Why I Research

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In a recent LA Times Op-Ed Naomi Riley bemoaned academic research in the California State University system. The CSU, she argued, is a “teaching university;” why is the CSU faculty engaAging in research? According to her description full-time faculty avoid teaching by shifting the burden to lecturer faculty so that pre-tenure and more senior faculty can engage in research. Research is the mission of the University of California system, she argues, not the mission of the CSU. In conclusion she scolded CSU faculty, “get back to teaching.”

Ms. Riley’s essay suggests that only faculty benefit from research, earning tenure and promotion for their efforts. The fact is, students benefit from faculty who are actively engaged in research.

There is an old saying: “Those who can do, those who can’t teach.” The implication is that if we were any good at what we do we would be doing it rather than teaching it. Research is all aboutdoing; and doing research makes me a better teacher.

One of the courses that I teach is called “research methods.” In that course students learn how to engage in the systematic analysis of political questions.  For instance, we might want to understand why some people vote while others do not. In this course students develop the ability to construct evidence-based explanations, engage in quantitative analysis of real world data, and consider how policy solutions might change individual behaviors.

How can I teach students to do research if I do not do research myself? Would you hire a personal trainer who did not keep himself in shape? Would you hire a plumber who did not fix your plumbing problem but only told you how you might fix it yourself? Probably not. So would you want to learn research methods from someone who does not engage in research?  I certainly would not.

In my other courses I bring the fruits of my research directly into the classroom. Rather than parrot the textbook by teaching students what others have learned, I bring cutting-edge research on political institutions directly to my students, including the several hundred students to whom I teach Introduction to American Politics every year.

Some of my undergraduate students become directly involved in my research. Using data collected by me and my coauthor they gain hands-on experience pursuing a research project from beginning to end, and they present that research at student research conferences in California. Undergraduate research allows students to apply the knowledge and skills learned through their coursework to complex substantive political questions. Presenting at conferences allow them to gain experience in public speaking, increase their confidence, and help them to build a resume.

Some criticize us for producing students who are “book smart” but do not know how to apply their knowledge and skills. Undergraduate research unites the abstract and the applied and better prepares students for the workforce.

Many of my undergraduate research students are first generation college students (like me) who, perhaps, never considered the value of pursuing graduate work much less pursuing a job in higher education. Are these educational experiences that should be reserved for students who attend the elite University of California schools, prominent private schools like the Claremont Graduate University, or Ivy League schools? Do students who attend a CSU campus not deserve these opportunities? If I did not engage in research these opportunities would not be available to my students.

There are several other indirect ways that my research benefits my students.

Research helps me to build networks inside the real world of politics. These networks benefit our students. One of my standard research tools is “the interview.” By talking with politicians, political staff, lobbyists, and others involved in politics I gain insight into the practice of politics, and that benefits my research. But I also establish relationships with my “subjects.” By capitalizing on these relationships I am able to help students get internships that can lead to employment either directly, as the internship turns into full time work, or indirectly as the experience gained on the job makes the student more attractive to another employer.

Research helps me to build networks in academia. These networks benefit our students. Many of our students decide to pursue graduate education. They need letters of recommendation. Not all recommendations are equal.  A letter that comes from a faculty member who has a “reputation” in the field carries more weight than a letter from an anonymous faculty member. Writing articles and books, and attending professional conferences to present my research improves my profile, connecting me with faculty from across the country. Sometimes a personal email or phone call to a faculty member that I know at their “first choice” graduate institution will get their application closer consideration, or an improved financial aid offer.

Faculty who are engaged in research are better teachers, better advocates for their students, and improve the reputation of the CSU system and their individual campuses. Ms. Riley does not fully appreciate that there is not a “strict wall of separation” between teaching and research. Teaching and research complement one another.

It does not surprise me that someone who has seemingly no sustained experience in college-level teaching or systematic research does not appreciate the relationship between the teaching and research. The implied accusation that CSU faculty are shortchanging their students by engaging in research is scurrilous at worst and unintentionally harmful at best. Discouraging faculty research in the CSU risks ghettoizing a CSU education; I will not be a party to that because our CSU students deserve the same quality education offered at the UCs and other more “prestigious” campuses throughout the country.

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Roger & Me

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In a recent article, University of Denver political scientist Seth Masket claims that the Netflix series “House of Cards” is “the worst show about American Politics. Ever” After elaborating his list of grievances about the show, Masket proclaims: “…if you want to understand American politics, watch just about anything else.”

In 2001 I was invited to participate in the World Affairs Conference at the University of Colorado. The WAC is unique in several regards. Participants are assigned to panels with minimal regard for their expertise. Sessions are valuable for the ability of the panelists to provoke passions, and promote vigorous discussion with the audience. For decades, the World Affairs Conference has attracted prominent individuals who pay their own way to Boulder for the week. Attendees are not paid. This year the Conference celebrates its 67th year.

Among the half-dozen panels scheduled for me was one titled: “The West Wing: Civics for the Masses.” The panel was scheduled for one of the largest rooms at the conference; at least 400-600 people were there, and there was not an open seat in the house.

But they were not there to hear me speak.

Kelly WAC 2001

On stage I was joined by Richard Aregood, a Pulitzer Prize winner, and then-Editor of the opinion page of the Philadelphia Daily News; and Roger Ebert, also a Pulitzer Prize winner, and nationally-renowned movie critic for the Chicago Sun-Times. For many years Ebert attended the conference, paying his own way, and spending four days deconstructing a movie that he selected, on a first-come-first-seated basis. The sessions were always packed.

As it turns out, the organizers chose the right panelists for a discussion of The West Wing. Aregood admitted to having seen one episode; Ebert none. Upon hearing of my upcoming conference, my then-student John Celock recorded some episodes on video tape for me to watch. I managed to watch three episodes; two more than my Pulitzer-winning compatriots, and three more than I could stand.

My conclusion: It was the worst depiction of American politics I had ever seen. From the lionization of the presidency, to the utter contempt of the West Wing staff for Congress, there was nothing about the show that was a “civics lesson.” And I told the audience.

They did not like it. Not one bit.

What I failed to realize, in retrospect, was that there was not a question mark at the end and of the panel title. It was a declarative statement: West Wing was, in fact, a civics lesson, and the 400 people in the audience would not accept any other conclusion.

Ebert, of course, was far more savvy than the professor from Niagara University. Noting my disdain for the show, and the audience’s displeasure with my critique of it, he remembered for them the letters he received from archaeologists complaining about the inaccuracies in “Indiana Jones.” One should never listen to the criticisms of an expert, he told them. And then, as the love of the audience swelled for him, he promised them that, based on their deep love for the show, he would go back an watch every episode of The West Wing.

The applause was thunderous.

For 90 minutes I was Roger Ebert’s foil. The loved him, and hated me (at least it seemed that way). It was as good as it could get. I loved being the foil. Especially in Boulder.

To this day I have seen only three episodes of The West Wing. I have seen every episode of House of Cards. For my love of Kevin Spacey I choose to remember Roger Ebert, and suspend disbelief. House of Cards is an atrocious depiction of American politics, but great Shakespearean drama.

It is a wonderful piece of art. That was Roger Ebert’s point.

If one is interested in a more real-to-life depiction of American politics in action, I suggest a show from 2003 titled Mister Sterling. Starring Josh Brolin as an appointed Senator from California, this “modern day Mr. Smith goes to Washington” captures quite a few of the details about American politics more accurately than House of Cards or the West Wing.

Then again, it lasted for only 10 episodes and is now long forgotten. Politics and great art do not necessarily go together. Just ask the ghost of Richard III.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 3: A Reflection on Research Presentations

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Twenty-six years ago–in April 1989–I attended and presented at my first professional conference. I was finishing my second year of graduate school. Much of my second year in graduate school was invested in working the project that I presented with my advisor, mentor, and friend Larry Dodd. In my first year at Colorado Larry was gracious to involve me in a project that he began a few years earlier looking at the presentational styles of state legislators in California and Indiana. The heart of the argument in the paper is that presentational style is influenced by the professionalization of the legislative institution, and the state’s political development.

Working on the project with Larry was a formative learning, and professional experience.

“Legislators’ Home Style in Traditional and  Modern Systems” was my first exposure to research. Sure, as an undergraduate I scoured the library for literature related to research projects assigned by professors. I even produced a 30 page research paper about political conflict in Northern Ireland during my senior year. Searching the secondary literature and synthesizing competing theoretical approaches is certainly part  of the research process; but these activities do not encompass the research process. Research, in my view, is about creating new knowledge, or new ways of understanding politics (in my case, the world you are studying in your case). Traditional undergraduate research does not achieve this goal.

Working with Larry I learned about data collection, data management, and data analysis. For the first time I used statistical tools in service to a project that really interested me, rather than using them to complete projects with “canned” data. For the first time I struggled with how to interpret statistical results in service of understanding a larger theoretical question. And I wrote. And wrote. And wrote.

In short, research allowed me (forced me?) to pull all the elements of my learning together. I learned at least as much doing research as I did reading research. Among the things I learned is that research is hard. It is full of stops and starts; more failures and dead ends than successes. It forced me to rethink many assumptions I made about myself, and about the political world. It simultaneously satisfied and stimulated my curiosity.

***

Larry Dodd is one of the world’s greatest mentors. His skill is as much in what he does not do and was he does do. He pressed me to produce my best work with his data, then stepped in to gently demonstrate how to write a (masterful) conference paper. Rather than insist on presenting or co-presenting, he left the job to me. Flying solo at my first conference taught me a series of valuable lessons.

It is your research. Chances are that you know the material better than anyone who is listening to your presentation. This means two things: 1) be confident, you are the expert; 2) explain your  research in sufficient detail that the audience can understand your research, even though they have never read your work.

Develop the ability to be self-critical. Know where the weaknesses are in your work. This will help you to anticipate the questions audience members are likely to ask; and be prepared with answers to anticipated questions. This exercise will help to strengthen your research as you incorporate responses into your written work, making it more difficult for reviewers to criticize you (though no matter how hard you work, you will still be subject to criticism).

Be prepared to talk about the applicability of your research. The most common question to be asked is how your research is important in an applied setting. If your research centers on “how many angels can dance on the head of a pin,” be ready to answer the question “who cares?” If you cannot answer that question, you may want to reconsider your research. If you cannot answer the question in front of an audience, you may experience considerable public discomfort.

Guide the audience through your research. For my first presentation (and for many that came after) we did not have the luxury of PowerPoint. Paper handouts were the technology of the day. Audience members became distracted by the material they were handed, and did not listen to the presentation. PowerPoint provides more control over the flow of information to the audience. Use it to your advantage.

  • Do not distract your audience with word-filled PowerPoint slides. Use bullet points to emphasize your talking points, but do not “script out” your talk on the slide and end up reading it to your audience. If they can read, why do they need you?
  • When it is appropriate, you can display an extended quote on a slide; but be sure you plan to read it. Human nature is such that the audience will be caught up reading the quote (thereby missing your explanation). Reading it, and explaining why it is there, will bring your audience back to the reality you are creating for them.
  • Do use PowerPoint slides to display pictures, figures, tables and graphs that are important to your presentation. A picture is worth a thousand words–that is true–but do not expect every person in the audience to understand your picture, figure, graph, or table. It is still your job to explain the display and relate it to your larger research project.
  • Engage with your PowerPoint slides. Point to important information. Your presentation and your slides should be completely, and physically integrated.
  • Use multi-media resources sparingly, if at all. Embedding video, relying on connections to the internet, and the like, is risky business. Failed technology can throw you off your game and, if your presentation revolves around the technology, your presentation may fail completely. Keep it simple, or make sure it is 100 percent guaranteed to work.

Over the years I have come to realize that there is not a fundamental difference between delivering a professional talk, and teaching a room full of undergraduates. In both cases we are striving to get people to understand something important to us. A professional presentation is a teaching exercise. Yes, you are usually presenting at a slightly higher intellectual level, and you can assume more foreknowledge of your topic, but not by much.

***

Like my first foray into research, presenting research is about developing a presentational style. Professionalism is paramount. Your written work, and your PowerPoint slides, should be properly formatted, and free of common spelling and syntax errors. Professional does not need to equate to being stuffy. Be excited and enthusiastic about your work. Avoid jargon and excessively baroque language; it is off-putting. If you are comfortable with it, try to employ humor–it is a great way to relieve any tension you have, or any tension in the room.  Finally, accept the fact that, from time to time, a presentation will fail. Failure is an opportunity to learn how to become a better presenter. Take the time to reflect on your presentations, both successful and unsuccessful, and learn from the experience.

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