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Structuring your presentation

(from Writing for Scholars, by Lynn P. Nygaard, 2008: 158-162)

First; Introduce your research question – simply and concretely.

Then; you can provide the necessary background or context – all the time answering the question: “why should you listen to this?”

Next, the thesis statement before its evidence.

Finally; the conclusion. Answer the question: “What is your aim in giving the presentation?”

– Tell a story with a narrative flow: A beginning, a middle and an end. Look at how the points are connected (Nygaard: 159).

The presentation should respond to four questions from the audience, corresponding to the four stages in the learning circle:

1: Why are you telling me this?

2: What is your point?

3: How is this relevant in a wider context? (Either to a real-world context or to a scholarly discourse.)

4: Allow audience to integrate what they’ve learnt into their own work (Nygaard 2008: 160-162).

(from Writing for Scholars, by Lynn P. Nygaard, 2008: 158-162)

First; Introduce your research question – simply and concretely.

Then; you can provide the necessary background or context – all the time answering the question: “why should you listen to this?”

Next, the…

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Things to remember when presenting papers at conferences

(Points gathered both from personal experience as well as from listening to others)

* If you want to show some of the great video material you’ve worked hard to collect and that will visualize your speech wonderfully, be sure to bring any possible transformer or connection cable that might be needed with your particular Mac (which might not be the same connection cable that the earlier speaker with a Mac used)

* Make sure you know how to compensate if the visual presentation do not work (even though you followed the previous point)

* Know the text very well and don’t lose the flow of recitation

* Know the time it takes to go through every section and how slow it should be recounted (so you don’t get stressed and lose the pace when the shair shows you the 5 minutes sign)

* If you are of the sensitive kind, remember to ignore the audience when they start moving around in their chairs, yawn or flip their sheets – some people just becomes like that after sitting straight listening for two hours in a row. Very likely people will come afterwards and say that the atmosphere was just electric during the empirical quotes and it was all so moving and so on. So, either focus on the attentive faces that follow you or just turn inward and follow the flow of your text

* Please, state the purpose and aim of the presentation! What does all this lead to? In my opinion, the listeners can’t be reminded too often…

* Reading or not reading, I don’t really have any strong views, but too quick is not good, whether it is read or spoken. Neither is too many diversions from the line of argument and too many ehs…

* And now, in the all-embracive age of powerpoint, why not reflect on what the visual aids can and cannot do for exactly your purpose.

(Points gathered both from personal experience as well as from listening to others)

* If you want to show some of the great video material you’ve worked hard to collect and that will visualize your speech wonderfully, be sure to bring…

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Balance

A little red robin just whistled outside the bedroom window. My son takes his midday nap in my lap this summer. For a long time now, he has let us know that midday laps are a waste of time, and the only way to get him to sleep is to make the environment as boring, but cosy as possible. I bunk up with a cup of tea and a novel or a pencil and paper, and for an hour or so I can slouch peacefully in the bedroom in the middle of the day.
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In the summer cabin, the bedroom window faces a steep rocky hill full of different trees, flowers, roses, green leaves, moss, forest berries, squirrels and the odd bird, like this red robin. In the distance, I can hear the waves, the sound of the engine from a boat, or sometimes the rain tapping on the roof.

Before this little pause, I had two hours off from family life where I sat by myself and watched the sea and sky as I composed an outline for my paper on narration and migration in Linköping. I translated a poem by Ucoc Lai about the particular moment when he left Vietnam for France where he after four years of waiting had been granted status as a political refugee from Cambodia. I will also translate a beautiful, lyrical text by Souleymane Diamanka about the nomadic Fulani’s voyage up north to France, and their life “under the baobabs of beton” in the Bordeauxan suburbs, called Fulani Winter. I will argue something like that through writing their histories into the history of France, without severing the ties with other parts of the world, they weave the histories together. Like that, their stories and experiences contribute to a more inclusive, open and wider understanding of what France is… something like that.

With little Leo in my nap, I continued working, finishing the outline of the narratives of nation-paper, and an abstract to a conference in Sicily on borders. I want to talk about the internal borders created by a nation’s imagery. In have in mind particularly how action/interaction and environment shape each other in relation to these internal borders between what is French and what is not. The lines of inclusion and exclusion function differently in different parts of the city, in different urban spaces, I think the idea is. And these lines are constructed completely differently in the open and inclusive, however very “French”, space that is created during slam sessions in east Paris. I don’t know if my paper will be accepted as the conference seems to focus on eastern Europe, but I very much want to go to Sicily in the end of January, to tell the truth, and the venue for the conference, an old monastery in the second largest city in Sicily, seems fantastic… And, well, my material would surely benefit from being studied from such a perspective on internal borders.

And what I think about once in a while when I stop scribbling on my sheets of paper, is that sometimes life feels in complete balance. I don’t feel torn between academia and family life, far from it. The two, equally all-absorbing and rewording in their own but very different rights, usually complement each other perfectly. I didn’t expect that, but that’s really how I feel.

A little red robin just whistled outside the bedroom window. My son takes his midday nap in my lap this summer. For a long time now, he has let us know that midday laps are a waste of time, and…

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A descent into eternal Paris?


Rue de Belleville, just above the metro station

What is Paris to me now, I wondered when I sat on the plane on my way south after an absence of more than two years and the experience of a couple of seminal, life-altering (no less) events. I didn’t expect to feel at home. I expected to feel a little anxiety, particularly as I was arriving late in the evening, long after dark, but that didn’t happen. Not at the metro, neither at the metro station where I changed to Line 2, my old favourite, and neither as I walked down my old street. What stuck me instead, was the bizarness of Belleville, as I’d been away for a long time. When I exit the station by the electric stairs in boulevard de la Villette, it’s dark in the street and almost deserted at this stretch of the pavement where, except for two a bit lost men playing a ghetto blaster way over the limits of the loudspeakers, nothing else than a scratching white noise coming out of them. And this morning, a screaming man walked down the street in front of the hotel. I heard his screams from far away, once every twentieth second perhaps, and then they faded away again down in the main street, like a weird human Doppler effect.
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Walking down my old street, most is the same. The mild stench reminds me immediately. France smells. And in Faubourg du Temple it first smells of the metro, as everywhere, but then it is transformed into the particular sweet stench of rotting groceries, the butchers, waste, cigarettes, pollution, the density of the population and a hot summer night. I don’t know, I just recognise it immediately and, well, yes, feel warm at heart.

The languages one can hear in this street, I’ve written about before, but they’re the same as always. Belleville Babelville.

The day after, at the café everybody hangs out in, it’s the usual mix of old men (of all backgrounds) and middle-aged and younger people. A young, blond woman engages easily in a conversation with an elegantly dressed black man (suit jacket and straw hat at the chair besides him, collarless dark shirt, leather shoes) who was reading an article in Le Monde on how Sarkozy echants Africa before she sat down and asked for a light. (She left after the coffee, cigarette and good chat.)

Why did I expect to feel anxious?

More than feeling joy of being back, or the nostalgic bitter-sweetness that I expected and that I felt walking the old streets in my neighbourhood in London a year after I moved from there, I feel a warmth recognition. The warmth of enjoying the vibrant street life around me, the sounds of carpenters and other daily activities (and perpetuate traffic), the smells, the – nothing less – humanity gathered, mingling, speaking in different languages, dressed in different styles, exposing different emotions. When I walked down Freemantle Street in London, there was nothing there but memories. I felt pain, so much did I miss my life there. Here I don’t feel any of that nostalgic pain. I wondered before I landed whether it’s true that one will always have Paris. I guessed in a way that no, because most of what made up my world here is gone, as I hadn’t, and probably would never be able again to, keep up all the relations, as in London. But I realise now that that isn’t true. Paris is there exactly – almost – as I left it.

Rue de Belleville, just above the metro station

What is Paris to me now, I wondered when I sat on the plane on my way south after an absence of more than two years and the experience of a couple of…

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What is it that I’m studying “the making of…”?

For a long time, the preliminary title of my research project was communities in the making… I was thinking of Britain and France as the two communities that were in a constant state of creation and recreation. Then I realised how flawed this title was. First of all, many misunderstood what I meant by “community”, thinking that I had such an old-fashioned perspective on society as consisting of different (“ethnic” or whatever) “communities” that were reproducing themselves. (Perhaps I lost a PhD scholarship that way). Second, I finally realised that it wasn’t strange that people misunderstood, as “community” is the very word particularly favoured in multicultural thinking of ethnic minorities. The word then seemed to be useless for my usage in general, and particularly useless, as I wanted to employ it on the situation in France. There, the word seemed most commonly used in relation to communautarisme; the community-making of religious or “ethnic” minorities which threatens the societal cohesion of society as a whole. “Society” seemed thus a better choice.

But what is “society”? [teaserbreak]Ouch… when I start think about it, I really hate such words. The advice given in Pelto and Pelto’s Anthropological research: The structure of inquiry concerning the nature of concepts is excellent when it comes to such words. They emphasise that concepts are “arbitrary selections from the universe of experience”, and that they are “abstractions from concrete observations” (P&P 1978: 9). Therefore: “All terms in the stated problem must relate to observable natural phenomena of the universe, however indirect the path of abstraction involved” (P&P 1978: 27). Whatever they might mean by “observable natural phenomena”, P&P acknowledge that all terms used by anthropologists do not have “accessible empirical referents” (ibid.). However, they emphasise that if abstract, relational terms are used in research, “the research design must (…) make clear to the reader just what observational procedures will be taken as evidence supporting a proposition involving the abstract concept” (ibid.).

What observational procedures will be taken as evidence of “a society in the making”, then? “Society” must to be taken apart [… this reminds me of Foucault’s title society must be defended. Should check that one out; what might he have meant by that?], just like “culture”, which Eric Wolf and Adam Kuper tore to pieces once and for all for me with this – oh, so simple – quote:

if the elements of a culture are disaggregated, it is usually not difficult to show that the parts are separately tied to specific administrative arrangements, economic pressures, biological constraints, and so forth. “A culture,” Eric Wolf concluded, “is thus better seen as a series of processes that construct, reconstruct, and dismantle cultural materials, in response to identifiable determinants” (Kuper 1999: 246 (Wolf 1997: 387)).

Then, what are the series of processes making up the thing we call society? What are the identifiable determinants and what kind of material is being constructed, reconstructed or dismantled in the processes creating the unstable and unbound unit called society. The “material”, I suppose, must be relations. Relations are built, rebuilt and broken between people, between people and places, and probably between larger units of people and between people working within and on behalf of institutions… The identifiable determinants can be values, rules, laws, power relations, (lack of) knowledge, prohibitions, traditions… The series of processes constantly reproducing social units are thus all these exchanges going on in the various relationships within different shaping frameworks.

When I chose the term society for the title of my thesis, I of course also thought about the slam poetry scene in Paris as a society in the making, maybe even as France in miniature.

The Parisian slam society, or community – which has a better ring to it, I think – is certainly created and recreated through ongoing series of processes: People meet at various places, usually at slam sessions, but also often in the streets of the neighbourhoods of Belleville, Ménilmontant, metro line 2 (the northern and eastern section)… There they exchange poems, greetings and kisses, opinions… They might eat, smoke and drink together, arrange things together… and drop out of the community for a while and then come back… The territory (=important ingredient in old definition of society) of the slam community is perhaps defined by the density of slammers present: Some places, as the areas (and metro stretch) I mentioned, the density is high, while sometimes – but probably very rarely – two or more slammers (≈distinct people = another important ingredient in old def.) meet in Champs Elysees or the Latin Quarter, and for a brief moment re-enact social bonds in the slam community. And what about the “determinants” these social processes are responses to? I’m running out of time here, but the “ethos” (≈specific “culture” = important ingredient in old def.) of French slam poetry is important here, but this ethos is of course shaped by values and forces in the larger society. I should say something about “institutions” as well, which is the fourth ingredient in the old def. but that must be for later…

I have a feeling that I’ve jumbled things together a little in this piece, but hopefully it will help me to sort out my answer to Pelto and Pelto’s commandment for anthropological research when time has come to write my methods chapter.

For a long time, the preliminary title of my research project was communities in the making… I was thinking of Britain and France as the two communities that were in a constant state of creation and recreation. Then I realised…

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