INTRODUCTION AND OVERVIEW OF THE STUDY

 
    If you are expecting to read of dramatic events regarding the desegregation of the St. Joseph school district you will most certainly be disappointed. There were no demonstrations, no angry meetings with parents, or any other events which captured headlines and became the stuff of which best sellers are made. And it is precisely the silent and hidden aspects of this desegregation which originally caught my attention and begged to be investigated. Desegregation has many dimensions: legal, administrative, and economic to mention a few. However, it is important to never lose sight of the fact that desegregation is about people. Desegregation in St. Joseph is important because people were affected, not because it was spectacular or difficult in its implementation. In fact, quite the opposite is true; there was silence in St. Joseph from two quarters. The school administration did not invite discussion concerning the local desegregation plan but, instead, mailed out letters to parents of black students telling them where they needed to go to register their children for the upcoming school year. The local newspaper did not address the topic of local desegregation except to report which schools would absorb black students formerly attending segregated black schools. There was also silence on the part of the black community as they did little to question either the desegregation plan or timetable. Desegregation in St. Joseph was scarcely noted publicly and has never been investigated in any formal way as a set of practices, mechanisms, and experiences that affected the lives of many black students and families and contributed to the two interrelated silences. One silence surrounded the experiences of black students as they left their segregated schools and entered the newly integrated schools. The other silence was that which was missing from the account of desegregation offered to the public during the years of 1953 through 1959. 
 

Purpose of the Research

    The purpose of my study was explanatory. Lincoln and Guba (1985) suggested that a research problem may be "a state of affairs resulting from the interaction of two or more factors . . . that yields a perplexing or enigmatic state" and that "the purpose of a research inquiry is to resolve the problem in the sense of accumulating sufficient knowledge to lead to understanding or explanation" (pp. 226, 227). Aligned with this definition, I designed my study to penetrate the silence surrounding the nature of black students’ experiences with desegregation and the meanings they attached to these experiences and to advance understanding of the social phenomenon of desegregation in St. Joseph. As such, I also sought to explain the official silence embedded within public discourse surrounding desegregation and the mechanisms which supported this silence. My research began with a pilot study and an investigation into the local historical backdrop to my study. Sawicki (1991) described the historical field as "a field of struggle" (p. 25) and my research into the historical setting for local desegregation certainly revealed the past and ongoing nature of that struggle. The official story of desegregation, as presented by the school district and the news media, portrayed the process of desegregation in St. Joseph as being very smooth and accomplished with deliberate haste. From a certain perspective, the implementation of desegregation in St. Joseph was smooth. However, that perspective was a very surface view, a dominant social group view that failed to consider the very people most affected by desegregation. What struggles, if any, took place behind the public scenes? In actuality, to say that desegregation in St. Joseph was smooth is to say little for surely an event which relocated black students and impinged upon central aspects of the black culture in St. Joseph begged for more elaboration than to say that the process was smooth. For instance, did the black students perceive desegregation as being smooth, or were their experiences difficult and painful? What kind of impact did desegregation have upon black families and teachers? These kinds of questions were not addressed in the local newspapers. The public account was, in itself, an official silence since access to the press is the privilege of the dominant social group (Apple, 1993). It failed to critically engage the mechanisms and experiences of desegregation in St. Joseph as lived by black students. Things may have been different had there been a black press operating at this time, but such was not the case. The aim of my study was to not only investigate this official silence but to also probe the other side of the silence and thus, illuminate both domains of hidden knowledge. In addition to my voice, informed by my experiences, relationships, and research, I included voices of black students and black teachers who crossed the border from segregated black schools to desegregated schools. 

    As I pored over official school records, read related literature, and worked on the design of my research, I found I often had to pull myself back from distractions which tugged at my attention. Stories from my childhood in a racially-mixed part of St. Joseph kept intruding on the narrative of my dissertation. I was deep into my research before I realized that the stories of my childhood, and similar accounts from former black students and teachers of the experiences, meanings, and mechanisms related to desegregation are critical pieces of my research. These accounts, together with that which was written in historical documents and school records, gave voice to the silenced and told of the historical struggles which surrounded desegregation in St. Joseph. Foucault (1980) called such accounts "subjugated knowledges" (p. 82), knowledges typically related to historical struggles and which have been relegated to a low level of importance. These accounts became critical to my research as my archival searches turned up very little substantive information about St. Joseph desegregation. And, quite significantly, when I conducted a pilot study to determine the feasibility of expanding my research to include interviews (Glesne & Peshkin, 1992, pp. 30,31; Janesick, 1994, p. 213), I found an almost universal lack of knowledge concerning local desegregation among the white administrators and teachers I interviewed. Although those I interviewed had been involved in the school district at the time of desegregation, they had no insight into the experiences of the black students and families who endured desegregation. However, when I conducted brief interviews with black students who had gone through desegregation, I found a rich depository of narratives surrounding the topic of desegregation. It was this combination of hidden knowledges and pervasive official silence which motivated me to embark on a qualitative study. 

    I chose a qualitative research methodology because its very nature is to explore and to invite elaboration; it seeks to provide a rich description and a broad view of the processes and events being studied (Glesne & Peshkin, 1992). As such, I expected both my understanding and definition of the research problem to emerge and evolve over the course of time of preparing and being in the field. By choosing a qualitative framework, I rejected many of the assumptions and methodologies known as positivism in favor of an interpretive perspective which acknowledges the value-determined issue of inquiry. 
 

The Positivist Tradition

    The positivist tradition of research is closely aligned with the natural sciences and has strongly influenced Western thought to the degree that positivism, or one of its variants, may be considered the dominant mindset of the twentieth century (Schneider, 1997). A positivist approach to research dispenses with metaphysical explanations and only allows that which is the result of quantification through the experiment to pass through its sieve. Thus, the universe created by a positivist is a deterministic one, filled with cause and effect, and understood through the experiment (Guba & Lincoln, 1994; Goode, 1994; Wildemuth, 1993). Although this is a simplistic explanation of the scientific approach it is adequate to make the point that from the positivist point of view, what qualifies as legitimate knowledge is that which has been observed and recorded according to the scientific method, or some variation of the scientific method. Moreover, one of the most adamant claims raised as a banner from within the positivist camp is that of objectivity. Having denied metaphysical causes and the role of emotions, positivists claim a valueless judgment regarding the facts they accumulate. This approach makes the concept of a fact seem neat and simple but it is not without its problems. Challenges to the worldview of traditional positivism issue from philosophical camps such as postpositivism, critical theory, and constructivism (Guba & Lincoln, 1994), each of which employs an interpretive approach to reality, knowledge, and methodology. 

The Hermeneutical Tradition

    While positivism makes claims of objective observation and recording of facts, hermeneutics (Gadamer, 1976; Palmer, 1979; Ricouer, 1981; Smith, 1991; Taylor, 1985) stresses interpretation. Hermeneutics, the epistemological approach of qualitative research, comes from an approach the Greeks called practical philosophy and was related, at least in spirit, with the pantheon character Hermes. Hermes, the messenger of the gods, was known for expressions of "youthfulness, friendliness, prophetic power, and fertility" (Smith, 1991, p. 187). These traits and others are valued by practitioners who employ a hermeneutical approach to discovering knowledge. Hermeneutics requires that information be interpreted and is a quest for meaning as described by Wildemuth (1993): 

It is true that the positivist approach, with its goal of discerning the statistical regularities of behavior, is oriented toward counting the occurrences and measuring the extent of the behaviors being studied. By contrast, the interpretive approach, with its goal of understanding the social world from the viewpoint of the actors within it, is oriented toward detailed description of the actors’ 

cognitive and symbolic actions, that is, the meanings associated with observable behaviors. (p. 451)

    My choice of a hermeneutical approach seemed to me to be a more human, if not more humane, approach to gathering historical information. For instance, Smith (1991) quoted Friere’s (1993) dare to "grasp the human aspiration" (p. 190) in attempting to understand the speech and actions of a people. In fact, in everyday arguments of epistemology, it is quite common for someone to support their assertions by pointing to personal experience as the referent for what they have accepted as knowledge. I continually found that my interviewees interpreted the events of desegregation from their own experiences and those shared within the black community in St. Joseph. Indeed, Smith (1991) stated, "It may be precisely the inability of traditional (Western) forms of discourse to deal single-handedly with the lived problems of modernity that makes interpretation or re-interpretation of contemporary paradigms and their institutional embodiments necessary" (p. 188). 

    However, the hermeneutical approach to knowledge is not without its problems. The positivist’s claim to objectivity is open to attack but so is the hermeneutic claim of the value of subjectivity. Specifically, the danger lies in the reliability of the interpretations offered as a result of hermeneutical analysis. If one interpretation is of no more value than another, then the black hole of relativism swallows all interpretations equally. In the same manner that positivists may claim that all that is real is that which is the end result of the scientific method, those that practice hermeneutics may make the ontological claim that all that is real is that which comes from a lived experience, freely interpreted by the subject and the researcher. On the one hand, there is the positivist claim of objectivity and on the other hand, the relativism of hermeneutics. One perspective may be no more true or defensible than another. A reasonable solution to this dilemma is to meet the objective demands of positivist research in ways that are not dependent upon quantification and statistical analysis. What follows is a closer look at the tension between those who claim an objective approach and those who believe all research methodologies and results are subjective and value-laden. 
 

Objectivity versus Subjectivity

    Polarization of knowledge seems to be a common Western approach to ideas which seem to be in contention with each other. They may be seen as champions, each emerging from its own corner, to do battle in the center ring until one is proclaimed the victor; so it is with issues of subjectivity and objectivity. The positivist tradition makes claims for objectivity with its emphasis upon observation and elimination of biases. D’Andrade (1995, p. 399), for instance, suggested that objectivity is possible since we can separate the object from the observer and remain detached while studying the object. 

    However, D’Andrade (1995) is mistaken for we as humans are unable to fully divorce the object from the subjectivity of our experience. In other words, ways of knowing and what we know cannot be completely separated. Heisenberg’s celebrated principle, which states that one cannot simultaneously determine both the exact position of an atomic particle and its momentum, brought an insight which has since been exported into other fields of study, that we are inextricably intertwined with the rest of creation (Guba & Lincoln, 1994). The point is that our methods of detecting knowledge affect the knowledge. We cannot be objectively removed from the object of our study. An interesting take on this is the unpublished paper by William Tomlinson (1997) entitled "The Limits of Knowledge." By examining many different disciplines Tomlinson makes the point that "we are a pervasive part of the system that we are examining and this recursiveness is the source of unavoidable uncertainty" (p. 1). It is no wonder that the positivist belief in total objectivity is certainly a naïve one that is held by few today (Denzin & Lincoln, 1994). 

    In actuality, the analysis of data occurs across a continuum with objectivity being at one end and subjectivity at the other. In mathematical terms, this continuum is an open interval since no researcher is purely objective nor purely subjective in all that he or she does. While neither quantitative methods nor qualitative methods can attain complete objectivity, qualitative research methodology commonly strives for some degree of quality control. One approach is for the researcher to name his or her biases (Glesne & Peshkin, 1992) for one goal of objectivity, as applied to qualitative research, should be that of muddying up the waters as little as possible and of having a disciplined reign upon our imaginations and emotions. It is thought that by naming their biases researchers could aid readers in adjusting their perceptions of the research. Supposedly, readers would be able to detect unreliable data and conclusions to which the researcher is blinded. I believe such an approach, when used as the only means to influence the quality of the research, is an agreement with the positivist implications that biases are destructive and render research results invalid. And emotions certainly come into play for, in qualitative research, we are interacting at some level with people, not inanimate objects. From a positivist point of view, interactions with our subjects threaten the objectivity and thus, the outcome of the research (Goode, 1994). Yet even positivism no longer claims complete objectivity. 

    It would be unfair to leave positivism in its naive state as described above since most who hold with the positivist tradition would agree that positivism in its first incarnation is no longer defensible. In fact, as suggested by Trochim (1996), "Scientific reasoning and common sense reasoning are essentially the same process. There is no difference in kind between the two, only difference in degree" (p. 2). When faced with critically important decisions, non-scientists become as meticulous in their methodologies for arriving at conclusions as do scientists in their search for truth. In fact, Collier (1994) suggested that the degree of immersion in the context of the interpretation determines the validity of the attached meanings: the more immersed the researcher is, the more he or she can really understand and report the experiences and meanings held by those being studied. Heshusius (1992) developed a similar line of thinking when he suggested that we must not distance ourselves from the subjects of our study. He made the claim that naming our biases (Glesne & Peshkin, 1992; Hammersley, 1983) is as much of a technique of distancing as is the attempt to be objective: 

A long, long list of questions develops in my mind when I read the concerns around subjectivity and bias. When researchers tell us: Here are the subjective parts of me that were involved in the research process, shouldn't they also be able to state, what parts of them were not subjective? Are there parts of us that are not-subjective and not biased? If so, are the not-subjective parts objective? If that is the case, then are we able to be objective after all, after we thought we had done away with it? The idea seems to be that we construct something we call "subjectivity" as separate from ourselves by the sheer force of restraining "it" or accounting for "it". If we don't have objective parts to us, then wouldn't the question become something like: Are there then two kinds of subjectivity: the tamed and the untamed? The accounted for and the not accounted for? If that is the case, what forces in a person separate the two? Aren't these forces themselves subjective? And who decides which one is which and why? How would we know if the accounted for subjectivity is not far more important in determining one's influence on the research process than the unaccounted for? Is there a finite number of subjective parts that makes up all of me? If so, how do I know if I have accounted for all of them? Should I try to account for all of them? Let us assume for a moment that I could account for all of my subjectivity, then why call it ‘subjectivity’: it would be simply all of me. Or, and here I am entering my story for today: should I reach out to what I want to know with all of me? Because I can't do anything else. Is the act of knowing an act of wholeness? (p. 3)     Heshusias concluded that "Knowing as distancing became the epistemological stance in the study of human behavior . . . a distance that could be crossed, first by objective methodology and now, presumably, by subjective methodology" (p. 4). In other words, researchers steeped in the positivist tradition "admired the distance between the knower and the known" (p. 6) and qualitative researchers have maintained the same epistemology by desiring to "cross the distance in a more personal way . . . but not dissolve it" (p. 6) so that we are still in control of the space between researcher and subject. He terms this distancing "disenchantment" (p. 6) and calls for qualitative researchers to not become subjective or to manage their subjectivity but to become enchanted with their subjects and to be participators in the lives of the other. 

    This approach is very important to me since I feel that my childhood experiences of immersion in a black neighborhood with black friends certainly affected me in very emotional ways but also equipped me to report the lived experiences of my interviewees from a near-participant point of view. In particular, I believe my earlier immersion in some aspects of the contexts of my subjects helped me to approach each as a co-participator in my study and to feel a closeness with them. Indeed, Heshusius (1992) stated that "a major problem with the idea of objectivity has been that it has masked ideologies of power which have been clearly revealed by feminist analysis, critical pedagogy, and other post-modern voices" (p. 9). He believes that it is only through some degree of merging and strongly identifying with our subjects that we relate with them as equals. As indicated earlier, Heshusius views techniques of managing our subjectivity as barriers that maintain differences in power relations between the researcher and the subject. Although I agree with Heshusius’ position, I also realize the need for some kind of methodological control to insure quality. Collier’s (1994) brand of critical realism approaches this subject by attempting a synthesis between a positivist and a hermeneutical approach. 
 

Critical Realism

    The critical realist believes in a reality independent of our existence, a belief which is shared with positivism, but is critical of our ability to fully or objectively know that reality (Collier, 1994). Therefore, critical realism shares the latter belief with the hermeneutic approach. Critical realism proposes that all observation is fallible and revisable and that the best hope for objectivity is to triangulate across multiple perspectives since observations are theory-laden and our cultural experiences bias our observations. However, Collier proposed that a strong quest for objectivity along with a claim for objectivity is superior to hiding in the relative world of the totally subjective. He stated, 

To claim objective truth for one’s statements is to lay one’s cards on the table, to expose oneself to the possibility of refutation. It is to make it clear that one is talking about something, and saying that that ‘something’ is thus and not so; this makes it possible for others to point out features of that something which are not as claimed, and hence disprove your opinion. All claims to objective knowledge are vulnerable in this way. (pp. 11,12).     For Collier, objectivity does not reside within the individual but is a goal to which to strive as a member of a community of truth-seekers who criticize each other’s work. I find that I am in agreement with Collier’s ontology and epistemology; I believe there is an objective reality but that it is probably beyond our ability to perceive it. Being within the system of our existence, we cannot achieve a meta-perspective of the system. I also find Collier’s acceptance of the subjectivity of the individual a good fit with the perspective posited earlier in my study by Heshusius (1992): we must not distance ourselves from our subjects but be co-participators with them in the study. Moreover, Collier’s idea of objectivity as a goal for which to strive among a community of truth seekers is very reasonable and fits well with grounded theory. As a methodology, grounded theory’s internal quality controls of member checking and the use of auditors incorporate much of this idea of a community of both those embedded within the subject of research and of experts who could critique and challenge claims to truth. In addition, grounded theory, according to Strauss and Corbin (1994), accommodates the lived experiences of its subjects since, as a methodology, grounded theory is "interpretive work and . . . interpretations must include the perspectives and voices of the people whom we study" (p. 274). Grounded theory has also been described as "a general methodology, a way of thinking about and conceptualizing data . . . [that is] easily adapted by its originators and their students of diverse phenomena" (p. 275). Since the theories which emerge from application of the grounded theory methodology are "embedded in history" (p. 280), it is a good fit with the paradigm of critical realism and can accommodate a critical theory perspective. In addition to a research paradigm that would embody the researcher’s ontology, epistemology, and methodology, Denzin and Lincoln (1994) allow for overlapping perspectives which can operate within conflicting paradigms. A perspective that I embedded within my research was one borrowed from critical theory, that a purpose of inquiry is "the critique and transformation of the social, political, cultural, economic, ethnic, and gender structures that constrain and exploit humankind, by engagement in confrontation, even conflict" (Guba & Lincoln, 1994). Although my research was certainly not ambitious enough to have a great impact in all the arenas described above, I did endeavor to "disrupt and challenge the status quo" (Kincheloe & McLaren, 1994, p. 138) by interrogating my interviewee’s understandings of hierarchical relationships of power and privilege related to desegregation. What follows is a more elaborative description of my critical perspective. 
 

Theoretical Perspective

    A theoretical perspective provides a lens through which all data and experiences related to the study may be filtered and interpreted. Such a perspective may be a part of several competing paradigms and is not necessarily locked into one particular paradigm. My lens comes from my personal experiences and alignment with many of the theoretical perspectives of critical theory. I especially relate to the concept of a transformative intellectual as defined by Giroux (1988) and cited by Guba and Lincoln (1994) as one who is charged with the task to "uncover and excavate those forms of historical and subjugated knowledges that point to experiences of suffering, conflict, and collective struggle . . . to link the notion of historical understanding to elements of critique and hope" (p. 110). In addition, I find myself in agreement with Kincheloe and McLaren (1994) where they defined a criticalist as someone who enacts the following: 

attempts to use her or his work as a form of social or cultural criticism and who accepts certain basic assumptions: that all thought is fundamentally mediated by power relations that are social and historically constituted; that facts can never be isolated from some form of ideological inscription; that the relationship between concept and object and between signifier and signified is never fixed and is often mediated by the social relations of capitalist production and consumption; that language is central to the formation of subjectivity (conscious and unconscious awareness); that certain groups in society are privileged over others and, although the reasons for this privileging may vary widely, the oppression that characterizes contemporary societies is most forcefully reproduced when subordinates accept their social status as natural, necessary, or inevitable. . . . (pp. 139, 140)     This perspective allowed me to relate and refer to a body of literature and a theoretical perspective which interrogates issues of power and knowledge (Apple, 1993; Foucault, 1980; Freire, 1993; Gore, 1993; Harvey, 1990; MacLeod, 1987; McLaren, 1994; and Popkewitz, 1988). Contributions from the critical feminist perspective also provided a rich field of insights regarding the silencing of the oppressed and marginalized (Fine, 1991, 1992; Greene, 1988; hooks, 1990; Sawicki, 1991). My belief in the power of critical theory to explain relationships of power and knowledge and my attraction to the humaneness of the hermeneutical stance caused me to seek a synthesis of a hermeneutical methodology with a critical theory perspective. 
 

A Synthesis of Methodologies

    In my search for such a model, I was particularly impressed with the work of a Kent University research fellow. David Wainwright (1997), in the July 1997 edition of The Qualitative Report, addressed the conflicts which seem to exist between the goals and methodologies of hermeneutical studies and those driven by critical theory by proposing a synthesis of these two seemingly incommensurate qualitative approaches. Wainwright characterizes qualitative research as, "the attempt to obtain an in-depth understanding of the meanings and definitions of the situation presented by informants, rather than the production of a quantitative measurement of their characteristics or behavior" (p. 2). 

    Despite a definition which places great weight upon the meanings and interpretations given by those being studied, he believes that a danger of a hermeneutics-only approach is the tendency to respect those interpretations and meanings above the theoretical knowledge and expertise of the researcher. Wainwright suggests that there are two negative consequences which follow from such a one-sided approach. The first negative consequence is 

There is no attempt . . . made to place the beliefs and behavior of the people being studied into an historical or structural context; it is considered sufficient to simply describe different forms of consciousness without trying to explain how and why they developed. (p.2)     The second failing of a hermeneutics-only approach is described by Wainwright as 

"the tendency to adopt an uncritical attitude to the beliefs and consciousness of informants, without considering their epistemological adequacy or their emancipatory potential" (p. 2). Wainwright concludes that this approach would result in a form of "voyeuristic relativism where everyone’s testimony is accorded equal status, and no attempt is made either to explain or inform the development of consciousness" (p. 2). His primary criticism of this approach is that it amounts to legitimizing the dominant ideology. 

    Wainwright (1997) instead proposes a synthesis of a social critique approach with that of the traditional hermeneutical approach. The synthesis would invite participants to share their experiences and meanings attached to those experiences but would also critically situate emergent categories within economic and social contexts. In this way, social and political factors can be exposed and challenged. Wainwright summarizes this approach as "synthesizing the subjective testimony of informants with a broader historical and structural analysis" (p. 7). 

    What Wainwright (1997) proposes is for analysis that is "informed by both strands of inquiry" (p. 7). Following is his description of what this would look like: 

Issues emerging from participant observation or ethnographic data can be placed in an historical and structural context, and . . . problems identified in the academic literature can influence the direction of the ethnographic study. As such, critical ethnography entails a constant inter-weaving of inductive and deductive logic. The researcher does not set out to test a pre-conceived hypothesis, nor is an entirely open-ended approach adopted, instead . . . a research agenda emerges that can be pursued, again, by a mixture of observation and theoretical work. (p. 7)     The following passage describes Wainwright’s description of the role a critical researcher would assume during an interview:  Whilst critical ethnographers are keen not to ask leading questions and to enable informants to express their views fully, the research agenda and scope of the study are not primarily determined by the informants. Rather, a dialectical approach is adopted, allowing the researcher to oscillate between the world view of the informant, (e.g., by departing from the interview schedule to pursue an interesting line of inquiry), and the insights offered by the historical and structural analysis, which may enable the constructs and categories employed by the informant to be actively deconstructed during the course of the interview. (p. 10)     Thus, Wainwright proposes a reflexive practice which repeatedly compares participant data against a theoretical schema. This reflexivity does not seek to demonstrate validity to the readers of the research but is "a personal strategy by which the researcher can manage the analytical oscillation between observation and theory in a way which is valid to him or herself. . . . a Socratic distaste for self-deception" (p. 8). 

    Of particular interest to me in Wainwright’s (1997) approach is the way in which hermeneutics and critical theory could be blended together in both the interviewing stage and the final analysis portion of my study. I applied this approach in the following way. During an interview, when it seemed that a participant had more to say about a particular experience and ran out of words or couldn’t seem to find words with which to name phenomenon, I would shift from open-ended questions with brief prompts to a more dialogical approach and share historical information, insights I had gained from other participants, or definitions and concepts from critical theory. For example, Mr. Hamilton demonstrated a great deal of insight into some aspects of hegemony, although it was clear he was not familiar with either the term or the concept. After a particularly fruitful accounting related to unwritten rules of behavior for blacks, he seemed to wander away from the concept and was not able to elaborate further. I shared some of the challenges I face in exposing preservice teachers to the concept of hegemony. I asked him if he was familiar with the term, and when he stated he was not, I defined hegemony and applied it to his most recent sharing. The interview moved on into other areas. However, within ten minutes or so, he experienced an epiphany related to hegemony that was very fruitful for both of us. I do not believe he would have made the connections he did without my intervention. In addition to the contribution I was able to make to Mr. Henderson’s social consciousness, I believe I was also in a better place to make a more valid judgement of his other insights after witnessing the depth of his response to new liberatory knowledge. Since this synthesis of a hermeneutical approach and a critical one is new and somewhat unorthodox, I took the liberty of emailing Dr. David Wainwright for his critique and comments. Both my original email, in which I outlined my attempt to synthesize hermeneutics and critical theory, and his response are recorded as appendices in my study. Finally, my study was guided by two overarching research questions. 
 

Research Questions



    Two primary questions guided this study. First, what was the nature of St. Joseph black students’ experiences with desegregation and what meanings did they attach to their experiences? Second, what factors contributed to the silence which surrounded those experiences and the public account of desegregation. This study, therefore, has been designed to extend knowledge about the effects of desegregation in a setting which has been considered by many to be both successful and uneventful. Subordinate to the mission research questions are other questions which elaborate upon the experiences, mechanisms, and outcomes of desegregation: 

1. What factors are understood by black students and black teachers to have influenced their experiences? 

2. What do former black students and black teachers perceive to be the mechanisms employed by the school system to effect desegregation? 

3. How did these and other mechanisms operate and what were their effects? 

4. How do former black students and black teachers perceive the outcomes of desegregation? 

5. How does our understanding of the meaning of stakeholder experiences contribute to our understanding of desegregation and race relations? 
 
 

Limitations of the Study

    This is a qualitative study centered around the voices of black students and their experiences with desegregation in St. Joseph. I examined their experiences and the meanings they attached to those experiences within a historical context of race relations in the region. In addition, I investigated the mechanisms of silencing embedded in the official accounts of desegregation. Multiple sources of data contributed to this study: historical documents, official records, survey results, the voices of the participants, and input from key informants. Open-ended questions designed to encourage story telling were used to gather authentic experiences, increase the depth and richness of the data, and create an optimal space in which new insights might germinate. 

    This was a critical study of St. Joseph black students’ experiences and the meanings they attached to those experiences. It was not a study of institutions or economics; neither was it an in-depth study of desegregation everywhere for the experience of desegregation is anywhere a localized experience. In fact, interview results demonstrated that blacks in St. Joseph were very insulated from the processes and events of desegregation in other locales and, even though they shared some common local experiences, each experienced desegregation in a unique way, separate from the experiences of their black classmates. Accordingly, the focus of this study upon selected participants, the small number of interviewees, and the nature of qualitative research limit the degree to which the findings of this study may be transferred to other locales and other black students. Of course, the stories shared are self-reported and are susceptible to inaccuracies in recall and other human foibles. 

    In part, this study involved a finding and theorizing from my sense of place, of finding that place of silence within myself, and coming home to confront the pain that is there (hooks, 1990). However, I realize that despite shared neighborhood experiences with many of my subjects, I came from a different place and that when I return, it is to a different place. Thus, the greatest limitation on this study is probably my whiteness. hooks (1990) said it best when she wrote, "Often when the radical voice speaks about domination we are speaking to those who dominate. Their presence changes the nature and direction of our words" (p. 146). For this reason, I will include many samples of interviews so that I am not retelling the story from my perspective. Furthermore, I depend upon my auditors to add authentic perspective and aid in this recreation of the desegregation as a site of radical possibility, a space for resistance---a dangerous place (Foucault, 1980; hooks, 1990). 

    In chapter two I refer to historical documents and records to write about the historical setting leading up to the desegregation of the schools in St. Joseph. In addition, newspaper articles subsequent to desegregation reveal a continuum of racism which surrounds the target dates of my study. 

    In chapter three I address the mechanics of the methodology used for my research and go into detail regarding documentation and interviewing procedures. 

    In chapter four I offer demographic information about my participants and report their responses in their own voices. 

    In chapter five I write about the theory which emerged from the study and offer conclusions regarding both the methodology and the results of my research.