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Angie Koponen

Lemon tree

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Running head: Lemon tree

From the branches of the lemon tree: An autoethnography of a perfect event Angie Koponen
Originally completed 2 April 2009 Edited 17 May 2012

© 2012 Angela Koponen, Ph.D.

Angie Koponen

Lemon tree

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Introduction I wanted to write about a perfect event so that I could learn how it happened and duplicate it often enough to realize all my dreams. Just this last year I have thirsted daily for “lemonade.” I tired at first to quench my thirst with other seemingly suitable liquids, but none sufficed. It had to be lemonade, sweet-tart, cool, cleansing. This perfect nectar springs from an unlikely beginning. Healthy and refreshing, lemonade can surprise even the most seasoned lemonade lover. The first sip of the first summer batch taken after a long cold winter finally recedes into its annual hibernation can sometimes pucker the mouth. After its tartness finally makes peace with a reluctant tongue, its sweetness rewards the drinker with renewed sense of freshness and joy. Recipe for Fresh Lemonade 6 fresh lemons 2 c. sugar Water to fill 1 gal. jug Juice 6 fresh lemons. Put the juice into a 1 gallon jug. Add 2 cups of sugar. Add enough water to fill 1 gallon jug and stir well. Pour over ice and sip slowly until your mouth no longer puckers from the initial tartness.

© 2012 Angela Koponen, Ph.D.

the more they want. it could have been desperation. It was as if the planets of academic experience had aligned themselves perfectly for the first time. and overjoyed as a result. or perhaps disappointment.” © 2012 Angela Koponen. I can accept too that the truth no longer matters.” The tree sprouted from a seed my mother must have saved while making lemonade the summer before I was born. I say ignorance because I cannot see how she could not know that lemon trees cannot grow in the area of Illinois where I was born and grew up. Having been 16 and with raging hormones. My mother was given lemons and so she made lemonade. because she did not expect to give birth to a partially deformed child. the more work I was given. my mother. Why she chose to plant a lemon tree and not a hardier. Pregnant. my mother married my father and I was born. At no other time have I ever been more overextended and productive. I thrived. but think it’s great that you want to explore it. she found herself married and expecting a child. planted a “lemon” tree. At 16. I know which version I can accept.Angie Koponen Lemon tree Page 3 of 21 From a tiny seed is born a tree When I was born. . desperation. the more I wanted. “I am not an expert in that area. Ph. Having been that age and desperate for acceptance. I didn’t understand until I once again tasted “lemonade. I found myself surrounded by extraordinary perfection – unconditional acceptance.D. firm encouragement. The stories of how that happened vary depending on who tells. A perfect event Seldom does anyone say that the more work they are given. However. Graduate school was like that for me. was a mystery until recently. and unbelievable productiveness. more suitable variety of fruit tree. out of ignorance.

Everyone brought something to the mix. I provided the lemons from my own tree. . They embraced me. I drank my lemonade with some of the best in the discipline. and shared my joy unselfishly. The water was provided by the university in the form of structure. I feared that I would not be able to move past the tartness and taste sweetness.” “Congratulations. refreshing elixir was concocted like stone soup. Together we mixed the world’s most perfect lemonade. Few are their first time. challenges. I never feared rejection because I knew I was already accepted by my heroes and mentors. © 2012 Angela Koponen. At first it was easy to exclude her because I did not recognize the tree. Just do it anyway. The lemon tree that shouldn’t have I wanted to explore my perfect event without regret and without revealing the one person who sowed the seeds of my personal lemon tree.Angie Koponen Lemon tree Page 4 of 21 “That’s a great question. I spent years trying to forget. and tragedies were just bitter enough to help me appreciate the water and the sugar as they were presented and to be open to the possibilities to envision the end result. you have nothing to lose. All my past “lemons” -. and opportunity.disappointments. near failures. You’ve done it!” Their words challenged and inspired. nor did I remember the tart juice from its fruit. The sugar was provided by the faculty. The pain could be overwhelming at times and I feared that if I remembered. The cool. Ph. tradition.” “Don’t be disappointed if you are not accepted.D. encouraged me. I would be stuck in bitterness. the one who gave me lemons time and again.

My father intervened and took her away long enough for me to escape. © 2012 Angela Koponen. Church still suffocates me. I unconsciously stored that lemon away with the first until I could figure out what to do with it. Cooking the perfect egg requires a little patience. I failed at 6 or 7 to tell her that the burner was too high. But my tree was watered and fed.” The egg began to burn and I was blamed.Angie Koponen Lemon tree Page 5 of 21 My lemon tree should not have survived. I haven’t gone in years and the threats that I’d be “struck by lightning” if I misbehaved never materialized. She had very little. I forgot to mention that eggs cook at a fairly low temperature and that the hard brown edges cannot be digested. It should have withered from the cold winters. She gave me a ripe. I asked questions and created tension. “No. “I’ll teach you to never squirm in church again!” she screamed as she began to beat me. Ph. She was nonetheless most generous. beautiful lemon. and the long periods of neglect. Of course. At first the fruit was small and nearly unrecognizable. . I didn’t realize at that young age what I was given.” “Shut up!” “See what you made me do. My life has not been more tragic than any other average life. The irony is that I believe I am happier and more successful than many of the others with whom I attended Catholic school and most of those that remained true to the faith. I was a curious child and I tried her patience. I would not at the time recognize the difference. The juice from both exhibited the same tartness.D. often just in time to help it survive a while longer until it could produce yet another lemon. It paled next to more hearty store-bought fruit.

Crawling into her gentle arms may have been my first perfect event. and how to be. I literally suffered for a couple of years from one infection after another caused by dehydration. The waters in those early years were often cloudy and luke-warm.” I preferred my reality. Her beauty spread over a great lawn and smiled at her lake. I remember asking questions and I remember that the answers were rarely forthcoming. and felt the painful reminder of the long wooden pointer as it hit my back forcing me back to “reality. Our Lady of the Lake She was like no other. It was pleasant and peaceful. The tartness of that lemon remained for a very long time. as my spirit was beaten and berated out of me. They told me what to do. I saw her and I saw beauty. I didn’t know at nearly three or four years old that it wasn’t my fault. and the infections caused incontinence. My soul dehydrated. © 2012 Angela Koponen. It was like a few grains of sugar in the palm of my hand. that my bladder was small. I must have been bad because I was the one who wet my panties. I began to recognize the making of lemonade. I day-dreamed in class. too.Angie Koponen Lemon tree Page 6 of 21 A basket of lemons.D. what to think. They spilled easily so that I never had quite enough. please! I do not remember two-sided conversations. I still only hear her voice humiliating me in front of her guests. I could ask as many questions as I liked and no one hit me or yelled. “Come out here and show everyone your diaper” Did I protest? I think so. At times the water cleared and occasionally I was given a hint of sugar. . I also remember being talked at. but I cannot recall my voice. By ten my basket of lemons overflowed. Ph.

Their lemons seemed smaller and less tart. and my first taste of doing something so well that someone else felt threatened. fresh lemonade. My week consisted of three glorious meals a day. but the memory was lost. covered over in the bottom of my lemon basket. My voice is muted and no one can hear me. They had birthday parties every year. That year I went for one blessed week to church summer camp. not just at ten. as it was that they had so many other fruits.” Their lemons more often spilled out and never puckered their mouths. but I do not recall what I sang other than the ABC Song.D. I think I must have had lemonade before. I left my lemon basket at home that week. they also found time to speak with us instead of talking at us. I was always somewhat forgetful. I rested in her caressing arms and learned to embrace lasting thankfulness. They had heard the music and knew the words to the songs of “The Sound of Music. Ph. I know I loved singing. I had not heard of The Sound of Music before my week at summer camp. That week the counselors taught me the choruses to Sound of Music songs. My camp counselors were geniuses. I sang much before that. . I was too naïve to know that having so many lemons was a rare gift. The Sound of Music. I liked being happy and forgetting easily left no room for agony. They tried to teach me to sings the solo pieces. but I can only see myself singing in a pantomime.Angie Koponen Lemon tree Page 7 of 21 I had a taste of how things might be if only my basket of lemons were not so full. and coordinate a production of the music of the movie. It wasn’t that my peers had fewer lemons so much. a warm bed in a cabin surrounded by trees. but I couldn’t learn both the music and the lyrics in such a short time. They were allowed to go to the skating rink. Another girl already knew the lyrics to all the songs and was given the lead role in the © 2012 Angela Koponen. I had my first memorable taste of pure. In a week they not only each cared for about ten girls’ daily needs. They had more new clothes. lead us to the table of abundance.

when life became difficult. It was mine. I was terrified of doing something so bold and I was equally frustrated that I could not learn the words to the songs. I sang in the chorus. or maybe just hiding in my trunk. The best part was that only I could see my sugar jar. Please. so nobody could take it away from me. Come on girls. They took her to the nurse who gave her medicine for a headache and put her to bed. and I was given all the ingredients for making my own lemonade. she became ill.D. For a while it seemed like lemons were thrown at me from all directions. may I have a bigger basket? Life became more dangerous and difficult for a while after I left the nurturing arms of My Lady. I was content. Ph. The fruit became larger and juicier. that girl sang her part brilliantly. my lemon basket was at home. When she heard me singing the chorus. I was glad to be the chorus and overjoyed with the prospect of another fantastic lunch. all mine! In the end. I could visit that lovely lady in my imagination and because only I could see my journey.Angie Koponen Lemon tree Page 8 of 21 production.” © 2012 Angela Koponen. She didn’t even realize that I didn’t want the lead. it could not be taken away from me. I remember her saying that she was afraid they would give her part to me because my voice was so much better. I remember that she was kind of mousy and while her voice was not extraordinary she sang clearly and pleasantly enough. and I was given a lovely crystal jar to collect little bits of sugar. The water was clearer than ever before. It grew fine strong branches. . she could keep her lead. No. The weight of the fruit pulled the branches down until the tips nearly touched the ground. my lemon tree grew as well. You have leprosy. let’s not play with Angie. As I was growing. “Oo! I don’t want to play with you. Even though I did not know what I had gained until I was much older. Look how your fingers already fell off.

music. about ten of my classmates ganged together to torment me. we learned about the leper colonies and how the disease ate away at its victims’ flesh. . don’t you know anything. laugh! Don’t you know that all the cool girls are wearing tights?” “Don’t you know anything? Everyone [who’s anyone] knows what happened on the Monkeys yesterday!” Yeah.Angie Koponen Lemon tree Page 9 of 21 “Look at your knee socks! Laugh. My basket began to overflow and I had to humiliate myself to ask for a bigger basket. let’s play ball. I © 2012 Angela Koponen. That year my lemon tree took on gargantuan proportions. Girls are a brutal group when they gang up under the leadership of a bully.D. “Come on. They would burn and burn and nothing could stop the pain. My lemons multiplied faster than I could put them all in my basket. Fortunately. Ph. I was so humiliated at my inability to cope that I in turn hurt someone else. It was a capital year for lemon tree fertilizer sales and many of my “friends” and others took full advantage of very appealing promotions. I was not able to inflict much damage. and other essentials. I’m sure the girls in my class did not believe the stories of Purgatory. you would not be allowed into heaven until your lips burned in Purgatory for a thousand or more years. as I cried and beat him on the chest while he restrained my outburst.” You can’t play. There.” the chorus sounded off. Led by one of the girls who had all the latest fashions. They beat you down at every opportunity. Never before had the fruit been so huge and brightly colored. He was older and bigger and he understood. One such promotion began in religion class. Instead those lemons splattered against my tender face and bruised the delicate skin so severely that I nearly died from misery. We also learned details about Purgatory and how if you told a little white lie. That year I was forced to ask for a bigger basket for my lemons. I had to admit that I could not turn the other cheek and let the lemons my classmates threw at me roll off and away from me.

I was fine. In those early years I do not recall consequences for either doing an exceptional job or failure. handed me the oars and told me to row. As long as I appeared to be doing really well and didn’t embarrass my family. Appearances were primary. some events specifically impacted my education. who filled my basket from the day I was born. row your boat As the waters rose I was given a boat and told to row. I heard over and over again. I was given a bigger basket and for a while a few other helped me to carry it until I could grow large enough to carry it on my own. I didn’t see it then. row. I wasn’t allowed to just dump the contents out. they spilled back out. the response © 2012 Angela Koponen.Angie Koponen Lemon tree Page 10 of 21 think he saw that the weight of my basket bent my back and cramped my legs.D. Instead. I began to develop large muscular arms. “What will people think?” If I said the wrong things or sneezed the wrong way. So. I was left with more lemons than I could handle. They came so violently that as they filled my pitcher. The very person. She was an unforgiving yet gentle coach She vacillated between total insensitivity and cradling me in her arms while I shed years of tears. by some unfathomable miracle I grew into a strength that would take me past the next few years. Row. What little sugar I had collected didn’t yet allow for decent lemonade and the waters that normally would flow gently downstream came in a torrent that eroded my strength even further. That would be littering. finally. In spite of the added burden of rowing that sorry excuse of a boat while carrying that damned basket. On the moon my basket was lighter While the previous fruitings hint at the climate of my early years in a general way. but I now believe that she had a basket just like mine. how to deflect all the lemons my basket couldn’t hold. . Ph. I also learned.

I only need to think of sitting in his classes and raising my hand to ask a question and to then be thanked for my asking to tear with joy. At 20. He pushed and cajoled me into my bachelor and master degrees.D. in his classes it was welcomed and celebrated. © 2012 Angela Koponen. I have been blessed to love two extraordinary men in my life. as having dysfunctional families and living somewhat like white trash. He was the first to see potential and to encourage me to seek a true education. Without him. he slipped into my life. was always the same. One is my soul mate. He is still my intellectual angel whose belief in what I can do continues to gently nudge me. The second man was a key part of my perfect event. Where in my early years asking questions was discouraged. my mother. the largest ever. The boys were lost and the girls were just victims. During this time my lemon tree began to produce less fruit. come close to making a direct hit and ending my life. and my biggest fan ever. I would never have experienced my perfect event. It seemed that we had some kind of superior reputation to uphold. His influence was constant and unfailing. I married him. Most of the men worked at my grandfather’s machine shop and the cousins had brushes with the law. but all that needs to be said now is that I survived and my basket sufficed. he loved me to life. although what fruit it did produce was larger and potentially more lethal if it made a direct hit. It was he who picked me up and rescued me between the ages of 20 and 22. For a while my soul was nearly sucked out of me.Angie Koponen Lemon tree Page 11 of 21 particularly from. I remember my immediate family. It was then that I took a trip to the moon. my best friend. Ph. although I don’t know where that would have come from. . first cousins and others. Where many who influenced my earlier years nearly loved me to death. sometimes though physical and mental abuse. At 22. It is he to whom I cling every night and from whom I still after 30 years receive smiles from every morning. Only once during the years between childhood and the age of 22 did a lemon.

But that demon was drunk and he drove like a “bat out of hell” the wrong direction down the exit ramp. He knew years before I even thought of seeking my PhD that I would someday do it. especially when I was coming to discuss my research. These were no longer lemons being thrown at me. It was not bad. That fateful night. The drunk driver took something © 2012 Angela Koponen. Then a maniac tried to kill me.” he would respond to my greeting. Our driver did all that he could to avoid the oncoming truck to no avail. Just before the truck hit us our driver turned the steering wheel sharply so that the truck would hit at an angle instead of head-on. I began my college career at 21 and quickly dropped it for valid and important reasons related to survival. left little time for imagination. . we started home from the Comedy Club in Denver where friends took us to celebrate my 40th birthday. I need to look at two events during my first couple of years of college. The challenges were great and a couple took me completely by surprise. My first semester of back to college was fairly uneventful. but full sized extremely ripe watermelons.D. We did it right. but I still ended up in 5 hours of surgery with a plastic surgeon who put 500 stitches in my head. We drove an acceptable speed limit.Angie Koponen Lemon tree Page 12 of 21 “Doctor!” “Doctor. I just began my second semester after quitting my day job because the classes I needed for my plan were not available at night. I was happy to be back in school full time. That. along with raising three children and continuing to share life with my soul mate. He often called me doctor. To understand my perfect event. I began to thrive. Ph. I worked full time in the adjoining town and took two evening classes. We stopped first for coffee to be sure that we’d be alert. He may have saved our lives. At 39 I picked up where I left off. especially for the drive.

I received a phone call at home one day while I was studying.Angie Koponen Lemon tree Page 13 of 21 more precious to me than gold. I was denied through social conditioning to believe that I would ever accomplish more than being a wife and mother. The most significant happened nearly two years later. When I recovered by some miracle well enough to continue with school. I was denied by lack of reward if I did well or consequences if I failed. . It was the result of that horrible incident and two fantastic events that would make my perfect event possible. and to leave something behind that people might remember me by. Don’t tread on me: an anatomy of a perfect event All my life I was denied educational opportunities. McNair program at UNC. We’d like you to apply” She then briefly explained what the program entails. I was driven mad at times by an insatiable desire to do something special. After the accident I silently screamed that it wasn’t fair to finally have a chance and then to have that chance pulled from under me. may I please speak with Angela?” “This is she” I’m [name forgotten] from the Ronald E. I was denied by lack of support for my abilities and interests. Ph. The McNair Program has received your name as a possible match for our scholars program. why me?” © 2012 Angela Koponen. I loved reading and I needed to be able to read to stay in school. to be somebody who mattered. “Hello. “Oh. It terrified me to imagine never being able to open a book again and understand the words.D. He took my ability to read.

Even when the department chair ignored me.” “Great. Being accepted meant that. only me. and you are a first generation college student. Ph. you’re a minority because you are a woman. I look back now and realize that the accomplishments and successes will always be with me as a source of great pride. Graduate school was perfect. I maintained a 4. even if I didn’t attend. and bonded with my advisor. I gladly accepted.0. Her lemons could not fill my basket. which prepared me for and gave me the skills I needed to successfully apply for and complete graduate school.D. Are you interested? “Sure. What elements came together to make the experience so triumphant?  I was nurtured by my faculty. I’ll mail you the application. © 2012 Angela Koponen.” Months later when I completed the program. I was worthy. I received praise from my instructors. collected my stipend. My basket even began to shrink. My previous experience made me expect that the opportunity would be cruelly pulled away and I would be left with nothing but sadness and regret. eager for the challenge and honored by the opportunity. I received recognition for my work. I knew I was a star.Angie Koponen Lemon tree Page 14 of 21 “You’re a good student. Me. I still felt uncertain. the foundation was set for my perfect event. . I researched and presented my research at conferences across the country. The second fantastic event emerged when I applied and was accepted to my masters program. Me as myself. Even with the McNair Program. Every lemon that came my way acted as a super motivator that drove me harder.

and determination to overcome all the adversity that came my way. The waters still run clear and fresh. I learned to make lemonade at last. I have made the world’s best lemonade. I know that. Ph. I know that. I would not have developed the character. This I know in my heart and in my soul. my husband cheered me on. and do works in areas that they did not fully understand. All the lemons disappeared from my basket and could no longer sour my self-esteem. They made it all so sweet. I was inspired by a great body of knowledge and the lives and work of wonderful theorists. the lemonade would not have tasted so sweet. I do not wish that the pain I suffered had been lessened. if I had not been allowed to take the water from the spring instead of the muddied rivers.2012 © 2012 Angela Koponen. Epilogue . I would not have had the sugar to make the lemonade. It was the world’s greatest lemonade ever made and I did it. My faculty never doubted my ability. Most important. I am truly a better person than I would have been. the lemons are a blessing that are sweeter than any other lemons that ever grew before.D. I know that if a few kind and nurturing mentors had not stopped when they saw me struggling to offer their aid.Angie Koponen Lemon tree Page 15 of 21       I was encouraged to take chances. had my mom not planted that lemon tree when I was born. My faculty allowed and encouraged me to think. . or my belief in myself. and the sugar flows freely from the hands of those wonderful angels that follow my footsteps in case I fall or lead the way though darkened passageways. I do not regret or grieve now for all that might have been or for all that was taken from me. question. strength.

Ph. My soul mate cheered. My former advisor cheered me on. challenging. and at times.Angie Koponen Lemon tree Page 16 of 21 I just graduated with my Ph. but I did it.D in Educational Technology with a minor in Research and Applied Statistics. frustrating. The experience was enlightening. © 2012 Angela Koponen. Once again my lemonade making expertise served me well. I have once again made the world’s best lemonade. . me on.D. badgered me actually.

Then I wrote my experience as a story. and ethics. legitimacy. Ph. When I chose to complete an autoethnography in order to fulfill the requirements of a Narrative Inquiry class. After recalling these events I would need to relate them without conveying bitterness or anger. © 2012 Angela Koponen. Although working through these challenges can lead to the production of an excellent text. Richardson (1994) tells us that: Autoethnography can be a very difficult undertaking because this form of scholarship highlights more than ever issues of representation. I would need to recall events that I’ve spent decades trying to forget. I usede what I call systematic sociological introspection and emotional recall to try to understand an experience that I lived through. focusing outward on social and cultural aspects of their personal experience. 2000). I had only minimal understanding of the implications. I payed attention to my physical feelings. I am not a revealing person. I could ultimately write about bad experiences in a positive light. . thoughts. Autoethnography requires the researcher to gaze. and emotions. “objectivity. the intimate and personal nature of autoethnography can. but I believe that by focusing on my goal to understand something positive in my life. As the course progressed and I read more about this qualitative research method.D. and resist cultural interpretations ( (Ellis & Bochner. In this. I have every right to be angry. I procrastinated and when I did put forth effort early on. For me.” data quality. I began to have my doubts. exposing a vulnerable self that is moved by and may move through. Ellis offers this more simple personal explanation: I started with my personal life. the challenge would be particularly difficult. in fact. first through an ethnographic wideangle lens. then. refract.Angie Koponen Lemon tree Page 17 of 21 Methodology . make it one of the most challenging qualitative approaches to attempt (p. my stomach often became queasy. they look inward. 521).

method over subject matter. truth. corraborate and confirm the methodological path I must take. 2001). and generalizability. Many of the other writers about autoethnography quote the work of Denzin and Lincoln: Dyson. Additionally. and to construct a reality about lived experiences rather than use particular procedures. Spry synthesizes Denzin and Lincoln. 2004. Ellis recognizes feminism’s role in the development of autoethnography. tell me the basics I need to know in order to begin the assignment. Klinker offered that the researcher as the intrument of data collection [works] through personal reflection. experiences. and sharing (Klinker & Todd. a feminist tool. Additional readings expand. © 2012 Angela Koponen. saying that in reflexive ethnography. 167). only a small part of the literature. researchers incorporate their personal experiences and standpoints in their research by starting with a story about themselves. conversation.Angie Koponen Lemon tree Page 18 of 21 . and maintain commitments to outmoded conceptions of validity. introspection. Spry. 2007. to generate format and empirical truths (Dyson. explaining their personal connection to the project. Ellis and Bochner. Dyson adds to this by expalining how autoethnographers use metaphor to order thought. Ph. These three key descriptions. emotional recall. Spry. p. and Ellis and Bochner Klinker. Porter. 2007). . and that the author of such a text aims to invite readers into the text to relive the experience rather than to interpret or analyze what the author is saying (Schwandt. 2000). among myriad others: autonethnography is a radical reaction to realist agendas in ethnography and sociology which privilege the researcher over the subject. and Porter whom I looked to for additional clarification asnd inspiration (Klinker & Todd.D. 2001). In the Dictionary of Qualitative Inquiry (2001) it states that it is commonly claimed that the striking stories that frequently comprise autoethnography are intended to illustrate and evoke rather than to state or make a claim. or by using personal knowledge to help them in the research process (Ellis in Ellis & Bochner.

and -graphy (the application of the research process) (Reed-Danahay. For © 2012 Angela Koponen. Richardson wrote that narratives of the self are a form of eveocative writing that draws upon techniques of fiction to produce highly personalized and revealing texts in which authors tell stories about their own lived experiences and invite the reader to emotioanlly “relive” the event with the author (Richardson in Sparks. but on something wonderful in order to try to understand the event better and to replicate the same kinds of feelings. 2001). Finally in Wall (2008) we are treated to an excellent description of autoethnographic emphases drawn from several bodies of research: Autoethnographers vary in their emphasis on auto. Although some consider a personal narrative to be the same thing as an autoethnography (Ellis & Bochner. others use autoethnography as a means of explicitly linking concepts from the literature to the narrated personal experience (Holt. I’m still not sure about inviting you in to “relive” these events emotionally with me. Perhaps for me that is what attracts me to writing an autoethnography. unlike many authethnographies I read. Guided by these researchers I asked myself if I could indeed reveal myself. not on a negative event. the opportunity to draw upon techniques of fiction.(self).D. 1994). become a part of my research. However. Ph. motivations.Angie Koponen Lemon tree Page 19 of 21 Autoethnography writing resists Grand Theorizing and the façade of objective research that decontectualizes subjects and searches for singular truth (Spry. 1997). expose my short-comings. and energy that lead to great success. Now for the first time I had justification and solid support for my methods.(the sociocultural connection). 1996) and support an approach as rigorous and justifiable as any other form of inquiry (Duncan. 2004). Autoethnography offers the structure needed to accomplish that goal. . I wanted to focus. I realized with some refelction that I had already unknowingly done that in several previous research works. and tell a story that would evoke. Sparkes. 2000). -ethno. 2001.

I am beyond the deep emotions. I look through a self-detached lense to make sense of something good. so that I might create more such good events in my life.D. © 2012 Angela Koponen.Angie Koponen Lemon tree Page 20 of 21 the most part. . Ph.

7(2).). Lincoln (Eds. Porter. C. Retrieved June 28.. Denzin & Y. CA: Sage. Lincoln (Eds. (2001). (1994).ualberta. Handbook of qualitative research (pp. CMA methodology: Autoethnography. In Wall (2008). 2005 from http://www.). 516-529). The Fatal Flaw: A Narrative of the Fragile Body-Self. 36-48. Disctionary of Qualitative Inquiry (2nd ed. N. & Bochner. The Qualitative Report . Article 3. Sparks. In Wall (2008). (2000). 7 (6). 733-768). Qualitative Inquiry 1996. 706-732. International Journal of Qualitative Methods. N. 66-76. . R. Beyond technical reflection: Demonstrating the modification of teaching behaviors using three levels of reflection.htm. 168-183. (2004). S. In N. 36 (1). (1997). 12 (2). & Y. Autoethnography. 463 Spry. Dyson.D.html.. Qualitative Inquiry .edu/cma/CMAmethodology-ae. Performing autoethnography: An embodied methodological praxis. Ph. 3(4). Schwandt. Australian journal of Teacher Education . Thousand Oaks. Denzin. Thousand Oaks. My story in a profession of stories: Autoethnography . Holt. A. 2. J.Angie Koponen Lemon tree Page 21 of 21 Works Cited Duncan. Ellis. CA: Sage. from Computer-Mediated Antropology: http://anthropology. Auto/ethnography: Rewriting the self and the social. Klinker. Richardson. © 2012 Angela Koponen. Autoethnography: Critical appreciation of an emerging art. (2004). E. (2007). Writing: A method of inquiry. (2001). UK: Berg. L.ca/~iiqm/backissues/3_4/html/duncan. In N. D. In Wall (2008). T. Retrieved March 25. A.. M.usf. T. Avante. K. (2007). Handbook of Qualitative Research (2nd ed.an empowering methodology for educators. CA: Sage. Oxford. Reed-Danahay. 2009.). reflexivity. pp. & Todd. M. (2001). Thousand Oaks. personal narrative. Two autoethnographies: A search for understanding of gender and age. L.