What shape should a research thesis be?

Being flummoxed by a student question was the inspiration for a teaching metaphor

Keith S. Taber

In my teaching on the 'Educational Research' course I used to present a diagram of a shape something like the lemniscate – the infinity symbol, ∞ – and tell students that was the shape their research project and thesis should take. I would suggest this was a kind of visual metaphor.

This may seem a rather odd idea, but I was actually responding to a question I had previously been asked by a student. Albeit, this was a rather deferred response.

'Lost for words'

As a teacher one gets asked all kinds of questions. I've often suggested that preparing for teaching is more difficult than preparing for an examination. When taking an examination it is usually reasonable to assume that the examination question have been set by experts in the subject.

A candidate therefore has a reasonable chance of foreseeing at least the general form of the questions that night asked. There is usually a syllabus or specification which gives a good indication of the subject matter and the kinds of skills expected to be demonstrated – and usually there are past papers (or, if not, specimen papers) giving examples of what might be asked. The documentation reflects some authority's decisions about the bounds of the subject being examined (e.g., what counts as included in 'chemistry' or whatever), the selection of topics to be included in the course, and the level of treatment excepted at this level of study (Taber, 2019). Examiners may try to find novel applications and examples and contexts – but good preparation should avoid the candidate ever being completely stumped and having no basis to try to develop a response.

However, teachers are being 'examined' so to speak, by people who by definition are not experts and so may be approaching a subject or topic from a wide range of different perspectives. In science teaching, one of the key issues is how students do not simply come to class ignorant about topics to be studied, but often bring a wide range of existing ideas and intuitions ('alternative conceptions') that may match, oppose, or simply be totally unconnected with, the canonical accounts.

Read about alternative conceptions

This can happen in any subject area. But a well prepared teacher, even if never able to have ready answers to all question or suggestions learners might offer, will seldom be lost for words and have no idea how to answer. But I do recall an occasion when I was indeed flummoxed.

I was in what is known as the 'Street' in the main Faculty of Education Building (the Donald McIntyre Building) at Cambridge at a time when students were milling about as classes were just ending and starting. Suddenly out of the crowd a student I recognised from teaching the Educational Research course loomed at me and indicated he wanted to talk. I saw he was clutching a hardbound A4 notebook.

We moved out of the melee to an area where we could talk. He told me he had a pressing question about the dissertation he had to write for his M.Phil. programme.

"What should the thesis look like?"

His question sounded simple enough – "What should the thesis look like?"

Now at one level I had an answer – it should be an A4 document that would be eventually bound in blue cloth with gold lettering on the spine. However, I was pretty sure that was not what he meant.

What does a thesis look like?

I said I was not sure what he meant. He opened his notebook at a fresh double page and started sketching, as he asked me: 'Should the thesis look like this?' as he drew a grid on one page of his book. Whilst I was still trying to make good sense of this option, he started sketching on the facing page. "Or, should it look like this?"

I have often thought back to this exchange as I was really unsure how to respond. He seemed no more able to explain these suggestions than I was able to appreciate how these representations related to my understanding of the thesis. As I looked at the first option I was starting to think in terms of the cells as perhaps being the successive chapters – but the alternative option seemed to undermine this. For, surely, if the question was about whether to have 6 or 8 chapters – a question that has no sensible answer in abstract without considering the specific project – it would have been simpler just to pose the question verbally. Were the two columns (if that is what they were) meant to be significant? Were the figures somehow challenging the usual linear nature of a thesis?

I could certainly offer advice on structuring a thesis, but as a teacher – at least as the kind of constructivist teacher I aspired to be – I failed here. I was able to approach the topic from my own perspective, but not to appreciate the student's own existing conceptual framework and work from there. This if of course what research suggests teachers usually need to do to help learners with alternative conceptions shift their thinking.

Afterwards I would remember this incident (in a way I cannot recall the responses I gave to student questions on hundreds of other occasions) and reflect on it – without ever appreciating what the student was thinking. I know the student had a background in a range of artistic fields including as a composer – and I wondered if this was informing his thinking. Perhaps if I had studied music at a higher level I might have appreciated the question as being along the lines of, say, whether the should the thesis be, metaphorically speaking, in sonata form or better seen as a suite?

I think it was because the question played on my mind that later, indeed several years later, I had the insight that 'the thesis' (a 'typical' thesis) did not look like either of those rectangular shapes, but rather more like the leminscape:

The focus of a thesis

My choice of the leminscate was because its figure-of-eight nature made it two loops which are connected by a point – which can be seen as some kind of focal point of the image:

This 'focus' represents the research question or questions (RQ). The RQ are not the starting point of most projects, as good RQ have to be carefully chosen and refined, and that usually take a lot of reading around a topic.

However, they act as a kind of fulcrum around which the thesis is organised because the sections of the thesis leading up to the RQ are building up to them – offering a case for why those particular questions are interesting, important, and so-phrased. And everything beyond that point reflects the RQ, as the thesis then describes how evidence was collected and analysed in order to try to answer the questions.

Two cycles of activity

Moreover, the research project described in a thesis reflects two cycles of activity.

The first cycle has an expansive phase where the researcher is reading around the topic, and exposing themselves to a wide range of literature and perspectives that might be relevant. Then, once a conceptual framework is developed from this reading (in the literature review), the researcher focuses in, perhaps selecting one of several relevant theoretical perspectives, and informed by prior research and scholarship, crystallises the purpose of the project in the RQ.

Then the research is planned in order to seek to answer the RQ, which involves selecting or developing instruments, going out and collecting data – often quite a substantive amount of data. After this expansive phase, there is another focusing stage. The collected data is then processed into evidence – interpreted, sifted, selected, summarised, coded and tallied, categorised – and so forth – in analysis. The data analysis is summarised in the results, allow conclusions to be formed: conclusions which reflect back to the RQ.

The lemniscate, then, acts a simple visual metaphor that I think acts as a useful device for symbolising some important features of a research project, and so, in one sense at least, what a thesis 'looks' like. If any of my students (or readers) have found this metaphor useful then they have benefited from a rare occasion when a student question left me lost for words.

Work cited:

• Taber, K. S. (2013). Classroom-based Research and Evidence-based Practice: An introduction (2nd ed.). London: Sage.
• Taber, K. S. (2019). The Nature of the Chemical Concept: Constructing chemical knowledge in teaching and learning. Cambridge: Royal Society of Chemistry.