Monday, April 20, 2015 

Miss Gonzalez's [attempts at doing a] doctorate II



April 2015
Germany is the country that all other countries should aspire to become, especially one that also starts with G and rhymes with cheese”
Motivation questionnaire respondent #222


Figure 1; "And here you will find a thrilling set of likert scales where you can rate your assessment of the different parties' performance at the televised election debate"



Googleforms has saved my cheese with questionnaire work,  but it has also showed me, on the other hand, how much effort and wasted time lies behind questionnaire based research when one hasn’t got a research assistant – also known as minion who does all the legwork for you. I cannot deny though that I find completing my dataset a rather rewarding task filled with pearls of wisdom such as the above response to why respondent #222, quoted above, chose to take up the language – thankfully, this student also included a more serious answer, but the cheese rhyme (really?) concept had to be shared and seemed like a fitting prelude to this post. 

When I decided to use questionnaires one of the things I was clear about was that our students are over-surveyed and that there may be much dismay in having to fill in yet one more form. But, much to my surprise, not only did I get quite a good participation rate – bearing in mind the German team were excellently pushy, I suspect, at getting their students to complete my questionnaire, seeing the completion rate – but also a number of enthusiastic and candid responses to the open questions. These open questions required students to explain, in one line, their motivation to study their degree & their motivation to study a language. What many seem to have done is to pour their heart out, to show their passion or even their doubts about the subject in such a way that it almost seems they were grateful to be asked about the topic. I did have an inkling about how the questionnaire piqued their interest after some students stopped me at the end of the class, once questionnaires had been handed out and completed, to learn more about the research. Interest was clear among all the language teachers who volunteered to help; I had to almost pry the completed questionnaires in closed envelopes from some since they wanted photocopies to see directly what their students had said. 

Now, back to Googleforms. Handing out the questionnaires in printed form required much photocopying and preparation from me (apologies to the many trees that go into research), and a lot of training other teachers to make sure information was delivered adequately and to avoid any “forced completion” from students. After three weeks of madness, the task was completed. But I was unable to reach all courses and groups, so a form was designed online with Google tools, and then forwarded to students that had not been reached in person. The completion rate was, as could be expected, extremely low. But I discovered, though, that such questionnaire tool generates an Excel form and reports on the data (not necessarily doing all the hard work for you, but allowing to have an initial overview of numerical data with pie and bar charts). 

The Excel form is nowhere near the finished product, this will have to be transformed into a more suited Excel, or, directly, an SPSS form, which can be “read” by the statistics programme, but it is one first step in automatized data collection and, importantly, can be accessed from anywhere and is safely stored in the cloud. Anyway, not many students completed the form, but it was still useful as I used it to input all the data by completing the questionnaire, myself, over and over again, with the answers from the paper forms. Repetitive?  Yes, indeed, but at the same time essential to avoid extra mistakes in data input as most of it could be just done with a click. And faster, of course. 

It is the first time I design a questionnaire, hand it out and transform it in a dataset, so I am starting to see how my process is definitely faulty (in Spanish we say “hace aguas” i.e. like a badly designed boat that allows water to seep through). I needed to understand how I am going to test each part of the questionnaire, above all the numerical part, before designing it, but I found it impossible to understand which statistical analysis would be required for an inexistent dataset, so, more or less, took the bull by the horns and got on with data collection. Perhaps a mistake, but by typing information over and over again certain things are becoming clear: possible labels for the analysis of qualitative data, patterns in the numerical data, clear differences between languages and questions that can be elicited from the dataset which I had not thought of earlier. I am also starting to fear that I will end up having too much data in my hands. 

Did I mention there is a qualitative part to this? I have so many volunteers (86 out of 400, oh god 0_o) that I do not know what to do with myself, or with them, frankly. I need to elucidate a “fob off” email to let them know that I will be in touch soon, I mean, later, as need to first complete part 1 of the study before getting immersed in the interview part, and then see whether I could just do the interviews, record them, and do nothing with them until the second part of the assignment, were there to be too many.

So, does Germany rhyme with cheese? I am not sure. Should I have just removed this questionnaire from the lot? Not really, as it makes for a great anecdote which am sure my German colleagues will appreciate when I share the preliminary results with all in June. Watch this space though, as serious work needs to start soon with understanding how to question the data in statistical terms without putting my dainty hoof in it.

Thursday, April 16, 2015 

Miss Gonzalez's [attempts at doing a] doctorate 1

March 2015
Scotland is home to the friendliest, most emotionally stable Brits. Welsh tend to be open but are the shiest and least emotionally stable. People in East of England conscientious, agreeable but are less open. Londoners are the most open, but the least welcoming and not very conscientious. This is according to a survey of almost 400,000 British residents.”

A recent study which appeared on the BBC identifies where in Britain one would be happy based on personality traits. The online survey linked to the news was a shortened version of a study which measured personality differences by region; these results were clustered to evaluate whether certain traits were more common in one area or another, and identified trends such as greater character openness in metropolitan areas. During the study, a measurement of life satisfaction was also used, and researchers noted that those who lived with people with similar personality traits were happier.
I have taken the test twice and its results have given different locations as my best and worst places to live (I am still not too sure where in Britain those locations were, by the way), and different happiness ratios in relation to my current home town. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the test proposed that the nearest place where I would be happier was Richmond, which I agree with, if I could afford it, if there were less noisy planes overhead and if I wasn’t actually very happy in the place where I live now – which I cannot afford either, but that’s the wonder of renting.

Whilst the test provided a bit of fun, it also highlighted some more serious questions about research methodology and the validity of research which resonated only because I am also in the process of trying to complete my own research project on attitudinal traits with an element of quantitative methodology.

The most obvious problem is; how can we really indicate where one would be happier when happiness is such a difficult construct to tackle? Again, whilst Richmond is lovely, for me, happiness is where my loved ones are, my family, my partner. For some, it may be the other way round, and happiness may be found as far as possible from their family. Geographical location and the average personality and mores of those surrounding you does have a bearing on happiness, but it seems to be such a personal thing, a combination of personality, education and moment in time, that trying to measure it and then elicit an a location based on average personality traits, is a fun but futile exercise.
Let’s step back a little. I did query how can one identify what happiness is to then relate it to where one would be happier by matching them to the indigenous average personality. But I should have also queried why should we bother measuring personality through a range of traits, when these are quite limiting and self-assessed, to produce an average.

Researchers used survey results from a rather big sample of around 400,000 people of whom two thirds were female. Had I been one of those 400,000 these would have been my results:


Figure 1. High levels of neuroticism are the trait of a high percentage of language coordinators in my department

These results are, first, self-assessed. This means that each respondent evaluates themselves as they see fit and, as in every survey, may be influenced by socially acceptable results. Thus, they may display an over-critical view of themselves or include ratings which reflect the way they may want to be seen socially. Thus the statement “I am an incredibly open person but not very conscientious” could be translated into “my mum told me to be humble and not show off about how well I do my work, but I can show off about how much I like to party”. The first statement reflects results from a quantitative study while the second could reflect those from a qualitative study. And, please notice, I say “could”, because the risk of socially acceptable answers is always present, and I do wonder whether, unless one is a very experienced researcher with a knack for eliciting the truth, we can never be sure when conducting research about human perceptions and feelings.

Furthermore, results from the same subject may vary depending on when the research is taking place. I seem to recall that I rated myself as more conscientious and agreeable the first time I took the test, and levels of neuroticism may be related to specific times of the month – which makes you wonder about the wisdom of using a sample with two-thirds of females, which actually may just be an indication of the distribution of the population in general, and makes you wonder whether this would have been better off as a longitudinal study where subjects would complete the same survey throughout a period of time (note to self, check this before you question someone else’s research).
Now, rather than questioning the study, I am questioning myself, trying to answer doubts about methodology that I am currently going through and to which I found, alas, no answer, or where the answer presented itself after many hours of fruitless work which led only to one conclusion: if I cannot know anything for sure, then, what can I know about this anyway? And why would I want to research something which I think I already know?

Knowing ourselves is hard, but knowing others, once you get down to it, in research terms, feels like an impossible task. Impossible if we expect to fully know or understand behaviour, to predict it, measure it and set it in stone, to generate rules and undeniable facts, or if we expect to be able to account for every single variable affecting it. With that in mind we hope that we can somehow know something, as long as we are aware of the limitations of that knowledge. Thus, with a quantitative approach to understanding personality, happiness, feelings, we may not really know about people but only about trends, about life presented as a pointillist painting which you can only understand from far away – remembering that by looking at the scene, we are missing the points, and that any result is thus an explanation of a trend, from the studied population, from far away, squinting a bit, at a specific moment in time.

Figure 2. This is what quantitative research looks like to me



Figure 3. It looks better from far away, I can certainly see that people at Richmond are having a whale of a time




Figure 4. This is what qualitative research looks like: detailed but distorted by the observer's perception

Tuesday, October 05, 2010 

Day 10 - To France (Saint Emilion)

On the way out from Burgos we mainly took the motorway, which drove through landscapes of mountains and yellow valleys with hundred of wind turbines. We took some photos of the passes and tunnel entrances, all through Navarra and País Vasco, but they do not show the  scenic heights that surrounded us. One thing is for sure: thanks EU fund for these roads which are speeding our route!


Then, joy of joys, we drove into our favourite road and landscape... the frickin bloody Landes, with dryness and pines. Look, "un pin!, deux pins, trois pins, un pin, un autre pin, otro pino, another pine and another friggin pine!" Why oh why is the pine landscape just so disheartening?

Anyhoo... we slowly crawled out of Les Landes to find landscapes of sunflowers - looking burned, tired and forlorn - and eventually of vine rows, around Bordeaux, each row starting with a pretty little red plant (from geraniums to poppies)... just very pleasant to see not pines but vineyards heavy with grapes and lovely winding roads shadowed with trees on the sides - shall I repeat that these were, thankfully, not pines. After some hours, and after quite a long drive, on the top of a slope, we finally could see Saint Emilion, in white stone, surrounded by miles of greenery, "les vignobles".

What a funky little village, with not a single house out of tonality or out of date (how could they be untouched by the errors of the seventies?), with a couple of churches (well, maybe one church + one tower), lots of little wine shops and restaurants with character and a wealth of hotels (of course, wine and tourists come hand in hand). Surrounded by walls, our hotel, L'Auberge de la Commanderie, was accessible through one of the medieval doors in the ramparts and then over-viewing the roofs of the town. Spot on, very central, lovely façade, clean inside... just crap design in the interior and bog quality of the French "systeme hotelier".
Someone had tried hard to dress the room iwth a "wine" and vineyard themed wooden pannel covering the wardrobes and header of the bed, but the plastic chairs and table in the rather small room, joined with the crap fitted bathroom, made it all lack the lustre such a location should deserve (what did I say about the seventies? we found them just in our room!). Our price, around 75€... same room, during the wine festivities would be charged at 120€ There, that's 2 (French) stars for you. The accueil was nice enough and I have to acknowledge that the brekkie was lovely with lots of French goodness and croissants (yum yum!).


Late that night, we walked around taking photos of the town in the sunset and discovering some quirky shops that we pinpointed for the following day (antique bookshop and fabrics place), and dined in a great looking tavern with jardin ombragé (I think it was "L'envers du decor"). With the heat, eating outside in the garden, a lovely secluded location in the shadow of a church and a big fig tree, was the best option. The waiters, "English spoken with French accent" (as per the sign on the door), took their time in serving but we were just relaxed and enjoying the night.


We tasted some of the local wines, admired the designs of the owner's wine bottles - specially "l'ours fou", of which we took a print the next day -, and ate a most lovely duck breast with carrot souffle and duc confit (heavenly). Desserts... I had creme brulee, and Phil "envie de chocolat", like a brownie which just killed him... death by chocolate!

Saturday, September 11, 2010 

Day 9 - Burgos and Las Huelgas (medieval history galore)

Plaza Mayor, Burgos, in case I had not shown this earlier.

The following day brought more sun and warmth. We visited the amazing cathedral - way to "rococo" for Phil, who was disgusted at the splendour and riches of the church. I enjoyed the detailed gargoyles, architectural little corners carved with figures, and the Capilla de los Condestables with their wonderful tombs.

Took photos galore but will not punish you with them - I'll just introduce you to the "condestabla" :-p and "condestabe".



Then we went to the monastery of Las Huelgas - by which stage Phil was unfortunately all "churched out". I enjoyed the guided visit of the "house for the daughters of kings", most of which became abbesses with great power - administrative and judiciary, independent, only accountable to the Pope.

Since my photos are crap, and we were not allowed to take any of the nice bits, you better check out the photos on the official site here

The name of "Las Huelgas" comes from the leisurely pastures that were located in the area, to feed the king's cattle; as it was "royal stock", the animals were not to do any labour, so they spent their days doing nothing ("huelgando").


Apart from the issue with the abbess, the animals, and the enclosed nuns that still live there, there's the absolute wonder of the mozarab (almohade? something...) influence that colours the place. The king, admirer of such architecture, employed Arabic motifs all over and thus one can find Arabic arches as entrance to catholic churches and chapels, ceilings decorated with multicoloured peacocks, geometric shapes, Arabic script in the cloister, and a most wonderful "techo artesonado", as in any mosque, overlooking the kings oratory or little chapel where he was knighted.

Now... on to the most surreal story of medieval cunning... 

The "knighting" business seems taken out from Blackadder; this chap became king ad the tender age of eleven following the death of his father. Thus, with the old king dead, when the time came to knight the child so that he was ready for battle, they couldn't find anyone higher than him in rank (I guess that in height they could have just called the cook in the taberna next door; biggest - as in height and shape - cook I have ever seen!). So, they decided to get God to knight him. But, since God must have been unavailable to attend the celebration at the time due to sundry commitments, some intelligent courtiers - or maybe the king himself - ordered an effigy of St. James holding a sword on his right hand and with his left hand open. Nothing special, huh? Well, the arms were mobile - like Mari Carmen y sus muñecos (which you'll only know if you were a child in Spain in the eighties) - so that Santiago himself could place on and hit with the sword the king's shoulder twice with his right hand and give him the "espaldarazo" - pat in the back - with the left hand personally... ingenious/ingenuous or what?

Finally, the visit to the museum of dress and fabric located in the monastery gave us a great glimpse of some superbly maintained pieces - taking on account that these dresses survived the decomposition of the corpses they were on, of course - and showed us that knights wore skirts (big girls they were with their saintly puppets and all...).

I leave you with a photo of the aforementioned taberna opposite las Huelgas... where we ate yummilicious "huevos estrellados".

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