Abstract
As Laura Empson notes in this revealing exploration of the emotions experienced by a professor daring to live in both the academic and practice worlds, the observation that there exists two cultures has been made before. These are often arms-length, third-person discussions of identity conflict embedded in schools in which some faculty stray to practice and others disparage such adventures. It is critical, however, that we find a way to explore how these conflicts are experienced and felt by those caught in the crossfire. What words are spoken to them? How are the guilt trips induced? What are the day-to-day behavioral nudges that get us back in line when we stray? Using autoethnography, Empson takes us on her own journey as she moved from one world to the other and describes what she faces as she continues her engagement with “the other.”
Autoethnography is an especially appropriate means of exploring the cultures of and the true nature of the “great divide” between the academy and practice. We easily discuss a division between the cultures (Beyer, 1997; Rynes, Bartunek, & Daft, 2001) as clear categories of belief and action, but often (though not always) at a somewhat abstract level. Autoethnography reveals the social world and cultures—the rituals, the initiation processes, and stories—through the autobiographical observations of the writer. As Bochner (2000) points out, narratives such as these “help the reader or listener to understand and feel the phenomena under scrutiny” (p. 270). By exploring the identity work required in the process of moving between cultures, we see the academic world experienced as more purposively detached and maybe even cynical about the world of practice. For those concerned about improving connections between the two communities, these insights are invaluable.
As useful as autoethnography is as a method for exploring the nature of these ongoing disciplines, it also is a medium through which emotions and reactions to them can be understood. Empson reveals some real pain in this experience, but there is an edginess to her reaction and her writing that makes this less a cautionary tale than, perhaps, a line in the sand. She draws it with a combination of self-effacing humor (note the anxiety induced by finding the right graduate student wardrobe) and passion. In the end, her examination of the experience yields a potentially useful model for examining how the divide is experienced by individuals, but she also suggests coping mechanisms that have allowed her to remain engaged with both the academic world and practice.
Empson concludes this study by suggesting that autoethnography may be an essential methodology for examining issues relevant to a range of issues associated with academic–practitioner worlds, relationships, and conflict. This is a sensible call. Autoethnography allowed Empson to tell her story, and in her way offer criticism. As such, Empson’s experiences will resonate particularly with those who spent time as managers or consultants before returning to school for a doctorate. The messages during the transition are sometimes subtle, as with a kind but dismissive “interesting” when a work experience is shared in class, or more direct, as with admonitions about writing that doesn’t have that stilted academic ring to it. For those of us who went through the severe initiation to get into the club and now find ourselves carefully socializing our graduate students into the other world, hearing our words repeated back to us may sting a little. Good.