Doing action research in English language teaching (part 1 of 3)

This 3-part post summarizes a book by Prof. Ann Burns on Action Research (AR) in language teaching. Like Grounded Theory (GT), action research is a popular qualitative method. In this post, I summarize the first two chapters of the book, on what AR is and how to plan it. In part 2, I will summarize the middle of the book, on how to conduct the action research. In part 3, I will summarize the parts of the book that deal with data analysis, reflection, and application of the results.

Burns, A. (2010). Doing action research in English language teaching: A guide for practitioners. Routledge.

It is worth reading the acknowledgements of the book, in which Burns expresses gratitude to colleagues doing practitioner-generated research in Australia, Bahrain, Brazil, Colombia, Costa Rica, Hawai’i, Italy, Japan, Korea, Mexico, Singapore, Turkey, the UK, and the US “for sharing their own work, or that of their students with me.” She also thanks her students in Australia, China, Indonesia, Japan, Mexico, the MIddle East, the UK and the US “from whom I have learned much about doing qualitative and action research.”

I think if you go about applying AR well—with a sincere spirit of inquiry as to what you will find rather than a predetermined notion as to what results you want, regarding the latest theory or pedagogical fad—then AR turns out to be liberating for teachers everywhere, with no hierarchy between professors and students, between academics and practitioners, between esteemed and less well known universities, between knowledge production in the Global North or South, between colonial and capitalist projects and those that actually matter to people on the ground. In a sincere spirit of inquiry, AR yields genuinely surprising and unpredictable results of interest to anyone, anywhere.

Chapter 1: What is action research?

Burns defines AR as “taking a self-reflective, critical, and systematic approach in exploring your own teaching contexts” (p. 2). By “critical”, she does not mean negative, but questioning and problematizing. By “problematizing”, she doesn’t mean looking at your teaching or your teaching context as full of problems, but asking how it could be better, and developing new ideas and alternatives. You are an investigator or explorer of your teaching context while being a participant in it, to bring about change and improvement based on “solid information rather than from our hunches or assumptions about the way we think things are” (p. 2).

To demonstrate AR, Burns presents the example of a teacher in Italy named Isabella who gives her EFL students oral tests. She doesn’t like giving these tests and senses students don’t like them either. She collects 5 sources of information: a diary of her feelings when giving the tests, a questionnaire for students, recordings of oral tests, asking students to give her written feedback about the oral tests, and asking a colleague to interview students after the oral test. From students’ feedback and recordings of herself, she finds that she talks more than the students, interrupting them when they want to talk, and then suddenly questions “in bursts” without giving students time to think. Therefore, she makes some changes, giving students the questions 5 minutes before the oral test to give them time to organize their ideas, restricting her talk to a minimum, and paraphrasing students’ responses to help them maintain the thread of their thoughts. Then, Isabella collects more data to see whether the changes she made based on the previous round of data made any difference, and finds that students like that they are no longer interrupted, and also greatly appreciate her paraphrasing and reformulation as a way to show she is listening and scaffold their performance in a way that resembles natural conversation. The research also triggers new questions on other topics, e.g., “What opportunities do I give them to practice such skills as selecting, ordering and organizing information into a coherent speech before taking the oral test?”

What we can see from this example is that key to AR is its cyclical nature: “It shows how she identified and improved a classroom dilemma by using a reflective research cycle of planning, acting, observing and reflecting” (p. 4; Burns’ italics). Any one-off intervention is not AR. Burns also states that “Action research is underpinned by democratic principles in that the ownership of change is invested in those who conduct the research” (p. 5). It can be means-oriented, for example, a teacher wants to improve their students’ writing. But it can also be theory-oriented (“What kinds of skills does writing involve and how do they interact?”), institution-oriented (“How integrated are my and my colleagues’ teaching about writing in our different courses?”), society oriented (“Does my writing course promote values I believe in, through its topics and my practice?”) and teacher oriented (“How is my own personal and professional development contributing to the kind of society I want to live in?”) (p. 6).

Burns next discusses why teachers should do AR, especially when they may have little experience sifting through oceans of academic literature or methodically collecting and analyzing data. AR also takes time and can bring about changes beyond one’s comfort zone if you find things that improve practice but bring you into conflict with colleagues, supervisors, students, or parents. And some teachers have an aversion to research because in their education, they encountered theories that were out of touch with classroom realities.

So why do AR? Burns quotes her Australian colleague Linda: AR encourages teachers “to reach their own solutions and conclusions and this is far more attractive and has more impact than being presented with ideals which cannot be attained” (p. 7; my italics). Burns, perhaps the leading scholar of AR in ELT, says that “language teachers from all over the world get immense satisfaction from doing AR, especially when they can work collaboratively with other colleagues to explore common issues” (p. 7).

In the rest of the chapter, Burns gives an overview of how AR works. Kemmis and McTaggart (1988) are credited with pioneering AR, which can be applied in any institution (not just schools but also hospitals, corporate offices, etc.), and from them we get four phases of AR: Planning, Action, Observation, and Reflection.

These steps are not a one-way street; there is much interaction between them. However, having some generally identifiable cycles allows you to follow the path of action: what situation you thought needed improvement, what you discovered when you investigated it, what you did about it, the extent to which your actions improved the situation, and what you want to find out next. Therefore, there are at least two cycles to any AR project, which theoretically can go on forever: the first cycle of investigation and the second cycle where you investigate the outcomes of your revised actions.

Burns next discusses what AR is NOT, and here she gives a very lucid pair of examples:

• A teacher wants to investigate whether group work will improve students’ oral English skills. She randomly assigns students to control and experimental groups. At two months, pre- and post-testing show that the group work students have improved in fluency but not accuracy. The teacher publishes the study in a journal.
• A teacher decides to move away from whole-class to small group speaking activities to observe how students react. He assigns students to groups and collects the following data: a journal noting his observations over two weeks, a questionnaire to find out how his students feel about group work… then from these, he finds that students are reluctant to do group work, and consults some colleagues, who suggest letting students choose their own groups. He tries this next, and finds students are less reluctant to speak, and interestingly, the groups do not remain static but people choose new ones according to the speaking task. Then he lets students choose the task as well, and finds that interaction among students increases noticeably. The researcher presents the findings of his study in a professional development session as well as publishing it in a journal.

These examples are “simplified and idealised” (p. 13); I see some reasons why in #2, things might not go as swimmingly as in the scenario, but the point here is to see what AR is and is not. The first researcher adopts an “objective” stance in which she attempts to control the variables. The second researcher is not interested in establishing relationships of this type, but wants to explore the best ways of setting up his classroom activity. Though his approach is more “subjective”, as a result of the information collected, he deliberately changes the conditions that exist in the classroom, with immediate effects. It is possible for the same person to carry out both types of research. However, they have different purposes.

Having defined AR, Burns then goes on to a discussion of how it is not just the same as reflecting on your teaching, due to the systematic data collection. She cites Schön (1983), who makes this clear by contrasting reflection-in-action and reflection-on-action. We all reflect in action—inevitably. We all think and act while teaching to guide further action. For example, we may be noticing whether students are paying attention, whether it is easy or difficult for them, etc., and this influences what we say and do next. In contrast, reflection-on-action involves “meta-thinking” about what happened when not teaching. We reflect on the decisions we made, on our thoughts and feelings about what went on, on our colleagues’ and students’ feedback, and on the things we observed to happen.

Because AR forces us to sit down and look at data from different vantage points when not in the moment, it helps us break out of the mould of our assumptions, whether they are our own personal assumptions or come from theory we have come to espouse. Of course, since teachers are busy, there is no need always to do “full blown” AR as Isabella did—a burden teachers may not be able to fulfill. Rather, Allwright (1993) proposes that teachers must integrate a “research perspective” into the classroom. Even if you are not collecting and analyzing data to publish a study, you should be reflecting on something that you could do better, gathering different sources of information or different perspectives on it, and using that information to decide your next actions. You might think “of course!”—but oftentimes we teachers get so comfortable with the classes we are used to teaching that we don’t, in fact, reflect enough on what could be better, gather feedback or information about it, actually do something different, and then gather more feedback or information on how the different approach went. Allwright’s (1993) claim that we can always do something to bring a research mindset into our teaching reminds me of this great short article on “tiny talks” (i.e., short talks with other teachers for troubleshooting what is happening in our classrooms). Thus, a key component of AR is finding people “you’d like to share your thoughts with and who can give you some professional feedback” (p. 19).

Burns concludes this introductory chapter by stating that “there are distinct benefits that make AR attractive to many teachers and make a difference to the way they regard themselves as teaching professionals” (p. 19). I believe this is true for two reasons. First, it empowers teachers to theorize for themselves. Second, it empowers teachers to theorize for themselves for the benefit of their students, as seen in the example of Isabella above. In other words, it isn’t only that they regard themselves as “empowered”—equally importantly, they regard themselves as “responsible” for the processes and outcomes in their teaching; they become not only professionally confident but professionally conscientious.

Chapter 2: Plan – planning the action

In this chapter, Burns discusses how to find a topic for your AR and refine research questions. She also discusses ethical issues, resources and materials needed for AR, and where to find more reading about AR.

To help you find topics to research, Burns invites you to consider it from your point of view: “What are you passionate or curious about? What new approaches to teaching are you interested in trying?” You can also consider it from students’ point of view: “What do you think would make you a more effective teacher? What are gaps between your current teaching situation and what you would like to see happening? What needs of your students are not being met? Alternatively, why are some of your students not achieving in the same way as others?” You can try these sentence starters:

• “I don’t know enough about [how my students]…”
• “My students don’t like… [e.g., oral tests]. Why is this?”
• “I want to find more about what my students do when they… [e.g., practice the language outside of class, go about doing research-based writing using GenAI, etc.].”

Alternatively, you could pick your colleagues’ brains for their most commonly perceived challenges with the curriculum or with students, observe another class, or observe students in public spaces during breaks to get ideas based on observing people. And you can get ideas from articles in journals written for teachers. A good AR question will likely interest colleagues at your institution and/or others, such as: “What should be the balance between learner- and teacher-centeredness in my class? What can I do to make the required syllabus [or textbook] more appealing to learners? How do learners react when we try to teach them… [e.g., something controversial like ‘native-like’ pronunciation]?” Etc.

Similar to Grounded Theory (GT), Burns says that “we want to be sure that our personal beliefs or assumptions about our teaching situation don’t blind us to what our research is really telling us” (p. 25). Validity is important in any research. “How can you ensure the methods used for collecting data are trustworthy? How can you be sure that your conclusions are solidly based on the data you have collected?” (p. 25; Burns’ italics). Burns will discuss this matter of validity in later sections of the book, on data collection and analysis, but mentions it in these introductory chapters because the first step in AR is getting to know yourself and the way you look at things so that you can decenter your perspective when you research your own teaching.

• What do you believe about yourself? (facilitator, guide, friend, expert, mentor…)
• What do you believe is the purpose of your teaching? Are students learning the language to have fun, do well on exams, increase certain knowledge or skills, gain cultural sensitivity, increase employment prospects, appreciate global diversity, develop “critical thinking” (defined as…)?
• What do you believe about your students? (Note here the “what do you believe about them”… your subjective view and not necessarily the truth.) Do you think they lack motivation? Are teacher-dependent? Have limited attention spans? Favour rote learning? Perceive a lack of relevance with what you are teaching?
• What biases do you have? What kinds of instructional techniques do you believe work best when you teach? What kinds of materials or resources do you consider to be most effective?

These kinds of questions “alert us to any built-in assumptions we might have about what actions to take and what our data will reveal” (p. 26). This is important because in AR, you have a dual role as teacher and researcher.

Burns gives an example of bias (p. 26) that I relate to—I have seen this too. She was doing professional development with a group of teachers in Australia. These teachers were obsessed with the problem of “disparate” (i.e., diverse) classes, or classes where everyone was at different levels and came from different language backgrounds. They reasoned that weaker students held others back, it was hard and time-consuming to find materials to meet everyone’s needs and skill levels, it was impossible to give attention to all students, and conflicts would arise because of the great diversity of skill levels and cultures represented by the students. When they did their investigation, lo and behold, they found students liked being in a class that was diverse in these ways, and saw no problem with the differences in skill levels and cultures. One teacher said: “All the students liked being in [a class] of various levels. They saw no problem in this at all”… “Hmm”, said one of the teachers, “we’re the ones with the problem, not the students.” This reoriented the research question (RQ) to “What can I do about the problem of diversity?” to “How do students see the situation? And when you see students value the disparateness, the next round of AR could investigate how this diversity can help students learn better than they would in a more homogeneous class.

(The reason I say “I have seen this too” is that teachers can fall into the trap of thinking that diversity is bad because it is challenging. Although I would not recommend teaching absolute beginners alongside students who have high intermediate proficiency in the language if there has to be a set curriculum, there are lots of learning affordances that come with teaching diverse groups, which I discuss in excellent pieces of research here, here, and here.)

Burns quotes her colleague Alison Perkins, who describes AR as an internal conflict from which the individual comes out more knowledgeable:

What I have needed is a model through which I can fight my private battles and uncover my personal values, theoretical assumptions, and gaps of knowledge. Action research is providing such a model… The action research model… gave me the courage to cross the border from technician to professional. (p. 29).

Another aspect of learning to be a professional teacher-researcher, apart from being self-reflexive or self-critical, is to learn how to design research questions (RQs), which are not the same as research topics. RQs are more specific: they need to be answerable by the data you collect. Too wide a scope in RQs (usually what we have when we are still learning to design RQs) leads to problems down the line: “Attempting to investigate how to teach grammar more effectively, how to promote your students’ autonomy in learning grammar, how to select or develop grammar exercises, and how to integrate grammar into a range of speaking and listening activities all at the same time is likely to lead to ‘AR burn-out’ and give you mixed and unclear outcomes” (p. 30). Therefore, after you try coming up with one or a few RQs for your AR, Burns gives eight pointers for checking if an RQ is good.

1. Check that it has the right scope. Change “What improves my students’ motivation?” to “What speaking activities are motivating and why?”
2. Check that it is open-ended. Change “Can group work be used more?” to “How can group work be used more?”
3. Check that it is not biased. Change “How will electronic dictionaries help my students’ writing?” to How will electronic dictionaries influence my students’ writing?”
4. Check that it actually leads to action. Change “How will observing my students carrying out listening tasks increase my understanding of how to teach listening in the language?” to “How will observing my students carrying out listening tasks lead to new actions in teaching listening?”
5. Check that it lends itself to empirical data collection, and cannot just be answered by doing some reading. Change “What is Task-Based Language Teaching (TBLT)?” to “What kinds of reading tasks work most effectively in my class?”
6. Check that it relates to current research. For example, researching the outcomes of a phonics-only curriculum on children learning to read would be outdated—teaching phonics is essential, but not the only thing you need to teach children to read.
7. Check that it is ethical. Change “How can I stop students from using their first language (L1) in class?” to “How do students think that guiding, promoting, or restricting L1 use at different times is conducive to their learning?”
8. Check that the question is stated clearly and concisely. Change “What kinds of listening tasks used in a seventh grade classroom at [name of school] in Normandy, France can best be applied to increase the listening skills of EFL students?” to “What kinds of listening tasks used in middle school can increase the listening skills of EFL students?” (There is no need to say “at X school/university”; I often see this when teachers are overly modest about the generalizability of their research.)

After discussing RQs, Burns then discusses issues of ethics in AR. According to her colleague, Rob Dickey (p. 34), these are some important things to consider:

• We need to protect the safety, privacy, and dignity of our students and research collaborators.
• We need to be role-models of how to conduct research… “how we set about research is a message to them about how they should do research” (p. 34).
• We can’t “steal” from learners by not getting their informed consent for participation. Our learners have to understand what we are trying to do, how we would like them to get involved, and what we expect to do with the information we gather from them, when they agree to participate.

Thus, Burns asks us to consider three important questions: (1) What permission do you need for your research? (2) Who will be affected by your research? (3) Who should be told about your research when it is completed?

As questions 2 and 3 show, this is not just about getting your university’s permission on an IRB application by getting students to sign consent forms. For example, a teacher investigating how she groups students in a class with diverse abilities may well obtain the required permissions, but affect students negatively by giving students negative ideas about their abilities, which may be shared with other teachers in staff meetings presenting the results of the AR.

In a particularly dramatic real-world example, I attended a talk by the famous L2 motivation professor Ema Ushioda, who said a researcher published case studies of K-12 English learners’ motivation in an Asian country (I don’t have the reference). If I remember correctly, Ushioda said this researcher found many years later that the students, now grown up, had thought that they were researched because they were “special” (this misconception on participants’ part is very common; see Burns, this book, p. 36), and as a result, some of the participants in that research who struggled with English during their school days chose careers in English (and were struggling in those careers!) because they believed that someone had thought they were “special” English learners.

How else can people be affected by your research? Burns knows people in Australia who have escaped war-torn countries with oppressive regimes. Asking them to sign consent forms followed by official-seeming questioning can trigger psychological distress. Another common situation besides participants thinking they are being researched because they are “special” is participants thinking that you are collecting data for the purposes of institutional surveillance or authoritarian discipline, if they have encountered similar practices before. “Explaining carefully why you are asking people to participate, what methods you are using and how the research will be used for positive purposes is essential” (p. 37).

If you are researching your own class, as is almost always the case in AR, it is also important to consider the power differential between you and your students. To mitigate the possibility of coercion, which can still happen even when you assure students it is voluntary, they can withdraw at any time, etc., you may want to consider getting them genuinely on board by researching an issue that they, too, are interested in. At least, even if it is your own topic, make sure they are not concerned or puzzled about any aspect of the research.

Burns next discusses sharing your findings and ethical issues about that when your research is completed. Will research participants like students be shown the results, in an accessible form? This is one of the key benefits of AR, in that it “gives back” to the participants almost immediately. Moreover, checking your findings with participants is a way to promote study validity (p. 37), as they can clarify your questions or correct your misinterpretations. In a more formal study, the research will be shared more broadly. Will student participants know who else will see the results of the research? When people see the results, is it likely they will recognize students/colleagues they know. This can be a problem when the data is not positive… and yet, we cannot always present positive data. When you find yourself collecting data you know is negative, ask questions like: Do you need to collect this data? If so, who will you show it to? Do you need to show everything? Why do those who see it need to see it, and what will they do with it/based on it?

Burns then mentions that you will inevitably encounter students who do not want to be involved in the research at all, and in this case there will be no data on them. They will only appear in your study in the reported number of people in the class. They may still participate in the intervention if it is part of teaching and learning, but you will not video-/audio-record them or collect artifacts of their work. For this, they may be grouped separately during the AR activity, or if grouped with people who give consent, you will not transcribe dialogues where they speak, or put ellipsis (“…”) and leave those stretches of talk out.

Burns concludes this chapter on planning AR with a discussion about literature reviews and necessary materials/equipment. Teachers often ask: “Should I consult the literature or prior research before I do my AR study?” She writes in favour of this (p. 39), for the following reasons:

First, reading the literature can help give you ideas for your focus area and questions. Next, it helps you connect what you are doing with a larger body of work in language teaching and learning. You can find out whether what you are investigating is already of interest to others in the field, whether or not it has been researched recently, and how much or how little research has been done on it. Also, you can get ideas about how to design your research and collect data, as well as suggestions and examples for analysing your data. Another reason is that you get a better feel for the value that doing this research will have for yourself and for others in the field. (p. 39; my bold)

An important reason for visiting the literature prior to the study—which is not allowed in Grounded Theory (GT), another method I have blogged about—is that operationalization is a central part of AR, and it is virtually impossible to operationalize constructs well without consulting the literature. Operationalization is the process of defining and measuring something. How do we define “motivation”? How do we assess students’ “anxiety” (surveys, diaries, interviews, EKG electrodes, class observations)? What do we mean by “pronunciation target” (L1 speaker standard, and if so, what dialect? Or do we focus on comprehensibility? If so, what do we mean by “comprehensibility” and how do we measure it? Experimental studies… raters recruited from what L1 backgrounds? Natural conversation… what are the logistical and ethical challenges?) Finally, going through the literature can help you check your own biases and assumptions, as discussed above.

Many academic libraries have databases like LLBA (for Linguistics) and ERIC (for Education). When you type search terms (key words) in LLBA or ERIC, Burns explains that it is important to consider the following:

Do I need scholarly information or practical information? Should it be current or from a historical perspective? What time frames should I choose? What extent of coverage do I need? What formats am I looking for…? (p. 42; my bold)

[Blogger’s note: I advise my students to consult state-of-the-art literature reviews, which are introductory literature reviews written by leading scholars on a topic, which will quickly give students a foundation on the topic and the kinds of RQs that have been investigated, the methodologies used to explore those RQs, and where some research gaps might exist that are feasible for them to address.]

When reading the literature, especially when doing so with collaborators, Burns suggests following Barkhuizen’s (2002) QUEST reflection and discussion guide (p. 44):

• Questions. What questions do you have? Anything you don’t understand? Want to know more about?
• Unhappy. What about the article did you disagree with? Are there any weaknesses?
• Excellent/Excited. Any points you agree with? That satisfied a gap in your knowledge? That sparked off a research idea?
• Strengths. From an objective point of view, was this article well written and methodologically sound? Did it show critical thinking?
• Themes. What is the main message? What are the recommendations?

QUEST can be useful for talking about readings with colleagues. This brings us to what Burns writes about next: involving others in planning AR. Who else will be involved in your data collection: students, co-teachers, support teachers, classroom aides, parents, school librarians, school administrators, university-based mentors, volunteers… and why? Also, how will they be involved? (This question is important for IRB applications.) Will they be directly involved in obtaining participants’ consent, data collection, and data analysis?

Sometimes you can “offload” the data collection on somebody else and then analyze the findings together. Burns suggests, for example, that a “critical friend” might observe your classroom while you teach. You can even do it in round robin fashion with a group of colleagues/collaborators. What can you observe about one another’s classes? I recommend this guide on classroom observations by Farrell (2011) to give you some ideas. Burns states that

for me and for many teachers I have worked with, collaboration is a much preferred way to do AR. This is because it gives action researchers great support and increases your ability to deepen your insights through dialogue with others. In my personal view and experience, it also gives teachers a very welcome opportunity to get out of the isolation of the classroom and find time to interact with their colleagues on topics of much common interest. (p. 45)

On the other hand, it is important to note that AR does not always have to be collaborative and their are downsides to collaboration. Burns mentions some of them: you may not get along, you may be collectively biased, or your collaborators “could short-circuit insightful thinking by offering surface advice or suggestions rather than deep, genuine cooperative understanding” (p. 45). In the end, both individual and collaborative AR have their place.

Burns concludes with some materials you will need for AR. She mentions that it is legitimate to use both low-tech and high-tech materials: lesson plans, notes, diaries, different colours of index cards and post-its for different kinds of observations, laptops, online forms, and electronic whiteboards, to name a few things. You will likely need a low- or high-tech recording device. “The widespread use of these forms of technology in daily life means that participants in your research are less likely to be distracted by them or ‘play to the camera’ as participants might have been 10 or 20 years ago” (p. 46)… by which Burns means 1990 or 2000, as the book was published in 2010. She gives useful advice on recording:

• Test your equipment first.
• Ask participants to minimize noise or movement that may affect recording quality. [Blogger’s note: In my high-school research, someone LOVED to drum in class! If I had told them to not make too much noise, this important aspect of their identity, a drummer, and how it played out in their school life, might not have been captured. So there are caveats to this one.]
• Have the recording device as close to the speaker(s) as possible (e.g., suspended around their necks or lapel microphones). [Blogger’s note: This is essential when it is not a “regular” class. When I did an ethnography of a high school English class and there was a drama workshop in which people moved around a lot, the class teacher recommended the “recording device-supsended-on-lanyard” adaptation. I captured amazing data in that session, so be sure to make this adaptation when it is necessary!]
• Alternatively, set up the device at equal distance from every person if you are capturing multiple speakers.
• Use a cloth or foam mat under the device to minimize surface noise (I didn’t know about this).
• Finally, Burns says: “Remember to turn your recording equipment on (this is not a joke – I know teachers who forgot to do this, and I have done it myself!) and check from time to time that it is still recording” (p. 47).

In sum, Burns’ introductory chapters cover (1) how to identify an AR topic followed by more focused RQs, (2) how to consider ethical questions and who you will involve, and (3) how to consider what resources you will need: what literature, what equipment. As a bonus, she provides a model participant consent form in accessible language at the end of the chapter (p. 49).

In the next chapters, Burns considers how to put your plan into action and collect data. Stay tuned for part 2 of this blog post summarizing her informative and student-friendly handbook on action research!

References

Allwright, D. (1993). Integrating “research” and “pedagogy”: Appropriate criteria and practical possibilities. In J. Edge & K. Richards (Eds.), Teachers develop, teachers research: Papers on classroom research and teacher development (pp. 125-135). Heinemann.

Barkhuizen, G. (2002). The quest for an approach to guided critical reading and writing. Prospect, 17(3), 19-28.

Farrell, T. S. (2011). ‘Keeping SCORE’: Reflective practice through classroom observations. RELC Journal, 42(3), 265-272. https://doi.org/10.1177/0033688211419396

Kemmis, S., & McTaggart, R. (Eds.). (1988). The action research planner (3rd ed.). Deakin University Press.

Schön, D. A. (1983). The reflective practitioner: How professionals think in action. Basic Books.