scope C ontem porar y Resear c h To pic s work-based learning 3: November 2022 Article doi.org/10.34074/scop.6003013 HORNS OF DILEMMAS: DOCTORAL LEARNERS SHARE THEIR WORK-AROUNDS Martin Andrew, Anne Alkema, Sandy Geyer, Claire Goode, Steve Henry, Vicki Rangitautehanga Murray, Robert Nelson, Bonnie Robinson, and Jeremy Taylor Published by Otago Polytechnic Press. Otago Polytechnic Ltd is a subsidiary of Te Pükenga – New Zealand Institute of Skills and Technology. © 2022 the authors; © illustrations, the artists or other copyright owners. Article doi.org/10.34074/scop.6003013 HORNS OF DILEMMAS: DOCTORAL LEARNERS SHARE THEIR WORK-AROUNDS Martin Andrew, Anne Alkema, Sandy Geyer, Claire Goode, Steve Henry, Vicki Rangitautehanga Murray, Robert Nelson, Bonnie Robinson and Jeremy Taylor INTRODUCTION: LEARNING VIA DILEMMAS The world of professional practice, and hence of professional practice qualifications, is informed by a range of core exploratory theories: transformational learning (Mezirow, 1991) and experiential learning theories (Kolb, 1984); and critical incident/event technique (Woolsey, 1986), which more recently morphed into an educational theory itself (Tripp, 1993). Famously Kolb wrote: “learning is the process whereby knowledge is created through the transformation of experience” (1984, p. 38). These approaches accord with epistemologies where ‘knowing’ or ‘coming to know’ comes from responding with initiative, innovativeness and resilience to moments or even extended periods of flux, uncertainty and the unforeseen. These are responses, characteristic of learners in professional learning settings, that I have elsewhere called “thinking on your feet” (Andrew & Razoumova, 2019). This paper brings together nine short narratives of learners on a Doctor of Professional Practice (DPP) programme sharing their dilemmas and ‘work-arounds’ or solutions. The study demonstrates the resilience that can result from concerted individual acts of reflection; and, on a collective level, illustrates the range of complex situations in which those on doctoral journeys can find themselves. In considering learners’ responses to dilemmas in educational theory, we can draw a line between John Dewey and Ronald Barnett (2000, 2004), scholars a century apart. Common to the theories informing professional practice is the necessity of encountering Dewey’s ‘disequilibrium’ (1916) to generate new knowing. What (young) learners meet, in Dewey’s formulation, are decentring situations whose “whole full character is not yet determined” (p. 150). A process of emerging from disequilibrium via reflection – that sense of ‘what just happened?’ – involves a centring act of reflective learning. Mann et al. (2009) postulate that fresh knowledge and applied skills are acquired when professional practitioners face disorienting dilemmas and think them through reflectively. We are better positioned next time, in the manner of Schön’s (1983) reflection for action or Mezirow’s (1991) reflective-change-action process of perspective transformation. Professional practice enables DPP learners to generate “authentic being” (Barnett, 2004, p. 259) to create meaningful identities for our unknown and COVID-19-inflicted futures. Our collaboration, in a decade hit by COVID-19, is the kind of work that characterises times of flux. We write of our engagement in real-world responsiveness and how it develops “a self that is adequate to such an uncertain world” (p. 254). This refashioned sense of ourselves as engaged professionals is achieved through “encountering strangeness ... forming one’s own responses to it” (Barnett, p. 257). Making sense of mayhem, Barnett (2000) had argued, will long be a feature of higher education in a super-complex epoch, where knowledge for some appears to lack status and legitimacy. The crisis of post-truth that marked the 2020s coincided, fatefully, with the COVID-19 pandemic, which forced Scope: (Work-based Learning), 3, 2022 19 many researchers, doctoral and beyond, to pivot with resilient flexibility, but that is easier said than done (Connor et al., 2021). LITERATURE ON DILEMMAS There is a body of literature on researcher dilemmas, but very little of it lies in the domains of the personal and the affective. I will select four representative studies. Literature primarily discusses ethical dilemmas. Firstly, Davison (2004) ‘dilemmarises’ the conflict and distress felt by social workers working with vulnerable participants; the issue of over-empathy is a self-care issue. Next, Ngozwana (2018) poses a cross-cultural dilemma – what is ethical in western ethics boards may not accord with the ethics of populations in Africa. The need for a contextspecific ethics is hypothesised. Third, in the earliest-dated article entitled ‘The researcher’s dilemma,’ Bogart (1962, but updated) poses a question applicable, with the details changed, to all professional researchers: how do marketing researchers resolve their dual orientation as professionals and as businesspeople? Applied to each professional researcher, we see the issues of unequal power, conflict of interest and the potential for monetary factors distorting the study. Fourthly, the fact that ethical dilemmas tend to arise ‘in the moment,’ regardless of the expectations framed by approved ethics procedures which are based around anticipation and precedent, means that researchers must draw on skills of reflexivity, questioning their own motivations, assumptions, interests and drawing on capacity for integrity in issues of consent and confidentiality, and autonomy and altruism in issues of access and equity (Reid et al., 2018). Personal dilemmas are nuanced, particular to specific situations, involving management of multiple roles. They can be seen as key moments on the journey towards doctorate autonomy (Bitzer & van den Burgh, 2014). Another set of relevant literature is that problematising intersubjective relations between mentors and mentees, a field led by two scholars, Barbara Grant and Catherine Manathunga. Grant (1999) viewed the supervisory aspect of the mentoring relationship as comprising dimensions that make it problematically murky and opaque. In contrast to the sound pedagogical structure of the host organisation, the relationship is metaphorically a “rackety bridge” involving continuous negotiation of the dynamics of desire, power and identity. In Aotearoa New Zealand, mentoring “is an especially delicate dance” (Johnson-Bailey & Cervero, 2004, p. 7), considering the interconnectedness of multiple and diverse identities and such factors as culture, gender and power. Grant (1999) wrote: The supervisor’s and the student’s desires are implicated in ways that make the relationship potentially complicated and volatile: desires to please, to challenge, to do well, to demonstrate independence, to push towards independence, to resist, to be respected by, to be recognised as clever, to become like, to become authoritative, desires for the (powerful or vulnerable) other. (p. 4) This is a risky journey because aspirational identities are at stake, and trust and empathy are required, amongst other facets. Manathunga (2007) viewed the mentoring aspect of supervision as paternalistic, fostering disciplinary selfproduction. In the professional practice doctorate, however, the transdisciplinary approach enables the learner to claim the parental role and foster their own space across the disciplines of their endeavours. In a personal communication with Manathunga (2019), explaining my role as a mentor in her own field of expertise, I propounded the DPP’s more nuanced understanding of doctoral mentorship, encompassing elements of the coach, the counsellor, the guide, and, to cite Abrams (1953), the mirror and the lamp. Today’s learner’s journeys are not about paternalistic replication or re-conquering empires, but innovative approaches to practice in action. 20 Scope: (Work-based Learning), 3, 2022 METHODOLOGY All narratives are written by candidates on the DPP programme in the College of Work Based Learning. The project emerged from an idea presented in one of the regular Community of Practice (CoP) kōrero, where mentors and mentees, with a mutual interest in improving practice by sharing, pool experience in a safe and situated space of critical reflection (N=20, attendees at kōrero). The idea involved creating a research artefact that was a product of the group’s shared repertoire that articulated with Scope’s theme of work-arounds, while at the same time leaving behind a set of stories in which future learners may see their own stories mirrored. In addition to generating interest within the group, email invitations were sent to the broader group membership, including non-attendees both after the kōrero and to usher in the new academic year (N=40, enrollees e-mailed). There were ten contributions, two anonymous, one withdrawn, leaving nine. It was the start of the year; people were frantic. In 1998, Wenger identified the three crucial dimensions of a CoP: mutual engagement, a joint negotiated enterprise, and a shared repertoire of negotiable resources accumulated over time. Community of practice theory affords shared knowing to emerge from the pooling of stories or ‘repertoire’ in response to the same cue – in this case a core dilemma on your doctoral journey and how you worked around it. This represents an example of a joint, negotiated enterprise. As an intervention in mentoring and professional development, the DPP CoP affords a chance for social learning to coincide with tacit knowing, offering value to both individual and community (Bandura, 1986). In Aotearoa New Zealand, authentic CoPs might have as key tikanga: manaakitanga, or embracing the mana of others; whanaungatanga, valuing and building relationships; and kotahitanga, that sense of commonality of goals in the learning journey (Royal, 2007). Community or collaborative autoethnography (Chang et al., 2013) is an emic (insider) methodology of multivocal sharing or pooling of experiences and thoughts by individuals wishing to offer multi-faceted views, in this case of the notion of the researcher’s dilemma. Community autoethnography is “a relationship-making activity among researchers who participate in and co-construct each other’s existence” (Toyosaki et al., 2009, p. 59). It pivots on multiple autoethnographers in a research community sharing lived experiences on pre-identified sociocultural phenomena and collaboratively analysing and interpreting them for commonalities and differences (Hernandez et al., 2017). It uses writing as method of enquiry and narratives, including allegory and parable, as method of data presentation. The method affords creative and indigenous forms as in ‘Tremain’s dilemma’ and ‘One day a taniwha,’ and generally uses a first-person point of view, but may also use a third person narrator. The element of the pakiwaitara (parable) is suggested implicitly by the nominal titles and explicitly by ‘One day a taniwha.’ Such methods ensure, as Richardson and St. Pierre (2005) proposed, texts/writings that adapt to the kind of multiple, political and social world we inhabit, one of uncertainty. The result is intended to be a communal sense of real experience (Richardson & St. Pierre, 2005). FINDINGS: THE NARRATIVES Here we present nine elicited, authentic, narratives where DPP students outline a key dilemma in their journey, and indicate their work-arounds or how their thinking was reconfigured to accommodate the dilemma. Conrad’s dilemma For the most part, my doctoral journey has been a journey of self-discovery and relative enjoyment; still, one of the most troubling aspects I have found is when to stop researching and to start writing. I have found that researching can be addictive; finding the next great article can take you on an adventure. Also, if I am honest, researching is a safe place for me because as long as I keep myself in the research phase, I do not need to face the horrifying task of actually writing or even worse, facing my supervisor’s feedback. To overcome my inertia, I Scope: (Work-based Learning), 3, 2022 21 found it helpful to set time limits and insert placeholders into my chapters. My mentor in an overseas university where I worked would say that research without deadlines is just a hobby, and through having time limits, you make a line in the sand to stop reading and to start writing. Secondly, who said you need to have read everything before starting to write? In fact, my experience has led me to believe that small gaps in knowledge can be beneficial. This is because you can return to your work after making an initial draft well aware that it is not perfect, but at least you now have something tangible to review. Rosie’s dilemma The purpose of the Learning Agreement [the name given to the output of the proposal stage of the learning process] is to reveal issues from the past that help explain who Rosie is today, as well as predicting who she is capable of becoming. What Rosie never anticipated, though, was that it would reveal unresolved issues from organisations past – two that managers refused to even acknowledge were real, and one that was subject to too little intervention on their part, too late. Suddenly, Rosie’s positive world was upended and feelings of inferiority that made imposter syndrome seem almost a desirable thing to have again. What to do? What evidence would be believable – in Rosie’s mind – to say that a Doctorate of Positive Possibilities was achievable? To continue? To live, or to shuffle off this mortal coil and avoid the negative completely? Which voice to listen to since the unresolved issues could not be resolved retrospectively? The resilience solution came from a completely unexpected direction that isn’t directly related to Rosie’s work: photography. In the middle of each week, study and work stop, the camera comes out, photography becomes Rosie’s total universe – one where performance improves week on week and the results can spread pleasure without controversy. Maybe there’s a new dilemma now – Doctorate of Positive Possibilities or Delight with Photographic Prowess? Carla’s dilemma The best laid plans … Been worried about this case study thing after reading the Pearl Smith article on case studies. Just feel sick at the thought of having to redo the methodology. However I think what I’ve come up with in terms of restating what the cases are will work. Will see what *** [mentors] think. (Learning log, 8 October 2020) Like probably all doctoral students, I had invested a considerable amount of time working out which approach was best suited to my study – the introduction and trial of a professional standards framework (Tapatoru) for foundation educators. Two years into it, I had planned it down to the -nth degree and was feeling a bit chuffed with the idea of using the exploratory case study approach with multiple case studies. Then Pearl Smith (2018) arrived in my world. While my initial reaction was to be a bit cross with her for interrupting my best laid plans by saying case studies needed multiple data sources, I recognised that she was right and that I did have to rethink what counted as evidence for case studies. Compounding this were the shadows of the Reform of Vocational Education (RoVE) and COVID-19 which meant Tapatoru did not get the uptake I had anticipated, therefore I did not have access to the multiple cases I had anticipated. But after getting over “feeling sick” I realised that I did have multiple data sources – literature, interview data, written and electronic artefacts, observations of online fora, survey data, data gathered informally over nearly two years of conversations, and my learning log. Therefore, I switched to Tapatoru as the single case. While this may be seen by some as ‘juggling for convenience,’ placing Tapatoru as the central character meant a wider story could be told about its introduction, uptake, impact, and value. 22 Scope: (Work-based Learning), 3, 2022 ‘One day a taniwha’ Myths and legends of dragons and sorcerers have woven spells upon mankind throughout the eons. Tipua, taniwha and the enigmatic marakihau are similar magical sea entities brought to life in te ao Māori through pūrākau (traditional storytelling). ‘One day a taniwha’ is a rendering of one of the many heart stopping moments on the Doctor of Professional Practice journey when doubt as to the value of my research scared the living bejesus out of me. It is told as a fantastically fictitious pakiwaitara (a parable). A jolt of thunder resounding deep in the dominions of Ranginui (sky father), startled the little marakihau. She was basking amongst her favourite toitoi on the banks of the tributary, deep in thought. Turning aside from her half-finished composition she glanced upward, puzzled to see Tama-nui-te-ra beaming brightly in the otherwise clear skies. Lowering her gaze slightly, she detected out beyond the shoreline something creating a plume of water in its wake, moving at speed toward the river mouth. Lil Mara’s senses filled with trepidation and a mixture of curiosity as the approaching form, a marvellously intimidating creature loomed into view. Her scaly outer coat normally a blend of soft greens blushed with tan, deepened into the chameleon colours of her secluded sanctuary. Reclusive by nature, instincts on full alert, motionless and silent she watched with amazement at the hoopla and fanfare being made by the new-comer. A quiet snort through dilated nostrils she relaxed considerably when she realised the caller must be the infamous three-headed taniwha. Fire spewed forth, and it writhed and roared with zealous ferocity. Mara marvelled at the spectacle; it was truly impressive. The howls, cries and squawks of the sea denizens including several of Mara’s set were fervent. As quickly as it had appeared, taniwha faded back beyond the Caerulean Void. Tranquility restored; Mara wondered how the local inhabitants would respond to her after the taniwha recital. She wondered if they would rebuff her or cast her off as she was, after all, insignificant in comparison. However, just as the wise ones had assured her, one by one the water guardians cruised into her cove and beneath the blue moon, the little marakihau sang. She sang of the oceans and rivers of her ancestors. She sang of the loss and suffering of her forebears. She sang of hope and providence for future generations. Her voice was soft and mellow, the lyrics were sentimental and melodic. As she reached the crescendo, the onlookers joined in elegiac harmony, it was her song, it was their song, and they were one. Tremain’s dilemma How to do a DProfPrac in your sleep – a pragmatic doctoral dilemma I’m doing a Doctor of Professional Practice. It was a moment of madness really, that “yes.” But I filled out the forms and paid the fee, and so here I am, 8:30 p.m. after a long day at work and the early evening spent on family duties. And now I am going to study at doctorate level. Really? The DProfPrac was ‘sold’ to me as the doctoral qualification you could do while working. “It’s practice based” they said, “it’s about reflection on your life and work” they promised, “it just integrates.” Truth, and lies. There is certainly plenty of room for discovering the richness of my own journey of practice. But no one told me, and I didn’t think hard enough, about ‘time.’ Time that I need to search data bases for secondary material only to find the perfect article is not available tonight at 11 p.m. when I really need it. Time to take good notes, so I don’t read the same article twice, which is of course a waste of time. Time to pin research participants down who are busy with their own jobs. Time to think, so I can theorise not just summarise. Time, time, time – that thing no parent with a full-time job ever has, is now an addictive craving. And this is without COVID, which stole two years of time from most of us working in health and hasn’t stopped being time greedy. Scope: (Work-based Learning), 3, 2022 23 But through this blur of busyness, there starts to emerge a methodology and a method that makes sense for my research and my context. Writing. Writing as enquiry, writing as the approach and the ‘how to’ of research, not just the product. Having absorbed literature on autoethnography, messy enquiry, and praxis reflexivity, I begin to change the way I approach this DProfPrac. Whenever I feel stumped, I just write. I leap in. I experiment with styles – narrative, first person, dialogue, fictionalised. I turn off my inner critic, kick out the monster of doubt, and tell myself that nothing is out of bounds in this post-post-modernist, post-positivist, even post-constructivist world of autoethnographic practitioner research. What counts is meaning, what counts is contribution, and what counts is writing that is interesting enough to keep me awake at midnight. Writing needs time, but it creates time, because within the act of writing the research emerges. I write myself into what I know, and what I still need to know. The act of writing is simultaneously philosophy, epistemology, methodology, method, and outcome. Very time efficient. I still need time. This DProfPrac journey has been very long, and I want to get to the end. COVID will never be my friend. But writing is. Don’t have time for a Doctor of Professional Practice? Just write it. Eva’s dilemma My organisation offered the Doctor of Professional Practice as a high-level means of professional development (PD), offering a strong fees subsidy, which was attractive. However, that promise of fees was not matched by one of time. Over the first two years of my project, I felt my passion, so strong at the outset, begin to deteriorate. The ‘have to’ list in the workplace grew. Colleagues left, and their workloads subdivided amongst us. New projects and curriculum opportunities, themselves unrecognised on-the-job means of PD, shallowed all windows in my weeks and moments in my months. My DProfPrac was, in effect, asphyxiated from without. I was close to withdrawing, but there was hope in a mentor’s insight. They listened and applied an important principle to my line of enquiry: my DProfPrac needed to move even more closely in line with my work, so that, documented reflectively, my work was essentially my DProfPrac. This alignment came with the necessity of refining, refocussing, renewing. I’m now on track with a more manageable DProfPrac, weary of oncoming unknown crises, but sure at this moment that I have found a clearing in the forest. Avatar’s dilemma As a leadership preparation practitioner, I value my capacity to conduct collective energies and make strong individual connections to facilitate an interactive and engaged learning experience with participants. My Doctor of Professional Practice study aims to shift leadership preparation to a younger age group of student participants (thirteen years old), to what previous research in my field has explored. COVID-19 lockdowns close the door on my personally invigorating and professionally stimulating comfort zone of delivery early into my research planning. Time passes quickly as I bang forcefully on other doors to find an unfamiliar one open. To step through it requires company funding and a shift of my role in learning facilitation from “practitioner fully present” to avatar. Alone she seems stagnant, with limited body language and through her flat speech bubbles and expressionless face my connection feels lost. Lively student actors are sought to present via scripted videos and younger avatars join the online stage. Their energies narrate and connect through a digitally developed platform to flow my knowledge, my experiences and my energies to the research participants and beyond. Working around COVID-19 forces me to let go of myself, to facilitate research progression and practice growth. 24 Scope: (Work-based Learning), 3, 2022 Alison’s dilemma I bumped into a colleague on the last day on campus and she asked how everything was progressing with my project. I said that I was hoping to “start coding” over the break, but she said something along the lines of ‘not coding, theming.’ Isn’t coding necessary before I can identify themes? Through my reading over the past couple of days, there seems to be conflicting advice. Some texts suggest using research question and sub-questions to guide coding; others suggest not looking at the questions at all. I’ve gone back to the most recent Braun and Clarke (2022) and this would seem to be the difference between deductive and inductive analysis (I think). Going with inductive, I look at the data without focussing on my research questions, so coding/theming (?) is data-driven. I have several other articles/chapters I can read, but am concerned I’m not using this time to the best of my ability – am I maybe delaying the start of data analysis because I am really nervous about how to begin?! Still no clearer on where or how to start, I thought to myself “Hang on … stop worrying! How would you do this if you were asking teachers to identify and group themes during a facilitated workshop?” That led me to getting a pile of coloured sticky notes, writing each identified theme on a separate one, and then grouping notes with similar themes on sheets of paper. In this way, I was able to check that there were no repetitions, and also reflect on what it was that brought these themes together, and what name could be given to these groupings or categories. I wrote preliminary category names on each sheet of paper, meaning that any individual sticky note(s) could be moved without my being influenced by any notations made on the note itself. This allowed me to refine groupings as I worked, for example, by combining or sub-dividing categories. Once I’d started, and could see the progress, it was actually really enjoyable. Putting my ‘professional practice’ head on, instead of my trepidatious researcher head, really helped me stop tying myself in knots. Morris’s dilemma My dilemma arose from a deep need to be honest with one of my mentors. Initially my mentor had been a good fit: they had subject matter expertise in a space unfamiliar to me; I had admired them over a decade as a fellow outlier to conventionial formal education; they had the capacity to bring my work to the mainstream to be understood and interpreted. One year on, the dilemma arose: something fundamental was wrong. I felt like I was being supervised rather than mentored – there was no sense of walk alongside with me. I felt I was being told I was doing it wrong and my writing was poor. The method of relaying feedback left me feeling low. Two years in, as my focus shifted, it became clear this mentor was now unable to add the value I sought. My work underwent a paradigm shift, and we were now in different epistemological universes. I had two options: do I assert myself and say thanks for the input but it is no longer working for me. Do I use this tension as a valuable space to generate deeper enquiry and be loyal to the original intent? The fact that I had the dilemma at all showed me there was a deficit on trust in this mentorly relationship. I was assured there was no shame to change mentors; this gave me the courage to have an honest conversation and admit I had decided to change. This was a significant step in my owning my content and the process of my study. I am very grateful for their support and their significant contribution to my learning. Scope: (Work-based Learning), 3, 2022 25 DISCUSSION The range of dilemma narratives extends from those experiencing a critical moment (Alison’s realisation that professional practitioners may have more freedom in coding, Carla’s gratefulness for new advice about multiple data sources; Rosie’s discovery of a creative route around imposter syndrome; Tremain’s increasing comfort with writing as a method of enquiry; Conrad’s strategy of leaving small gaps to coax mentor feedback) to those getting used to a new normal (adjusting to avatar-led leadership, refocussing the research phenomenon, learning to edit as you write to control word-sprawl, realising you have outgrown an academic mentor). One story explicitly interrogated the ‘rackety’ mentor-mentee domain: Morris grapples with the need to change mentors due to a clash of epistemological worldviews. This was due to changes in the focus and direction of his study, and points to the need for flexibility in the worldviews of professional practice mentors. It also demonstrates a learner’s need for active agency. ‘One day a taniwha’ uses the implicitness of parable. It allegorises a ‘rackety’ dilemma as a generic (but female) monster which might stand for a “heart-stopping” disruptive person, action or an event within a usually still environment. Imagery of nature misshapen becomes that of harmony restored through the collectivity of “wise ones” and “forebears” and reflectivity on a moment of crisis leading to fresh understanding and a settling of guarded waters. The allegorical reference to “the Cerulean void” suggests an unexpected and intense break in the maelstrom. Importantly, the impact of the disruption is visceral as well as critical. Morris’s dilemma and ‘One day a taniwha’ can be read as narratives or pūrākau spanning the ethical gaps of the dominant literature in that they indicate both a deeply unsettling moment and peace that comes from trusting the self and the collective. In both, we see an affirmation of Kotahitanga, a new unity, a vision for collaborative learning. ‘One day a taniwha’ and Morris’s dilemma aside, most of the dilemmas are not thorny. Conrad and Tremain, interestingly, all touch on the theme of self-discipline; Avatar, Carla, Alison and Eva on methodological pivots. Rosie’s is more existential, pointing to the need for a life beyond the doctoral space as shown by the third person voice, an alternative identity to that of the learner/researcher. All narratives, however, are testament to experiential and transformational research in action, and of critical incidents and pivots in play. There is a sense in the narratives that professional practice affords flexibility and creative space that would not usually be found in traditional doctorate pathways. LIMITATIONS The fact that the enquiry was structured around a dilemma/solution orientation framed the exercise as one of positivity rather than complexity. Further, the location of the exercise within a community of practice involving mentors makes it unlikely that issues of mentoring style or fit would arise, and the same may be true of issues of institutional and administrative dilemma. Also excluded were issues related to assessment, largely owing to most learners not having reached destination yet. There are almost certainly thorns on the final leg of the steeplechase to completion. While the narrative methodology affords some focused detail, it does not give, or aim to, a 360-degree purview of the phenomenon of dilemmas in doctoral journeys. CONCLUSION While it is encouraging to see doctoral learners thinking on their feet and discovering solutions to dilemmas, there remains the sense that there is much left unsaid within “the Cerulean void,” pointing to future research with a different methodological approach and with a less intimate site of sampling and data collection. It is clear that the key reflective frameworks of experiential, transformational and critical moment theory apply to the Doctor of Professional Practice journey, and it would seem that the journey, at present and based on 26 Scope: (Work-based Learning), 3, 2022 seven of this set of nine narratives, is less of a rackety bridge than expected, but, like mentoring itself, resembles an “especially delicate dance” (Johnson-Bailey & Cervero, 2004, p. 7). This observation could be due to the sound pedagogical grounding of the programme, the system of mentor support built into its delivery, or to the nature of the experienced professionals who undertake this doctoral study. It will be interesting to examine, at a future time, reflections on the examination process and on the final hurdles of the steeplechase. The identities of the doctoral narrators presented are accommodating, self-aware, flexible and resilient, all factors desired in the programme’s candidate selection process. Further, all stories seem written in light of the COVID era’s emphasis on research pivots as being a part of the journey, a pot-hole along the way rather than a diversion or a stop sign. If these are self-fulfilling prophecies, at least they are promising ones. Martin Andrew operates as a creative mentor in postgraduate programmes, including Master and Doctorate degrees in Professional Practice. Prior to his four to five years supporting the College of Work Based Learning in Otago, New Zealand, he had sojourned away from his hometown of Ōtepoti/Dunedin with two honorary posts at Melbourne universities in Creative Industries and Transnational Education (TNE). His work and research have become increasingly focussed on doctorate education and supporting learners to reach their own personal best through critically reflective practice and writing. A transdisciplinarian, he emphasises that his past disciplines have included Education, Drama, Linguistics and Writing, Creative and otherwise. He holds honorary positions in Australia, Vietnam and Indonesia. https://orcid.org/0000-0002-0108-5195 Anne Alkema is an independent researcher and evaluator who works mainly in the field of adult education. She has also undertaken work in the health, transport, emergency and volunteer sectors. Anne has completed the Doctorate of Professional Practice which she undertook as a form of continuing professional development and learnt more about herself as a professional researcher than she ever anticipated! https://orcid.org/0000-0003-2440-7019 Sandy Geyer is both an entrepreneurial leader and practitioner in the area of business leadership and entrepreneurial leadership preparation. Based in Auckland, she is currently undergoing her Doctorate of Professional Practice at Capable NZ, which aims to better prepare future entrepreneurs for effective entrepreneurial leadership, earlier in their education. https://orcid.org/ 0000-0003-0112-2301 Claire Goode is a member of the Learning & Teaching Development team at Otago Polytechnic. She works alongside academic staff across the Polytechnic to build their capabilities in multiple aspects of pedagogical practice. This role brings together skills, knowledge, and practice acquired throughout more than twenty-four years in education, in different contexts and countries. She completed her Doctorate of Professional Practice in 2021. https://orcid.org/0000-0002-2255-6523 Steve Henry is a learning facilitator at Capable NZ at Otago Polytechnic’s College of Work Based Learning. He is acting programme lead for the Bachelor of Leadership for Change and facilitates in the professional practice suite. His doctoral research is focused on learner transformation in formal vocational education. https://orcid.org/0000-0002-4903-7213 Scope: (Work-based Learning), 3, 2022 27 Vicki Rangitautehanga Murray is a tutor, providing mentoring, cultural training and tangata whenua supervision to clinicians working with therapeutic communities of practice in rehabilitation facilities. Vicki is also a director, board member, trustee and committee member for her iwi, ahu whenua trusts and marae. Her doctoral research will consider Māori instruments of practice as guides to inspire Māori leadership to thrive in times of dynamic change. Rob Nelson trained as a printer, worked his way into management, later qualifying in management and then leadership as an adult student. He then embarked on a second career teaching management, and has significant experience in collaborative project-based learning. Bonnie Robinson is a student of the Doctor of Professional Practice at Capable NZ Otago Polytechnic. Her area of study focusses on support leaders of social justice around values-based decision-making. Bonnie has many years’ experience working in the non-profit social service sector. Currently she is the CEO of a non-profit provider of services for vulnerable older people. Jeremy Taylor returned to New Zealand in 2017 after a successful offshore career in international education and business. Jeremy was formerly the Director for Staff Development for Overseas Education Investment Management (OEIM) and was based in Chengdu, China. One of Jeremy’s key responsibilities was developing both academic and administration. Jeremy also gained considerable external workplace facilitation experience as Jeremy worked with a diverse range of corporate clients and assisted them to improve their workplace capabilities. Jeremy has worked for Capable NZ since 2018 and facilitates on both undergraduate and postgraduate programmes. His current research interests include Reflective Practice and Transnational Education. https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1194-9329 REFERENCES Abrams, M. H. (1953). The mirror and the lamp. Oxford University Press. Andrew, M., & Razoumova, O. (2019). ‘Learning on my feet’: The learning value of a structured TESOL practicum portfolio, TESOLANZ Journal, 27, 44–60. Bogart, L. (1962). The researcher’s dilemma. Journal of Marketing, 26(1), 6 –11. https://doi.org/10.2307/1249624 Bandura, A. (1986). Social foundations of thoughts and action. Prentice-Hall. Barnett, R. (2000). University knowledge in an age of supercomplexity. Higher Education, 40, 409–422. Barnett, R. (2004). Learning for an unknown future. Higher Education Research & Development, 23(3), 247–260. Bitzer, E., & van den Burgh, S. (2014). Doctoral identity change towards researcher autonomy during research journeys across disciplines. South African Journal of Higher Education, 28(3), 1047–1068. Braun, V., & Clarke, V. (2022). Thematic analysis. Sage. Chang, H., Ngunjiri, F., & Hernandez, K-A. C. (2013). Collaborative autoethnography. Routledge. Connor, M., Müller, B., Mann, S., & Andrew, M. (2021). Pivots, pirouettes and practicalities: Actions and reactions of workintegrated learning practitioners. Journal of University Teaching & Learning Practice, 18(5), 2–19. https://ro.uow.edu.au/jutlp/ vol18/iss5/2 Davison, J. (2004). Dilemmas in research: Issues of vulnerability and disempowerment for the social worker/researcher, Journal of Social Work Practice, 18(3), 379–393. Dewey, J. (1944). Democracy and education. Free Press. (Original work published 1916). Grant, B. M. (1999). Walking on a rackety bridge: Mapping supervision. HERDSA Annual International Conference, Melbourne, 12–15 July, 1–11. 28 Scope: (Work-based Learning), 3, 2022 Hernandez, K-A. C., Chang, H., & Ngunjiri, F. (2017). Collaborative autoethnography as multivocal, relational, and democratic research: Opportunities, challenges, and aspirations. Auto/Biography Studies, 32(2), 251–254. https://doi.org/10.1080/0898 9575.2017.1288892 Johnson-Bailey, J., & Cervero, R. M. (2004). Mentoring in black and white: The intricacies of cross-cultural mentoring. Mentoring & Tutoring: Partnership in Learning, 12(1), 7–12. Kolb, D. A. (1984). Experiential learning: Experience as the source of learning and development. Prentice-Hall. Manathunga, C. (2007). Supervision as mentoring: The role of power and boundary crossing. Studies in Continuing Education, 29(2), 207–221. Mann, K., Gordon, J., & MacLeod, A. (2009). Reflection and reflective practice in health professions education: A systematic review. Advances in Health Science Education, 14, 595–621. Mezirow, J. (1991). Transformative dimensions of adult learning. Jossey Bass. Ngozwana, N. (2018). Ethical dilemmas in qualitative research methodology: Researchers’ reflections. International Journal of Educational Methodology, 4(1), 19–28. Reid, A. M., Brown, J. M., Smith, J. M., Cope, A. C., & Jamieson, S. (2018). Ethical dilemmas and reflexivity in qualitative research. Perspectives on Medical Education, 7, 69–75. https://doi.org/10.1007/s40037-018-0412-2 Richardson, L., & St. Pierre, E. A. (2005). Writing a method of inquiry. In N. K. Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), The Sage handbook of qualitative research (pp. 959–978). SAGE. Royal, T. A. C. (2007). The purpose of education: Perspectives arising from Mat̄ auranga Ma ̄ori: A discussion. Ministry of Education. Schön, D. A. (1983). The reflective practitioner: How professionals think in action. Basic Books. Smith, P. R. (2018). Collecting sufficient evidence when conducting a case study. The Qualitative Report, 23(5), 1054–1048. https://doi.org/10.46743/2160-3715/2018.3188 Toyosaki, S., Pensoneau-Conway, S. L., Wendt, N. A., & Leathers, K. (2009). Community autoethnography. Compiling the personal and resituating whiteness. Cultural Studies <=> Critical Methodologies, 9, 56–83. https://doi.org/10.1177/1532708608321498 Tripp, D. (1993). Critical incidents in teaching: Developing professional judgment. Routledge. Wenger, E. (1998). Communities of practice. Cambridge University Press. Woolsey, L. K. (1986). The critical incident technique: An innovative qualitative method of research. Canadian Journal of Counselling and Psychotherapy, 20(4), 242–254. https://cjc-rcc.ucalgary.ca/article/view/59733 Scope: (Work-based Learning), 3, 2022 29