As I look back over my MA-IS journey, I can see threads of continuity throughout my artifacts. My focus area is Writing and New Media and all my course choices applied to this area. While I explored a range of approaches to academic writing during my studies, for the purposes of this eportfolio the methods that I focused on were autoethnography, narrative inquiry, and exploratory qualitative research. 

The MA-IS program has defined learning outcomes: integrated learning, social relevance, paradigm challenge, and self-critical thinking. My projects led to these outcomes in ways that are non-linear and intertwined. Rather than co-relate specific learning outcomes to specific projects, I reflected on what I learned overall from my projects. 

Over the course of this program, I have been guided by several research questions: What do I do with past generations’ stuff in my basement? Where do I come from? Who are my ancestors?  

These are personal, intimate questions, but they’re also universal questions. We all have families, we all come from somewhere. 

Interdisciplinary Studies has provided the perfect container to examine these research questions, allowing for multiple directions and defying easy categorization. Theorist Simeon Dreyfuss (2011) writes that interdisciplinary thinking is a “practice of holding different ways of knowing in relationship… The ways of knowing act on each other—we cannot predict how—but that process is often fertile, if we pay attention” (p. 74). This resonates with my journey through this program, as I’ve experienced my learnings and writing build on what I learned in previous courses.  

Integrated learning 

When I started this project, I kept saying I would “find the stories” in my basement – instead of unearthing many stories (I’m sure they’re lurking there, in the corners) I took a deep dive into one story of a figure in my family constellation. As I’ve noted elsewhere in this eportfolio, my great-grandmother and her artistry has emerged as the central figure in my research. 

What I’ve learned in my coursework has become integrated into my life and I’ve felt the effects in many areas outside academia.

I was driven by a very personal objective and project vision: my maternal lineage and ancestry. I received a deathbed directive from my great aunt, to care for the things that she lovingly tended for decades. I saw this as the universe delivering me a bounty that had to honour, and I could only do this with the support of academic structure and disciplined writing practice. Within that structure, I had the freedom to follow my interests and curiousities. 

My studies have been most interesting and rewarding when the work spills into the rest of my life. This has happened in one surprising way. After spending months immersed in my great-grandmother’s poems and journals, out of the blue I received a phone call from a volunteer at the Metchosin Museum (the community outside of Victoria where my family comes from). She had found Marjorie’s book of poems in the museum collection, had also become enchanted by her, and wanted to learn more about her life.  

While the museum has many materials about Marjorie’s husband, Lee Field, there’s very little about her in the collection. Lee is remembered as an outstanding and generous citizen who gave a lot to his community, while there is only silence around his artistic wife. I saw this as an example of how women’s stories are overlooked in institutions and excluded from social history. 

“I’ve been doing some research,” I told the museum volunteer. “Let me share what I’ve learned with you.” 

Social relevance / political contexts 

We’re on the cusp of a large intergenerational transfer as the Baby Boomers have started dying off and leaving behind their basements and garages full of stuff. I feel like my situation is rather unique, but I’m aware that it’s not an anomaly. As this transition continues, more Gen X’ers and Millennials will find themselves in a similar situation as myself, holding the weight of previous generations. 

I touched on this in one of my essays, not included in this eportfolio:

“I live during a climate crisis driven by overconsumption, and I feel the weight of all this stuff – not just my own stuff, but the stuff that packs landfills and floats in the oceans and clogs waterways, the fossil fuel derived stuff that will stick around for generations to come.”

I don’t have the answers to how my generation and the ones following it will deal with all this stuff, but I hope our experiences and dilemmas will inspire future generations to consume and accumulate less. 

As I puttered around the basement of a house built in 1949, during the post-World War 2 housing and population boom, I’ve found myself filled with nostalgia for a time I’ve never lived in, the mid-20th century. This was a time when housing was seen as shelter, not a financial investment. A time when a family could afford to buy a house and support their needs on a single working-class income, before the neoliberal policy-driven housing and affordability crises we’re currently living through. Perhaps I idealize it, but nevertheless I feel privileged and grateful to receive some scraps from the previous era. 

Colonialism is another social context that my projects sit within. While I didn’t delve into it too often in my projects, I was constantly aware of the inherent settler-colonialism of my maternal family, who were of English origins.

I often asked myself if it’s useful and productive for descendants of settlers to investigate our family history. Does this reinforce colonialism or is it a step towards decolonization?  

I didn’t give this enough airtime while working on my projects because it was uncomfortable and difficult to write about. But I believe that it is valuable for settlers to engage with and understand their family history – to confront the past with clear eyes and acknowledge how we’ve benefitted from historical harms, without guilt and shame but a commitment to do things better. While doing this work, I’ve started taking concrete steps in my life to make reparations for generational harms, primarily through financial commitments to local communities. 

Concrete financial actions grounded me in the collective, as I spent a lot of time alone in my basement, digging through old things and writing about them. I often felt disconnected from the social fabric and had to make concerted efforts to stay connected to my community. I often felt doubtful that this work impacts the world around me, beyond a vague sense that inward work will make me a more grounded and empathetic member of society. I had to remind myself that there is value in preserving the heritage of the place I am from. After all this time spent looking inward, I’m starting to feel ready to put many of these materials into the public record.  

Paradigm challenge 

I started this program with the intention of documenting a personal process – I would organize, synthesize, categorize everything in my basement then find new homes for it, pack it up, and move on with my life. But I was also prepared for the possibility that I could discover some other unrelated thread or subject area in my studies and get swept away by that. I wanted to be focused on my goal yet receptive to anything else that may emerge 

In the end, I managed to maintain my focus and stick to my original intention. I also followed through on my responsibility as a descendant. However, I was not successful in organizing, archiving, and clearing out my basement.

I still have as much of a jumbled mess that I had when I first started (it’s even messier, as I’ve dug through bins and emptied them around my basement office). I’m less overwhelmed and more convinced of its significance. I also accept that although my degree is complete, my work is not finished.  

While working on these projects, my worldview became more animistic and holistic. I developed a reverence for my ancestors and took on ritualistic practices to honour them. I felt their presence in the material things they left behind. The work I’ve done in this program has reshaped my worldview to understand that there is meaning and worth in ordinary lives. We all have lives worth living. Art and relationships with people give our lives meaning. And finally, we have the power to construct our lives and with our imaginations we can construct the lives of other people.  

Self-critical thinking 

Before I started this program, I told a friend about my project idea, and she replied that it’s kind of interesting but the truth is people aren’t interested in colonial stories these days (and do I even want to align myself with those who are?). I acknowledge this, but this is the only story I have. Graduate school is a place to explore my story authentically and without expectation.  

As I’ve mentioned previously, I feel that I didn’t go deep enough into the lasting impacts of colonialism. I feel concern that this kind of work reinforces this system, rather than challenges it. My literature review, the first artifact, provided a foundation that was in the back of my mind while I worked on the succeeding projects, but I otherwise didn’t write deeply about settler-colonialism. 

There are other places where I feel I have gaps in understanding and would like to do more research.

My work would have benefitted from a better understanding of women’s journals and personal writing. I’ve been gifted with seven years of journals written by my great-grandmother during the 1930s – how do they fit in the tradition of women’s journals?  

Further, in my grounded theory project, I put forward a theory that my great-grandmother’s frequent illness was depression, yet I only skimmed the surface of early twentieth century understandings of mental health and depression. I have a vague understanding that little was known or understood about these illnesses, but I didn’t have the time or capacity to substantiate my suspicion with research.

Conclusion 

The gifts of the MA-IS program have been enormous. I have integrated what I’ve learned into my life, framed my work within greater social contexts, expanded my worldview, and critically reflected on missing pieces in my research. An interdisciplinary approach made it possible for me to explore creative modalities and solidify my research skills. 

As I contemplated how to approach the ancestral bounty I received, I could have just taken out a genealogy book from the library and drawn up a family tree. Or I could have studied some basic archival skills and organized the things in my basement. Instead, I chose to spend three years working on a graduate degree and write a bunch of papers. Despite feeling doubt, exhilaration, paralysis, and purpose, I think I made the right choice. 

Reflecting on my learning outcomes reveals that I have accomplished what I set out to do. I think my ancestors would be pleased. 

Reference (APA 7 style) 

Dreyfuss, S. (2011). Something essential about interdisciplinary thinking. Issues in Interdisciplinary Integrative Studies. 29, 67–83.