Studying Children using Ethnography: Heightened Challenges and Balancing Acts

Abstract

French

Scholars have debated how to carry out research with children, particularly about how to generate the most accurate data in an ethically-sensitive fashion. But there has been limited discussion of the practicalities of such research. Relying on our own ethnographic studies with children and families, conducted two decades apart, we argue that studying children heightens routine research challenges and requires the constant balancing of pressures. Our studies highlight difficulties in two broad arenas: the simultaneous management of procedural obligations to children and their gatekeepers (‘the double act’), and the need to juggle satisfying adult norms of interaction while generating and maintaining rapport with children (‘walking the tightrope’). These heightened challenges cannot be solved through use of the “right” method. Rather, they should be acknowledged and met with flexibility, reflexivity, and perseverance. More broadly, open discussion of the difficulties faced while conducting research should not be seen as revealing failings, but as a vital way for scholars to advance the field.

Keywords

Research methods Children Childhood Ethnography Socialization

Introduction

The methods used for researching children are the topic of intense debate (Gallacher and Gallagher, 2008; James et al., 1998; Holland et al., 2010; Punch, 2002; Tisdall, 2012). Over the last 30 years, researchers have variously advocated: ethnographic methods as a way to capture children’s voice and agency (Corsaro, 1981; Eder and Corsaro, 1999; James and Prout, 2015; Qvortrup, 1994); participatory methods that incorporate children into the research process (Clark and Moss, 2011; Clark and Statham, 2005; Hart, 2013); and child-directed methods that seek to avoid “adultist” biases entirely (Alderson, 2001; Burke, 2005). Most recently, scholars have praised the intent of participatory and child-directed methods, but questioned their theoretical and empirical foundations (Gallacher and Gallagher, 2008; Komulainen, 2007; Lewis, 2010).

Rhetoric surrounding these debates has often been charged and normative. Frequent reference to the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (United Nations, 1989) demonstrates not only the weight and sensitivity of research involving children, but also the centrality of ethics and morality in child-research discussions. Indeed, even grammar has taken on great significance; describing research “on” rather than “with” children is seen by some as symptomatic of an epistemology that marginalizes children’s agency (Alderson, 1995; for critiques of this see Gallacher and Gallagher, 2008; Lewis, 2010).¹

But for all this debate, there has been little discussion of the practicalities of research involving children. A hopeful researcher new to the literature is apt to feel disoriented by arguments for and against a given method and perspective, but with no clear bearings on where and how to safely tread. Research involving children is often simultaneously presented as ethically fraught in the abstract, but as uncomplicated and empowering in practice when using the “right” method (Lewis, 2010; Scheer, 2017). Rather than minimize the difficulties of research involving children in order to advocate for a given approach, we highlight the difficulties of a particular method (ethnography) in order to maximize readers’ awareness of some of the practical challenges embedded in researching children.²

Literature Review

Changing Perspectives, Changing Methods

Researching children remains a volatile subject. As children’s position vis-à-vis adults is debated, so too are the recommended methods. Until the 1980s, children were largely seen as extensions of their families, albeit incomplete “adults in waiting” (for critiques of this approach see Corsaro, 1993; Qvortrup, 1994; Thorne, 1993; but also see Woodhead, 2009). As such, there was limited discussion of how to specifically research children. In the late 1980s and early 1990s, this dominant approach was replaced by the “New Childhood Studies” movement, which vigorously argued for the importance of children in their own right. Children were repositioned as independent agents, emphasis was placed on children’s rights and voices, and studies that did research “on” rather than “with” children were seen as morally suspect and “adultist” (Alderson, 1995; Freeman, 2009; Lundy, 2007; Tisdall, 2012; United Nations, 1989).

Ethnographic methods were strongly endorsed due to their ability to facilitate “a view of children as competent interpreters of the social world” (James, 2001: 246; Eder and Corsaro, 1999; James and Prout, 2015). One of the most distinctive takes on ethnography with children came from Mandell’s (1988) “least-adult role.” This approach encourages going beyond being a mere observer or semi-participant and putting “aside ordinary forms of adult status and interaction – authority, verbal competency, cognitive and social mastery” (Mandel, 1988: 438). Through doing so, a researcher can become “an active participant,…imitating [children’s] words, actions, and responses, and gradually fitting [one’s] line of action into theirs” (Mandel, 1988: 439). The creation of the least-adult role stems from the (familiar) desire to bypass barriers of status and understanding that lie between adult researchers and children. Mandell’s admirable attempt is predicated on many thoughtful insights. Yet, an inevitable power differential still exists in ethnography between adult researchers and child subjects (James, 2001). As such, adult status can never be rendered “inconsequential in interaction” as Mandell (1988: 435) hopes. Attempting total, active participation in children’s lives sidelines this power differential and risks angering other adults (e.g. teachers) if not somewhat balanced with respect for adult interactional norms (Gansen, 2017). An effort to have total participation in children’s lives also requires such interpretive and performative labor that it can inhibit the actual collection of data. Thus, rather than seeking identification (i.e., the adult is a child), aiming for rapport between adult researchers and children, from a liminal position, is a more realistic goal (Corsaro, 1981, 1985; Emerson, 1981; Pascoe, 2011; but see Fine, 2017). Indeed, acknowledgement of inevitable adult-child power differences can itself reveal new data (Fine and Sandstrom, 1988; Gansen, 2017; Khan, 2010; Mayall, 2000; Scheer, 2017).

But others, driven by the moral imperative (established in the New Childhood Studies movement) to capture children’s “true” perspectives, have sought to temper or remove this power differential entirely by advocating participatory and even child-led methods, in which children direct or conduct data collection (Alderson, 2001). Such methods include photography, drawing, diaries, dance, and child-led interviews. Advocates argue that while adult-led research involves “manipulation, decoration, and tokenism” (Alderson, 2001: 145), child-directed research captures children’s raw perspectives because “children are experts in their own lives” (Barker and Weller, 2003; Burke, 2005; Hart, 2013; Johnson, 2010; Lancaster and Broadbent, 2003; O’Kane, 2017; Sinclair, 2004).

Despite the popularity of participatory and child-led approaches, others have grown critical of these methods (Gallacher and Gallagher, 2008; Komulainen, 2007; Lewis, 2010; Punch, 2002; Tisdall, 2012; Tisdall and Punch, 2012). Critics argue that participatory and child-led methods: 1) do not guarantee better data (i.e., more valid, reliable, or valuable data); 2) are not necessarily more ethical, empowering, or moral; and 3) have been advocated in the manner of a “moral crusade,” which has actually led to theoretical stagnation within the childhood studies field, and the downplaying of attendant practical challenges common when studying children. These critics suggest relaxing our pursuit of children’s “true” perspectives. But they offer limited recommendations for how to proceed methodologically.

We greatly appreciate these theoretical debates. Yet we also yearn for more acknowledgment of the constraints and contradictions which thwart researchers as they seek, at times in vain, to follow “best practices” in childhood studies. We feel a need for more concrete methodological guidance. As such, we endeavor to provide some practical advice to scholars navigating the complexities of researching children. We draw on two ethnographic studies involving children conducted two decades apart (Harvey, 2019; Lareau, 2011). Using these two studies we seek to dispel the idea that the “right” method, perspective, or practices guarantee an uncomplicated and empowering research experience (see Gallacher and Gallagher, 2008; Scheer, 2017). Rather, we argue that just as the rhetoric in the literature is heightened, so too are the challenges faced when conducting research with children. “Solving” these challenges is not possible, but balancing them can be fruitful.

We highlight two arenas in which researchers commonly face challenges when studying children and must balance competing pressures. First, while scholars have shown children to be powerful social agents, legally children are dependent, disempowered, and insulated by various institutions. As such, scholars must always simultaneously satisfy their formal and procedural obligations to both children and their gatekeepers (e.g., parents, teachers, complex bureaucracies). Managing this double act of children and their gatekeepers, of power and powerlessness, can prove challenging. Second, and more interactionally, children often act very differently to adults. Children frequently engage with researchers in ways that challenge adult social norms and magnify researchers’ identities (e.g., gender, age, race, etc.). Correspondingly, researchers must walk the tightrope of abiding by adult norms and responsibilities, while also building rapport with children in order to generate valuable findings.

In sum, rather than advocating for one method or approach, we suggest that researchers must perform balancing acts. Through flexibility, reflexivity, and perseverance researchers can manage the heightened challenges and competing demands inevitably encountered when conducting research with children.³

The Two Studies

In this paper we draw on two ethnographic studies which involve observations by Harvey of fourth and fifth grade children (i.e., nine to eleven years old) and by Lareau of third and fourth grade children (i.e., eight to ten years old). Harvey observed children in both an elite private school and a predominantly working-class public school, while Lareau, and her research assistants, observed children in several settings including the family home. In the space below we provide a brief methodological overview of the two studies. All names are pseudonyms.

Harvey’s dissertation research is motivated by how class shapes childrearing (Lareau, 2011), though with a particular focus on gender (Friedman, 2013; Kane, 2012; Thorne, 1993). His guiding question has been “How does class shape the gendered behaviors, attitudes, and aspirations of children?” In pursuit of this, he has conducted a comparative ethnography in two schools with differing class profiles. He spent two years observing at Truman Academy (an elite private elementary school popular with liberal professionals, where nearly 40 percent of the pupils are students of color), and one full school year observing at Brighton Elementary (a small public school where half the students are of color). Harvey has also conducted 73 interviews with Truman-related individuals: 36 parents, 16 teachers, and 25 students.⁴ A comparable number of interviews with Brighton Elementary parents, teachers and students will take place over the coming year. Truman and Brighton are both located in or near a large Northeastern city in the United States. At Truman, the vast majority of families involved are upper-middle-class.⁵ Meanwhile, Brighton families are primarily working-class.⁶

After gaining access to Truman Academy through a social tie, Harvey visited approximately two-to-three times per week for two years (2016/17 and 2017/18), typically for three-to-four hours per visit, spending most of his time in a combined fourth and fifth grade classroom. Likewise, an academic connection precipitated contact and access to Brighton Elementary for the 2018/19 school year, which Harvey visited twice a week for typically six-to-seven hours per visit. Overall, he has amassed almost 3,000 pages of single-spaced fieldnotes and over 1,000 pages of single-spaced interview transcripts. Harvey’s work has been conducted as a graduate student in his twenties, a foreigner (British), and a White man.

Lareau’s study also began by conducting classroom observation – though in third-grade classrooms in two public schools. With the help of research assistants, she carried out in-depth interviews with the educators and parents of 88 children, first with the mother and then, if present, with the father. The most distinctive part of the study was the intensive home visits with a total of twelve White and African-American families from middle-class, working-class, and poor backgrounds. Lareau and the research assistants usually visited daily for three weeks; one person was the “lead field worker” and went three to four times per week, Lareau and another field worker then each went once or twice per week. Lareau was the “lead field worker” in two of the twelve families. Lareau also talked at length, usually around thirty minutes, on the phone with the research assistants after each field visit to learn what had unfolded, ask questions, and provide guidance on what to write up in the field notes. All the researchers wrote detailed field notes after each visit. Usually the field notes from each visit took between five and twelve hours to write. Visits ranged from two to three hours, but in some instances lasted all day. There was one overnight visit. Families were paid the equivalent of $560 in 2019 dollars. The family field workers had a weekly meeting where they discussed how things were going, reflected on the research in the literature, considered emerging arguments, and refined the focus of the research including the search for disconfirming evidence for the emerging conclusions. At the time of the research, Lareau was an upper-middle-class White woman in her early forties, working as an assistant professor (for additional details see Lareau, 2011).

Thus, the two studies have much in common but also some differences, particularly the twenty-year gap in their completion and the remuneration of families. Regarding the twenty-year gap, while popular commentators frequently reference a “golden age” of children free from coddling, it is also apparent that fear for children’s safety has risen in recent decades, especially in relation to pedophilia (Furedi, 2006; Nelson, 2010; Pain, 2006; Stearns, 2004). We discuss these issues in the ensuing sections concerning the procedural obligations and gender of the researcher. In regard to remuneration, both Harvey and Lareau usually brought a food item (e.g., a pie) to parental interviews. Assessing the impact of the additional payment offered by Lareau to the 12 families observed intensively is complex. Lareau worried about the potential coercive impact of the funds (which were given after the study was over). The money appeared to be an incentive to join the study. Some used the funds for a special event such as a vacation. But some low-income families declined to participate. Therefore, it is hard to discern how the honorarium shaped the research experience.

Below we offer examples from both ethnographic projects. All examples were selected due to their relatively succinct and visualizable character, requiring relatively little background information, in order to support the reader. In addition, some examples are drawn from early experiences in the respective fields. Certain procedural elements (e.g., gaining access) are necessarily encountered early on while, interactionally, early impressions can be particularly consequential for building rapport and, ultimately, for research success (Fine, 2017; Gansen, 2017). However, we agree with Mandell (1988: 441) that research challenges do not evaporate once formal access has been granted. This is why we emphasize the need for perseverance – alongside flexibility and reflexivity – over the course of research. This is also why we draw other examples from across our research experiences, most of which highlight – in some instances with unusual strength – recurring challenges.

Research Challenges

Managing the ‘Double Act’

Researching children is far from straightforward. The literature often discusses children’s disempowerment, yet implies that this can be solved via the right participatory method. But this brushes over the embedded structural positioning of children within protective institutions. These protections for children, whilst valuable, bring complications for researchers that are rarely experienced when studying adults. Thus, scholars must simultaneously manage the double act of formal or procedural obligations to both children and their gatekeepers. We highlight this in relation to access, consent, and respondent pushback.

Careful Steps with Cautious Groups

Children – and certain adults (e.g., prisoners) – are considered “vulnerable populations.” Researching children normally requires formal access to an institution, granted by gatekeepers. Attempting to bypass gatekeepers or conduct research in public settings without sanction can lead to serious consequences, with researchers today liable to be treated with suspicion or even outright hostility (Fine, 2017; Grazian, 2015; Petrone, 2007). The maintenance of children’s safety and the importance of complying with ethical, social, and legal standards surrounding children means that researchers should always err on the side of caution.

Accessing child-institutions can involve many tricky steps. First, depending on the ethical review organization and procedures at one’s university (known in America as IRBs), it can take considerably more time and work to demonstrate the legitimacy and safety of research, and receive approval, when attempting to research children (Harger and Quintela, 2017). Second, different institutions erect distinct barriers to access, such that it can be hard to predict how long it will take for a proposed study to be approved (or denied). Researchers at public schools typically require permission from both the school district and the principal, whereas only principals need give permission at most private schools. Access is entirely dependent on the dispositions of these gatekeepers. Both Harvey and Lareau have encountered a range of dispositions in attempting to access schools, from bureaucratic blockage to near-immediate approval. Third, in the United States, even once approval has been granted by schools and IRBs, all public schools, and most private schools, require background checks of adults (i.e., fingerprinting, felony checks, and child abuse clearances). These requirements, while important, also cost the researcher extra money and time and can delay a project if not anticipated.

Of course, some of these issues have changed over time. Fingerprinting, for example, was not routinely required two decades ago for researchers. IRB rules have also become more cumbersome. Meanwhile the rise of texting and email can, in some instances, increase the speed of communication with gatekeepers. But it can also increase the risk of “ghosting” – where recipients neglect to reply for extended periods or at all, as if they had vanished – leaving researchers uncertain how to proceed. In general, as discussed elsewhere, it is most desirable for researchers to make requests, or at least establish initial rapport, in-person (for example, by talking to principals and teachers in-person at the end of the school day, or by simply requesting a phone call or meeting) (Lareau, 2019). Then, any efforts to gain access can be more carefully managed and reactions gauged. Unless there is someone vouching for the study, or initial in-person contact has already been made, explanations of the study or requests for participation via email should be avoided.

Thus, access is not a straightforward or easily predictable process when seeking to research children. Practically, we recommend beginning the access process at least six months ahead of the desired commencement of research. Theoretically, while the safety of children is of the utmost concern, these (sometimes insurmountable) obstacles can make children seem too difficult to research. As such, we risk returning, albeit for different reasons, to a previous paradigm in which children are overlooked (Swauger et al., 2017). Therefore, all researchers can do amidst these challenges is remain flexible, reflexive, and persevere.

Permissions, Problems, and Processes

Consent is a process (Bosk, 1979). It is always subject to renegotiation, but the process of gaining consent/assent from children and the institutions that protect them has a heightened level of complexity. Throughout, researchers must accommodate the dual challenges of both children and their gatekeepers when conducting research with them. For example, most IRBs require children, if interviewed, to sign assent forms (in addition to parents signing consent forms). These assent forms typically state in simple language that children can stop the interview at any time and do not have to answer any questions that they do not want to. However, these formal procedures, adapted for children, do not always function as intended (Harger and Quintela, 2017; Hurley and Underwood, 2002). As Harvey found when interviewing 9-11 year-olds, these protocols often baffled and intimidated them. Children were not interested in reading the assent form, did not know how to “do a signature” or how to print their name, and some, previously talkative children, became visibly anxious or withdrawn as these unusual practices made the children worry about the impending interview, despite Harvey’s efforts to relax them. Managing these issues consumed valuable time – approximately five minutes – at the beginning of most child interviews. While the negotiation of a consent/assent form is always a sensitive matter, and some adults may also pay limited attention or have concerns about the process, children can provide heightened challenges by not being socially or emotionally equipped to comply with mandatory research procedures that were designed by and for adults.

Even after access has been formally granted and consent/assent has been given, at any moment children, their gatekeepers, or both, may seek to renegotiate the terms of consent, sometimes with each other. Regardless of whether it would be a setback for the project, researchers have to be open to giving up on studying a family/child if there are signs that this is their preference. Adjudging this preference, however, is not always an easy task. Fieldworkers can inadvertently be caught up in conflicts between children and their gatekeepers or between different gatekeepers (such as schools versus parents). In these instances, it can be hard to tell whether acts of resistance are meant for the research itself, or for another party. For example, as part of the consent process, Lareau had extensive discussions with Ms. Taylor (a working-class Black single mother with three children) and her 10-year old son, Tyrec, about the project. After Ms. Taylor agreed to be in the study during a phone call, Lareau and two researchers visited the Taylor family with a cake, talked the project over more with Tyrec and other family members, had the mother sign the consent form, and made a schedule for visits. Yet, consent is an on-going process, and Lareau had a major crisis with the Taylor family when, about one-third of the way into the visits, Tyrec wanted to thwart his mother’s directive to go to summer camp one morning. Lareau and her research assistants had been visiting the family daily, and had noted that Tyrec had considerable autonomy. He frequently was out “in the neighborhood” and, when his mother wanted him, she would yell out the door, and other friends would hear and pass the word along. Within thirty minutes or so, Tyrec would appear. Often, he would be many blocks away. Furthermore, in this family, it was common for the mother to “turn a blind eye” when he disobeyed her rules (e.g., to stay in the house, do chores, or not go too far from home).

On this morning, the presence of the fieldworker, who had come to observe Tyrec that day, seemed to present more of an impediment to Tyrec’s plans. He and his mother began arguing about it as soon as he got out of bed at 7:15am. The morning began with Ms. Taylor and Tyrec in the bedroom with the White, female fieldworker, Caitlin, (on her first visit) sitting on the stairs listening to them argue:

No, Tyrec, you’re going to camp today. I don’t care if there are boats, you’re going. Tyrec! If you just keep your butt still, you won’t fall out. Just KEEP yourself still. No, Tyrec – you’re just going to have to get used to boats again.

Ms. Taylor then asks the fieldworker to walk Tyrec to camp, sticking her head out she says “Caitlin, the little boy who usually walks with Tyrec to camp isn’t here today. I was wondering if you would mind walking Tyrec to camp this morning?” Caitlin, says, “Oh, I’d be happy to,” to which Ms. Taylor smiles, and thanks Caitlin. Ms. Taylor turns to her son and says “Tyrec, Caitlin has been nice enough to say she’ll walk you to camp this morning. She’s doing this as a favor to me…So you be nice and get up.”

Ms. Taylor leaves for work, and Caitlin and Tyrec start walking to the bus stop for camp (less than a ten minute walk) but, a couple of blocks from the house, Tyrec tells Caitlin that he does not want her along, telling the fieldworker “I don’t want nobody to follow me.” The fieldworker says, “Oh? Well, I can walk far behind you, so you can pretend I’m not there. Nobody has to know.” Tyrec looks troubled and angry and says, “I don’t want to.” The fieldworker tries to turn it into a game, saying, “Well, you know how Greg [another fieldworker for this family] is your robot? I can be one too. I’ll do whatever you say, as long as I can see you. I won’t talk, I’ll walk far behind you, whatever. What do you think?” Tyrec shakes his head and exclaims, “No! I don’t want anyone following me!”

In a moral bind, but putting the goal of building a connection with the child – as well as not observing him when he does not want to be observed – over her promise to Ms. Taylor, Caitlin relents, asking Tyrec, “Ok, if I don’t follow you today, will you do something for me?” Tyrec nods, and the fieldworker continues, “Will you tell your mom that you were uncomfortable with me following you?” Tyrec nods again. He turns around to head back up the street. As he retreats Caitlin calls out “Tyrec! I’ll see you later!” He turns his head and looks at the fieldworker, but doesn’t say goodbye.⁷

We learned that night that Tyrec had circled the block, returned home, and spent the day hanging out and watching television with his twelve-year old sister who was spending the summer day at home. (Caitlin did not have the mother’s work number and did not call her.) When Lareau talked to Tyrec’s mother that night on the phone, the mother seemed angry and embarrassed that Tyrec had “ditched” the fieldworker, but she did not seem concerned that he had spent the day with his older sister rather than at camp.

This was a major crisis in the project, since all human subject protocols indicate that respondents have the right not to be studied and (as in this instance) they can stop the research at any time. In addition, although he was in his neighborhood where he was routinely allowed to run around without adult supervision, Tyrec could have been injured when he was walking home from the bus stop. In addition, the fieldworker had not honored her promise to the mother. Lareau and the research assistants discussed withdrawing from the family and raised that possibility with the family. Tyrec had seemed to be jovial and comfortable with Greg, the Black male fieldworker; he was less comfortable with Caitlin, a White woman. Lareau and her assistants also noticed that in this family the mother would firmly insist that Tyrec do something, but then when he failed to do so, she ignored it. Hence, Lareau felt that the key problem was that Tyrec did not want to go to camp that day. It appeared that the issue was not consent to the study per se, but that having Caitlin follow him was interfering with his plan to avoid camp. In the next couple of days the research team more systematically raised the possibility of withdrawing from the family – in a genuine and honest way – because of Tyrec’s discomfort. But, after face-to-face discussions with Tyrec’s mother, a heart-to-heart talk with Tyrec, and observations of his warmth and smiles when Greg appeared, the researchers felt reassured that the informed consent/assent on his part was sincere and viable. (Lareau also adjusted the schedule to have Greg go more and trimmed back on Caitlin’s visits.)

Hence, as always, consent is an on-going process, not a one-time decision. Researchers need to be prepared for the research being stopped at any moment. The process of securing consent is more complex with children, not only because gatekeepers and children must agree, but also because children’s consent/assent is intricately interwoven with other elements of the gatekeeper-child relationship which may, or may not, be connected to the research project. There are no hard and fast rules here. Researchers must be extremely sensitive to the preferences of many people, reflexive of their own influence on those being researched, and persevere in awkward situations. However, if participants change their minds, researchers cannot override procedural obligations and must be prepared to walk away from a study (see also Lareau and Rao, 2020).

Obligations and Prescriptions

Managing obligations to children and gatekeepers can prove difficult even when the researcher’s presence is not at issue. For example, adults have different ideals of how childrearing should unfold. Some parents feel comfortable with physical punishment, and parents vary in how much attention and scrutiny they think children need. Researchers’ beliefs may differ from those of parents being researched. The focus of Lareau’s study was to learn about parents’ childrearing beliefs so, not wanting to criticize families, she instructed the fieldworkers not to intervene “unless there is blood, or the situation is life threatening.” But, in intimate environments, this could be painful for the fieldworkers. For example, during one afternoon a fieldworker, Mimi (a young White woman in her twenties) was hanging out watching soap operas with Katie Brindle, her mother, her auntie, and her 18 month old brother, Melmel. With her mother and aunt only a few feet away, Katie began to hit herself. There was no mistaking that they heard and saw her, but there was no reaction on their part.

Katie starts hitting her forehead with her fist. She is sitting on the bed and falls backwards as she beats her forehead. She is hitting with her right hand. She continues for about three minutes, which seems to me like a very long time.⁸

Moreover, Melmel began to mimic her:

Melmel climbs up on the bed between her and myself and imitates Katie. He does this for about a minute. CiCi and Mary watch without saying anything. Katie says to me, “That’s why I was in the hospital.” I ask, “Why?” She says, “For hurting myself.” I ask, “What did they do to you?” She says, “They locked me up.” I ask, “And then what did they do?” Katie says, “They taught me about self-esteem and told me not to hurt myself.” I looked over once and CiCi and Mary were watching Oprah.

As per the pre-determined policy in the childhood study, the fieldworker did not intervene, but she found it painful to watch, in part because Katie was a young child. In this instance, as part of the double act, the fieldworker had to weigh respecting parents’ rights to raise their own children, while also considering her own obligations for the welfare of the child. But, as part of the research team’s desire not to judge the mother’s parenting style – to be “non-prescriptive” – it was essential that the researcher not be critical of the family. Indeed, critical comments by the researcher would likely undermine the trust of the family members and their willingness to share their realities with the researcher. As a result, as noted above, even if they felt uncomfortable (and wished the events were not unfolding in this fashion) Lareau and the research assistants only intervened if it was life-threatening (as when the toddler was about to insert keys into an electric socket); otherwise they simply “hung out” with the family. As the fieldworker notes, in this instance, three minutes felt “like a very long time.”

Walking the Tightrope: Negotiating Children’s Differences from Adults

Much has been written about the similarities and differences between adults and children, both theoretically and methodologically (Ariès, 1962; Mintz, 2004; Punch, 2002; Yaffe, 2018; Zelizer, 1985). It is now well-established that childhood is a social construction that varies culturally (Punch and Tisdall, 2012; see also James et al., 1998; Qvortrup, 1994; Van Ausdale and Feagin, 1996; Woodhead, 2009). Yet, in the rush to validate children as socially relevant, children have sometimes been hurriedly recast as practically indistinguishable from idealized visions of adults, that is, socially competent, rational, complex, and influential (Alderson, 2001; Barker and Weller, 2003; Burke, 2005; Clark and Statham, 2005). This serves to obscure: children’s social disempowerment relative to adults; variations among children; adults’ own limitations and irrationalities; and certain undeniable differences between adults and (particularly young) children, such as different vocabularies, attention spans, norms and levels of social accountability, and different experiences and comprehensions of the social world (Gallacher and Gallagher, 2008; Lee, 2001; Punch, 2002; Tisdall and Punch, 2012; Woodhead, 2009).

These differences between adults and children create heightened challenges for researchers. In particular, they require the researcher to devote special attention to building rapport. But given the sensitivities surrounding children’s safety, researchers can regularly be put in awkward positions where they must “walk the tightrope” of maintaining adult norms and responsibilities, while also engaging in children’s social worlds. As Lignier (2008) describes it, researchers must balance being an observer with being a participant. This balancing act, we find, can magnify the significance of researchers’ own identities. As already shown, race and/or gender seemed to play an important role in balancing Tyrec and his mother’s attitudes towards being researched (in relation to the fieldworkers Greg and Caitlin). In that instance, Lareau was able to balance concerns by ensuring Greg conducted almost all of the remaining research with that family. It is tempting from such experiences to conclude that social proximity – or “insider status” – can assuage all research difficulties. But as situations vary the salience of identities (Ridgeway, 2011), establishing and maintaining an insider status over the course of ethnographic fieldwork is untenable and problematic (Dwyer and Buckle, 2009). Therefore, researchers must instead show flexibility, reflexivity, and perseverance in managing their identities in the face of research challenges and competing pressures. Below we highlight occasions in which age, gender, race, and class were magnified during research and managed by Harvey and Lareau.⁹

Age is Just a Number?

Children are often very attentive to age, in part because much of their lives – school, extracurricular activities, etc. – are stratified by it. Children at both Truman Academy and Brighton Elementary repeatedly asked, and tried to guess, Harvey’s age. Whenever he disclosed that he was in his mid-to-late twenties, children would gasp and exclaim “You’re so old!” Yet many factors, besides calendar years, feed into perceptions of age and children’s corresponding behavior, including interaction style, status or authority, appearance, and comparative age to others. Many of these factors mixed together during Harvey’s observations, undoubtedly shaping his research experience. For example, Harvey was careful in both schools to distinguish himself from actual teachers and other authority figures in various ways, such as not leading lessons, not telling students off, and sometimes joining in with children’s games at recess when invited. But Harvey did not attempt to be a fully active participant in the mold of Mandell (1988), interacting as if he were a child and initiating games (see Gansen, 2017). As a result, the children quickly ascribed Harvey a different status. At Brighton, within the first week of the school year, one of the girls pointed to Harvey and, smiling, declared to the classroom teacher “He’s not an adult!” Of course, this child did not think Harvey was really a child either (Fine and Sandstrom, 1988), but she was showing an attunement to Harvey’s liminal status (Pascoe, 2011).

This liminal status led to Harvey being treated by many of the children like an older brother; someone to impress and tease, but someone not entirely subject to the same rules and norms. As the following lengthy extract from fieldnotes shows, this presented opportunities and challenges:

I arrived at Truman and see that [my class] is out in the playground having snacktime. As I approach the big grey gates, most of the girls are playing in the area near them, as they often do. Paris sees me through the gates and bounces up and down squealing “Peter! Peter!” and the other girls see this and become similarly excited.…I’m buzzed through the gates. Once halfway through the gate they lay hands on me and haul me through the rest of the way.…One of them takes my backpack from my shoulders and they chatter “What’s in your backpack, Peter?”…I don’t resist them taking the backpack as I figure there’s nothing really valuable in there. However, the compartments are immediately unzipped and the gang of girls start pulling things out from inside, holding things up for each other to see, gawking at them, and claiming them as their own, like prized booty from a newfound treasure chest.

As Harvey’s anxiety rises, he watches the children have fun going through his belongings:

Paris finds my bike helmet and takes it out, plonking it on her head. Clare pulls out my apartment access card, mistakenly calling “We’ve got your credit card!” Ava, a bit more timidly but getting in the spirit, chooses which one of my 3 pens she wants to keep; Francesca takes another. Paris and Annabelle then come across the black plastic cover for my bike saddle, which I never use. Paris demands, laughingly, “Why do you have a hair net?!” I explain that it’s a saddle cover, and she shrugs, continuing to go through my bag for other treasures. Clare then pulls out my wallet, holding it aloft with wide eyes and a big grin on her face, calling “I’ve got your wallet!” On this I actually adopt a more serious tone and say “Ah, I need that back.” Clare falters, and actually hands it over. If Paris had found it I may have had a tougher time getting it back.…Paris then finds my reasonable-quality in-ear headphones, and starts trying to tug them out of the bag, but they’re caught on something and I can see the wire straining. Worried the earbud will pop off, I take hold of the backpack and actually help free the headphones for Paris, as I’d hate to see them broken. Paris grasps the bundle of wires to her.

The girls abscond with Harvey’s belongings:

Mr. Ryan is not near the girls’ playground spot during all this, so doesn’t intervene…he was probably watching the other kids play kickball. He then calls out to everyone “Line up! Line up!” This causes a scurry of activity. Paris…moves sharply and my bike helmet topples off her head and lands on the ground, where the (admittedly flimsy) visor falls off. Paris does not even glance at it, let alone offer to, or actually, pick it up. Instead she nips off to the line still holding my headphones. Ava tells me judiciously, “I’m going to keep this one [pen] all day.” Clare, one of the more strict, rule-bound girls, has already given back my wallet and card, having seemingly pushed her naughty boundaries far enough for her own comfort.

The headphones – worth around $50 (which is a non-trivial amount on a graduate student’s budget) – were unceremoniously returned a few minutes later once inside. During this encounter, Harvey had to walk the tightrope of maintaining his fraternal, non-authoritative role among the kids (so as not to jeopardize his research by becoming too teacher-like), while attempting to avoid losing all of his belongings and allowing children ownership of valuable or private items (e.g., the wallet). As such, this interesting, exasperating experience not only provided valuable data on the children themselves, but highlighted the role played by Harvey’s age and status, which shaped his relationship with the children.

Gendered Fears and Gendered Bodies

The majority of educators (particularly of young children) and family/childhood sociologists, at least in the United States, are women. While men certainly can have successful child-centered careers, greater suspicion – predicated on the “specter of pedophilia” (Lignier, 2008) – haunts men’s interactions with children (Grazian, 2015; Hodgetts and Rua, 2008; Levey, 2009). Harvey experienced this when visiting Brighton Elementary for the first time on a weekday afternoon in early 2018. The visit was planned, so that he could meet with the principal to finalize the research details and timeline, and also do a short presentation in front of all the teachers about the project. Harvey was welcomed in with a smile by the school secretary, had a pleasant meeting with the principal, then, with an hour to wait before presenting to the teachers, decided to walk around the attractive school grounds to get a feel for the area. During this time, the school day ended, and Harvey observed as children exited the school at high speed, rushing to meet their parents or play with others on the jungle gym.

I decided to head back inside. Indoors, the secretary smiled at me and asked, “Oh were you walking around the school?” I say yeah. She smiled and tutted, saying seriously “I said to [the principal], ‘Did you send him walking around the school at this time?’ ’Cause a man walking around with a backpack at end of school time looks very suspicious. People might have said or done something.”

The secretary’s genuine tone in warning Harvey that “people might have said or done something” demonstrates the prominence of gender when it comes to interacting with children. It also obliged Harvey to be ever-conscious and reflexive of how he could be perceived by others when conducting research, even if the research participants knew his presence and actions to be legitimate.

Even after considerable time observing in each school, Harvey remained sensitive to the ways in which his gender, combined with his liminal status, marked his interactions with children. This was particularly the case with physical interactions. At Truman, which had an unusually high proportion of men on staff, male teachers would regularly physically interact with students (usually boys), by hugging them, putting an arm around their shoulders, or even jocularly picking them up (which always made the kids smile). Largely oblivious to the societal sensitivities surrounding them, and perceiving Harvey like an older brother, many students tried to initiate physical contact, yet were frustrated at Harvey’s reticence, as the following example from recess shows:

Amanda, Ava, and Clare ask me to play [a word game] with them.…A few times while we play Ava puts her hands on my shoulders [from behind], trying to get me to give her a piggyback. Each time I say I can’t and turn away before she can jump up, which would look awkward. She grumbles. Amanda also seizes my left arm and won’t let go; when I ask her to, she barks back “No!” with a grin.

Such issues involving physical contact occurred frequently, such that Harvey was obliged to be flexible and develop certain “hybrid” responses that satisfied both adult and child norms. For example, whenever children tried to hug him, Harvey would keep his arms firmly by his side, so that it was clearly visible to any adult observers that Harvey had not initiated or sought out unnecessary physical contact.

However, greater awkwardness was generated by Harvey’s practice of keeping his notebook (for jottings) in his back pocket, with his pen in his right pocket. Many of the children found it amusing to try and steal his pens. This was particularly problematic as children lunging towards or grabbing in the vicinity of his pockets made Harvey uncomfortable and risked being misread by others. Hence, in these instances Harvey’s age and gender were magnified in his interactions with children and his walking of the positional tightrope. Flexibility, reflexivity, and perseverance helped Harvey in these efforts.

Negotiating Differences

Age and gender, as well as race and class, were also factors in Lareau’s study. It was clear that some children, particularly the young Black boys, warmed up to the Black male fieldworker, Greg. By contrast, the Black girls were often warm and enthusiastic with the White women fieldworkers, just as the young White boys took longer to warm up to the White women fieldworkers than did the White girls. A key goal for researchers is to blend into the setting, but settings themselves can differ radically. The mother in the McAllister family, for example, told the local drug dealer in the housing project not to “mess” with the Black male researcher Greg (thereby not mentioning Lareau or Caitlin). But Lareau and Caitlin, as White women in an all-Black housing project, stood out. (Residents told Lareau that only two types of Whites generally entered the housing project: social workers “coming to take your kids away” or drug dealers. She was neither.) Researchers also stood out as outsiders at family and neighborhood gatherings, but the racial difference of the researchers made their outsider status starker.

Researchers had different strategies for managing these differences. Lareau and her research assistants often accompanied middle-class families to organized activities like sports matches. During the game, they would watch from the sidelines with the other adults. However, many of the working-class and poor families did not have cars nor organized activities. For these families, the children, particularly the boys, often hung with groups of other kids on the street. Lareau needed to find a way to fit in and build rapport. Yet, as a woman in her early forties at the time, and not particularly athletic, it was hard to find a way to connect. Fortunately, adults sometimes played basketball with the children and other games outside. Some of the parents, including Ms. McAllister, coached, telling Lareau that she should wear sneakers (rather than flats). As a result, Lareau bought sneakers and a new basketball and started bringing the ball with her during her visits. The ball enabled them to play on the street underneath a rusty hoop (no net) attached to a street pole on a curb. The curb, scattered with broken glass, would continually send the ball off at weird angles when it bounced. But, the basketball created another dilemma as Lareau had not played since she was young. Shooting is a key component of basketball, but she was hopelessly incompetent at it. Not wanting to look ridiculous, she opted for aggressive guarding and no shooting:

I guard kids dramatically (in their face) with arms out and moving back and forth; they smile and drive in and around me and shoot. Jazz says, “Man she guard like a blood.” I guard again. Virtually any time I get the ball I pass hard and fast to their chest. It almost always catches them off guard but they catch it and then dribble and shoot. I never see anyone else pass away the ball except a few times in that game but even then not much.

This guarding strategy worked well (although refusing to shoot was considered bizarre), and Lareau found a place in the game which felt comfortable. The kids looked much more relaxed. Here, as elsewhere when researching children, Lareau’s identities, particularly her race, were magnified. These barriers were never forgotten, but the basketball game provided a way for her to participate in local routines.

Hence, adult fieldworkers need to find a way to connect with children that is seen as socially appropriate by the kids, adults, and the researcher. Fieldworkers must walk a tightrope, balancing these competing pressures. Whatever Lareau and her assistants did, however, they found that it was helpful to do the same thing over and over. This way, everyone adjusted and it became more normal. Thus, flexibility, reflexivity, and perseverance each played a role in the development of rapport.

Conclusion

This paper has endeavored to demonstrate that researching children comes with embedded, heightened challenges that require the balancing of competing pressures. We have shown, firstly, that researchers must constantly manage the double act of formal obligations to both children and their gatekeepers. This can cause difficulties when the actions, intentions, or needs of either party conflict or heavily outweigh the other, leaving the researcher trapped in the middle. Likewise, researchers face a difficult task in satisfying, on the one hand, adult norms of interaction, while on the other engaging with children sufficiently to generate rapport and findings. Walking the tightrope of these pressures, we find, places greater scrutiny on the researcher’s identities, requiring extra labor.

These challenges cannot be side-stepped or solved through a certain method or perspective. There is no methodological silver bullet. Rather, being flexible, reflexive, and persevering in the face of these heightened research challenges is, for us, the most important practical advice that can be given. More broadly, we urge greater openness by scholars about the difficulties countenanced during research. Such sharing should not be seen as exposing personal failings, but as advancing the field, as it enables others to better navigate the challenges inherent in the research process.

Footnotes

Acknowledgements

The authors gratefully acknowledge the helpful comments provided by the anonymous reviewers, Julie Pagis and Alice Simon, as well as Matt Clair, Maia Cucchiara, Sherelle Ferguson, Hyejeong Jo, and Judith Levine. Cathy Tran provided valuable research assistance. All errors, of course, are the responsibility of the authors.

Declaration of Conflicting Interests

The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Funding

The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: Generous financial support came from the Spencer Foundation, Gertrude and Otto Pollak Summer Research Fellowship, the Leboy-Davies Fellowship in the Gender, Sexuality, and Women’s Studies Program, and the College of Arts and Sciences at the University of Pennsylvania. All errors, however, are the responsibility of the researchers and not the sponsoring agencies.

Notes

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