Pyrrhonian skeptics developed techniques for doubting whether we have any reason to believe one thing rather than another. A famous argument-form they explored is called Agrippa’s Trilemma. If we ask why we should believe any given belief then we must give another belief to serve as a reason. But then the same question arises for it in turn and so on. If we are to avoid the looming infinite regress of reasons for reasons we seem to only have two unpalatable options: either to argue viciously in a circle; or to simply stop at some arbitrary point. The argument thus seems to show that nothing we believe is justified. Pragmatism blocks this trilemma at its origin by arguing that our beliefs conform to a default-and-challenge structure. Current beliefs have the status of default entitlements unless or until specific challenges to them (real doubts) are legitimately raised. On this conception we can be entitled to the beliefs we actually have without requiring reasons for them simply because we have them and lack any good reason for doubt. In an image owed to Otto Neurath, we rebuild our wooden ship of beliefs whilst at sea, replacing planks as need be but, since we must stay afloat, never all planks at once (Quine). Inquiry demands the removal of all actual doubt, not all possible doubt. A belief is, as Charles Peirce conceives it, a habit of action. To doubt a belief, then, is to undermine one’s capacity to act in the relevant respect. The ancient philosopher, Pyrrho, was reputed to need handlers to stop him putting his hands into fire or walking off cliffs because, as a radical skeptic, he lacked the relevant beliefs about fire and falling to make him aware of any danger. The pragmatist, oriented towards action and human practices, does not rest content with his doubts but overcomes them in favour of settled beliefs by way of “a continual process of re-experimenting and re-creating” (Dewey 220) 4) Inquiry requires a democratic ethics. The pragmatist conception of inquiry rehabilitates Plato’s analogy between self and society: the norms of how one is to conduct one’s inquiries are the norms of democratic society. Inquiry is a cooperative human interaction with an environment not, as in the Cartesian tradition, a private activity of solitary a priori reflection. It depends on a social conception of (fallible) reason—understood as intelligent action— which conforms to the democratic ethical principles of the fair and equal right of all to be heard, an invitation and openness to criticism, the toleration of dissenting voices, and instituting methods to help cooperatively resolve disagreements, etc. We inquire in medias res (in the middle of things)—that is, from the midst of our current beliefs and convictions within a community of inquirers. There is no need for a Cartesian propaedeutic doubt to weed out any trace of falsity at the start of inquiry. From the pragmatist point of view we must learn to live with the ineliminable possibility of error and doubt, and of inevitable shortcomings in both our answers and methods. Problems can be overcome as they arise through a self-correcting experimental method of inquiry in which nothing is sacred. A key feature of this conception of inquiry is that it places reasonable doubt at its centre: 1) a sustained doubting of old “certainties” of traditional authorities (e.g. religious, political) or of traditional a priori reason (philosophy); 2) a constant need to distinguish genuine or live doubts from philosophical or paper doubts; 3) and the idea that genuine doubts are both the stimulant to a new inquiry and, when dissolved, signal its end. Dogmatism The importance of the pragmatist conceptions of inquiry and doubt can be appreciated by seeing that various pathologies of believing—pathologies of how to form and maintain beliefs that—are natural to us. Of particular note are dogmatism and fanaticism, which are forms of fixed believing unhinged from rational criticism and sustained without regard to such matters as evidential support, reasonableness and plausibility within the wider community of informed inquirers. Since they divide the world into us and them, fellow-believers and the rest, they inevitably lead to disagreements and hostility. Dogmatists and fanatics loom large in the contemporary world as evidenced by the widespread and malevolent influence of religious, ideological and political dogmas, confrontational forms of nationalism, and fanatical “true believers” in all shapes and forms from die-hard conspiracy theorists to adherents of fad diets and the followers of self-appointed gurus and cult-leaders. The great problem with such forms of believing is that they leave no room for reasonable doubts, which history tells us inevitably arise in matters of human social life and our place in the world. And as history also tells us we go to war and put each other to death over matters of belief and disbelief; of conviction and its lack. Think of Socrates, Jesus, the victims of the Spanish Inquisition, Ghandi, Martin Luther King, and Oscar Romero to name only a small few who have been killed for their beliefs. A great virtue of pragmatism is its anti-authoritarian stance, which is achieved by building doubt into its very methodology and by embracing a democratic ethos that makes each person equally answerable to reasonable doubt. From this perspective dogmatists and fanatical believers are ostracised as retaining an outmoded authoritarian conception of believing that has been superseded in the most successful branches of human inquiry—such as the natural sciences. Bullshit To bullshit is to talk without knowing what one is talking about. Harry Frankfurt has observed, “one of the most salient features of our culture is that there is so much bullshit” (117); and he goes on to argue that bullshitters are “a greater enemy of truth than liars are” (132). Liars care about the truth since they are trying to deceive others into believing what is not true. Bullshitters may say what is true but more often exaggerate, embellish and window-dress. Their purposes lies elsewhere than getting things right so they do not really care whether what they say is true or false or a mixture of the two. Politicians, advertising agents, salesmen and drug company representatives are notorious for bullshitting. Bill Clinton’s “I did not have sex with that woman” is a famous example of political bullshit. He said it for purely political reasons and when he was found to have lied (the evidence being the infamous unwashed dress of Monica Lewinsky) he changed the lie into a truth by redefining the word “sex”—another example of bullshit. The bullshitter can speak the truth but what matters is always the spin. The bullshitter need not (contra Frankfurt) hide his own lack of concern for the truth. He plays at truth-telling but he can do this more or less openly. The so-called bullshit artist may even try to make a virtue out of revealing his bullshit as the bullshit it is, thereby making his audience complicit. But the great danger of bullshit is not so much to others, as to oneself. Inveterate bullshitters are inevitably tempted to believe their own bullshit leading to a situation in which they do not know their own minds. Only one who knows his own mind is aware of what he is committed to, and what he takes responsibility for in the wider community of inquirers who rely on each other for information and reasonable criticism. Doubting provides a defence against bullshitters since it blocks their means: the doubter reaffirms a concern for the truth including the truth about oneself, which the bullshitter is wilfully avoiding. To doubt is to withhold a commitment to the truth through a demand not to commit too hastily or for the wrong reasons. A concern for the truth, for getting things right, is thus central to the practice of reasonable doubting. And reasonably doubting, in turn, depends on knowing one’s own mind, what truths one is committed to, and what epistemic responsibilities one thus incurs to justify and defend truths and to criticise falsehood. Democracy and fallibilist inquiry were borne of doubts about the benevolence, wisdom and authority of tyrants, dictators, priests and kings. Their continued vitality depends on maintaining a healthy skepticism about the beliefs of others and about whether we know our own minds. Only so can we sustain our vital concern for the truth in the face of the pervasive challenges of dogmatists and bullshitters. References Descartes, R. “Meditations on First Philosophy.” In The Philosophical Writings of Descartes: Vols. I-III. J. Cottingham et. al., eds. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985/1641. Dewey, J. The Middle Works, 1899-1924 Vol 12. Ed. Jo Ann Boydston. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1982. Dewey, J. The Middle Works, 1899-1924 Vol 14. Ed. Jo Ann Boydston. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1983. Frankfurt, H. “On Bullshit.” The Importance of What We Care About. Cambridge University Press: Cambridge, 1988. Joyce, J. Finnegan’s Wake. Penguin: London, 1999/1939. Peirce, C.S. “Some Consequences of Four Incapacities.” 1868. In The Essential Peirce.———. “The Fixation of Belief.” 1877. In The Essential Peirce. ———. “How to Make Our Ideas Clear.” 1878. In The Essential Peirce. ———. The Essential Peirce: Vol. 1. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1992. ———. The Essential Peirce: Vol. 2. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1999. Quine, W.V. Theories and Things. Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1981. Sextus Empiricus. Outlines of Scepticism. Trans. J. Barnes & J. Annas. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. Wittgenstein, L. On Certainty. Oxford: Blackwell, 1969.

“Communicating deep feeling in linear solid blocks of print felt arcane, a method beyond me” — Audre Lorde in an interview with Adrienne Rich (Lorde 87) How do you disclose? In writing, in spoken words, in movements, in sounds, in the quiet energetic vibration and its trace in discourse? Is disclosure a narrative account of a self, or a poetic fragment, sent into the world outside the sanction of a story or another recognisable form (see fig. 1)?These are the questions that guide my exploration in this essay. I meditate on them from the vantage point of my own self-narrative, as a community performance practitioner and writer, a poet whose artistry, in many ways, relies on the willingness of others to disclose, to open themselves, and yet who feels ambivalent about narrative disclosures. What I share with you, reader, are my thoughts on what some may call compassion fatigue, on boredom, on burn-out, on the inability to be moved by someone’s hard-won right to story her life, to tell his narrative, to disclose her pain. I find it ironic that for as long as I can remember, my attention has often wandered when someone tells me their story—how this cancer was diagnosed, what the doctors did, how she coped, how she garnered support, how she survived, how that person died, how she lived. The story of how addiction took over her life, how she craved, how she hated, how someone sponsored her, listened to her, how she is making amends, how she copes, how she gets on with her life. The story of being born this way, being prodded this way, being paraded in front of doctors just like this, being operated on, being photographed, being inappropriately touched, being neglected, being forgotten, being unloved, being lonely. Listening to these accounts, my attention does wander, even though this is the heart blood of my chosen life—these are the people whose company I seek, with whom I feel comfortable, with whom I make art, with whom I make a life, to whom I disclose my own stories. But somehow, when we rehearse these stories in each others’s company (for rehearsal, polishing, is how I think of storytelling), I drift. In this performance-as-research essay about disclosure, I want to draw attention to what does draw my attention in community art situations, what halts my drift, and allows me to find connection beyond a story that is unique and so special to this individual, but which I feel I have heard so many times. What grabs me, again and again, lies beyond the words, beyond the “I did this… and that… and they did this… and that,” beyond the story of hardship and injury, recovery and overcoming. My moment of connection tends to happen in the warmth of this hand in mine. It occurs in the material connection that seems to well up between these gray eyes and my own deep gaze. I can feel the skin change its electric tonus as I am listening to the uncoiling account. There’s a timbre in the voice that I follow, even as I lose the words. In the moment of verbal disclosure, physical intimacy changes the time and space of encounter. And I know that the people I sit with are well aware of this—it is not lost on them that my attention isn’t wholly focused on the story they are telling, that I will have forgotten core details when next we work together. But they are also aware, I believe, of those moments of energetic connect that happen through, beyond and underneath the narrative disclosure. There is a physical opening occurring here, right now, when I tell this account to you, when you sit by my side and I confess that I can’t always keep the stories of my current community participants straight, that I forget names all the time, that I do not really wish to put together a show with lots of testimony, that I’d rather have single power words floating in space.Figure 1. Image: Keira Heu-Jwyn Chang. Performer: Neil Marcus.”water burns sun”. Burning. 2009. Orientation towards the Frame: A Poetics of VibrationThis essay speaks about how I witness the uncapturable in performance, how the limits of sharing fuel my performance practice. I also look at the artistic processes of community performance projects, and point out traces of this other attention, this poetics of vibration. One of the frames through which I construct this essay is a focus on the formal in practice: on an attention to the shapes of narratives, and on the ways that formal experimentation can open up spaces beyond and beneath the narratives that can sound so familiar. An attention to the formal in community practice is often confused with an elitist drive towards quality, towards a modern or post-modern play with forms that stands somehow in opposition to how “ordinary people” construct their lives. But there are other ways to think about “the formal,” ways to question the naturalness with which stories are told, poems are written, the ease of an “I”, the separation between self and those others (who hurt, or love, or persecute, or free), the embedment of the experience of thought in institutions of thinking. Elizabeth St. Pierre frames her own struggle with burn-out, falling silent, and the need to just keep going even if the ethical issues involved in continuing her research overwhelm her. She charts out her thinking in reference to Michel Foucault’s comments on how to transgress into a realm of knowing that stretches a self, allows it “get free of oneself.”Getting free of oneself involves an attempt to understand the ‘structures of intelligibility’ (Britzman, 1995, p. 156) that limit thought. Foucault (1984/1985) explaining the urgency of such labor, says, ‘There are times in life when the question of knowing if one can think differently than one thinks, and perceive differently than one sees, is absolutely necessary if one is to go on looking and reflecting at all’ (p. 8). (St. Pierre 204)Can we think outside the structure of story, outside the habits of thought that make us sense and position ourselves in time and space, in power and knowledge? Is there a way to change the frame, into a different format, to “change our mind”? And even if there is not, if the structures of legibility always contain what we can think, there might be riches in that borderland, the bordercountry towards the intelligible, the places where difference presses close in an uncontained, unstoried way. To think differently, to get free of oneself: all these concerns resonate deeply with me, and with the ways that I wish to engage in community art practice. Like St. Pierre, I try to embrace Deleuzian, post-structuralist approaches to story and self:The collective assemblage is always like the murmur from which I take my proper name, the constellation of voices, concordant or not, from which I draw my voice. […] To write is perhaps to bring this assemblage of the unconscious to the light of day, to select the whispering voices, to gather the tribes and secret idioms from which I extract something I call myself (moi). I is an order word. (Deleuze and Guattari 84).“I” wish to perform and to write at the moment when the chorus of the voices that make up my “I” press against my skin, from the inside and the outside, query the notion of ‘skin’ as barrier. But can “I” stay in that vibrational moment? This essay will not be an exercise in quotation marks, but it is an essay of many I’s, and—imagine you see this essay performed—I invite the vibration of the hand gestures that mark small breaches in the air next to my head as I speak.Like St. Pierre, I get thrown off those particular theory horses again and again. But curiosity drives me on, and it is a curiosity nourished not by the absence of (language) connection, by isolation, but by the fullness of those movements of touch and density I described above. That materiality of the tearful eye gaze, the electricity of those fine skin hairs, the voice shivering me: these are not essentialist connections that somehow reveal or disclose a person to me, but these matters make the boundaries of “me” and “person” vibrate. Disclose here becomes the density of living itself, the flowing, non-essential process of shaping lives together. Deleuze and Guattari (1987) have called this bordering “deterritorialization,” always already bound to the reterritorialisation that allows the naming of the experience. Breath-touch on the limits of territories.This is not a shift from verbal to a privileging of non-verbal communication, finding richness and truth in one and less in the other. Non-verbal communication can be just as conventional as spoken language. When someone’s hand reaches out to touch someone who is upset, that gesture can feel ingrained and predictable, and the chain of caretaking that is initiated by the gesture can even hinder the flow of disclosure the crying or upset person might be engaged in. Likewise, I believe the common form of the circle, one I use in nearly every community session I lead, does not really create more community than another format would engender. The repetition of the circle just has something very comforting, it can allow all participants to drop into a certain kind of ease that is different from the everyday, but the rules of that ease are not open—circles territorialise as much as they de-territorialise: here is an inside, here an outside. There is nothing inherently radical in them. But circles might create a radical shift in communication situations when they break open other encrusted forms—an orientation to a leader, a group versus individual arrangement, or the singularity of islands out in space. Circles brings lots of multiples into contact, they “gather the tribes.” What provisional I’s we extract from them in each instance is our ethical challenge.Bodily Fantasies on the Limit: BurningEven deeply felt inner experiences do not escape the generic, and there is lift available in the vibration between the shared fantasy and the personal fantasy. I lead an artists’ collective, The Olimpias, and in 2008/2009, we created Burning, a workshop and performance series that investigated cell imagery, cancer imagery, environmental sensitivity and healing journeys through ritual-based happenings infused with poetry, dramatic scenes, Butoh and Contact Improvisation dances, and live drawing (see: http://www.olimpias.org/).Performance sites included the Subterranean Arthouse, Berkeley, July and October 2009, the Earth Matters on Stage Festival, Eugene, Oregon, May 2009, and Fort Worden, Port Townsend, Washington State, August 2009. Participants for each installation varied, but always included a good percentage of disabled artists.(see fig. 2).Figure 2. Image: Linda Townsend. Performers: Participants in the Burning project. “Burning Action on the Beach”. Burning. 2009. In the last part of these evening-long performance happenings, we use meditation techniques to shift the space and time of participants. We invite people to lie down or otherwise become comfortable (or to observe in quiet). I then begin to lead the part of the evening that most closely dovetails with my personal research exploration. With a slow and reaching voice, I ask people to breathe, to become aware of the movement of breath through their bodies, and of the hollows filled by the luxuriating breath. Once participants are deeply relaxed, I take them on journeys which activate bodily fantasies. I ask them to breathe in colored lights (and leave the specific nature of the colors to them). I invite participants to become cell bodies—heart cells, liver cells, skin cells—and to explore the properties and sensations of these cell environments, through both internal and external movement. “What is the surface, what is deep inside, what does the granular space of the cell feel like? How does the cell membrane move?” When deeply involved in these explorations, I move through the room and give people individual encounters by whispering to them, one by one—letting them respond bodily to the idea that their cell encounters alchemical elements like gold and silver, lead or mercury, or other deeply culturally laden substances like oil or blood. When I am finished with my individual instruction to each participant, all around me, people are moving gently, undulating, contracting and expanding, their eyes closed and their face full of concentration and openness. Some have dropped out of the meditation and are sitting quietly against a wall, observing what is going on around them. Some move more than others, some whisper quietly to themselves.When people are back in spoken-language-time, in sitting-upright-time, we all talk about the experiences, and about the cultural body knowledges, half-forgotten healing practices, that seem to emerge like Jungian archetypes in these movement journeys. During the meditative/slow movement sequence, some long-standing Olimpias performers in the room had imagined themselves as cancer cells, and gently moved with the physical imagery this brought to them. In my meditation invitations during the participatory performance, I do not invite community participants to move as cancer cells—it seems to me to require a more careful approach, a longer developmental period, to enter this darkly signified state, even though Olimpias performers do by no means all move tragically, darkly, or despairing when entering “cancer movement.” In workshops in the weeks leading up to the participatory performances, Olimpias collaborators entered these experiences of cell movement, different organ parts, and cancerous movement many times, and had time to debrief and reflect on their experiences.After the immersion exercise of cell movement, we ask people how it felt like to lie and move in a space that also held cancer cells, and if they noticed different movement patterns, different imaginaries of cell movement, around them, and how that felt. This leads to rich discussions, testimonies of poetic embodiment, snippets of disclosures, glimpses of personal stories, but the echo of embodiment seems to keep the full, long stories at bay, and outside of the immediacy of our sharing. As I look around myself while listening, I see some hands intertwined, some gentle touches, as people rock in the memory of their meditations.nowyour light shines very brightlybut I want youto knowyour darkness alsorichand beyond fear (Lorde 87)My research aim with these movement meditation sequences is not to find essential truths about human bodily imagination, but to explore the limits of somatic experience and cultural expression, to make artful life experiential and to hence create new tools for living in the chemically saturated world we all inhabit.I need to add here that these are my personal aims for Burning—all associated artists have their own journey, their own reasons for being involved, and there is no necessary consensus—just a shared interest in transformation, the cultural images of disease, disability and addiction, the effects of invasion and touch in our lives, and how embodied poetry can help us live. (see fig. 3). For example, a number of collaborators worked together in the participatory Burning performances at the Subterranean Arthouse, a small Butoh performance space in Berkeley, located in an old shop, complete with an open membrane into the urban space—a shop-window and glass door. Lots of things happen with and through us during these evenings, not just my movement meditations.One of my colleagues, Sadie Wilcox, sets up live drawing scenarios, sketching the space between people. Another artist, Harold Burns, engages participants in contact dance, and invites a crossing of boundaries in and through presence. Neil Marcus invites people to move with him, gently, and blindfolded, and to feel his spastic embodiment and his facility with tender touch. Amber diPietra’s poem about cell movement and the journeys from one to another sounds out in the space, set to music by Mindy Dillard. What I am writing about here is my personal account of the actions I engage in, one facet of these evenings—choreographing participants’ inner experiences.Figure 3. Image: Keira Heu-Jwyn Chang. Performers: Artists in the Burning project. “water burns sun”. Burning. 2009. My desires echo Lorde’s poem: “I want you”—there’s a sensual desire in me when I set up these movement meditation scenes, a delight in an erotic language and voice touch that is not predicated on sexual contact, but on intimacy, and on the borderlines, the membranes of the ear and the skin; ‘to know’—I continue to be intrigued and obsessed, as an artist and as a critic, by the way people envision what goes on inside them, and find agency, poetic lift, in mobilising these knowledges, in reaching from the images of bodies to the life of bodies in the world. ‘your darkness also’—not just the bright light, no, but also the fears and the strengths that hide in the blood and muscle, in the living pulsing shadow of the heart muscle pumping away, in the dark purple lobe of the liver wrapping itself around my middle and purifying, detoxifying, sifting, whatever sweeps through this body.These meditative slow practices can destabilise people. Some report that they experience something quite real, quite deep, and that there is transformation to be gained in these dream journeys. But the framing within which the Burning workshops take place question immediately the “authentic” of this experiential disclosure. The shared, the cultural, the heritage and hidden knowledge of being encultured quickly complicate any essence. This is where the element of formal enframing enters into the immediacy of experience, and into the narration of a stable, autonomous “I.” Our deepest cellular experience, the sounds and movements we listen to when we are deeply relaxed, are still cultured, are still shared, come to us in genres and stable image complexes.This form of presentation also questions practices of self-disclosure that participate in trauma narratives through what Canadian sociologist Erving Goffman has called “impression management” (208). Goffman researched the ways we play ourselves as roles in specific contexts, how we manage acts of disclosure and knowledge, how we deal with stigma and stereotype. Impression management refers to the ways people present themselves to others, using conscious or unconscious techniques to shape their image. In Goffman’s framing of these acts of self-presentation, performance and dramaturgical choices are foregrounded: impression management is an interactive, dynamic process. Disclosure becomes a semiotic act, not a “natural,” unfiltered display of an “authentic” self, but a complex engagement with choices. The naming and claiming of bodily trauma can be part of the repertoire of self-representation, a (stock-)narrative that enables recognition and hence communication. The full traumatic narrative arc (injury, reaction, overcoming) can here be a way to manage the discomfort of others, to navigate potential stigma.In Burning, by-passing verbal self-disclosure and the recitation of experience, by encountering ourselves in dialogue with our insides and with foreign elements in this experiential way, there is less space for people to speak managed, filtered personal truths. I find that these truths tend to either close down communication if raw and direct, or become told as a story in its complete, polished arc. Either form leaves little space for dialogue. After each journey through bodies, cells, through liver and heart, breath and membrane, audience members need to unfold for themselves what they felt, and how that felt, and how that relates to the stories of cancer, environmental toxins and invasion that they know.It is not fair. We should be able to have dialogues about “I am poisoned, I live with environmental sensitivities, and they constrict my life,” “I survived cancer,” “I have multiple sclerosis,” “I am autistic,” “I am addicted to certain substances,” “I am injured by certain substances.” But tragedy tugs at these stories, puts their narrators into the realm of the inviolate, as a community quickly feel sorry for these persons, or else feels attacked by them, in particular if one does not know how to help. Yes, we know this story: we can manage her identity for her, and his social role can click into fixity. The cultural weight of these narratives hinders flow, become heavily stigmatised. Many contemporary writers on the subjects of cancer and personhood recognise the (not always negative) aspects of this stigma, and mobilise them in their narratives. As Marisa Acocella Marchetto in the Cancer-Vixen: A True Story puts it: ‘Play the cancer card!’ (107). The cancer card appears in this graphic novel memoir in the form of a full-page spoof advertisement, and the card is presented as a way to get out of unwanted social obligations. The cancer card is perfectly designed to create the communal cringe and the hasty retreat. If you have cancer, you are beyond the pale, and ordinary rules of behavior do no longer apply. People who experience these life-changing transformational diagnoses often know very well how isolating it can be to name one’s personal story, and many are very careful about how they manage disclosure, and know that if they choose to disclose, they have to manage other people’s discomfort. In Burning, stories of injury and hurt swing in the room with us, all of these stories are mentioned in our performance program, but none of them are specifically given individual voice in our performance (although some participants chose to come out in the sharing circle at the end of the event). No one owns the diagnoses, the identity of “survivor,” and the presence of these disease complexes are instead dispersed, performatively enacted and brought in experiential contact with all members of our temporary group. When you leave our round, you most likely still do not know who has multiple sclerosis, who has substance addiction issues, who is sensitive to environmental toxins.Communication demands territorialisation, and formal experimentation alone, unanchored in lived experience, easily alienates. So how can disclosure and the storytelling self find some lift, and yet some connection, too? How can the Burning cell imaginary become both deep, emotionally rich and formal, pointing to its constructed nature? That’s the question that each of the Olimpias’ community performance experiments begins with.How to Host a Past Collective: Setting Up a CirclePreceding Burning, one of our recent performance investigations was the Anarcha Project. In this multi-year, multi-site project, we revisited gynecological experiments performed on slave women in Montgomery, Alabama, in the 1840s, by J. Marion Sims, the “father of American gynecology.” We did so not to revictimise historical women as suffering ciphers, or stand helpless at the site of historical injury. Instead, we used art-based methods to investigate the heritage of slavery medicine in contemporary health care inequalities and women’s health care. As part of the project, thousands of participants in multiple residencies across the U.S. shared their stories with the project leaders—myself, Aimee Meredith Cox, Carrie Sandahl, Anita Gonzalez and Tiye Giraud. We collected about two hundred of these fragments in the Anarcha Anti-Archive, a website that tries, frustratingly, to undo the logic of the ordered archive (Cox et al. n.p).The project closed in 2008, but I still give presentations with the material we generated. But what formal methods can I select, ethically and responsibly, to present the multivocal nature of the Anarcha Project, given that it is now just me in the conference room, given that the point of the project was the intersection of multiple stories, not the fetishisation of individual ones? In a number of recent presentations, I used a circle exercise to engage in fragmented, shrouded disclosure, to keep privacies safe, and to find material contact with one another. In these Anarcha rounds, we all take words into our mouths, and try to stay conscious to the nature of this act—taking something into our mouth, rather than acting out words, normalising them into spoken language. Take this into your mouth—transgression, sacrament, ritual, entrainment, from one body to another.So before an Anarcha presentation, I print out random pages from our Anarcha Anti-Archive. A number of the links in the website pull up material through chance procedures (a process implemented by Olimpias collaborator Jay Steichmann, who is interested in digital literacies). So whenever you click that particular link, you get to a different page in the anti-archive, and you can not retrace your step, or mark you place in an unfolding narrative. What comes up are poems, story fragments, images, all sent in in response to cyber Anarcha prompts. We sent these prompts during residencies to long-distance participants who could not physically be with us, and many people, from Wales to Malaysia, sent in responses. I pull up a good number of these pages, combined with some of the pages written by the core collaborators of our project. In the sharing that follows, I do not speak about the heart of the project, but I mark that I leave things unsaid. Here is what I do not say in the moment of the presentation—those medical experiments were gynecological operations without anesthesia, executed to close vaginal fistula that were leaking piss and shit, executed without anesthesia not because it was not available, but because the doctor did not believe that black women felt pain. I can write this down, here, in this essay, as you can now stop for a minute if you need to collect yourself, as you listen to what this narrative does to your inside. You might feel a clench deep down in your torso, like many of us did, a kinesthetic empathy that translates itself across text, time and space, and which became a core choreographic element in our Anarcha poetics.I do not speak about the medical facts directly in a face-to-face presentation where there is no place to hide, no place to turn away. Instead, I point to a secret at the heart of the Anarcha Project, and explain where all the medical and historical data can be found (in the Anarcha Project essay, “Remembering Anarcha,” in the on-line performance studies journal Liminalities site, free and accessible to all without subscription, now frequently used in bioethics education (see: http://www.liminalities.net/4-2). The people in the round, then, have only a vague sense of what the project is about, and I explain why this formal frame appears instead of open disclosure. I ask their permission to proceed. They either give it to me, or else our circle becomes something else, and we speak about performance practices and formal means of speaking about trauma instead.Having marked the space as one in which we agree on a specific framework or rule, having set up a space apart, we begin. One by one, raw and without preamble, people in the circle read what they have been given. The meaning of what they are reading only comes to them as they are reading—they have had little time to familiarise themselves with the words beforehand. Someone reads a poem about being held as a baby by one’s mother, being accepted, even through the writer’s body is so different. Someone reads about the persistence of shame. Someone reads about how incontinence is so often the borderline for independent living in contemporary cultures—up to here, freedom; past this point, at the point of leakage, the nursing home. Someone reads about her mother’s upset about digging up that awful past again. Someone reads about fibroid tumors in African-American women. Someone reads about the Venus Hottentott. Someone begins to cry (most recently at a Feminisms and Rhetorics conference), crying softly, and there is no knowing about why, but there is companionship, and quiet contemplation, and it is ok. These presentations start with low-key chatting, setting up the circle, and end the same way—once we have made our way around, once our fragments are read out, we just sit and talk, no “presentation-mode” emerges, and no one gets up into high drama. We’ve all taken strange things into our mouths, talked of piss and shit and blood and race and oppression and love and survival. Did we get free of ourselves, of the inevitability of narrative, in the attention to articulation, elocution, the performance of words, even if just for a moment? Did we taste the words on our tongues, material physical traces of a different form of embodiment? Container/ConclusionThe poet Anne Carson attended one of our Anarcha presentations, and her comments to us that evening helped to frame our subsequent work for me—she called our work creating a container, a vessel for experience, without sharing the specifics of that experience. I have since explored this image further, thought about amphorae as commemorative vases, thought of earth and clay as materials, thought of the illustrations on ancient vessels, on pattern and form, flow and movement. The vessel as matter: deterritorialising and reterritorialising, familiar and strange, shaping into form, and shaped out of formlessness, fired in the light and baked in the earth’s darkness, hardened only to crumble and crack again with the ages, returning to dust. These disclosures are in time and space—they are not narratives that create an archive or a body of knowledge. They breathe, and vibrate, and press against skin. What can be contained, what leaks, what finds its way through the membrane?These disclosures are traces of life, and I can touch them. I never get bored by them. Come and sit by my side, and we share in this river flow border vessel cell life.ReferencesBritzman, Deborah P. "Is There a Queer Pedagogy? Or, Stop Reading Straight." Educational Theory 45:2 (1995): 151–165. Burning. The Olimpias Project. Berkley; Eugene; Fort Worden. May-October, 2009Deleuze, Gilles, and Felix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Trans. Brian Massumi. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1987.Foucault, Michel. The History of Sexuality: Vol. 2. The Use of Pleasure. Trans. Robert Hurley. New York: Vintage, 1985.Goffman, Erving. Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. New York: Anchor, 1969Kuppers, Petra. “Remembering Anarcha: Objection in the Medical Archive.” Liminalities: A Journal of Performance Studies 4.2 (2006): n.p. 24 July 2009 < http://liminalities.net/4-2 >.Cox, Aimee Meredith, Tiye Giraud, Anita Gonzales, Petra Kuppers, and Carrie Sandahl. “The Anarcha-Anti-Archive.” Liminalities: A Journal of Performance Studies 4.2 (2006): n.p. 24 July 2009 < http://liminalities.net/4-2 >.Lorde, Audre. Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches. Berkeley: The Crossing Press, 1984.Marchetto, Marisa Acocella. Cancer Vixen: A True Story. New York: Knopf, 2006.St. Pierre, Elizabeth Adams. “Circling the Text: Nomadic Writing Practices.” Qualitative Inquiry 3.4 (1997): 403–18.

Introduction Historically in Australia, there has been a growing movement behind the development of quality Early Childhood Education and Care Centres (termed ‘centres’ for this article). These centres are designed to provide care and education outside of the home for children from birth to five years old. In the mid 1980s, the then Labor Government of Australia promoted and funded the establishment of many centres to provide women who were at home with children the opportunity to move into the workplace. Centre fees were heavily subsidised to make this option viable in the hope that more women would become employed and Australia’s rising unemployment statistics would be reduced. The popularity of this system soon meant that there was a childcare centre shortage and parents were faced with long waiting lists to enrol their child into a centre. To alleviate this situation, independent centres were established that complied with Government rules and regulations. Independent, state, and local government funded centres had a certain degree of autonomy over facilities, staffing, qualifications, quality programmes, and facilities. This movement became part of the global increased focus on the importance of early childhood education. As part of that educational emphasis, the Melbourne Declaration on Educational Goals for Young Australians in 2008 set the direction for schooling for the next 10 years. This formed the basis of Australia’s Education Reforms (Department of Education, Employment and Workplace Relations). The reforms have influenced the management of early childhood education and care centres. All centres must comply with the National Quality Framework that mandates staff qualifications, facility standards, and the ratios of children to adults. From a parent’s perspective centres now look very much the same. All centres have indoor and outdoor playing spaces, separate rooms for differently aged children, playgrounds, play equipment, foyer and office spaces with similarly qualified staff. With these similarities in mind, the dilemma for parents is how to decide on a centre for their child to attend. Does it come down to parents’ taste about a centre? In the education context, how is taste conceptualised? This article will present research that conceptualises taste as being part of a decision-making process (DMP) that is used by parents when choosing a centre for their child and, in doing so, will introduce the term: parental taste. The Determining Factors of Taste A three phase, sequential, mixed methods study was used to determine how parents select one centre over another. Cresswell described this methodology as successive phases of data collection, where each builds on the previous, with the aim of addressing the research question. This process was seen as a method to identify parents’ varying tastes in centres considered for their child to attend. Phase 1 used a survey of 78 participants to gather baseline data to explore the values, expectations, and beliefs of the parents. It also determined the aspects of the centre important to parents, and gauged the importance of the socio-economic status and educational backgrounds of the participants in their decision making. Phase 2 built on the phase 1 data and included interviews with 20 interviewees exploring the details of the decision-making process (DMP). This phase also elaborated on the survey questions and responses, determined the variables that might impact on the DMP, and identified how parents access information about early learning centres. Phase 3 focussed on parental satisfaction with their choice of early learning setting. Again using 20 interviewees, these interviews investigated the DMP that had been undertaken, as well as any that might still be ongoing. This phase focused on parents' reflection on the DMP used and questioned them as to whether the same process would be used again in other areas of decision making. Thematic analysis of the data revealed that it usually fell to the mother to explore centre options and make the decision about enrolment. Along the way, she may have discussions with the father and, to a lesser extent, with the centre staff. Friends, relatives, the child, siblings, and other educational professionals did not rank highly when the decision was being considered. Interestingly, it was found that the mother began to consider childcare options and the need for care twelve months or more before care was required and a decision had to be made. A small number of parents (three from the 20) said that they thought about it while pregnant but felt silly because they “didn’t even have a baby yet.” All mothers said that it took quite a while to get their head around leaving their child with someone else, and this anxiety and concern increased the younger the child was. Two parents had criteria that they did not want their child in care until he/she could talk and walk, so that the child could look after him- or herself to some extent. This indicated some degree of scepticism that their child would be cared for appropriately. Parents who considered enrolling their child into care closer to when it was required generally chose to do this because they had selected a pre-determined age that their child would go into childcare. A small number of parents (two) decided that their child would not attend a centre until three years old, while other parents found employment and had to find care quickly in response. The survey results showed that the aspects of a centre that most influenced parental decision-making were the activities and teaching methods used by staff, centre reputation, play equipment inside and outside the centre, and the playground size and centre buildings. The interview responses added to this by suggesting that the type of playground facilities available were important, with a natural environment being preferred. Interestingly, the lowest aspect of importance reported was whether the child had friends or family already attending the centre. The results of the survey and interview data reflected the parents’ aspirations for their child and included the development of personal competencies of self-awareness, self-regulation, and motivation linking emotions to thoughts and actions (Gendron). The child’s experience in a centre was expected to develop and refine personal traits such as self-confidence, self-awareness, self-management, the ability to interact with others, and the involvement in educational activities to achieve learning goals. With these aspirations in mind, parents felt considerable pressure to choose the environment that would fit their child the best. During the interview stage of data collection, the term “taste” emerged. The term is commonly used in a food, fashion, or style context. In the education context, however, taste was conceptualised as the judgement of likes and dislikes regarding centre attributes. Gladwell writes that “snap judgements are, first of all, enormously quick: they rely on the thinnest slices of experience. But they are also unconscious” (50). The immediacy of determining one's taste refutes the neoliberal construction (Campbell, Proctor, Sherington) of the DMP as a rational decision-making process that systematically compares different options before making a decision. In the education context, taste can be reconceptualised as an alignment between a decision and inherent values and beliefs. A personal “backpack” of experiences, beliefs, values, ideas, and memories all play a part in forming a person’s taste related to their likes and dislikes. In turn, this effects the end decision made. Parents formulated an initial response to a centre linked to the identification of attributes that aligned with personal values, beliefs, expectations, and aspirations. The data analysis indicated that parents formulated their personal taste in centres very quickly after centres were visited. At that point, parents had a clear image of the preferred centre. Further information gathering was used to reinforce that view and confirm this “parental taste.” How Does Parental Taste about a Centre Influence the Decision-Making Process? All parents used a process of decision-making to some degree. As already stated, it was usually the mother who gathered information to inform the final decision, but in two of the 78 cases it was the father who investigated and decided on the childcare centre in which to enrol. All parents used some form of process to guide their decision-making. A heavily planned process sees the parent gather information over a period of time and included participating in centre tours, drive-by viewings, talking with others, web-based searches, and, checking locations in the phone book. Surprisingly, centre advertising was the least used and least effective method of attracting parents, with only one person indicating that advertising had played a part in her DMP. This approach applied to a woman who had just moved to a new town and was not aware of the care options. This method may also be a reflection of the personality of the parent or it may reflect an understanding that there are differences between services in terms of their focus on education and care. A lightly planned process occurred when a relatively swift decision was made with minimal information gathering. It could have been the selection of the closest and most convenient centre, or the one that parents had heard people talk about. These parents were happy to go to the centre and add their name to the waiting list or enrol straight away. Generally, the impression was that all services provide the same education and care. Parents appeared to use different criteria when considering a centre for their child. Aspects here included the physical environment, size of rooms, aesthetic appeal, clean buildings, tidy surrounds, and a homely feel. Other aspects that affected this parental taste included the location of the centre, the availability of places for the child, and the interest the staff showed in parent and child. The interviews revealed that parents placed an importance on emotions when they decided if a centre suited their tastes that in turn affected their DMP. The “vibe,” the atmosphere, and how the staff made the parents feel were the most important aspects of this process. The centre’s reputation was also central to decision making. What Constructs Underpin the Decision? Parental choice decisions can appear to be rational, but are usually emotionally connected to parental aspirations and values. In this way, parental choice and prior parental decision making processes reflect the bounded rationality described by Kahneman, and are based on factors relevant to the individual as supported by Ariely and Lindstrom. Ariely states that choice and the decision making process are emotionally driven and may be irrational-rational decisions. Gladwell supports this notion in that “the task of making sense of ourselves and our behaviour requires that we acknowledge there can be as much value in the blink of an eye as in months of rational analysis” (17). Reay’s research into social, cultural, emotional, and human capital to explain human behaviour was built upon to develop five constructs for decision making in this research. The R.O.P.E.S. constructs are domains that tie together to categorise the interaction of emotional connections that underpin the decision making process based on the parental taste in centres. The constructs emerged from the analysis of the data collected in the three phase approach. They were based on the responses from parents related to both their needs and their child’s needs in terms of having a valuable and happy experience at a centre. The R.O.P.E.S. constructs were key elements in the formation of parental taste in centres and eventual enrolment. The Reputational construct (R) included word of mouth, from friends, the cleaner, other staff from either the focus or another centre, and may or may not have aligned with parental taste and influenced the decision. Other constructs (O) included the location and convenience of the centre, and availability of spaces. Cost was not seen as an issue with the subsidies making each centre similar in fee structure. The Physical construct (P) included the facilities available such as the indoor and outdoor play space, whether these are natural or artificial environments, and the play equipment available. The Social construct (S) included social interactions—sharing, making friends, and building networks. It was found that the Emotional construct (E) was central to the process. It underpinned all the other constructs and was determined by the emotions that were elicited when the parent had the first and subsequent contact with the centre staff. This construct is pivotal in parental taste and decision making. Parents indicated that some centres did not have an abundance of resources but “the lady was really nice” (interview response) and the parent thought that her child would be cared for in that environment. Comments such as “the lady was really friendly and made us feel part of the place even though we were just looking around” (interview response) added to the emotional connection and construct for the DMP. The emotional connection with staff and the willingness of the director to take the time to show the parent the whole centre was a common comment from parents. Parents indicated that if they felt comfortable, and the atmosphere was warm and homelike, then they knew that their child would too. One centre particularly supported parental taste in a homely environment and had lounges, floor rugs, lamps for lighting, and aromatherapy oil burning that contributed to a home-like feel that appealed to parents and children. The professionalism of the staff who displayed an interest in the children, had interesting activities in their room, and were polite and courteous also added to the emotional construct. Staff speaking to the parent and child, rather than just the parent, was also valued. Interestingly, parents did not comment on the qualifications held by staff, indicating that parents assumed that to be employed staff must hold the required qualifications. Is There a Further Application of Taste in Decision Making? The third phase of data collection was related to additional questions being asked of the interviewee that required reflection of the DMP used when choosing a centre for their child to attend. Parents were asked to review the process and comment on any changes that they would make if they were in the same position again. The majority of parents said that they were content with their taste in centres and the subsequent decision made. A quarter of the parents indicated that they would make minor changes to their process. A common comment made was that the process used was indicative of the parent’s personality. A self confessed “worrier” enrolling her first child gathered a great deal of information and visited many centres to enable the most informed decision to be made. In contrast, a more relaxed parent enrolling a second or third child made a quicker decision after visiting or phoning one or two centres. Although parents considered their decision to be rationally considered, the impact of parental taste upon visiting the centre and speaking to staff was a strong indicator of the level of satisfaction. Taste was a precursor to the decision. When asked if the same process would be used if choosing a different service, such as an accountant, parents indicated that a similar process would be used, but perhaps not as in depth. The reasoning here was that parents were aware that the decision of selecting a centre would impact on their child and ultimately themselves in an emotional way. The parent indicated that if they spent time visiting centres and it appealed to their taste then the child would like it too. In turn this made the whole process of attending a centre less stressful and emotional. Parents clarified that not as much personal information gathering would occur if searching for an accountant. The focus would be centred on the accountant’s professional ability. Other instances were offered, such as purchasing a car, or selecting a house, dentist, or a babysitter. All parents suggested that additional information would be collected if their child of family would be directly impacted by the decision. Advertising of services or businesses through various multimedia approaches appeared not to rate highly when parents were in the process of decision making. Television, radio, print, Internet, and social networks were identified as possible modes of communication available for consideration by parents. The generational culture was evident in the responses from different parent age groups. The younger parents indicated that social media, Internet, and print may be used to ascertain the benefits of different services and to access information about the reputation of centres. In comparison, the older parents preferred word-of-mouth recommendations. Neither television nor radio was seen as media approaches that would attract clientele. Conclusion In the education context, the concept of parental taste can be seen to be an integral component to the decision making process. In this case, the attributes of an educational facility align to an individual’s personal “backpack” and form a like or a dislike, known as parental taste. The implications for the Directors of Early Childhood Education and Care Centres indicate that parental taste plays a role in a child’s enrolment into a centre. Parental taste is determined by the attributes of the centre that are aligned to the R.O.P.E.S. constructs with the emotional element as the key component. A less rigorous DMP is used when a generic service is required. Media and cultural ways of looking at our society interpret how important decisions are made. A general assumption is that major decisions are made in a calm, considered and rational manner. This is a neoliberal view and is not supported by the research presented in this article. References Ariely, Dan. Predictably Irrational: The Hidden Forces That Shape Our Decisions. London: Harper, 2009. Australian Children’s Education, Care and Quality Authority (ACECQA). n.d. 14 Jan. 2014. ‹http://www.acecqa.gov.au›. Campbell, Craig, Helen Proctor, and Geoffrey Sherington. School Choice: How Parents Negotiate The New School Market In Australia. Crows Nest, N.S.W.: Allen and Unwin, 2009. Cresswell, John,W. Research Design. Qualitative, Quantitative and Mixed Methods Approaches (2nd ed.). Los Angeles: Sage, 2003. Department of Education. 11 Oct. 2013. 14 Jan. 2014. ‹http://education.gov.au/national-quality-framework-early-childhood-education-and-care›. Department of Employment, Education and Workplace Relations (DEEWR). Education Reforms. Canberra, ACT: Australian Government Publishing Service, 2009. Gendron, Benedicte. “Why Emotional Capital Matters in Education and in Labour?: Toward an Optimal Exploitation of Human Capital and Knowledge Mangement.” Les Cahiers de la Maison des Sciences Economiques 113 (2004): 1–37. Glaswell, Malcolm. “Blink: The power of thinking without thinking.” Harmondsworth, UK: Penguin, 2005. Kahneman, Daniel. Thinking, Fast and Slow. New York: Farrar, Strauss & Giroux, 2011. Lindstrom, Martin. Buy-ology: How Everything We Believe About Why We Buy is Wrong. Great London: Random House Business Books, 2009. Melbourne Declaration on Educational Goals for Young Australians. 14 Jan. 2014. ‹http://www.mceecdya.edu.au/mceecdya/melbourne_declaration,25979.html›. National Quality Framework. 14 Jan. 2014. ‹http://www.acecqa.gov.au. Reay, Diane. A Useful Extension of Bourdieu’s Conceptual Framework?: Emotional Capital as a Way of Understanding Mothers’ Involvement in their Children’s Education? Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 2000.

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