Aristotle’s gnoseology and understanding ‘understanding’ in practitioner research

There are no funding details or conflicts of interest to declare.

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Abstract

This article offers a conceptual and analytical framework for understanding the

‘understandings’ generated through practitioner research, and specifically Exploratory

Practice, based on Aristotle’s philosophy of knowledge. Drawing on Olav Eikeland’s

interpretation of Aristotle’s philosophy of knowledge as a gnoseology, it illustrates how a

gnoseology framework adapted from Eikeland’s work was used to analyse the different types

of understanding generated through the processes and products of practitioner research.

Specifically, it looks at the understandings developed in an English for Academic Purposes

class as the learners explored their own puzzles about language learning using the principles

of Exploratory Practice, a form of practitioner research mainly used in language teaching.

Focusing on one of the learners in the class, it traces his developing gnoseology across the

10-week course by analysing the naturalistically generated classroom artefacts produced

through the Exploratory Practice process. It then shows how the different understandings

developed reflect an interrelated and relational view of knowledge and concludes by

suggesting that such a gnoseology framework might provide a valuable conceptual and

analytical tool for understanding the relationship between different forms and ways of

knowing in practitioner research.

Key words: Aristotle, Exploratory Practice, EAP, knowledge, gnoseology, praxis,

practitioner research

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Introduction

One of the key things that differentiates practitioner research in education from many

other forms of research is that the focus is on the perspective of the participants; researching

practice from the perspective of those who are engaged in those practices (Kemmis 2012). It

is a way of seeing theory not as something to be applied, but as something that can arise from

practice itself (Edge 2001; Cochran-Smith and Lytle 2007). One way in which the participant

perspective seeks to understand the relationship between theory and practice is through the

Aristotelian notion of praxis, which can be defined as ‘informed, committed action’

(Mattsson and Kemmis 2007, 186). In fact, some would claim that professional educational

practice can best be understood with reference to the Aristotelian notions of praxis and

phronesis; ‘a morally informed practice ... a form of praxis guided by phronesis’ (W. Carr

2005, 340). One result of this is what Kristjánsson (2005) terms the phronesis-praxis

perspective, which is found primarily in the writings of action researchers and has been

variously termed ‘praxis research’ (Sandberg et al. 1992), ‘phronetic research’ (Flyvbjerg

2001), and ‘praxis-related research’ (Mattsson and Kemmis 2007). However, these

approaches to action research have been critiqued as not holding to a true reading of

Aristotle, especially because of their tendency to disconnect both episteme and techne from

phronesis (in particular see Eikeland 2006; Kristjánsson 2005; Papastephanou 2013).

In this article, I challenge the notion that episteme and techne are unrelated to the

understandings generated through practitioner research. Instead, and following Eikeland

(2006, 2007, 2008, 2015), I adopt a relational view of knowledge that encompasses both

episteme and techne alongside phronesis. I use the more comprehensive term gnoseology

(from gnosis, which can be translated as ‘acquaintance’ or ‘familiarity’) rather than the more

limited modern term epistemology (derived from episteme, which is just one type of gnosis)

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(Eikeland 2007), to examine the different forms and ways of knowing that are generated

through practitioner research. To do this, I take the naturalistic data generated through the

practitioner research process during a full-time, 10-week English for Academic Purposes

(EAP) course for 16 international postgraduate students (and one undergraduate) at a private

language centre in the UK. As one of two teachers on the course, I was responsible for

introducing research and academic study skills to the students. I chose to use Exploratory

Practice (Allwright 2005; Hanks 2017a) for this purpose, a form of inclusive practitioner

research which prioritises understanding life in the classroom. I had been using EP for several

years in my teaching (see Author 2017a), but I was keen to develop a greater comprehension

of the nature of the ‘understandings’ generated through the process of EP. To do this, I

returned to Aristotle, and in particular, the interpretation of his work for Action Research by

Eikeland (2006, 2007, 2008, 2015). I used the terms episteme, techne, phronesis and praxis,

dialogue and deliberation as defined and discussed by Eikeland and others as an analytical

framework to identify examples of these different ways of knowing in the data.

The article begins by looking at Exploratory Practice (EP) as a form of practitioner research,

focusing on its seven guiding principles. I then take a brief look at the relationship between

EP and EAP in the current literature, and in relation to this study. This is followed by a closer

look at the principles relating to understanding and quality of life. These principles are then

explored in relation to an Aristotelian philosophy of knowledge, outlining the main

components of the analytical framework, and illustrated with examples from the classroom

generated data. I then apply this framework to the data from one learner and show how his

developing gnoseology over the 10 weeks of the course illustrates aspects of episteme,

techne, phronesis and praxis. I suggest that these different forms and ways of knowing are

not discrete and separate entities, but are in fact interdependent and interrelated. I also

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propose that using this gnoseology framework to understand the ‘understandings’ generated

through practitioner research can help us to perceive these connections and relationships, and

give us one potential way of conceptualising the knowledge generated through practitioner

research.

Exploratory Practice

I stated above that EP is based on seven principles, which have been articulated as

follows:

1. Focus on quality of  life as the fundamental issue.2. Work to understand it, before thinking about solving problems.3. Involve everybody as practitioners developing their own understandings.4. Work to bring people together  in a common enterprise. 5. Work cooperatively for mutual development.6. Make it a continuous enterprise.7. Minimise the burden by integrating the work for understanding into normal pedagogic practice. 

(Allwright and Hanks 2009, 260, emphases original)

Together these provide a guiding framework for undertaking inclusive practitioner research

and have been applied in many contexts around the world: from investigations of learner and

teacher puzzles in municipal schools in Brazil (Allwright and Hanks 2009; Lyra, Fish, and

Braga 2003) to a study on effective dialogic feedback on student written work in Israel

(Perpignan 2003), and an exploration of the potential of team teaching for both teachers and

students in Japan (Hiratsuka 2016).

EP belongs to the family of practitioner research (Hanks 2017a, 28), and thus shares

many similarities with other members of the family, with the closest members being Action

Research (Burns 2005; W. Carr and Kemmis 1986; McNiff and Whitehead 2011), and

Reflective Practice or Reflective Inquiry (Boud, Keogh, and Walker 1985; Farrell 2007;

Schon 1983). Practitioner research shares a general concern for practitioners to systematically

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inquire into their own practice (Cochran-Smith and Lytle 1990, 2). However, there are also

differences between the family members and although an in-depth exploration of these is

beyond the scope of this article (see Hanks 2017a and Wyatt, Burns, and Hanks 2016 for

more detailed discussisons), I outline the defining features of EP below, as reflected in the

seven principles above.

EP intentionally (and perhaps uniquely) includes the learners as co-practitioners

alongside the teachers in the inquiry process viewing them as ‘key developing practitioners’

in their own right (Allwright and Hanks 2009, 2) (Principles 3, 4 & 5). It rejects the

improvement, intervention and performance discourses so prevalent in today’s target-oriented

education culture and instead prioritises understanding quality of life (Principles 1 & 2),

recognising that this needs to be a continual endeavour, not a one-off and/or time-limited

project (Principal 6). To enable this sustainability, it suggests the use of everyday pedagogic

activities and practices as investigative tools, so that the work for understanding contributes

to, rather than detracts from, the work of teaching and learning in the classroom (Principle 7).

Exploratory Practice, English for Academic Purposes and EUS 9

EAP courses (similar to the one under discussion in this article), that are designed to

equip students with the skills and language they need to progress to their various degree

courses, are generally high stakes with an emphasis on assessment and outcomes (Seviour

2015). In such a goal-oriented discipline it would seem there is little scope for encouraging

students to puzzle about their learning, and yet there is also a call for research to be more

fully integrated into EAP teaching and learning (Hamp-Lyons 2011, 4). A series of recent

articles (Hanks 2015a; Hanks 2017b), show how EP can be integrated into the objectives of

an EAP course, enhancing research skills and critical thinking.

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As stated above, I was co-teaching an English for University Studies course (EUS9).

My co-teacher was responsible for IELTS (International English Language Testing System)

preparation, and progression was dependent on achieving the required IELTS score. My remit

was to develop their academic and research skills, and I designed part of the course around

the seven principles of EP to help meet this goal. Over eight weeks of the course, the learners

generated puzzles about their language learning lives, chose a puzzle to explore, and

collected ‘data’ to help them understand their puzzle more fully. They presented their

findings to other students and staff in the centre through group poster presentations of their

work, and through individual written reports. Table 1 (near here) outlines the EP work

undertaken and the data collected.

Understanding and Exploratory Practice

The first two principles (see above) argue that seeking to understand quality of life

should be the key concern of practitioner research in the classroom, rather than a focus on

improvement per se, as, for example is the stated goal of action research (Burns 2005, 60).

Quality of life or well-being is a possible translation of eudaimonia (Fayers and Machin

2007, 6), which for Aristotle is the end goal of every inquiry (Aristotle 2013, 1215a8-9) and

is about ‘living well and acting well’ (Aristotle 2000, 1095a21). It is about both being (the

state of living well) and doing (the practice of living well). In EP, the work of understanding

how to live well and act well in the classroom is one that includes both teachers and learners,

with learners encouraged to set the agenda by exploring their own learning puzzles. These

(teacher and learner) puzzles arise from their everyday experience (empeiria) of language

teaching and learning in the classroom.

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Understanding life in the language classroom is both a collective and individual

endeavour, and one that is locally situated so that the understandings generated are maximally

useful for the local context and those in it (Allwright and Hanks 2009, 146). The work for

understanding begins with a process of puzzlement (Hanks 2015b, 614) associated with an

attitude of curiosity, open-mindedness and a willingness to explore. The goal is not to

produce high level generalisations, but rather seek ‘deep human understandings’;

understandings which can be lived even if not articulated (Allwright 2005, 359). However,

the concept of understanding in EP is complex. It stands in contrast to improved techniques,

efficiency and problem solving (Allwright 2003; Lyra, Fish, and Braga 2003), which are seen

as anathema to EP. It is also contrasted with knowledge, especially knowledge as

conceptualised through a traditional reading of Aristotle:

We knew we could not expect to be able ever to solve the riddle of knowing exactly what we meant by understanding, but we knew we meant something more than knowledge (echoing the traditional discussions about the distinction between technical and practical knowledge going back to Aristotle). (Allwright 2005, 358)

Perhaps this reflects in some way the ongoing debates within the ambit of educational

practitioner research on the dichotomous nature of theory and practice and the legitimacy of

‘teachers’ ways of knowing and coming to know’ (Johnson 2006, 241), or more broadly the

dualism evident in the erklären (law-governed explanation) and verstehen (interpretive

understanding) controversy (Bransen 2001). The concept of verstehen was central to both

Heidegger’s hermeneutic of existence, which includes elements of self-implication and self-

understanding as Dasein, (translated as ‘being there’), and Gadamer’s practical notion of

understanding which he saw as less of ‘a cognitive (and thus methodological) process than a

know-how, an ability, a capacity, a possibility of our existence’ (Grondin 2002, 37). Gadamer

builds on Aristotle’s notion of phronesis, which he translates as practical wisdom (Grondin

2002, 38), and a recent articulation of the concepts informing the EP principles draws on

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Flyberg’s (2001) interpretation of phronesis as well as the above Heideggerian and

Gadamerian notions of understanding (Hanks 2017a).

The use of a gnoseology framework grounded in Eikeland’s work, is an attempt to

account for the different forms and ways of knowing in the data of practitioner research,

and in particular, the understandings that result from engaging in EP. The following sections

examine the main components of that framework.

Understanding ‘understanding’ through a relational gnoseology

Although there are clearly different types of knowledge and different ways of

knowing, this paper assumes that there is always a knower and a known (be that an object or

a person) who relate to each other in different ways (Eikeland 2007, 349). The ways in which

the knower and the known relate however, differs between knowledge types. Although

Eikeland identifies a wide variety of forms and ways of knowing (Eikeland 2008) here I

focus on the ones most commonly associated with modern educational research: episteme,

techne, phronesis and praxis (see for example W. Carr 1987). I also consider the role of both

dialogue and deliberation in relation to these forms and ways of knowing.

Episteme

Episteme is most commonly translated as science (Papastephanou 2013, 11), although

alternative translations include ‘understanding’ (Greco 2014) and ‘theoretical reasoning’ (W.

Carr 2005, 340). Eikeland (2007) distinguishes two dimensions of theory associated with

episteme: theoresis and theoria, both of which are concerned with the study of things that are

relatively stable and secure (as opposed to things that occur by chance or accidentally). What

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differentiates them is the relationship between knower and known. In theoresis, the

relationship between knower and known is one of distance and separation (for example

astronomy) and knowledge is built through deductive reasoning, a ‘moving down’ from

models and theories to data. It is this aspect of episteme that is commonly associated with

scientific endeavours today. It is a spectator, third-party approach to research with means and

ends being formally different and external to each other (Eikeland 2015, 382) .

In contrast, with theoria (translated by Eikeland as ‘insight’) the relationship between

knower and known is internalised and there is no distance between the person doing the

activity and the activity itself; means and ends are identical and internal to each other

(Eikeland 2015, 382). Examples of theoria are not necessarily things that we would call

‘science’ today, for example grammar, music and boxing (see Eikeland 2007, 350 for an

extended example of grammar as theoria). Theoria begins in practically acquired experience

(empeiria), so although like theoresis it seeks to build theory, this theory is not outside or

separate from our practice (Papastephanou 2013, 113). Theoria is a ‘moving up’ from

experience, to articulated insight through dialogue, and asks ‘about “what-this-is”, or “how-

is-this-rightly-understood”’ (Eikeland 2008, 362).

Dialogue is essential to this process of ‘moving up’ from experience to theory.

Dialogue is reflective and creates

transitions and transformations, both emotional and cognitive, for those involved, constructing and deconstructing in personal understanding, advancing to deeper insight by grasping and making explicit premises and principles mostly taken for granted or subconscious.

(Eikeland 2008, 234)

Through critical dialogue (itself a praxis, Eikeland 2012, 29), which can be both individual

and collective, we seek to define things, to compare and contrast, and to discover the

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relationship between things. Dialogue helps us articulate the not-yet-known of our practices;

it helps us to theorise our practice. Key to articulating theoria through dialogue is skhole;

time and space away from the pressures to act in our practice contexts (Eikeland 2007, 352).

Techne

Techne is closely associated with our modern understanding of technical thinking (W.

Carr 2005; Kristjánsson 2005), knowhow or craft knowledge (D. Carr 1995). The forms of

action associated with techne are poiesis, a type of ‘making action’ (Kemmis 2010a), and

khresis ‘using action’ (Eikeland 2007, 352). Techne is concerned with a specific end goal,

and manipulating, changing, creating or using an object (or person) for the knower’s own

ends (Eikeland 2006, 23). The guiding image of the finished product is very strong and

techne directs the action to this end (W. Carr and Kemmis 1986, 32). As in theoresis, means

and ends are formally different and external to each other (Eikeland 2015, 382). Techne asks

how we might intervene/improve things to achieve a specific end goal.

Phronesis

Phronesis has been described as practical wisdom (W. Carr 1987; Eikeland 2007) and

is about living wisely and cultivating the ability to make good and wise decisions and choices

in our professional practices, lives and relationships (Kemmis 2010a). It is ethically

motivated and bound. So phronesis, rather than telling us how to do something (techne), asks

whether it is good or right to do something. Phronesis starts with principles or virtues, a

virtue being defined as 'what makes any thing or activity work at its best' (Eikeland 2006, 20–

21). It analyses and interprets each situation, deliberating over which decision to make and

action to take, and always takes into account the opinions, needs and wishes of others

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(Eikeland 2006, 34). Deliberation, rather than dialogue is key to phronesis. Phronesis is not

something innate, but is developed through practice, through an increasing understanding of

what makes something work at its best (virtue). Like theoria, the means and ends are

formally identical and internal to each other (Eikeland 2015, 382) and phronesis cannot be

separated from praxis.

Praxis

Praxis can be defined as ‘doing action’, where there is no formal difference between

means and end. Praxis has been described by Kemmis (2010, 11) as ‘knowing doing’ in

contrast to our habituated, tacit knowledge (habitus). As well as distinguishing the two

dimensions of episteme (theoresis and theoria), Eikeland (2007; 2008) also refers to two

different dimensions of praxis which he calls praxis1 and praxis2. Praxis1 is the starting point

for dialogue (Eikeland 2008, 276; Eikeland 2007, 348) as we question our practice, our

beliefs, our assumptions, the areas of our practice that have not yet been subjected to inquiry.

The insight that comes through dialogue expressed as theoria might then move back down

into our praxis1 as we enact our understandings. Praxis2 is likewise ‘doing action’ but

intimately associated with phronesis and is about the virtuoso performance of intellectual and

ethical virtues. Although praxis1 and praxis2 are associated with different knowledge forms

they are also linked. Praxis1 is akin to our 'training ground', where we train and rehearse,

moving from novice towards expert, towards praxis2, which is our virtuoso and expert

performance.

From the above explanations, it is perhaps easy to see why both phronesis knowledge

and praxis action have been so widely adopted and used by practitioner researchers in an

attempt to distance themselves from modern, reductionist science and the troubled

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relationship between theory and practice in education. However, perhaps it also suggests

ways in which other aspects of Aristotle’s gnoseology might have value in helping us to

understand the knowledge generated through practitioner research, and it is to an exploration

of these possibilities, using data produced through the EP process in the classroom, that I now

turn.

The gnoseology framework

The gnoseology framework (Table 2 near here) was used as an analytical tool to

examine the individual learner and group reflections, reports and posters that were generated

through the classroom investigations. As such, it includes the elements from Eikeland’s work

and tables that I found maximally useful for this analytical process. Any such tool is

necessarily reductive of the nuances and subtleties expressed by Aristotle himself and by

Eikeland in his scholarly interpretation of Aristotle’s work, and should be seen as an initial

attempt to use this work to examine the empirical data of practitioner research. This attempt

is itself a type of theoresis; a moving down from the model (the framework) to the (classroom

generated) data. The framework was not shared with the learners but was developed in

response to a specific research question after the 10-week course was finished: ‘What

developing understandings (individual, collaborative and collective) emerge as we engage in

practitioner research? The focus in this article is on the learners, who seemed primarily

concerned with finding ways to improve their IELTS scores as quickly as possible (Author

2017b; Author 2017a) and appeared to adopt a problem-solution framework to their enquiries

(a means end, techne approach), which as stated above stands in contrast to the

understanding-oriented approach of EP. Part of my rationale in using a gnoseology approach

was to look more closely at the expressed understandings through engaging in EP on a high-

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stakes EAP course, and in particular to see how learners might develop as practitioners of

learning as they explore and develop their own practice.

Finding gnoseology in the data

I distinguished above (following Eikeland 2007) between two dimensions of

episteme: theoresis and theoria stating that the difference between them is based on the

relationship between knower and known. Theoresis can be identified with third-party

research, the researcher who observes classroom practice but does not get involved in any

way; there is distance between the knower and the known. As the learners were inquiring into

their own language learning lives and practices rather than observing those practices in

others, there was, perhaps not surprisingly, very little evidence of theoresis in the data.

Perhaps one exception was Vivi, who mostly positioned herself as an interested spectator of

what was happening around her, showing little evidence of reflection on her own learning

and practice.

With theoria there is no separation between what is being understood and the person

who is seeking to understand; both the activity and the developing understanding of that

activity are personally and collectively embodied. Dialogue is essential in moving from our

experience to theoria. As part of the inquiry process, the learners engaged in dialogue with

their peers and teachers (through interviews, discussion and surveys) beginning to articulate

the hows, whys and whats of their individual and collective practice, as they actively

searched for understanding. For example, in response to the puzzle ‘Why do I always speak

English in wrong grammar although I know how to use grammar?’ learners compared and

contrasted the way different nationalities felt about the need to use 'correct' grammar when

speaking English and in doing so, began to see patterns and develop their own theoria about

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the importance of grammar for language learners. Pete and Orlan’s final poster showed a

general consensus that ‘correct’ grammar was considered more important in academic

presentations than in social chat with friends. Bena, reporting on her findings in her research

report, discusses her deepening insights into the emotional and cognitive aspects of grammar

for language learners, articulating the reasons why people make mistakes:

I had learnt from this result that grammar mistakes in academic situation may cause by the pressure and stress because they worried about the academic words and complex sentences which they had to use in classroom or in exam. Many students believe that they can speak better in another situations, for example, talking to their friends.

In her final reflection she said these results ‘help me understand the main cause why I always

speak wrong grammar’. Through dialogue with her fellow practitioners she is building her

own theoria about language learning, not as an interested spectator, but as a member of the

language learning community seeking to understand her own praxis as she deconstructs and

constructs her own understanding within the praxis of the community itself.

Dialogue itself is a praxis (Eikeland 2012, 29), and as such is not a skill that can be

assumed, but needs practice, training and reflection to develop. The EP work provided time

and space (skhole) to engage in dialogue, and many learners reflected positively on this

opportunity to think with others about their learning, which as Jake said ‘is better than just

thinking by myself’. For some it was the first time they had worked with others to explore an

issue, and was an important part of training in dialogue: as Vesper reflects, ‘the teamwork

helps me how to discussion and conversation with partners’.

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I have shown above how the learners began to develop their own theoria about their

language learning praxis through dialogue. However, many of the reflections illustrate the

ongoing training, rehearsal and practice aspect of praxis1, as the learners report that their

language and academic skills have improved. In his final reflection Bert says:

Our puzzle is about grammar. It is really helpful for me. When I am speaking now, I pay more attention on the grammar. If I made a mistake, I will correct it. Now I have made less grammar mistakes when I am speaking than before.

Bert seems to imply that the inquiry process has begun a new approach to his ongoing

practice (noticing and correcting mistakes), as well as a growing competence in his speaking

accuracy (praxis1) as he moves towards expert performance of the language.

I suggested above that finding technical solutions to problems, a more techne,

instrumental means to an end approach, does not sit well with the EP principles. Techne does

not allow for transformation or personal development, but calculates the effect of applying a

certain type of stimulus to the end result. Throughout the 10-week course, as the learners

explored their puzzles together, the prominent discourse was of ‘solving problems’ and

‘finding solutions’. My impression was that they were more interested in a quick fix approach

to the IELTS exam than in growing as users of the language, and was expecting to find many

examples of techne in the data. The following is perhaps the clearest example. Kevin,

reporting on an interview with other students, outlined a perceived problem - students

speaking their own language in class, and offered a clear solution - fine the guilty party.

One advise [sic] from Mio. If anyone wants to speak use the own language, he/she should fine around 1 pound. The fine will but [buy] the gifts to the classmates.

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Here there is a clear end goal (reduce the use of languages other than English in class) with a

clear means to achieve that (pay a fine). This is khresis, an instrumental action designed to

produce a specific result.

The most frequent examples of phronesis and praxis2 in the data refer to learners overcoming

their fear when speaking to others. Fear is perhaps the opposite of courage (an ethical virtue),

so choosing to act bravely without fear, is to act phronetically. At the beginning of the course,

Spring said that she chose her puzzle ‘because I also felt nervous when I speaking with native

English people’. As the course progressed she wrote various reflections about how her

experience of doing the puzzle work had enabled her ‘to be brave to speak with strangers’

and given her an ‘opportunity to overcome [her] fear to talk to others’. Her final report stated:

‘Nowadays, I have already overcome any fear when I speak English with native speakers’.

Through attempting to act courageously, and reflecting on her performance throughout the

course, Spring moves towards a fuller understanding of what it means to be courageous in her

communications with native speakers and can choose to act accordingly. This illustrates the

interdependence of phronesis and praxis2 as each informs the other.

Having outlined how these different forms and ways of knowing might be understood

in the data, I now take a closer look at one learner, tracing his developing gnoseology through

the 10-week course.

One learner’s gnoseology

The examples given above suggest that although there are theoretical differences

between all the knowledge types, there are also overlaps. I have already stated that all

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knowledge is relational in the sense that there is always a relationship between the knower

and the known. However, there is also a relationship between the different knowledge types

and ways of knowing; they do not operate in isolation from each other, but act in a

complementary way. The aim of this next section then is to exemplify this premise through

the understandings of one learner, Zeno.

Zeno was concerned about his listening skills and in particular, his inability to

concentrate in listening tasks. He teamed up with Leo and the puzzle they investigated over

the course was ‘Why I can’t pay more attention in listening [tasks]?’ From the very beginning

of the puzzle work he seemed more interested in finding solutions than understanding, and he

and Leo soon changed the title of their puzzle to ‘How to improve our listening skills’. This

shift seems to indicate a techne approach to their puzzle, one in which they sought a means to

an end, specifically a higher score in the IELTS listening tasks, which would be essential for

acceptance onto their MA course.

This conclusion may seem justified by Zeno’s initial reflections. After interviewing

other students in week five of the course, Zeno listed various approaches to succeeding at the

listening task. These seem mainly related to exam techniques and strategies, such as the need

to understand what the task is asking, the need to keep taking notes throughout, the need to

practise exam tasks more, and the need to listen for key words:

Today, Leo and me interviewed six people to help us find the better solution for our puzzle. We found that different people have different ways to improve their listening skills, such as do more exercise in listening tasks, lay a solid number of vocabulary and do your best to find the key words, understand the meaning of the task and keep noting. All of the answers were good for us overcome problem in listening.

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Applying a technique or strategy as a means to an end, calculating which one will give the

best result is techne knowledge. It is khresis; using a thing (or person) to achieve your goal.

In the example above, Zeno seems to state that all the strategies he has been given seem

suitable ways of achieving his aims. Interestingly, many of the strategies that Zeno and other

learners spoke of, are exam techniques and language learning strategies that teachers present

as tools for learners to choose from ‘in order to achieve a language learning goal’ (Griffiths

2015, 426). However, Zeno also recognises that different practitioners prefer different

strategies, implying there is not just one way to reach the goal, nor does the same way suit

everyone. This suggests that even with techne some deliberation (albeit of an instrumental

kind) may occur.

He continues his reflection by reiterating the fact that he gained many suggestions, but

there are also some additional insights:

I feel that was a valued experience, the people who we interviewed gave us many ways to improve our listening skills and help us practise our speaking. It is a better way to do the interview to find the answers.

The data collection part of the inquiry process has furnished him with opportunities for

speaking English; for praxis1 (valuable rehearsal time that will help him move from a novice

lanuage user to an expert one). It has also given him a chance to reflect on the value of

talking to others about the shared practice of language learning. He concludes that dialogue is

‘a better way’, although he does not specify how. Perhaps a further reflection throws some

light on this:

If we have the same puzzles in our life, we can ask other people for help, they can always help us to find the better solution. Moreover, we can absorb lots useful information.

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It seems to me that Zeno is discovering the possibilities of working collegially rather than

working alone, and the benefits of sharing ideas and analysing different viewpoints not just

about learning, but also about other aspects of life. Zeno continues to use the word ‘solution’,

yet rather than seeking a means to an end, I suggest that Zeno is searching for what makes

things work at their best (virtues) and what will guide him towards making wise decisions

(phronesis), towards wise actions (praxis2).

In his final report, Zeno reflects on the contribution of the EP work to his learning, in

particular his listening and writing skills:

The research about puzzle is really very helpful for us, because during the process of data collection we can get lots of ways to improve our listening skills, after that I can choose the better one which is quite convenient for myself. At the same time, it also contribute a lot for my writing, such as the thesis structure.

Zeno concludes that the EP work has provided a training ground for his academic writing

skills. Through the teacher feedback and peer discussions that were part of the classroom

process for developing writing skills, he has understood more about how research reports are

structured in the academic community (theoria), and he then rehearses those understandings

in his writing (praxis1).

With regards to his listening skills, he appears to have moved from thinking all

solutions are ‘good’, to choosing what works best for him. Perhaps he is choosing which

suggestion will be most effective for him to achieve his IELTS goal (techne). Or perhaps he

is choosing ways to practice his general listening skills (praxis1). His final reflection seems

to suggest both. In relation to the IELTS listening task, he has identified the crucial elements

of the task and identified a technique to apply in his next exam (paying attention to key

words).

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It gave me lots of ways to improve my listening skills, and shows me the important things in listening task. For example, the best way for me to improve my listening is watching the foreign TV programs, which means the first time I watching programs with the subtitle and the second time I enjoy it without words. The other things I will do is pay more attention on the key words instead of the whole sentence, such as some special words or numbers.

While aiming for a higher IELTS score might benefit at times from a techne approach, the

activity of language learning is a praxis rather than a techne as means and ends are formally

the same and carried in the embodied experiences of the learner. Zeno claims to have

discovered the best way to move towards virtuosity in his listening, a way which is also

enjoyable, suggesting a positive effect on his quality of life (eudaimonia) as a language

learner.

As part of the EP process, the learners did poster presentations of their findings for

other learners and teachers in the centre. Their developing theoria about their puzzles was

thus opened up to further dialogue, to the possibilities of testing understandings with other

members of the practice community. Zeno refers to the benefits of this in his final reflection,

although he does not exemplify his statement with particulars:

During the presentation, I introduce our puzzle to others and got lots of useful feedback after that.

Perhaps one thing we can conclude from this is that what might initially have seemed

a crude, technicist, problem-solving approach (how can I improve my listening score), is

undeniably complex. I believe Zeno’s story exemplifies the fact that a dynamic, multifaceted,

complex and interrelated conceptualisation of knowing and understanding (as conceived

through the gnoseology framework), is not helpfully served by one approach alone. Rather it

shows how all aspects might work together in such a way to produce deeper understandings

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than a focus say on phronesis to the exclusion of episteme and techne, or a focus on episteme

to the exclusion of phronesis and techne and so on might suggest. Zeno’s reflections illustrate

that he is grappling with many different aspects of his practice, and that there is far more

going on in his language learning life than merely discovering and implementing the

optimum solution to his problem. I believe this illustrates not only the dynamic nature of

understanding, but also how different aspects of knowledge and practice are interrelated and

mutually constitutive. We cannot reduce our understanding of the knowledge, theory or

practice that is generated through and acted on in practitioner research to one particular

dimension to the exclusion of others.

Discussion

It would seem from the above examples then, that a gnoseology approach is useful for

analysing, examining and describing not only different types of knowledge and ways of

knowing generated through practitioner research, but also the interconnections and

relationships between them. In this sense it challenges both traditional and postmodern views

of knowledge. Rather than some ways of knowing and understanding being ‘better’ than

others (traditional), or conversely, all having equal value (postmodern) (Eikeland 2015, 383),

the developing understandings of the learners in this study show that each has its role to play,

at times sequentially, at other times concurrently (Eikeland 2008, 276). We do not live

theoretical lives that neatly move between categories, rather we live complex and

interconnected lives, and therefore we also need ways of conceptualising the different types

of knowledge and ways of understanding that arise from that.

The practitioner research approach used in the study reported on here was Exploratory

Practice. The primary concern of EP is quality of life (Principle 1), a concept I have related to

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Aristotle’s eudaimonia; the end goal of all inquiry. EP also begins in experience (empeiria)

as practitioners puzzle about their individual and collective language learning lives. I would

suggest that the process of puzzlement and of working for understanding is a process akin to

that of moving from praxis1 through dialogue to theoria. EP is not primarily concerned with

‘practical deliberation about “what-to-do”’ although that is sometimes an offshoot of the EP

work, but in asking questions about ‘“what-this-is”, or “how-is-this-rightly-understood”’

(Eikeland 2008, 362). In EP, there is no pressure to act, and developing understanding is seen

as an end in itself (Hanks 2017a, 109). I would argue it is thus more concerned with episteme

than phronesis. Perhaps then, as Greco (2014) suggests, a better translation into English of

episteme is ‘understanding’ because of its relational nature and its explanatory power to

account for the ‘why’ and ‘how’ of things (p. 293).

The ideas embedded in the gnoseology framework as a way of understanding the

'understandings' generated through practitioner research are not new. Perhaps this is not

surprising since action research (AR) (and thus other forms of practitioner research) can be

traced back to Aristotle (Burns 2005, 57). Burns (2005, 58), in her state-of-the-art article on

AR, identifies three major approaches: technical, practical and critical. I see elements of the

gnoseology framework in each of these approaches, as each reflects a different understanding

of knowledge. Technical AR as a type of theoresis applied through techne: knowledge is

produced deductively using scientific techniques, with the aim of discovering laws which can

then be applied to practical problems to gain the desired effect. ‘Practical’ AR seems to be

more aligned to a theoria and praxis1 view of knowledge, where theory is produced

inductively, and aims to discover the meanings people make of their individual and collective

actions. ‘Critical’ AR (such as that proposed by W. Carr and Kemmis 1986; and Kemmis

2010) also seeks to produce theory inductively, engage in critical dialogue and understand the

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economic, social and political constraints to more democratic and equal practices, and thus

also falls under a theoria and praxis1 view of knowledge. Yet it also seeks to perform

virtuously in the contexts and situations in which it finds itself, a phronesis-related approach.

It is about both ‘democratic dialogue and practical deliberation’ (Kemmis 2010b, 424).

Perhaps it is interesting to note that none of these approaches is purely phronetic. Phronesis is

concerned with the perfected performance of the virtues, and these are developed in different

ways (Eikeland 2008, 464). Phronesis needs other ways including praxis2, theoria, dialogue,

deliberation and praxis1 to develop the necessary habits and abilities to act phronetically.

EP (and other forms of practitioner research) has the potential to open a space (skhole)

for practitioners to engage in dialogue about their shared practice, to question their

assumptions and habitual ways of doing things, to build their own theoria from within their

shared praxis. This kind of space (skhole) is to be encouraged; a space which although

embedded in the practice context, resists the pressure to focus primarily on problem-solving

and the improvement of practice. Skhole encourages the type of democratic dialogue that

Kemmis (2010b, 424) speaks of, and contributes to enhancing quality of life (eudaimonia) in

our practice contexts. Inquiry changes those who do it (Cochran-Smith and Lytle 2007, 33,

see also Mattsson and Kemmis 2007), and I would suggest that for EAP learners and

teachers, inclusive practitioner research may contribute towards the call for EAP to move

beyond the ‘passive transmission of disciplinary content’ and explore ‘pedagogies of critical

engagement’ (Morgan 2009, 87), to understand not only ‘what [they] are doing in the doing

of it’ (Kemmis 2010a, 10) but also why they are doing it.

I suggested above that the use of an analytical framework to try and understand the

data of practitioner research was a type of theoresis. I did not share it with the learners of

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EUS9, and we did not engage in dialogue together about our inquiries in the light of the

framework. Although an in-depth study of Aristotle might be beyond the scope of most EAP

classes, the questions associated with theoria, techne and phronesis (Table 2) might provide a

practical tool for learners (and teachers) to engage in dialogue about the understandings they

are developing and how the different ways of knowing are manifested in language learning

and the development of academic skills. For EAP learners, this may also enable them to

engage in dialogue with the wider academic community to which they aspire. Asking these

questions may also deepen understanding of the different forms and ways of knowing being

privileged through our practitioner research. The potential usefulness of these proposals

requires further investigation.

Conclusion

Using a gnoseology framework is one possible way of understanding the different

forms and ways of knowing that arise through the endeavours of practitioner research. As a

conceptual framework it can never explain every nuance, relationship, contradiction or

ambiguity of how and what we know in real life. However, I believe it does offer a starting

point; a potential way to theorise the relationships not just between theory and practice in

practitioner research (praxis has long been seen as a way of bridging the so called theory-

practice divide, Johnson 2006, 240), but also between experience (empeiria), episteme,

phronesis, techne, praxis, and quality of life (eudaimonia) as mediated by dialogue and

deliberation.

Gnoseology is developed individually, collaboratively and collectively, in different

practice settings (from local to global) aiming to build the capacity and wisdom to live well

and act well (Aristotle 2000, 1095a 21). A gnoseology approach encourages us to bring all

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aspects of our experiences, all areas of our practices, from the national and institutional to the

personal, cultural and relational and subject them to critical dialogue, dialogue that sifts and

sorts, reveals, defines and challenges our assumptions and beliefs, our ways of being and

doing. It suggests that a techne approach to knowing is sometimes to be embraced and that

praxis is not only related to phronesis, but also to episteme. Above all it illustrates the

complex, interconnected and relational nature of knowledge.

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