The problem with scholarly focus is that it leads where you intend to go. And this is a problem because when you get there, you’re likely to find that your destination isn’t all that interesting. In practice, scholarship is not about effectively carrying out a plan but about exploring a terrain and developing the plan that is warranted by what you discover in that terrain.
This issue with the act of scholarship in particular is really just an extension of what we know about the act of writing in general. Namely, writing is not the process of explaining the argument that is embedded in your outline but instead the process of finding out what that argument should be. If your paper follows your outline from beginning to end, it’s clear that you haven’t learned anything in the course of writing that paper. You found what you were looking for rather than what was actually out there waiting to be found.
This reminds me of a question that my friend David Angus used to ask candidates for faculty positions at the University of Michigan College of Education: “Tell me about a time that your research forced you to give up an idea you really cared about.” If you discover something that upsets your thinking, that’s an indicator that you’re really learning something in the course of carrying out your study. This in turn suggests that the reader is likely to learn something from reading your paper on the subject, instead of just confirming a previous opinion.
Scholars need an intellectual starting place for a piece of research—an established conceptual framework that provides us with a promising angle of approach into a complex intellectual problem space. But the danger is getting trapped within the confines of the conceptual framework in a manner that predetermines the conclusions we reach. Instead, we need to be open to the possibility that our favored framework needs to adapt to the demands of the data we encounter. Perhaps we need to add an additional perspective to this framework or adapt or even discard parts of the framework that don’t seem to be validated by the data at hand. After all, getting things wrong and then correcting them in light of evidence is at the heart of the discipline we call science.
The need to open ourselves to perspectives that are beyond the scope of our established conceptual frameworks is what calls for us to deploy our peripheral vision. As I used to tell my students, the book you’re looking for may not be the one you need to read, which may be a few books down on the shelf. In this manner, scholarship becomes a process of continually evolving your conceptual framework over time, as each study nudges you in new directions. This is what can make academic pursuits so stimulating, as you bump into problems your current perspective can’t resolve and construct a new perspective that allows you to move forward in developing an argument. You can’t predict where you’re going to end up, but you’ll know that it’s going to be interesting—both for you and for your reader.
