can anyone do a 10 pages paper of the communication theory class?
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Navigating Toward Andragogy: Coordination and Management of Student–Professor Conversations Darrin S. Murray a b a Loyola Marymount University b California State University , Northridge Published online: 20 Feb 2014.
To cite this article: Darrin S. Murray (2014): Navigating Toward Andragogy: Coordination and Management of Student–Professor Conversations, Western Journal of Communication, DOI: 10.1080/10570314.2013.866687
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Navigating Toward Andragogy: Coordination and Management of Student–Professor Conversations Darrin S. Murray
Some professors make conversational moves intended to transform their relationships
with students and help move students through a liminal space toward more adult-like
(or andragogical) patterns of learning. Specifically, professors might attempt to construct
more collaborative and mutual relationships with students, and may attempt to encour-
age students to position themselves as more intrinsically motivated, personally respon-
sible, and self-directed. This study explored such conversations and transitions using
the coordinated management of meaning as a theoretical and heuristic lens. Conclusions
were drawn inductively from interview data, recalled conversations, document analysis,
and ethnographic observations; a taxonomy emerged for describing the conversational
patterns enacted when professors attempt to foster student development toward
andragogy. This framework included identification of significant bifurcation points (or
relational turning points) where one interlocutor might enact an intervention intended
to transform their conversation, relationship, or conversational partner. Further, the
model developed from this study identifies a set of explicit and implicit strategic conver-
sational moves that were employed in those critical moments. Finally, this essay discusses
some methodological implications and recommendations for future research.
Keywords: Andragogy; Coordinated Management of Meaning; Critical Pedagogy;
Instructional Communication; Student Development
Darrin S. Murray (Ph.D., Fielding Graduate University) is adjunct faculty at Loyola Marymount University and
at California State University, Northridge. This manuscript was developed in part from the author’s doctoral
dissertation at Fielding Graduate University, Santa Barbara, CA. The author wishes to gratefully acknowledge
W. Barnett Pearce, Lita Furby, Fred Steier, Joan Goppelt, William F. Eadie, Paige Edley, and Donald Bruce
for their assistance with this project. Correspondence to: Darrin S. Murray, California State University,
Northridge, Department of Communication Studies, 18111 Nordhoff Street, MC 8257, Northridge, CA
91330-8257, USA. E-mail: [email protected]
Western Journal of Communication
Vol. 0, No. 0, pp. 1–27
ISSN 1057-0314 (print)/ISSN 1745-1027 (online) # 2014 Western States Communication Association
DOI: 10.1080/10570314.2013.866687
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Beyond delivering course content, some education professionals seek to foster other
aspects of student development; specifically, to encourage students to move beyond
child-like learning patterns and toward learning patterns more characteristic of adults
(Knowles, 1970, 1984, 1990). This project contributes to a body of research examin-
ing instructional communication from developmental and relational perspectives
(Dobransky & Frymier, 2004; Frymier & Houser, 2000; McCroskey, Valencic, &
Richmond, 2004; Sprague, 1992, 2002). In conversation professors may attempt to
encourage students to move toward taking more personal responsibility, enacting
more self-direction, and relying more on intrinsic motivation. Such negotiation
might result in a relationship that is less authoritarian, and more mutual, equal,
and collaborative. After reviewing the literature on relational approaches to instruc-
tional communication, I conceptualize the liminal space between child-like and
adult-like learning, and then detail a multimethods project that identified professors’
conversational moves when they attempted to prompt student development.
Literature Review
Professor–Student Relationships
Instructional communication scholars have increased attention to student–professor
relationships as ‘‘interpersonally driven and relationally oriented’’ (Meyers, 2006,
p. 293). Docan-Morgan (2009, 2011) not only took this relational communication
approach to instructional communication inquiry but also compiled convincing
arguments that achieving desirable educational outcomes is fundamentally depen-
dent on the quality of the professor–student relationship (also see Docan-Morgan
& Manusov, 2009). The preponderance of existing literature explores student–
professor communication using quantitative variable-analytic approaches.
Quantitative approaches
In an effort to construct a general model of instructional communication, McCroskey
et al. (2004) reviewed 30 years of research in instructional communication and ident-
ified a set of operationalized variables central across many studies, including: Instruc-
tional environment; students (personality, gender, culture, ethnicity, prior learning,
intelligence, temperament); teachers (content knowledge, pedagogical knowledge, per-
sonality, experience, communication competence); teachers’ verbal and nonverbal
behaviors; student perception of the teacher; instructional outcomes (cognitive, affect-
ive, and psychomotor learning). While a student–teacher relationship is implied by this
body of literature, curiously McCroskey et al. did not explicitly identify this as an essen-
tial component of their model. Considerably scarcer than projects employing a quan-
titative approach, some studies employing qualitative and interpretive methods have
more explicitly examined the relational nature of student–teacher interaction.
Qualitative approaches
To date there seems to exist only a handful of qualitative communication studies that
focus directly on the professor–student relationship. Examples include West’s (1994)
2 D. S. Murray
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description of the positive and negative ways that students describe their relation-
ships with professors. Sabee and Wilson (2005) examined facework in conversations
about disappointing grades. Chen (2000) used the organizational culture model to
detail the dynamics of the expectations students and faculty have for their relation-
ships with one another. In a study of relational communication between one graduate
student and one professor, Chawla and Rawlins (2004) explored turning points in the
development of a mentoring relationship. K. A. Pearce (2004) constructed an auto-
ethnography of her relationships with students in order to provide advice for making
those relationships more productive and satisfying. Finally, Worley, Titsworth, Wor-
ley, and Cornett-DeVito (2007) described communicatively competent behaviors
enacted by professors.
Whether qualitative or quantitative, a common theme runs through this body of
inquiry; the communication relationship between student and instructor is integral
to successful teaching and learning (Aylor, 2003; Lopez, 1997; West, 1994; Worley
et al., 2007). Docan-Morgan (2009), however, noted that most existing literature
explores student–professor relationships and turning points indirectly and implicitly.
Further, Worley et al. (2007) argued, ‘‘Because instructional communication has gen-
erally emphasized quantitative snapshots of classroom behavior’’ there is a distinct
need to employ ‘‘interpretive methods to generate a more holistic view’’ (p. 208).
The study reported here provides a more well-rounded understanding by directly
examining communication that constructs student–professor relationships, specifi-
cally investigating relational turning points where professors encourage more
andragogical educational orientations.
Andragogy
Knowles (1970, 1984, 1990) developed a prescriptive model of adult education that
he argued was preferable to child-oriented, or pedagogical, methods. Focusing on
the etymology of the term as a reference to children, Knowles used pedagogy in a spe-
cialized way, somewhat inconsistent with modern uses, to describe and criticize the
practice of educating adults using instructional techniques intended for children.
Regardless of whether pedagogical techniques are even appropriate for children,
Knowles argued such techniques were not appropriate for adults, and alternatively
advocated andragogical techniques. Subsequent educational theorists (e.g., Cross,
1981; Kolb, 1984; Merriam & Caffarella, 1999) lent support to the disadvantages of
employing ‘‘pedagogical’’ practices with adult learners, promoting the comparative
advantages of andragogy.
Knowles (1970, 1980, 1984, 1990) articulated numerous assumptions and practices
of andragogy, developing an extensive treatment of how he believed adult education
should be practiced. To narrow the present study I focused on just four aspects of
andragogy. First is the belief that adult learners are self-directed and can take charge
of their own learning; Knowles (1990) argued adult learners do not rely on educators
to make ‘‘all decisions about what will be learned, how it will be learned, when it will
be learned, and if it has been learned’’ (p. 54), but can and should take on much of
Western Journal of Communication 3
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the responsibility for actively charting their own course toward desired outcomes.
Second, adult learners can and should take personal responsibility, consistent with
Rotter’s (1966) treatment of internal locus of control. Third, adult learners require
less extrinsic motivation and respond better to intrinsic motivation or ‘‘doing
something because it is inherently interesting or enjoyable’’ (Ryan & Deci, 2000,
p. 55). Fourth, consistent with contemporary conceptualizations of critical pedagogy,
Knowles (1970, 1980, 1984, 1990) advocated relational mutuality, rejecting authori-
tarian subjugation of learners and instead valuing cooperation, equality, respect,
and collaboration.
A few scholars have introduced Knowles’s (1970, 1980, 1984, 1990) concept of
andragogy to the literature on teaching and learning in Communication Studies.
Most notably, Engleberg (1984) argued:
In the face of a growing and diverse population of adult learners, it is the pro- fessional obligation of the speech profession to understand and embrace the world of adult education. Andragogy is a partner that can help the speech communication discipline—at all levels—grow, prosper, and survive. (p. 17)
The discipline has largely ignored Engleberg’s (1984) challenge; discussion and
application of andragogy are notably absent from the Communication Studies litera-
ture. The conversation about andragogy is limited to five articles (Anyanwu, 2003;
Cunningham, 1999; Hassan, 1986; Tuss, 1996; Vehvilainen, 2003) that mention the
concept in passing without any substantive discussion of the learning theory, and
two nonempirical essays (Carney, 1985; Hynes, Worley, & Dyrud, 2002) that discuss
some implications of andragogy in communication education.
Perhaps one reason communication scholars have largely ignored Knowles’s
(1970, 1980, 1984, 1990) theory is that they do not completely see its relevance to
their work with college students, who they may not perceive as fully self-directed,
personally responsible, and intrinsically motivated adults. This lack of relevance
would be accentuated by literature that views pedagogy and andragogy as dichot-
omous (e.g., Beaman, 1998; Gehring, 2000; Hynes et al., 2002; Marshak, 1983;
Rachal, 2002). Notably, Cross (1981, p. 275) argued that a learner either takes on
child-like characteristics or adult-like characteristics. Pratt (1988), however, rejected
that dichotomy and argued relationships between instructors and students may be
considerably flexible and dynamic.
Pedagogy–andragogy liminality
I have found it useful to conceptualize pedagogy and andragogy as points on a
developmental continuum, and some literature supports that notion (Delahaye,
Limerick, & Hearn, 1994; Grow, 1991; Hadley, 1975; Holmes, 1980; Kerwin, 1981;
Pearson, 1998; Pratt, 1988). As such, there would be a liminal space (Turner, 1964,
1967, 1974, 1982) between pedagogy and andragogy where learners are ‘‘betwixt
and between’’ (Turner, 1964, p. 93) educational orientations. Liminal learners would
be a point of ‘‘transition between different social structures’’ (Turner, 1974, p. 47),
4 D. S. Murray
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‘‘comprising the boundary between different states of existence or between different
communities’’ (Jeyaraj, 2004, p. 16).
Within this fluid transitional space, students and educators would experience a
confluence of dialectical tensions marked by a ‘‘dynamic interplay between unified
oppositions’’ (Baxter & Montgomery, 1996, p. 8). In theorizing about the teaching
relationship as a friendship, Rawlins (2000) suggested that student–teacher relation-
ships experience multiple dialectic tensions, including simultaneous ‘‘tugs and pulls’’
(p. 10) toward both dependence and independence. Rawlins argued that both teachers
and students find significant challenges in negotiating balance between guidance,
direction, limitation, freedom, restriction, boundaries, and flexibility. In terms of
pedagogy–andragogy liminality, students might simultaneously desire andragogical
self-direction and explicit direction from their professor. Consequently, giving free-
dom to self-direct violates students’ expectations for clear standards, but giving
detailed instructions violates students’ need for self-direction. Characteristic of the
fluid and contradictory nature of liminal space between andragogy and pedagogy,
some educators attempt to encourage students to navigate dialectical tensions and
move toward andragogy. Scholars from Human Development and Education have
explored extensively the dynamics of student development, and that literature is help-
ful in conceptualizing the communicative and relational moves made in this liminal
space.
Student Development
Some educators value student development toward more andragogical patterns.
Grow (1991) observed that the ability to be self-directed and independent affords sig-
nificant advantages to learners in the classroom and beyond, and Knowles (1970)
concluded that in encouraging student development toward andragogy, ‘‘teachers
who have helped their adult students to achieve this breakthrough report repeatedly
that it is one of the most rewarding experiences of their lives’’ (p. 46).
The ‘‘power in the classroom’’ series published in the 1980s, focusing on instructor
behavior alteration techniques (BATs) and behavior alteration messages (BAMs), set
one direction for examining student compliance (Kearney, Plax, Richmond, &
McCroskey, 1984, 1985; McCroskey & Richmond, 1983; McCroskey, Richmond,
Plax, & Kearney, 1985; Plax, Kearney, McCroskey, & Richmond, 1986; Richmond,
McCroskey, Kearney, & Plax, 1987). This body of quantitative work and subsequent
variable-analytic studies (see McCroskey et al., 2004) focus on student development
as a mostly unidirectional, linear exertion of power by teachers, and a subsequent
return of compliance or resistance from students. These studies do not focus suffi-
ciently on the transactional nature of a relationship that is constructed in communi-
cation. While these studies take a ‘‘transmission view’’ of communication, I find it
useful to embrace a ‘‘constitutive view’’ (Craig, 1999; W. B. Pearce, 2007) from which
the student–teacher relationship is viewed as created in communication, and student
development is an ongoing generative process arising from interlocutors’ communi-
cative negotiation of positions in relationship to one another (Gergen, 1985, 1994).
Western Journal of Communication 5
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Only a few studies have taken this sort of social construction perspective in directly
researching student development toward andragogy.
One project in a large Texas community college district was designed to foster stu-
dents’ development of a more internal locus of control (Roueche & Mink, 1976;
Roueche & Pitman, 1972; Roueche & Snow, 1979). Another project led by Drago-
Severson (2004) focused on adult English as a second language students, where edu-
cators encouraged development from self-oriented and dependent positions, through
stages of increasing personal responsibility, and eventually ‘‘self-authoring’’ ways of
knowing (Kegan, 1994). K. A. Pearce (2004) directly examined student development
as renegotiation of the student–professor relationship; noting that her students
seemed initially more concerned with grades than learning, K. A. Pearce (2004)
worked to foster more collaborative, coaching relationships with them. Given this lim-
ited body of inquiry, further research is needed to explore the conversational patterns
enacted when professors attempt to foster student development toward andragogy.
Andragogy is not an inherent, essentialized construct contained within an individ-
ual, rather it is a function of the the instructor–student relationship (Pratt, 1988).
Andragogy is enacted in interpersonal communication behavior (Holmes, 1980),
student development from pedagogy to andragogy is worked out in conversation
as part of the negotiation of the student–professor relationship, and the quality of
that communication is integral to developmental outcomes (Roueche and Pitman,
1972). Ultimately, conversation is the event horizon for significant relational turning
points between professors and students (Docan-Morgan, 2009, 2011; Docan-Morgan
& Manusov, 2009). Hence, I ask the following research question:
RQ: What are the patterns of communication enacted in dyadic conversations where professors are attempting to foster student development toward andragogy?
Consistent with W. B. Pearce (2007, 2012), I define patterns of communication as
clusters of regulative and constitutive rules used to coordinate action and make
meaning, recognizable to communicators by some perceived reoccurrence of those
regulative and constitutive rules, and identified by communicators as patterns. This
study was designed to find, define, and explore such patterns.
Method
In this descriptive, qualitative study I took a cooperative approach to inquiry (Bray,
Smith, & Yorks, 2000), inviting participants to assist in understanding and interpret-
ing the phenomena under investigation. During data collection I chose to redefine
the subject–researcher relationship in a way that intentionally blurred traditional
boundaries (Bray et al., 2000), deviating from an ‘‘objective’’ third-person position
(i.e., ‘‘What do they do?’’) to construct a first-person plural account with participants
(i.e., ‘‘How can we better understand this experience?’’). I ensured steps were taken to
protect the research participants, and obtained IRB approval from multiple institu-
tions. I collected data from 2007 through 2009, participants included faculty and
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regularly matriculated students at North American colleges, and all gave informed
consent. Analysis was ongoing, concurrent with data collection, and employed a var-
iety of heuristics derived from the coordinated management of meaning (W. B.
Pearce, 2007). These heuristics were applied using a technique inspired by the herme-
neutic circle (Mueller-Vollmer, 2002); data were interpreted from a variety of stand-
points, particularly from ‘‘near’’ and ‘‘distant’’ perspectives.
Interview Phase
I conducted 28 face-to-face interviews with participant volunteers, asking each to recall
turns in a conversation of interest, and then to elaborate and begin to analyze that con-
versation along with me. Concluding, I asked participants to refer their conversational
partner for an interview. If I obtained interviews from both interlocutors, the data were
included for analysis. If I was unable to interview both partners the initial interview was
not considered primary data, which was the case for 13 sets of recalled conversations
from 10 interviews. This yielded a total of 18 usable paired interviews (9 professors= 9 students). From these 18 paired interviews, 12 recalled conversations were collected
(some interviews contained multiple data sets with different partners).
Participants
Through professional and personal contacts, participants learned I was collecting con-
versations where a professor attempted to encourage a student to be more personally
responsible, more internally motivated, more self-directed, or where an attempt was
made to renegotiate the relationship as more collaborative and mutual. Participants
then self-selected when they believed they had a conversation of interest for the study,
and an interview was scheduled. Eight interviews began with a professor recalling con-
versational turns and two commenced with a student interview. The initial con-
venience sample of 10 participants was extended by snowballing, when an initial
interlocutor recruited their conversational partner. The final participant pool con-
sisted of 7 female professors, 2 male professors, 6 male students, and 3 female students.
The professors reported between 2 and 30 years of teaching experience (M ¼ 15.3, SD ¼ 8.0), and the students self-reported their class year as 1 first-year student, 2 sophomores, 4 juniors, and 2 seniors. Half of the participants self-identified as
Caucasian, 11.1% as Asian, 11.1% as African American or Black, 11.1% as Hispanic
or Latino=a, and 16.7% identified as multiethnic, multiracial, or ‘‘other.’’
Interview protocol
I designed an interview protocol to elicit narrative accounts of pedagogical-to-
andragogical turning points, turn-by-turn recalled conversation, and thick description
of contexts surrounding those interactions. Recalled conversations occurred no more
than 60 days prior to the interview, in most cases only a few days prior, and in two
cases, only minutes prior to my interview of the first interlocutor. I conducted semi-
structured interviews using open-ended queries and circular questioning (Creede,
Western Journal of Communication 7
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2012; Tomm, 1988). Rooted in systems theory, circular questioning is designed to elicit
information on the social construction of meaning, and to explore interrelationships
among persons, events, stories, meanings, actions, and contexts (Tomm, 1987).
The shortest interview lasted 12 minutes and the longest, 86 minutes. Mean inter-
view length was 44.3 minutes (SD ¼ 21.5). Interviews with professors tended to last substantially longer (n ¼ 9, M ¼ 55.6 minutes, SD ¼ 22.2, Range ¼ 21 to 86 minutes) than interviews with students (n ¼ 9, M ¼ 33.0 minutes, SD ¼ 14.4, Range ¼ 12 to 57 minutes). Interviews were digitally recorded and transcribed, and notes (from both
the researcher and participants) were archived.
Recalled conversation as data
Dyadic pedagogical-to-andragogical conversations are often private, unplanned, and may
be momentary and fleeting; using recalled conversation was the only viable way to obtain
access.Cronen,Pearce,andSnavely(1979)demonstratedhowskilledinterviewerscansuc-
cessfully elicit recalled conversations and I modeled my approach on a body of social
construction research that used such data (for examples, see Barge, Downs, & Johnson,
1989; Cronen, Johnson, & Lannamann, 1982; Harris, 1980; Montgomery, 2004; Orem,
2003; W. B. Pearce & Cronen, 1980; Sabee & Wilson, 2005; Sundarajan & Spano, 2004).
Collecting data from both conversational partners was one method of compensating for
the potential limitations of recalled dialogue, and rather than relying on recalled conver-
sation alone, I accessed additional data from a second phase of the research design.
Phase Two: Follow-Up
Phase two was designed to reveal macroconversational turns, construct thick descrip-
tions of contexts, and further involve participants in collaborative data analysis. Data
collection consisted of follow-up interviews, informal conversations, direct observa-
tions, and document collection.
Participants
Participants for this phase were a subset of the previous. At the end of each phase one
interview participants were provided a handout with contact information and sent a
follow-up e-mail inviting them to stay in contact, provide further information, and
assist in data interpretation. Six participants, 4 professors and 2 students, volunteered
for additional involvement. Participants in this phase became participant-
collaborators in order to ‘‘create a more relational discourse of method, recognizing
that it is only by ‘their’ hearing us and addressing us that we can emerge as a ‘we’
doing interpersonal research’’ (Steier, 1995, p. 72).
Macroconversational turns
While a conversational turn could be considered a verbal utterance in an exchange of
messages between interlocutors, ‘‘macro’’ conversational turns include broader verbal
or nonverbal communicative acts. A professor distributing a syllabus, a student not
8 D. S. Murray
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attending five class meetings, or an instructor assigning a failing grade, could all be con-
sidered conversational turns, and each has preceding and succeeding turns that con-
tribute to the making of meaning. If a professor tells students to work independently
for the next five class meetings, the student’s turn of missing five classes takes on a con-
siderably different meaning than if instead the syllabus, as the essential preceding con-
versational turn, stated that missing five classes would result in a failing grade. Adjacent
turns define the meaning of macro turns, just as each preceding and successive ‘‘micro’’
verbal utterance in a conversation serves to make meaning for every other speech act in
that conversation. Macroconversation analysis, which has precedence in W. B. Pearce,
Littlejohn, and Alexander’s (1987) analysis of interactions between secular humanists
and the Christian right, was used substantially in this study.
Data collection
Interviews and interactions for this phase were not structured in advance. Over the
course of one year, I engaged in countless conversations with the 6 participants on a
variety of aspects of the project. We discussed contexts in which participants’ original
conversations were embedded, collected documents, and observed classroom interac-
tions. I often presented my interpretations of particularly perplexing data (masked to
protect identities) back to participants, engaged in conversation about possible alterna-
tive interpretations, and collaborated to deepen our data interpretation.
Phase two data
This phase generated considerable data. I examined 14 course syllabi, three course
manuals (20–30-page booklets that included course syllabus, class schedule, campus
resource information, assignment instructions, assignment rubrics, self-evaluation
forms, and study guides), four additional assignment instruction handouts, and two
other informational handouts. Each document was linked with a particular participant
and at times with specific recalled conversations, and was used to inform my under-
standing of the conversation and layers of context surrounding it. Participants also for-
warded 46 e-mails, most of which documented two to five electronic conversational
turns. Four e-mails related directly to reports of recalled conversation, and another five
with relevant contextual information directly associated with specific interviews. Also, I
observed a total of four class sessions; two conducted by one participant-collaborator,
and one each from another two. The classes lasted 50 to 80 minutes during which I took
field notes using procedures suggested by Warren and Karner (2005). I focused on
instructional design and classroom culture, and these observations were useful in
understanding layers of context surrounding conversations reported in interviews.
Data Analysis
Dealing with Discrepant Accounts
I made no attempt to resolve discrepancies between accounts of conversations; I
reconstructed the most complete conversational script possible based on both
Western Journal of Communication 9
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Table 1 CMM Terminology and Heuristics
Term Explanation
Bifurcation Points (see
W. B. Pearce, 2007)
Critical moments in conversational episodes that may serve as relational
turning points. Choices made at bifurcation points are fateful in that
they establish a particular trajectory for the conversation at hand, and
may also have more far-reaching consequences for the direction of
future episodes. This is parallel to Docan-Morgan’s (2009, 2011)
concept of relational turning points.
Communication Rules
(see Murray, 2012)
As an expression of deontic logic, socially constructed ‘‘oughts’’ and
‘‘ought nots’’ that govern behavior and guide the making of meaning.
Regulative Rules Socially constructed prescriptions that translate into a felt obligation to
perform or not perform a particular act within a given context.
Constitutive Rules What communicators know about how to interpret messages and make
meaning from others’ communicative acts.
Deontic Logic (see
Murray, 2012)
An internalized sense of felt obligation; a socially constructed sense of
‘‘oughtness’’ concerning what actions are obligatory, encouraged,
irrelevant, discouraged, or forbidden in particular context.
Dialectic Tensions (see
Baxter, 2004; Baxter &
Montgomery, 1996)
Pairs of human needs or desires that may be perceived as mutually
exclusive, establishing opposing forces that simultaneously pull in
opposite directions.
Episodes (see W. B.
Pearce, 2007)
Self or socially named events that people self-define as episodes. Episodes
are a series of conversational turns, perceived as having particular
boundaries (punctuated as having a particular beginning and a
particular end), and connected together with a narrative that gives the
episode meaning.
Episode Work (see Blong,
2012; W. B. Pearce,
2007)
The exertion of practical or implicative force in an attempt to transform
episodes. Conversational strategies that move away from undesirable,
problematic, or enigmatic episodes, and toward more coordinated
communication.
Hierarchy of Contexts
(see W. B. Pearce,
2007; W. B. Pearce &
Cronen, 1980)
Surrounding any speech act is a complex and layered system of multiple
contexts, such as culture, self-concept, punctuated episodes,
relationships, etc. In some combination, layers of context influence
both the patterns of communication and the making of
meaning.
Logical Force (see Brown,
2005; Oliver, 2004;
W. B. Pearce, 1989;
W. B. Pearce &
Cronen, 1980)
Arising from a particular deontic logic, the pressure that one experiences
driving their actions (e.g., speech acts). May take the form of
prefigurative, practical, contextual, implicative, or reflexive force.
Prefigurative Force Arises from the perception of antecedent causality.
(Continued )
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accounts, noting differences. I could not help but recall the first participant’s account
while interviewing her=his conversational partner so if a participant was not recalling part of the conversation or reporting a part differently, I asked additional questions
and probed further (without violating the confidence of the first participant). Often
this showed the two accounts had more similarities than differences and I considered
discrepancies to be additional data.
Theoretical Framework
For data analysis I employed the coordinated management of meaning (CMM), which
offers a rich set of analytic tools to illuminate forms and patterns of communication
(Creede, Fisher-Yoshida, & Gallegos, 2012; Cronen et al., 1979; W. B. Pearce, 1976,
1989, 1994, 2007; W. B. Pearce & Cronen, 1980; W. B. Pearce, Cronen, & Conklin,
1979). CMM heuristics used in data analysis included: Stories told, serpentine modeling,
Table 1 Continued
Term Explanation
Practical Force Action generated from intent to create a particular consequence in the
future.
Contextual Force A felt obligation to act in a certain way because of a perception that the
context (time, place, circumstances, occasion, relationship,
self-concept, and=or culture) expects or requires that act.
Implicative Force Action arising from a desire to transform contexts, such as definitions of
episodes, relationships, self-concept, and=or larger cultural systems.
Reflexive Force An awareness of the communication processes in which one is involved
generates the possibility of altering those processes.
Punctuation (see Cronen
et al., 1979)
The conceptual boundaries that communicators perceive as marking the
beginning and end of an episode.
Serpentine Modeling (see
W. B. Pearce, 2007)
A method of mapping individual turns in a conversation, plotted to
show the flow of the interaction winding across two interlocutors’
social worlds (as in Figure 1).
Stories Told (see
Forsythe, 2012; W. B.
Pearce, 2007)
Narrative renditions of the episodes in which an individual has engaged
(i.e., stories that they have lived).
Target Outcomes (see
Knowles, 1970, 1984,
1990)
One’s objective for the consequences of a conversation. In the case of this
study, professors’ attempts to move students toward one or more of
the outcomes of being more personally responsible, self-directed,
intrinsically motivated, and to renegotiate the student–professor
relationship as less competitive or authoritarian and more mutual.
Note. This table is adapted from one originally presented in the author’s doctoral dissertation (Murray, 2009,
pp. 145–146).
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punctuation, deontic logic, logical force, communication rules, hierarchically organized
systems of contexts, episode work, and bifurcation points. Two other analytic models
(target outcomes and dialectic tensions) were drawn from other theories. A summary
of CMM heuristics and related terminology are presented in Table 1.
Initially I focused on understanding participants’ stories, scripting out recalled
conversational turns, and comparing the two accounts. The sequence of other data
analysis modules often changed and overlapped. It was not unusual to apply one
Figure 1 Serpentine Analysis of Conversation. Note. In order to mask the participants’s identities, pseudonyms
are used and conversational details have been altered. This figure is adapated from one originally presented in
the author’s doctoral dissertation (Murray, 2009, p. 393).
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heuristic, move on to the application of other heuristics, then later return to that first
heuristic and analyze further, revisit my first interpretive impressions, and often
revise my analysis. I also frequently moved among data clusters, comparing and
contrasting interpretations from one to another. Overall, analyses were organized
and mapped using CMM’s serpentine model as a foundation, with additional nota-
tions from other heuristics, such as socially constructed rules, logical force, and hier-
archically organized contexts. Figure 1 shows one example of 12 such analyses.
Upon completion of serpentine modeling for each of 12 conversations, I took a
wider perspective to identify and define patterns. Through interpretive analysis of
conversational serpentines, along with interpretation of other qualitative data (e.g.,
documents, ethnographic observations, additional interviews), several identifiable
patterns of communication emerged.
Results and Discussion
The research question guiding this study focused on communication patterns enacted
when professors encourage students toward more andragogical positions. One emergent
theme was that particular communication patterns indicate a conversation is at or near a
bifurcation point, or relational turning point. Another was that at such bifurcation
points, a professor may (or may not) employ particular strategic conversational moves.
Bumps in the Road: Patterns of Communication Indicating Bifurcation Points
Many points in a conversation could be considered bifurcation points; however, what
deserves to be examined are points where sufficient clues exist to indicate something
different might need to be done, and where interlocutors have available resources and
ability to construct a turn sending the conversation on a different trajectory. Data
analysis revealed that patterns of communication indicating bifurcation points are
frequently characterized by one or more of the following factors: experiencing and
recognizing dialectical tension, recognizing differences in hierarchical organization
of contexts, dominant use of prefigurative and contextual force, and perceived fric-
tion from less well coordinated patterns of communication.
Experiencing and recognizing dialectical tension
For most participants, conversational patterns indicated tension between andragogy
and pedagogy, more specifically between autonomy and connection; in this case,
‘‘connectedness’’ is a relational dynamic where students rely on instructors for
direction and motivation. This is consistent with existing evidence that the
autonomy–connection dialectic is the most commonly experienced relational tension
in any context (Pawlowski, 1998). For example, in interviews with student Kasey and
professor Katherine, considerable dialectical tension was evident (N.B.: In this
example and in all of the examples and data excerpts reported, I use pseudonyms
and altered narrative and conversational details to protect participant anonymity).
Katherine directs a placement program matching graduates with entry-level
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positions. Katherine reported an attempt to place Kasey in a position and feeling
‘‘apprehensive because even though she is brilliant, really stood out in our depart-
ment, she seems . . . immature.’’ Katherine placed Kasey in a position which Kasey accepted only to change her mind and decline the position right before it began.
Kasey and Katherine’s conversation is particularly illustrative of patterns of com-
munication characterized by dialectical tension:
Kasey: (within a few days after the job offer, Kasey approaches Katherine) ‘‘This is too much work. I don’t think I can do it. They’re expecting too much. I wish you could come and meet with them with me.’’
Katherine: ‘‘That’s not my job. It’s yours. You need to negotiate with them yourself. This is [an entry level job], it’s only 40 hours a week.’’
Kasey: ‘‘But I’m freaking out over this, I can’t do it, it’s too much, I don’t know what they want from me. You should have come with me [on the initial interview].’’
Katherine: ‘‘You can do this. It’s an entry level position, and they know you just graduated.’’
Kasey: ‘‘But I need to make more money than that. I wish you would talk to them for me. It’s too expensive to travel there.’’
Katherine: ‘‘You need to negotiate that for yourself. Tell them what you need. Make an offer. If you didn’t want this, you needed to tell me before we set this up.’’
From both participants, it was clear Kasey was pulled in the direction of adult
responsibility when she initially accepted the position, but subsequently seemed to
be pulled in the opposite direction. Taking a position of less personal responsibility,
Kasey attributed an external locus when she explained that she needed to decline the
offer because it interfered with her vacation plans. Realizing Kasey was experiencing a
‘‘personal responsibility’’ dialectic, Katherine decided to change the course of the
conversation and push Kasey to accept more personal responsibility. Variations on
such dialectical tension patterns of communication were recognizable in every paired
interview analyzed, and sometimes were resolved more satisfactorily than others.
Recognizing differences in hierarchical organization of contexts
Surrounding any speech act is a complex, layered system of multiple contexts that, in
some combination, influence patterns of communication and the making of meaning
(W. B. Pearce, 2007). Students and professors sometimes organize their hierarchal
systems of meaning differently, resulting in enactment of different rule systems; this
can create interactional friction in the relationship. Context significantly influenced
the constitutive rules for making meaning for the word ‘‘effort’’ in a grade dispute
between professor Elaine and student Edward. Edward repeatedly described
the amount of effort he put into an assignment, where Elaine considered effort
‘‘meaningless and irrelevant.’’ Both parties reported being extremely dissatisfied with
this encounter, and believed they were ‘‘talking past’’ one another.
Between professor Landon and student Laura, greater complexity was seen in
layers of context surrounding and defining each side of their conversation. Laura
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seemed to use ‘‘grades’’ as the highest (or most dominant) level of context in the
educational setting; she said her primary thought on the first day of class was
‘‘How am I supposed to know how to get an ‘A’?’’ Landon, on the other hand,
had a class culture where the course ‘‘is in the hands of the students’’ as the highest
order context, and where he put substantial responsibility on students for determin-
ing what they learn and how. Following numerous conversational turns that both
interlocutors reported as frustrating, Landon acknowledged his realization they were
using different frames of contextual reference, and thus changed the conversation tra-
jectory. Landon’s reflection on the contextual differences provided the reflexive force
to make conversational moves encouraging Laura to redefine her conceptualization
of the teaching and learning context.
Dominant use of prefigurative and contextual force
When prefigurative force, contextual force, or both become dominate influences run-
ning a conversation, the resulting communication patterns may indicate bifurcation
points. Use of prefigurative force, arising from the perception of antecedent causality
(W. B. Pearce & Cronen, 1980), can be seen in statements like ‘‘because you insulted
my term paper I was obligated to complain about you to your department chair.’’
Contextual force, arising from the multiple circumstances in which an episode is
embedded, might be recognized in statements like:
I didn’t submit this assignment on time because you didn’t remind me of the dead- line often enough, and you didn’t give me clear enough instruction on how to com- plete the work, and in [my definition of the context of] school, the teacher is supposed to do those things.
In an argument between professor Elaine and student Edward, prefigurative force
was particularly evident. Edward lamented, ‘‘I don’t understand how I could get a
‘D’ [on this assignment you just returned]! How? How? How?’’ and attributed the
grade to Elaine’s failure to give clear assignment instructions; ‘‘But I asked [you] if this
[particular research material] was okay to use, and you told me it was.’’ Edward’s con-
versational moves seemed particularly reactionary to the grade he received and what he
believed were faults of Elaine’s responsibility. Elaine also seemed to employ copious
prefigurative force in responding to each of Edward’s conversational turns by pointing
to an assignment rubric and saying, ‘‘If you do this, you get the points. If you don’t, you
don’t.’’ As with Edward, there was little forward thinking use of practical or implicative
force in these conversational turns. The more both interlocutors engaged in reactionary
use of prefigurative force, the more dissatisfied they became with the interaction.
Heavy use of contextual force also seems to indicate bifurcation points. This sort
of pressure from context tends to produce repetitive episodes of conflict in relation-
ships (Cronen et al., 1979). In the conversation between professor Landon and stu-
dent Laura, Landon seems to mindlessly refuse to help Laura with a group-project
problem that she believed was going to seriously harm her final grade. Even as Laura
expressed rising frustration, Landon repeated his unqualified refusal to help resolve
the issue. My interview with Landon revealed substantial (and seemingly habitual)
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responses to students like Laura, based on his contextual definitions of himself, his
relationships with students and the classroom context. He reported this particular
conversation with Laura as being one that he often encounters. There appeared to
be strong links to Landon’s autobiographical context (‘‘I am a person who allows stu-
dents to learn from working out their own problems’’), his definition of instructional
culture context (‘‘students are in charge and should self-direct’’), and his definition of
the context of relationships to students (‘‘I am not the person you rely on for answers
or learning, I support that learning and support you, but do not solve problems for
you’’). The pattern of communication Landon enacted with Laura appeared to be
one scripted into his repertoire of communication behaviors as a response to anyone
approaching him with this type of issue. Eventually, Landon recognized his stock
responses were not working (based in part on a particularly strong expression of frus-
tration from Laura) and made moves to change the trajectory of the conversation.
Perceived friction from less well coordinated patterns of communication
When conversational partners have significantly misaligned interactional logics and
enact rule systems that are incompatible with each other in key ways, conversational
friction results. Contrasting ‘‘relational resonance,’’ where interlocutors’ stories and
contexts align relatively amicably, ‘‘relational dissonance’’ occurs where competing
narratives of ‘‘me, you, and us’’ become significant forces in an episode (Wasserman,
2012, p. 198). In every student–professor interaction studied, some friction between
juxtaposed stories, contextual frameworks, forces, and rule systems was evident.
Often, participants indicated a lack of coherence (W. B. Pearce & Cronen, 1980); they
had difficulty understanding the purpose and intent of a partner’s conversational
moves. This friction may indicate a bifurcation point.
An example of this pattern of communication can be seen in the interaction
between Gin and Geoff (see Figure 1). Geoff reported feeling significant dissatis-
faction with the conversation because Gin was continuing to make ‘‘excuses.’’ Gin,
however, framed her explanations as ‘‘reasons,’’ not excuses. This difference in
contextual framing exacerbated both interlocutors’ frustration to the point that the
conversation ended with the following exchange:
Gin: ‘‘I don’t understand why you’re being so mean to me. You don’t have to be like that.’’ (starts crying)
Geoff: ‘‘This isn’t anything personal. I’m just trying to help you out here.’’ Gin: ‘‘But you don’t have to be so mean about it.’’ Geoff: ‘‘OK, let’s talk about this. How am I being mean? Help me out here.’’ Gin: ‘‘I’ve got another class. I don’t want to do this. I’ve got to go. Just give me a
zero. I don’t care.’’ (starts to walk away) Geoff: ‘‘OK, but I’d still like to talk about this more later on.’’ Gin: ‘‘I don’t see the point. Just give me a zero. I’ve got to go.’’
Gin reported being so frustrated and upset she decided to ‘‘give up’’ on the con-
versation. Geoff reported being extremely frustrated, and ‘‘felt helpless,’’ particularly
since he feared Gin was going to complain to an administration that he said ‘‘doesn’t
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support faculty here, and if a student gets pissed off, they side with the student.’’ Both
participants reported not understanding their conversational partner’s attempt to
send the conversation on an undesired trajectory; each participant perceived a
significant lack of conversational coherence.
For many professors in this study, conversational friction resulted in some action
from implicative force. Experiencing sufficient discomfort with the lack of con-
versational coordination, they sought to transform one or more elements of the
communicative context. For example, Geoff pleaded with Gin to continue the con-
versation and discuss their lack of conversational coordination. Overall, data showed
many negative emotions expressed by both students and professors, such as
frustration, anger, hostility, resistance, dismay, and disengagement, which likely
indicate bifurcation points.
Counter example
Certainly not all professor–student conversations contain or require logical force to
promote andragogy. In two nonpaired student interviews (where data were not used
to reconstruct a set of conversational turns), there was evidence relationships were
more coordinated than not. The first of these students stated she could not think
of examples of conversations where a professor attempted to move her toward andra-
gogy, believing that adult-like learning patterns were part of a value system instilled
‘‘by [her] parents a long, long time ago, when [she] was a child.’’ She also indicated
that if she had any such conversations, they were not with professors, but ‘‘probably
happened in grade school or maybe high school.’’ The second participant recalled an
occasion where a professor ‘‘lectured the whole class on personal responsibility,’’ and
that she ‘‘thought that maybe needed to be said to maybe some of the other kids in
the class, but not to me, really.’’ However, where communication patterns are not
well coordinated and when professors recognize bifurcation points they may engage
in conversations intended to promote andragogy.
Implications for Instructional Communication—Strategic Conversational Moves
At a practical level, my analysis revealed key strategic conversational moves that may
be enacted in attempts to assert implicative force in transforming students’ contexts
to more andragogical frameworks. In the short term, these moves tend to arise from
practical force, intending to construct the prefigurative force necessary for a student
to do something in the near future. The longer range or higher order intention with
these conversational moves is often to effect implicative force that transforms con-
texts. Such strategic conversational moves may be more implicit or more explicit,
and can be classified more specifically as depicted in Figure 2.
Explicit move: Coaching
Coaching communicates interactive instruction, advice, and feedback, and involves
interlocutors forming a collaborative and mutual relationship. For example, several
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professors positioned themselves as advisors and consultants. One professor, Alicia,
explained to student Anthone how he should communicate with his teachers and
what attitude to take in accepting their suggestions. Alicia reported telling Anthone:
I want you to try something. Even if you don’t like a comment a teacher gives you, I want you to hold back. Hold back with your body, and even if you don’t love it, just try that person’s idea that they just gave you. Work with them. Maybe it’s not correct for you. Teachers are always learning as well. But just try it.
Alicia’s use of qualifiers, like ‘‘I want you to try something’’ and ‘‘just try it,’’
is more relationally mutual than authoritarian, placing their interaction in this
‘‘coaching’’ category.
Explicit move: Instructing
Similar to coaching but not focused on collaboration and mutuality, instructing
involves a more straightforward explanation on how to do something. When student
Gin approached professor Geoff with what he perceived as excuses for not submitting
work (what Gin perceived as ‘‘reasons’’), Geoff reported telling Gin:
When you approach me or any other of your professors with something like this, making excuses just isn’t the way to come across. You’d be much better off taking responsibility for yourself. Say ‘look, I screwed up—this is my fault—what can we do about this so my grade doesn’t suffer?’
Although Geoff labeled his conversational moves ‘‘coaching’’ in our interview, I
interpreted his moves as instruction because he was telling Gin how to present herself
without the use of qualifying language and without establishing collaboration.
Explicit move: Demanding
Different from instructing, demanding is an order. Professors reported making state-
ments like ‘‘that’s not my job—it’s yours,’’ ‘‘you need to take responsibility for this,’’
Figure 2 Strategic Conversational Moves. Note. This figure is reproduced from the author’s doctoral
dissertation (Murray, 2009, p. 320).
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or ‘‘you can’t blame [external factor] for what happened here’’ all are unqualified,
explicit moves ordering students what they must do. In discussing a late assignment
with student Thomas, professor Tamara demanded he take a more personally res-
ponsible position when she said:
Look, this is college. I don’t think you’re acting mature or professional. It’s not fair to the other students in this class for you to [submit your assignment late]. You are the one responsible for the situation you have created here. If you lose your scholarship, that’s your own fault. Sometimes people just need to learn lessons the hard way.
Explicit move: Coercing
Coercing employs some sort of force to gain compliance from others; either rewards
are offered or punishment threatened to construct pressure. Professor Alicia issued an
ultimatum, withholding a letter of recommendation from student Anthone until she
received a promise that he would engage in different relational positioning in future
educational programs. Coercing can be direct, as in this case where Alicia directly told
Anthone what andragogical behavior she wanted, or it can be a more veiled or indirect
move where the purpose of the coercion is not as transparent. Zoe held a student’s
grade hostage until he explored the locus of control literature and wrote an essay
on why he should not blame external circumstances but instead take more personal
responsibility. Zoe’s move was explicit, making direct statements indicating her desire
for this student to take more personal responsibility, pressuring him to explore that
topic further using the reward or punishment of a grade as leverage. Some develop-
mental moves, however, are less explicit and are categorized as implicit moves.
Implicit move: Covert
Covert moves involve some form of deception to prompt desired development. One
professor used deception to ‘‘teach [a student] a lesson.’’ Zoe received an e-mail from
student Zelda:
Zelda: ‘‘hi professor sorry to bother you i have a quick question when is the [major class assignment] due? thank you!!!’’
Zoe: ‘‘Hi [Zelda], Sorry, but I am off campus right now and I do not have a copy of the class schedule with me. If you do not have your copy of the syllabus, remember that you can download it though [online resource]. Have a good weekend.’’
Zoe informed me her response was a lie intended to move the student toward
more self-directness and personal responsibility in finding answers for herself.
Implicit move: Passive
Incidents of strategic inaction or nonresponsiveness are passive approaches. By ‘‘doing
nothing’’ in order to accomplish something, Elaine’s unstated expectation that students
should be able to accomplish self-directed work from a set of assignment instructions was
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particularly passive. Also, professor Tamara’s passive nonresponse to Thomas’s questions
about not being scheduled for an in-class presentation was an attempt to get him to rea-
lize that he had not followed her course rules by submitting an outline on time:
Thomas: (holding his assignment out to her) ‘‘You forgot to schedule me for my day.’’
Tamara: (does not take the outline from Thomas) ‘‘No, I didn’t.’’ Thomas: ‘‘But my name’s not on the list.’’ Tamara: ‘‘You’re right. It’s not.’’ Thomas: ‘‘I don’t understand.’’ Tamara: ‘‘Can you think of a reason that I didn’t schedule you? Maybe something
in the directions for the assignment? Maybe something that we talked about many times in class?’’
Tamara reported using this passive approach because Thomas should have taken
more personal responsibility for knowing her course rules in order to be allowed to
complete the assignment.
Implicit move: Indirect
Indirect moves happen when there is an attempt to encourage student development,
but where the motive is not transparent. This is not directly deceptive, as with covert
moves, and does involve action, unlike passive moves. Instead, the action attempts to
prompt desired student development without explicitly stating so. This may include
moves like those of professor Beverly, whose first day of class involved distributing a
blank syllabus, and without stating her rationale, negotiated course design with her
students. With Edward’s statement about putting considerable effort into an assign-
ment, Elaine never directly said that she did not believe that effort was a valid evalu-
ation criterion; instead, she just referred Edward back to the assignment instructions,
implying but not explicitly stating that effort does not count.
Implicit move: Coercive
Coercive moves employ the same force via rewards and punishments as discussed in
the explicit category, but the purposes and motives behind the coercion are withheld,
making it an implicit strategy. Professor Beverly compelled student Beckett to ‘‘take
the initiative’’ to use her office hours by making it clear that his course grade would
suffer if he did not take action. She accomplished this implicitly by distributing a
grading rubric from which Beckett was supposed to realize (and did realize) that
his course grade was in jeopardy. Ultimately, the threat of a reduced grade in the
course, though implied and not explicitly stated, created sufficient pressure for
Beckett to approach Beverly somewhat ‘‘on his own’’ (or, at least, enact behavior
resembling initiative-taking).
Mysterious moves
Mysterious moves are included in this taxonomy because some acts cannot be com-
pletely understood. For example, Alicia was trying to instruct student Anthone on a
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particular kinesthetic motor skill she believed he used incorrectly. She repeatedly
tried to correct Anthone’s behavior and met resistance both directly (‘‘it’s fine the
way I’m doing it!’’) and indirectly (by not altering his physical performance). Alicia
reported finally exclaiming ‘‘OK, I am not going to explain this again! The impor-
tance of you [doing the following behaviors in the following way] is because I have
explained it 5 weeks in a row!’’ Alicia reported saying this firmly, emphatically, but
with a sense of humor and laughing with the group about her uncharacteristic asser-
tiveness. She said her collaborative style (‘‘my approach of ‘let’s work on this
together’’’) was met with too much resistance; she was frustrated and gave the stu-
dent what she labeled an ultimatum. Her assertiveness combined with humor in
expressing frustration had the unintended but welcome effect of transforming her
relationship with Anthone. This does not fit easily one of the previous categories,
and therefore is labeled ‘‘mysterious.’’
Implications, Recommendations, and Conclusions
The taxonomy developed from analysis of interviews, recalled conversations, artifacts,
and ethnographic observations allows for more complex and rich thinking about pat-
terns of communication enacted when professors make conversational moves urging
students toward more andragogical positions. As a way of narrowing this study, I
made the decision to focus primarily on conversational moves in dyadic settings,
and where professors were encouraging students toward one or a combination of
four andragogical states: fostering student development toward increased internal
motivation; greater personal responsibility; more self-directedness; the enactment
of a student–professor relationship that was less authoritarian and more collaborative
and relationally mutual. Knowles’s (1970, 1984, 1990) andragogy, however, addresses
characteristics of adult teaching and learning beyond dyadic relationships and in
regard to more than just these four factors, such as use of learner experience, class-
room climate, learner readiness, learner evaluation, time perspective, needs assess-
ment, and instructional design. Future research should explore these other aspects
of andragogical development and communication patterns beyond the context of
dyads.
Though it was not the focus of this study, every participant provided at least some
evidence of outcomes. Participants frequently spoke to their satisfaction or dissatis-
faction with these encounters and provided information on whether they believed
their conversational turns were effective. While my interpretation of these data (as
well as the personal impact of this project on my own work) leads me to form a
strong impression that more explicit, collaborative approaches produce more desir-
able outcomes, this study did not produce sufficient data to substantiate firm conclu-
sions on that front. Future research ought to consider how common each of these
conversational moves are, investigate their short- and long-term outcomes, evaluate
interlocutors’ level of satisfaction, and explore the relative effectiveness of these con-
versational moves. Further, this project establishes important groundwork for explo-
ration of pedagogy–andragogy liminality from a critical perspective. There are likely
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issues of race, gender, sexuality, power, generation, social class, and many other ele-
ments of students’ and professors’ autobiographies that shape identity and place indi-
viduals in particular contextual frameworks; these factors ought to be interrogated
more directly and thoroughly in the process of advancing a more complete and
inclusive view of pedagogy–andragogy liminality.
In addition to contributing to the body of theory on pedagogy, andragogy, and
student professor relationships, this project makes significant advances in research
methodology. I employed what I believe to be a unique approach of gathering
recalled conversations in paired interviews, and this approach has substantial poten-
tial to compensate for some of the inherent disadvantages of using recalled conver-
sation as data, particularly in research circumstances where direct observation would
be impossible, impractical, or unethical. This project also begins to demonstrate the
potential of CMM employed as a research methodology; I found CMM particularly
pragmatic not just as a theoretical lens but also as an integral tool for data analysis.
CMM offers a rich set of heuristics that have been used extensively by practitioners
and developed substantially in unpublished doctoral dissertations (Barge & Pearce,
2004). This essay helps to introduce some of that work back into the current
Communication Studies literature.
Overall, these data do suggest that if interlocutors better understood each other’s
social worlds, they might be able to discern more satisfying and effective strategic
conversational moves. While the present study focused more on identifying patterns
of communication and less on examining the outcomes of those conversational
moves, the resulting taxonomy prompts more complex, rich thinking about com-
munication patterns. Ultimately, this taxonomy is an open framework. Nevertheless,
the structure developed here for identifying bifurcation points and the strategies
employed at those points, establishes necessary groundwork for extended exploration
into the important topic of relational communication between professors and
students.
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