Confronting self:  Passion and promise in the act of teaching or My Oz-dacious Journey to Kansas!1        Mary Lynn Hamilton This paper was later published in Teacher Education Quarterly, 1995, 22 (3), 29-42.  Having confronted my self, examined my beliefs, and explored my knowledge in a multitude of ways, I seem to have uncovered the passion and the promise in my acts of teaching.  Oh, yes, I also looked at practice.  And, in retrospect as I deconstruct the reconstruction of my constructed experience, I find that my journey resembles Dorothy's search for Kansas.  So for fun, and to help develop my ideas, I present a story2 about my own Oz-dacious journey to Kansas.  As a consequence, this is a personal tale, which means that I have not stopped to grammatically check my language or appropriately cite my colleagues.  Hopefully, though, the power of the story will outweigh the bumpy ride.  My story begins four years ago when I completed my Ph.D. and stepped over into academe.  In search of intellectual adventure and stimulating challenge, I bade farewell to the warm cocoon of the desert and said hello to the prairie's edge and the heart of middle America.  Like Dorothy, I found little solace in the land or the spirit of the place.  I felt like a traveler without proper language or culture referents.  For comfort, I began a journalistic exploration of my own experience as well as a quadralogue with colleagues highlighting shared experiences (Guilfoyle, 1991, 1992; Hamilton, 1991, 1992; Pinnegar, 1991, 1992; Placier, 1991, 1992).3 The turmoil of finding my place occupied considerable effort.  At the heart of it was the fact that paradigms, as Kuhn (1977) might have labeled them, had shifted, and colleagues had to scramble to catch up with the work.  Positivism transposed into post positivism (Lather, 1986), artificial settings shifted into natural sites, teachers became researchers (Lytle and Cochran-Smith, 1991), and passion - the desire to know more, to seek out ideas, to reveal a self - became a relevant part of intellectual pursuits.  At once unsure of the shift, but confident of its potential, I grew impatient with being overwhelmed by tradition and an opaque cultural setting.  My non-traditional world view created complications because I believed in critical reflection and in an interpretive, constructed world.  This was not home.  What was my place in academe?  Could I wrest power away from the keepers of tradition?  My early experiences in academe seemed precarious, like a maelstrom continuously raging both inside my head and within my experience.  As Dorothy could view the cyclone randomly tossing people and things, I could often see intellectual turbulence swirling in our hallways. This paper explores my journey into teacher knowledge - my own.  I have grounded myself in the recognition that times have changed and we no longer view teachers and teacher education from the old paradigm - by which teachers are vessels of knowledge, tools of the system.4  Rather, I approached their ideas/my ideas recognizing that teachers, as generators of knowledge, are empowered (potentially) regardless of the system.  In an example of intimate scholarship, I endeavored to pursue Lytle and Cochran-Smith's (1991) call to redefine teachers' knowledge.  This study should reveal the perplexities of both a teacher's knowledge and her practice, as well as the futility of attempting to accommodate the intimate nature of teaching within the larger, conventional institution.  So as I began my journey I did not feel at home - I felt that the system questioned my intellectual capacity, my desire for connections, and my ability to progress. I.  The Post-positivist Cyclone  Four years ago I stepped over into academe without a full understanding of the barometric pressures created by the paradigm wars.  I had a practical, not theoretical history, which encouraged critical examination of experience but did not encompass standard training in philosophical orientations.  Yet curiously, that practical history, coupled with my interest in culture, pulled me swiftly in one direction.  In retrospect, this experience was similar to Dorothy's experience with the cyclone: one moment she was grounded, and the next moment she was free-falling, uncertain about her future.  Frankly, I was probably saved great anguish by not having theoretical training; I simply selected the paradigm that had the most comfortable fit. For me, the paradigm wars centered on the notion of producers vs. users of knowledge (for example, Fenstermacher, 1986; Huberman, 1991).  Previously, educators had drawn distinctions between those who used knowledge and those who produced knowledge through research.  Theorists who validated this dichotomy attempted to reduce experience to its smallest common denominator, but these distinctions often blurred when an interpretive framework was applied. The knowledge production vs. knowledge use argument explores the link between thought and action, contrasting theoretical and practical arguments.  While each provides a way of knowing the world (Morine-Dershimer, 1987, p. 2), a theoretical argument culminates in a truth claim, whereas a practical argument concludes with an action.  The point here is that some philosophers and others label certain wisdom or knowledge as 'theoretical' if it consists of assertions and makes claims about events, states, or phenomena.  Accordingly, the researcher using disciplined methods can test these assertions.  There is also practical wisdom or knowledge, which may be supported by logical reasoning but terminates in actions rather than propositions.  Why must they be separated?   Fenstermacher (1986) points to the difference in logic between the knowledge producer and the knowledge user, but is the distinction valid?  In contrast, Eisner (1991) calls for the union of good science and practice, but Fenstermacher claims that the work of the two groups may not complement each other.  He supports the separation of each form of logic "holding each accountable only for what it is possible and appropriate for each to do (p. 45)". I believe that it is no longer possible to make such clear cut distinctions.  The use of these distinctions raises three questions.  First, what is knowledge, and whose knowledge is most valued?  This term and its value seem to require new definition as well as re-examination of the concepts of knowledge production/use.  As it is, these terms imply a power relationship that perpetuates the chasm between researchers and practitioners and oppresses the work of the practitioner.  Second, what role does context play as a mediating element?  Zumwalt (1982) suggests that context disallows generalizability; so consequently, can those who produce knowledge in one context apply their ideas in another context?  Third, whose voice shall be heard?  The teacher's voice is often silenced, why? II.  The Scarecrow  After Dorothy's house landed in an unknown place, she began her quest for home, using the yellow-brick road as her guide.  Along her way, she encountered the Scarecrow, a being of great intellect who never acknowledged his capability.  He wanted to find a brain.  After I found my place amid the paradigmatic verbiage, I, too, began a search for home along the Lawrence-brick road and ran into such a being - myself.  I wanted to discover my knowledge base, devaluing what I had.  This next section will explore the first question raised in section I:  "What is knowledge and by whom is it valued?"  The second question, "What role does context play as a mediating "element?" will be addressed in section III, and the third question, "Whose voice shall be heard? will be addressed in section IV. Former definitions of knowledge seemed reductionist (Carter, 1993), supporting an adversarial relationship between the ones who use knowledge and the ones who produce knowledge (Stenhouse, 1975)5.  To my good fortune, however, the view of knowledge (Adler, in press) began to expand, and traditional views began to break down (Valli, 1992) about the time I took my first steps along the road.  Clandinin (1986), for example, defined knowledge as implicit or explicit connections that we express in actions, with our historical, social and cultural roots.  Grumet (1990) found knowledge to be historically-bound results of particular applications and experiences.  Indeed, Howard (1989) contended, and Lytle and Cochran-Smith (1991) concurred, that knowledge is an idea "that arises between the inner impulses, interests, and qualities of the [person] and the physical and cultural world of which he or she is a part" (Howard, p. 229).  Moreover, a person's knowledge is more comprehensive than can be articulated (Polanyi, 1967) and is recognized as a social construction (von Glasersfeld, 1989; Lather, 1986; Briscoe, 1992).  So knowledge is a historically embedded, culturally imbued construct that is personal yet socially constructed and can be expressed in actions.  Further, it appears to be event-structured (Carter and Doyle, 1987), but flexible and generative.  These new definitions, in direct contrast with some of my training and my experience, confirmed what I had intuitively come to believe: that I do generate knowledge and that that knowledge may actually be of considerable value.  I found this recognition of knowledge to be an emancipating one.  Previously I had been always looking outside to find which person/theory matched my ideas.  Sometimes I was lucky, and sometimes I was not.  I never looked inside to see what fit with myself.  This move away from one-way knowledge has shifted that perspective. In fact, all people produce knowledge; it is no longer the domain of a special few.6  Although Dewey (1904) discussed teachers' learning and knowledge, suggesting that teachers understand through their own inquiry, it was not until the last few years that real attention was given to teachers' knowledge.7  Schnook's work (1983), of course, is the exception, discussing the knowledge of practice and exploring its power to inform our actions.  Blumberg (1990) also recognized the scholarship of practice where reflective scrutiny of practice occurs.  Duckworth (1987) and Grumet (1990), for example, have identified teaching as research and research as teaching.  Lytle and Cochran-Smith (1991) have suggested that to neglect teachers as generators of knowledge is "exclusionary and disenfranchising," and they (1990) recommend that teacher research could "contribute a fundamental reconceptualization of the notions of knowledge for teaching" (p. 4) and perhaps knowledge in general.  Lytle and Cochran-Smith (1991) recognized that teachers build knowledge both locally and publicly (p. 28), developing an understanding of their classrooms and moving beyond that.  Munby and Russell (1992) suggested that teachers acquire considerable knowledge from their experience and engage in critical reflection upon their work.  Although some, like Carter (1992), have suggested that teachers' knowledge is elusive, it may simply be that teachers do not yet have the language to discuss that knowledge adequately.  It is only in the last few years that teachers' knowledge has been considered valuable.  In fact, Duckworth (1991) pointed out that teachers do not take their knowledge seriously, leaving it mostly untapped and known only to she/he who holds it.  She asserted that the "main thing wrong with the world of education is that there's this one group of people who do it -- the teachers -- and then there's another group who think they know about it - the researchers" (p. 34). Now in the world of cognition, schema (Rumelhart, 1978), propositional mapping (D'Andrade, 1976), and scripts (Shank & Abelson, 1977) are discussed as ways of understanding daily life.  These perspectives are used to define how people know things.  They do not, however, offer ways that thoroughly explain how people theorize or how their past experiences affect their decisions.  Culture also has a role in cognition that we do not fully understand (Holland, 1985).  While our cognition is supposed to be predictable and routine, there are always surprises.  Recognizing that what we do is to test theory and store information may help us understand what occurs for us in our classrooms. Teachers constantly create theory, as do all people, and they test it in their classrooms.  That, in fact, is how we operate in the world - as generators of knowledge and theory.  Sanders and McCutheon (1986) found that teachers have practical theories of teaching which provide them with the reasons for their actions and the propositions that guide their actions.  This practical reasoning is concerned with the interpretation, understanding, and justification of certain situations (Usher & Bryant, 1989).  Importantly, though, Schon (1983) has pointed out that these practical theories are uncertain and do not always function in a linear fashion.  It is hard to map out situations of practice.8 An example from my own life -- outside of academe -- comes from watching my son and his friends play.  Do not misunderstand: I am not suggesting that these boys sit around consciously attempting to make sense of their world.  Nevertheless, as they play, they try different ideas with each other.  "All right, do this," they suggest, describing some play action.  Then, after an honest attempt I might hear, "No, no, that doesn't work.  Let's try this!" at which point they provide an alternative approach.  Simply, this is hypothesis-testing at its best and most spontaneous. And that is what I observe in classrooms, especially my own.  No, I don't usually hold these discussions out loud, but there are times when I talk with my students in a particular way about some topic, and sometimes I realize, or we realize, that it's not working and change it in mid-sentence.  In fact, my theories, sets of interrelated conceptual frameworks grounded in practice, indicate that I both use and generate knowledge (Lytle & Cochran-Smith, 1991).  I devise a theory, with a lower-case t, and I test it.  If it works the first time, I try it again.  And as I do that, I am continuously reflecting on the process and the elements of it. Friere (1973) identified the act of teaching as a knowledge-producing process that involves a critical look into a person's experience.  Praxis, the interrelationship of theory and practice, uses research to inform the other about a situation with the goal of change.  The best teachers engage in praxis as they examine their own practice (Adler, in press).  According to Kinchloe (1991) teacher/researchers need to "rescue wisdom from the cult of the expert" (p. 198) and begin to claim it for their own. Action research9  is an appropriate form of teacher research because it is a careful, planned inquiry (Laidlaw, 1992) and an organic form of educational exploration that should not/can not be commandeered by experts and their definitions (Bannister, Lomax, & Whitehead, 1989).  By examining their practices, teachers can distinguish between their theories of practice and their actual practice (Lytle & Cochran-Smith, 1991, p.14).  Teacher research into their own understandings will provide a window into comprehending knowledge construction and a view of enhancing the quality within it (Elliot, 1989). Early in the fall semester I was timid, still wanting to find the "right" curriculum for my preservice students and still operating out of prior "student" experiences where I had been given the information.  I organized my classes and my ideas to give information rather than explore student ideas.  Yet I was frustrated with my students' dependency upon me to provide the answers.  As I reflected upon my experiences and explored possibilities with myself, I became interested in the practical rationality/ practical argument notion and attempted to employ it within my practice.  I realized that I wanted my students to express themselves and the practical argument format provided me with a way to talk to them and provoked the thinking  of those who had questions to address.  In this developmental process I identified a problem, considered an alternative, applied my solution, and generated change in the classroom.  I used knowledge, in this case from Fenstermacher's work, but I also produced knowledge, adapting ideas and creating a workable format for my classroom. So, my oz-dacious journey has had many twists and turns along the Lawrence-brick road.  I have been in the vortex of theoretical controversy, looking for a place within academia, and I have questioned my value and my knowledge - only to discover that my ideas are valued, and praxis and action research are avenues to pursue. III.  The Tin Woodsman and the Cowardly Lion After Dorothy had linked up with the Scarecrow, she met the Tin Woodsman (TW) and the Cowardly Lion (CL).  The TW, the most compassionate of the Oz adventurers, was searching for a heart.  He wanted to share himself with others.  The CL felt he needed courage.  Although he was the most intrepid character, he doubted his ability to face danger.  Like Dorothy, after I had confronted my Scarecrow, I was then shortly to encounter both the TW and the CL -- each of whom, again, was myself.  I needed heart and courage to continue my journey.  I desired connection -- with associates, with students, with others -- while staking a claim for myself.  I sought solidarity with colleagues as well as recognition as an individual.  As a teacher either in public school or in higher education, I tended to fall victim to the isolation and disempowerment of the old paradigm.  In that system teachers worked alone and followed the direction of others.  Finding heart would encourage me to connect with colleagues and reach out beyond my office doors; getting courage would support me in those pursuits.  The context within which I am working sets silences and establishes barriers in ways similar to the public school teachers' experiences.  My context holds me and constrains me; I am always wondering whether it frees me to do the work I need to do as a teacher.  Context is critical to my experience and to the ways that I experience my classroom, as well as to the creation or inhibition of my theories. When teachers teach, they do not merely present their subject matter acumen and their pedagogical abilities, they communicate themselves.  Indeed they reveal their frames of self -- their interpretations, their histories, their personal understandings of the world.  Often teaching is an act of intimate distance, with the teacher at once revealing her ideas while sheltering herself from the discomfort of challenge and potential failure.  Simply knowing one's discipline or the pedagogically-correct manner in which to deliver a lesson does not make a successful teacher.  Sometimes the expectations of academia or departmental politics lay claim to course directions; sometimes context interferes with the desired course.  And sometimes the system, higher education/public education, has been immersed in the old paradigm for so long that giving in to it is the only way to survive. For the most part the paradigms that promoted the knowledge product/use dichotomies which have existed for a long time, advocating what was considered a value-free environment and addressing teachers (and all others in the environment except researchers) as if they were emotionless, brain-free beings who could be lead blindly in various directions.  These paradigms often engaged methodologies that silenced the studied, disregarded the personal knowledge of the studied, and strengthened the notions of researchers as the knowledge-producers (Gitlin, 1990).  Typically, teachers' knowledge was not reflected in the studies.  Connections must be found among all aspects of an individual's history (Kotre, 1984).  A person's life and experiences strongly influence her responses.  Moreover, connections must be made among lives to generate an understanding of reality.  In Kansas, I found few connections, few similarities.  There were people who were nice and people who would smile, but there were few connections made among teachers, students, and colleagues. Fortunately, though, that research has been found deficient (Allender, 1992).  People now realize that we are formed by, and forming, our work and our world (Britzman, 1991).  One important element is language.  Is it a powerful tool or a near-lethal weapon?  It can be used to bring people together.  Importantly, in this language context, voice is born.  Clearly language plays a strong role in mediating circumstances and, potentially, empowering them. Along the Lawrence-brick road I experienced many adventures as I tried to find heart and courage.  And, as always, I returned to myself, to see myself, to question myself, to confront myself about my own connections with, and participation in, the world in which I chose to live.  In the process I discovered that context and culture can heavily influence thought and action.  Moreover, if context is not considered, understanding theory-making and knowledge may be futile. IV.  With considerable help from friends Throughout Dorothy's journey there were various people and beings crucial to her experience.  Without the Munchkins, the Winkies, the Witches, the Field Mice, the Winged Monkeys, and others, Dorothy's adventure would not have progressed.  Each group offered kindness, attention, aid, and ideas to her which supported her when she needed it -- encouraging her, offering advice, forcing her to look at herself in different ways. In that same way, my students have supported me throughout my quest for self.  Understanding that Kansas was the place to be and that my journey might be arduous, but important, took considerable looking inward and looking outward as well.  My students always asked the right question or responded in particular ways that forced me to confront myself.  One concern I always had about my teaching addressed matching beliefs with actions.  I wanted my students to be critical inquirers - but did I talk too much?  If we teach as we were taught, then there was no way I was going to escape my directly-instructed past.  Would I be able to dodge the lecture mode and the "owner of knowledge" syndrome?  Would Mrs. Bovers always appear as a ghost in my classroom?  Frightening thoughts, indeed.  Of course, I persevered.  I read the latest instructional information, I thought about my subject matter, I discussed it with colleagues, and I journaled about my experience.  In addition, I perceived my students as having particular educational needs which included learning how to think critically, being able to work in cooperative groups, and understanding themselves so they could understand the classroom.  But did the students perceive these as their concerns? Did I/do I have the right to force these concerns upon them?  At the beginning of each semester when I have them list their own concerns, they simply list how-to's rather than  whys and wherefores.  Am I the one to decide how they should teach and what they should think?  Can I walk them through to the other side, if the other side is selected by me?  Do I match my beliefs with actions?  It was not until I met up with my students that I could critically examine my own work.  Through interactions with my students, I found that I thought I was teaching critically and engaging the students in lots of discussions, but their critiques indicated that I lectured too much.  How did that happen?  The students wanted to engage in conversation and I was talking too much.  Now I talked because I wanted them to realize that they needed to reconsider their ideas.  I wanted them to realize that they thought they knew something but they did not.  So all the while I was talking, I was busily illustrating the style of teaching I did not want them to duplicate and contradicting my words with my actions.  Last semester my classes were particularly frustrated by the clash of my action with my beliefs, and my students quickly caught me in the contradiction of my ways. This semester I have worked hard to engage students in conversations, remembering to discover their prior knowledge and their ideas.  I think my efforts at discourse have worked well.  The students will ask questions like "How does it come to be that way?"  Or "Why do we do it that way?"  And I respond, "Well what do you think?"  We explore their experiences, and we think about what happens in the classes they observe. This semester, in fact, I have made major shifts in thinking and in teaching; and much of this change has come in response to my interactions with my students, and additional changes will, I hope, continue to occur.  Over time, with my students talking with me and interacting with me, in addition to my own reflecting on my experiences, I have shifted, and I think I have reached a much better plane as a teacher.  I think that the students would say that I am encouraging them to be independent thinkers and that I am meeting their educational needs because I am talking to them about what is really happening in our classroom. Along my path toward confronting my self and understanding my passions, I have had many fine teachers, but none has been more crucial to my experiences than have my students. V.  Glinda  Through a series of events of little consequence here, Dorothy came to the end of her journey after a meeting with Glinda, a woman of intellect, power, and beauty.  In Dorothy's story, Glinda listened to Dorothy's problem and envisioned its solution.  Dorothy, it turned out, had only to recognize her power; she could have used that power to obtain what she wanted the first day of her journey.  "Your Silver Shoes will carry you [home]...If you had known their power you could have gone back [home] the very first day you came to this country" (Baum, 1900, p. 187). And so it was for me.  If only I had known the power of my voice, I could have found my place the very first day.  Unfortunately, I was too  deeply influenced by the system and too victimized by tradition.  The issue of voice is a political issue that embraces discourse and power relationships.  Implicitly, the quest for voice is marked by power struggles between resistance and domination.  What people do not say, are not allowed  to say are unable to say, is crucial to understanding their voices.  What is not said is as important as what is said.  The silences, in fact, represent the existing power struggles.  And the language sets conditions by which events are interpreted and the self is located in a ever-changing world.  Clearly, each voice communicates its own particular understandings and knowledge, as expected when contexts vary.  Voice can be a form of political action that challenges domination and oppression (Gitlin, 1990), a voice against oppression (Richert, 1991).  Belenky, Clinchy, Goldberger, & Tarule (1986) suggested that developing voice is analogous with developing reflection, an approach that leads to ways of knowing which enable individuals to enter into the social and intellectual areas of their community.  Without reflection and language, however, one remains isolated from one's self.  Voice represents a person's struggle to generate and create meaning, assert her/his opinions, and negotiate with others (Britzman, 1991).  It is through voice that people become actively involved in their world.  Teachers simply can not afford a neutral viewpoint.  They need to become actively involved in situations, to be heard over the swell of administrative ideas. Through feminist literature, the Glinda of my experience, I discovered I needed to look again at my ideas and perhaps re-evaluate them in light of certain prejudices.  I have only to look to myself, not to external forces, to discover the power I had to offer. VI.  Kansas I have no conclusions to offer.  I have been across the long, dusty prairie and through the poppy fields of spring, and alas, nowhere/everywhere is home.  Home is where I think it is.  Perhaps because of age, gender, ethnicity, and/or experience or perhaps for other reasons, I have come to recognize that positivism is post, that theory is practice, that teachers are researchers, that connection is critical, that culture is constructed, and that voice brings strength.  I am no longer looking outside of myself and my experience to discover reality.  Knowledge, once outside my grasp, is mine, and I enjoy learning with students and colleagues as we critically examine our worlds, weaving our theories and generating new ideas.  I realize that context is significant to people's views.  When constructing theory and ideas, where a person is and how he or she perceives what is happening can prominently affect what occurs.  For example, in a university setting that has strong traditional ties, it is quite impossible to introduce alternative ideas about reflection into classrooms and/or faculty discussions.  Additionally, if a teacher has students who have been trained in dependency-producing environments, it will be difficult to successfully introduce critical inquiry into their repertoire. In fact, people need to be find connections with their environment and their place.  Care and concern are essential to confronting self and expressing the passion that comes with teaching. Voice, however, is what brings all of these pieces into perspective.  If I had not developed my voice (which is still developing), I would not have been able to recognize my intellectual capacity or confront my contextual incongruencies.  Voice provides the power to critically examine a situation and confront it, rather than be dominated by it.  In fact, the simple act (which was really rather difficult) of writing this paper has helped me draw out my voice and state ideas that I have not previously cultivated. As our voices develop, I must/we must display our new-found, newly developed voice.  Of course, we can go to faculty meetings and confront our colleagues, but more specifically we must display our new abilities as examples for our colleagues in both higher education and public education.  We should become examples for our peers, yet always engage in a critical examination of the process. For a start we can recognize ourselves as teachers.  If we, as members in higher education, perpetuate the dichotomy between teachers and teacher educators, then we are not doing our profession justice.  If we continue to draw lines as if one group has more, better information than another, we are not recognizing the value of what we are missing.  If we do not address teachers in public schools as the equal of those in higher education, we are stifling our world.  Perhaps those in higher education have spent more time reading or visiting other classrooms, but the work and the experience of public school teachers is also important.  One way to begin to eliminate the barriers between teachers and teacher educators is to think of ourselves as teachers and use ourselves as elements of our own studies.  Rather than going to the public schools, we can examine ourselves in our own acts of teaching.  If we can understand how we ourselves teach, we can inform ourselves about how others might teach.  It is time to start looking inward, instead of outward.  While there are many studies of public school teachers, there are far fewer studies of higher education teachers studying their own practice.  As teachers (teacher educators/higher education teachers/scholars) we are at a crucial crossroads.  We can hide within the hollow log of past perspectives, forging new barriers between academia and others or, like Dorothy, we can recognize that home is where we are and look to ourselves for answers. 1 I extend apologies to those readers who are not familiar with The Wizard of Oz.  Simply stated it is a story of a young girl's search for home. 2 Let me clarify my use of story here, particularly after reading Carter, 1993.  When I use the term story, I am indicating that my idea is still under consideration.  I am still working on it, making it mine.  If I own the idea I will often just say __ is true or __ is true.  If I have ownership, I usually do not need story to express myself. 3  Methodologically, while in previous years I have drawn from the journal texts of my colleagues as well as my own, this year I have poked and prodded my own theory and practice with why and how questions.  I would ask myself why and how something occurred attempting to be my own critical friend as well as a critical self.  Of course, I have grounded my ideas in the previous research of others, but the development of ideas springs from my head.  Attributing homage to all of the mothers and fathers of ideas who have gone before me would be difficult.  Over the past four years, for example, every time I think I have an original idea, I am surprised to find it documented elsewhere.  Although this provides some frustration, it also offers vast new study-lands to explore. 4  I also define myself as a teacher and as a researcher because for me, there are not distinctions.  5  Let me reiterate here that I identify as a teacher-researcher and have never been comfortable with the simple categorization of researcher. 6 Lest someone think that I am trying to play both sides of the fence, let me address that here.  I have been a public school teacher  for seven years and a university level teacher for four years.  Over that time I have never viewed myself as anything but a teacher.  Yes, I am engaged in an ethnographic study of a school in the heart of an urban area, but the site-members and I discuss aspects of teaching to inform our practice as well as other issues.  In addition, the site-members do consider themselves to be researchers.  Identifying any of us as less than teacher-researchers would be making a spurious segregation.  7 And it is not as simple as saying that positivists do not attend to teachers' ideas and post-positivists do - because many interpretivist studies have also tended to place teachers in a subordinate role. 8  I have a problem with the use of the term practice or practical because, again, I think that it implies a power relationship that we should not perpetuate.  Unfortunately, that is the substance of another paper, for another conference. 9 Again, I see a power relationship in the use of the word action.  Action implies movement and involvement in ways that have not previously been considered valuable. 10 Importantly, I did not follow the Fenstermacher format of looking for premises.  Instead I was simply attempting to reveal their beliefs so we could discuss their ideas.   References Adler, S.  (in press).  Teacher education: research as reflective practice.  Journal of Teaching and Teacher Education. 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