5 A space on the side of the road

Creating a space for a critical approach to entrepreneurship

Pam Seanor

Opening narrative

This is a story of a narrative “space on the side of the road” (Stewart, 1996) that draws upon my practices, as a teacher/researcher in a business school, in the United Kingdom. As such, the story takes place in light of the ways in which critical entrepreneurship is taught in business schools and the roles for students in society and in how I create and cultivate critical approaches to teaching in entrepreneurship.

This critical approach makes it “other” than the story of how entrepreneurship is taught. This chapter arose from conversations with both Karen and Karin, the editors of this volume, as researchers and teachers, about what it means and how to evoke an “other” way of thinking about and facilitating a critical approach to entrepreneurship education. Johannisson (2016, p. 404) spoke of the limits to and prospects for teaching entrepreneurship – his story of the “other” being a critical approach of the “gap” between the “traditional” and the “everyday”. When I began teaching five years ago, there was just such a gap in a module I inherited from those teaching it prior to me. It took the first year to recraft the narrative and practice of the module. One of my first actions was to rename the module Entrepreneurship: Ideas & Practices (it was previously called Advanced Entrepreneurship), as I was interested in facilitating a view of the processes of entrepreneurship and negotiating between differing ideas and practices. At my first field board, the external examiner complimented me for having what he termed “bridged this gap between theorizing and practice”, which, for a time, offered legitimacy to my approach and enabled me to create a space to continue to develop the module. However, I find I am involved in working with – and against – meaning making and knowledge of entrepreneurship. Though Down (2013, p. 3) argued that problems are common, as “we live the same society”, in conversations there appears a divide in how notions such as “enterprise” and “society” are interpreted; there are those colleagues who assume a more functionalist approach, what is termed the US tradition, and those of us attempting to engage with the wider issues and sensibilities embodied in the European tradition (Down, 2013). The feelings of frustration are palpable on both sides when words are not shared, and where some seek to encourage pluralism and others see only one view.

So, it is not my story alone but of the differing stories I experience, as module leader in devising and facilitating lectures and workshops, as well as the academic administration and evaluation of the module. One narrative stream is of taking a critical approach and of a pluralization of narrative in entrepreneurship as of differing stories with different degrees of intellectual and practical elements and implications. Interwoven with this stream is a second narrative, informed by the metaphor of being on the move (Steyaert & Hjorth, 2003; Down, 2010; Hjorth, 2011). I too seek to move students from an area they know, to encourage them to look at the world and its problems from more than the traditional vantage point and to look again from an alternative approach as a way of seeing entrepreneurial processes. When entrepreneurship is viewed as such a process it initially seemed inevitable that it will be seen to hold contradictions, tensions and clashes.

Yet, the more I mulled, the more my thinking was not only of movement in teaching practices of a critical approach to entrepreneurship but at the same time feeling of being sidelined to Stewart’s (1996, p. 26) “space on the side of the road” and of the need to “give pause” and create a space for critique of how we as educators-researchers are grappling with theorizing and developing an “other” way in practices, within the constraints and demands in our institutions within a range of higher education policies globally. As such, the structuring of the chapter draws upon Stewart’s (1996, pp. 29–30) writings of meaning of images and objects, which lies in a space of searching and of how things happened encountering “interruptions” of how stories are portrayed at once as two contradictory things. I offer two such “encounters” to begin a conversation. I then speak of the challenges in an interpretative space of provocations, tensions and surprises of teaching entrepreneurship in a critical way. I conclude with a discussion where I take a step back to “re-present” and to “generalize” my own experience, e.g. speculating about the extent to which my own experience is indicative of how difficult it is to introduce a critical course on entrepreneurship into a business school context since students might experience this as overly disruptive.

Encounter: dread and desire. What is a critical approach to entrepreneurship?

As a venture point, in searching to address what is it we mean by critique, I approach it as building awareness that there is never just one reality of entrepreneurship and of creating sensitivity for the differences in entrepreneurship. In reopening stories of others, these appear based upon their experiences with their master degree students – experiences of undergraduate teaching seem missing from these stories. And yet, like these writers, I too desire a critical approach and feel it is crucial to consider change and of the need to problematize conventional ways of thinking in entrepreneurship, which these other writers argue constrain creativity and to consider different ways of thinking from what is seen as “legitimate” in this domain.

The notion of what being critical is of course open to differing and seemingly contradictory definitions (Śliwa et al., 2013). Added to which, as teachers how we express critique and how students see it differs. As Leah Tomkin and Eda Ulus (2015, pp. 596–597) stated:

Eda and Leah were colleagues and we often spoke of our experiences of teaching critical studies with students: theirs from organization studies; mine from entrepreneurship.

Throughout the module, I draw upon paradox, stories, watching movies collectively and the notion of “becoming” and how this notion links to movement. To pull these together, I use the imagery of the fable The Story of All Wisdom, sometimes called The Story of the Elephant and the Blind Men. This approach follows much of Gartner’s (2001) story of the elephant in entrepreneurship and blind assumptions in theorizing and others taking the “alternative approach” (Down, 2013).

I want to offer a brief history of organizing the module for final-year management and business undergraduates at Bristol Business School, Bristol, UK. It was delivered over two terms but now runs for approximately four months in the final year in the spring term. This changed with the introduction of semesterization and this time factor is of note as I feel it takes time to develop relations with students and to encourage them to rethink. For instance, a student who was on other modules I delivered said he did not know where it was going but he knew from having me in other modules that I had an intention to do what I did and he “trusted” me and was willing to “make a leap”.

The module is an optional choice as part of the final year (capped at 50 undergraduate students). To inform their choices, students can look at the module specification, as well as the module handbook; both clearly state that a “critical approach” is taken and include the following as learning outcomes that on successful completion of this module students will be able to:

Yet, when I ask students “Why did you choose to take this module?” for the majority it is as simple as “there is no exam”.

In the introductory lecture, I draw upon the thinking of Bill Gartner that there is no one story of entrepreneurship; instead it is a space where multiple stories sit alongside one another. In the accompanying first workshop I have said we would break off the two-hour class-based session after the first hour. I ask my students to go to the Bristol floating harbour before the next workshop, to walk around and possibly talk and take notes and/or photographs with three differing examples of entrepreneurship to bring back to discuss in the next workshop. I ask them to do this with another student from the module. The intention is for them to look again at something in everyday practice. This session is to begin our conversation and by working in groups in the workshop for them to make sense for themselves and to hear how others make sense of a similar experience. Encouraging peer-to-peer discussion has at times created a space for “aha” moments and/or where you can see a student’s eyes light up when they “get it”.

Twenty-four students, approximately half the cohort, return to the second workshop. I ask “Honestly, who went to the harbourside?”; half hold up their hands. I ask them to form in to small groups and to ensure someone in each group has been to the harbourside to discuss their experiences. Even so, when I go round to speak with each group, participation proves tricky; in one group, a student who had gone to the harbourside begins the conversation by challenging my approach:

STUDENT: I went and did not find what you said in the lecture. The entrepreneur said he was only interested in money. It was just economics.

ME: [A pause for breath and relax the tensions creeping in to my shoulders] First, I’m glad to hear you went to the harbourside and spoke with someone. Tell me, whom did you speak with?

STUDENT: It was the guy running the ferry.

ME: Ah, is that the one going back and forth to the SS Great Britain?

That makes sense, considering that money would be a concern as one of the other ferry companies went bankrupt. Remember, I never said money wasn’t a deal to be concerned about.

ME: So, did he say anything else when you were chatting?

STUDENT: He said they needed to think of new ways of working, not just going back and forth in a linear way from one side of the harbour to the other. And how they might interest more tourists to use them.

ME: OK – so say that again for the group.

STUDENT: More or less repeats what he said.

ME: What you just said sounds more than about money. By nature, a ferry has to work within the boundaries of the harbour and he’s saying they have to rethink their work. So, might that in some way link to what we are speaking of as beyond economic views and of being creative?

STUDENT: [Shrug].

As part of the assessment for the module, I include a “portfolio of practices” where students are to comment on set questions and tasks from workshop activities and ideas from the lectures. Only one student commented on the above exchange as informing his learning and of rethinking and the need to move about to see things differently; of note, it was not the student who offered the above experience.

In offering the above anecdote of the difficulty of getting students to pause and reimagine their views, I in part highlight the importance of adopting a socially situated account of entrepreneurship. But I also want to emphasize there is more often no quick solution, no moment of illumination, but at times there appears a reluctance for the student to let go of the initial orientation, or perhaps more of a desire to seek cover.

There is an additional note, when I have mentioned this workshop activity of asking students to get out of the classroom to consider differing views, various colleagues have laughed and told me this is “unimaginable” activity and “of course students will not do this – what are you thinking?”.

To sum up this encounter, the “desire” is of attempting differ ways to engage students. I offer the above exchanges, as there are also moments where what I felt was dread mixed with melancholy of carrying on and delivering the module. I appreciate that at some point many others have felt at odds or dissatisfied with the approaches of traditional entrepreneurship education. As Ball (2003) noted, “dread” was a common emotion associated with performance measures in education, though I smile to myself: he was speaking of the student, not of the lecturer.

Encounter: creativity and reality. A space for watching a film collectively and practitioner voices

This encounter addresses “moving away from the hitherto narrow paradigm” (Gibb 2002, p. 234) and of what I feel as crucial to a critical approach to bringing “creativity” into my teaching practices (Draycott & Rae, 2011). This approach is in part to be seen in the QAA (2012, p. 13) guidance to teachers of developing an entrepreneurial mindset as follows:

The “might” aspect of the excerpt, which I highlight, appears to advocate a critical approach. Penaluna et al. (2014) posed that the art side of creativity is crucial to understand how students engage in learning. So saying, they do not share experiences of how they enact such creativity in the classroom. Inspired by an email from miguel Imas, who sent the link to the short film Improbable”, I have for the last few years used it as a collective exercise to watch a movie together in the second workshop of “Re-thinking assumptions”. The following excerpt from the accompanying workshop worksheet:

The questions and tasks are to inform their notes for their “portfolio of practices”. The point of the exercise is establishing an emphasis on otherness, as it involves living with contradiction and ambivalence, avoiding premature closure and not taking things for granted. This aspect is especially what students appear to struggle with and many often sit silently. Some looked bemused and had no idea of what to do. After a few moments a few will ask “What was the question?” or “What do you want us to do?”. Hence, why I attempt to offer “hints”. As I moved round the small groups, some slowly began to engage in talking about how they see the film; a few said they wished we taught classes in a similar manner. Though others said that they saw this film as about art and not about entrepreneurship. I have repeatedly found that students comment that creativity is associated with the arts – not entrepreneurship.

I turn now to inviting practitioners, as central to the critical approach, to facilitate workshops and to share their experiences. My intention was to show how these practitioner stories relate to creativity in everyday practices. I think carefully and invite practitioners who are engaging speakers and also those who will challenge student views of who is an entrepreneur and of what he/she does. As Hjorth (2011, pp. 59–60) said, such a storyteller:

This “uprooting” has sometimes worked, as Hjorth suggested, and the following are some of the comments of students who have said they welcomed practitioners being invited to speak of their everyday experiences: “guest lectures and lots of encouragement to think outside the box”; “Bringing in guest speakers in to lectures because it was better to relate to real life experiences/ theories”.

The following is a brief sketch from a two-hour workshop between a visiting practitioner and student responses.

I met with Joe Constant prior to his coming in for the workshop. We chatted over cappuccinos and discussed what his work aims to achieve and how this might be part of his session, which would focus upon creativity and his experiences in everyday practices. The meeting was much of playing and exchanging ideas where we would challenge student’s views. We agreed that before the workshop students would be asked to come prepared to discuss how they conceive success. I posted the following announcement on Friday, 4 March 2016:

On the day of the workshop, Joe’s question was met with silence.

Initially not one of the students wanted to engage in the conversation. They seemed to have come more to be part of an audience than to participate in an exchange. None appeared to have looked at the link and/or raised any questions. It seemed that none had engaged in the thinking prior to the workshop, at least, none had anything jotted down on paper.

Rather than leaving that question hanging in the air, Joe moved round the room and asked students individually. Tentatively each offered his/her idea of success as “doing what I want to do” or as “being able to travel”. When asked what these comments meant for them, one student’s comment seemed to sum up those of the group – it was a way to “put off” having to make a decision about getting a job. But there was another side to this discussion of what success looks like as being able to look after the families and children they hoped to have one day. In some ways these images of success were between putting off the immediacy of what each does after university and at the same time meeting the needs for a future imagined family.

He also asked a second question, “Do you identify yourself as being creative?”. Not one student initially put up her/his hands. One though slowly raised his hand – but only part way up in the air. When I asked what he meant in this action, he replied “I hope that one day I will feel I have the potential to hold up my hand and say ‘yes’ and to be creative”. This is such a hesitant action and such a complex sentence to unpack, and one, which has stuck with me. As an aside, neither the student nor others reported this story in their reflections from the workshop.

The space of story

In this section I turn to these encounters with students and the experiences in provoking the process of learning. I reflect on de Certeau (1984, p. 81):

In my thinking and the use of the elephant, as my fable, and in encouraging the “art of thinking” in others, I want to highlight not so much the “lively” pace of the movement but the potential influences and rhythms of the steps from Stewarts’ view from “the side of the road”.

Bochner (2014, p. 231) stated that “without students there is no teaching or learning” and that it is what you learn from these exchanges that may assist in carrying on in academic life. Every year I actively review the module in a workshop – One question I pose is “What did you find most challenging?”. After the previous runs, I have invited and met with a few students over a coffee to ask their views: “From your experiences, what would you share with someone just beginning the module? From what you know now, what would you see as they need to know?”. Thus, I begin the introductory lecture offering the comment most voiced by students: “be prepared to have your thinking challenged”. I add that these students found being challenged to be key to their learning. For the last two years, I have also invited in a former student, who has recently become a colleague, to share his experiences of the module; he offers a voice, which I feel that they might better relate to, a means of translating what I mean by challenging their views, particularly as he was not that long ago in their position. This message that entrepreneurial processes in everyday life are a challenge seems to me to underpin what I am attempting in the module.

Tensions

There are those writers who have placed the onus of taking a critical approach on the critical researcher/teacher. There is of course a much wider context and at times it feels like forces at play in this complex story between the dominant and alternative versions of entrepreneurship education.

With over 28,000 students and nearly 22,000 undergraduates, Bristol Business School is one of the largest business schools in the south-west of England. The official university narrative offers an account of the changing nature of entrepreneurship and enterprise education in the university to one with more “practice-based” modules. Like various other universities in the UK, it has recently begun to promote itself as the university for enterprise and entrepreneurship. As such, it appears to be responding to the long-standing debate over the need to change education delivered in the business school to make it more relevant for managers and organizations. Various writers have spoken of the “tensions” in this approach (Contu, 2009; Pittaway & Cope, 2006, 2007; Hjorth & Johannisson, 2006).

My module is listed as part of the 2020 UWE Enterprise Strategy. In the framework outlining plans to promote more students to start up enterprises, a briefing guide of the strategy focuses on students having access to enterprise and entrepreneurship modules. The single reference on the A4 plan which might be interpreted as critique is that an outcome will be graduate attributes of “decision making supported by critical analysis and judgement”. Though this “outcome” offers hope, it would be naïve to suggest that my approach is within the university “practice-based” learning path, moreover that the Enterprise 2020 Strategy might entertain helping students “unlearn managerial convictions” (Johnson, 2016). The experience appears much in line with what Berglund and Holmgren (2006, p. 2) observed, namely that the social aspect of entrepreneurship education can be viewed as a “discursive construction” where there are dominant and alternative versions to be interpreted. As they argue that “in practice entrepreneurship has not yet become what has been hoped for” and in light of the need to be mindful to the tensions which they interpret as a political conflict of what is perceived as the role in the education system. I highlight here the nature of my experience of such conflict of what is “hoped for” refers to the differing practices and implications of those practising, or hoping to practise, a critical approach to entrepreneurship. Yet, it almost feels too simple to state that a critical approach to entrepreneurship education can be viewed as where dominant and alternative versions are to be interpreted. It is so much more and, as in the above encounter of “creativity and reality”, seems more akin to the contradictions of “dread and desire” where meanings and ideas collide and there appears no way to resolve this story satisfactorily.

I spoke of movement as informing my approach and I linked this to the notion of “becoming”. Alternating between my mulling over creativity and the notion of “becoming” an entrepreneur with my students, I struggle as to how to facilitate, perhaps enact, teaching entrepreneurship critically in a meaningful way for my students. Not one student commented upon the creativity episode with Joe Constant, the practitioner – as sketched out in the above encounter. Perhaps it is simply that they did not register creativity – or lack of it – as important or unusual. Hitherto, students’ retrospective essays, part of their “portfolio of practices”, entirely sidestep talk of “becoming”. Many instead write of what we have covered in lectures and workshops. A few each year offer a traditional view of entrepreneurship and how the entrepreneur is born. And, while I seek acknowledgement of “other” stories in their essays, including, of course, the dominant narrative, I specify in the assessment brief that they are to write from the view of the alternative approach to entrepreneurship (Down, 2013). So saying, I do not expect students to embrace this approach.

What I remind myself of is that this is not an entirely comfortable place to be as this space is not simply a complex story, it rather “isn’t something that can be gotten right” (Stewart, 1996, pp. 6, 211). I do though appreciate when writers speak of problems of critical approaches including “superior moralising” and “insistence on remoulding students’ views in line with those of the educators” (Śliwa et al., 2013, p. 244) and/or of remoulding those of colleagues (Ford et al., 2010). I simply do not presume the (my) critical approach is better than that of others. I am more betwixt and between. On the one hand, I am very careful not to get caught up in thinking that I can influence students to be “creative” and/or to change their world views. What I can offer is differing views and a language for them to voice their views in relation to differing views that exist at the same time. It is, of course, for them to figure out, and to articulate, their views. And I come to think, perhaps, that this notion of “becoming” might simply be one step too far. On the other hand, given the dictate to get out of our academic spaces and to be creative in our teaching, in doing so, I feel like the critical teaching of entrepreneurship has “lost reverberation and resonance with everyday life” (Steyaert & Hjorth 2003, p. 785). In considering Chris and Daniel’s comment in terms of the everyday life of my students, the following were notes I jotted down at the end of the of last term:

At times, the experience does not feel like creating a critical space where students explore “what lies beyond the limits of their experiences” (Hjorth, 2011, p. 57). Instead, a more apt metaphor feels that getting students to explore the possibilities of adopting a view of the process of entrepreneurship is more like asking them to go over to the margins of knowledge (with the discomfort in looking over the edge) and having a look to get a new view of the phenomena of entrepreneurship. Many appear not to want to engage in grasping differing ideas of theorizing or to hear differing stories, or simply resist seeing differing views, even when they repeat what was related in everyday practices. In relating ideas and experiences around the question “what is a critical approach?”, it seems to relate back to Stewart’s “place on the side of the road” as being both of a place being passed by but also of hope.

Provocation

Hjorth (2011) advocates provocation as a critical approach in the knowledge-creation process. I too have experienced such “movements” (p. 57) as reflected by numerous student “thank-you” cards and emails as illustrated in the following:

I relate a part of the student’s story here; she stated that she felt at the beginning of the module that I was saying that everything she had learned before that point was wrong. She moved from that early view to saying that “The most challenging has been how frustrating it is to be taught for 2 years and then try to see it from another viewpoint”. This comment of “challenging” illustrated a key part of the process of provoking questioning and unlearning in order to think in different ways and to open up new possibilities – that it is not the case that one is right and the other wrong.

I have also asked questions in the workshops, as a mid-module review, and students commented positively of the module as being “different”, or thought “provoking” and/or “stretching”, by which they are speaking of how they have moved out of their previous states and understandings, of what was familiar, and modified their understandings. Yet, at the same time, as above, they also often voice the service nature of the enterprise culture (e.g. in relation to the mark achieved and how their experiences might have an impact on their future career prospects). As mentioned previously, I have also spoken with students after the module ends to find their experiences and of how they pose I might alter my teaching to better fit with student views. The following are fragments of their comments written down in response to the following question:

However, by no means are my provocations all positive. Many do not appear to want to leave the comfort zone. Various students repeatedly say the challenge is that there were “No right or Wrong answers!!”, though many, like this student with a double exclamation for emphasis, framed their comments as a complaint. Another commonly repeated comment was that students found the approach “wishy-washy”, with some specifically stating they preferred using structured frameworks to examine written case studies (e.g. Harvard Business Review), as is practice in other modules. A number of students said that other modules set a problem and then lecturers state which theory to draw upon in solving it. Hence, my approach they say is “different” – again, “different” – not seen as a good thing.

There is another encounter to offer. I facilitate seminars on a module running in the first term with final-year undergraduates where I speak of the need to consider differing views and to critique. However, last year a couple of the students in the seminar, with some force, spoke against my approach. The next morning, when I walked out my front door, I was confused as to why there were broken eggs at my feet. It took many moments to look and see signs that my home had two dozen eggs smashed against the windows, stonework and front door. In sharing with a colleague she too had had a physical/verbal encounter with these students – though no eggs were thrown at her home. I cannot be sure that these students were involved, yet none of my neighbour’s homes was “egged”. Colleagues, neighbours and local police were greatly concerned; my next door neighbour pointed out there was a concentrated effort by whomever threw the eggs, as he showed me how they had to have stood back to hit my second storey and then move nearer to hit my front door yet entirely miss their door. In removing egg white from stonework, it enters the stone and the signs cannot be washed off; after the stone being sanded and layers removed, there remains a trace of this incident. This feels far, far beyond “resisting provocation” (Hjorth 2011, p. 58). To end this section, these are private narratives and not captured in the university performance matrix, which leads to the performance appraisal.

A space for performance appraisal

I turn to how the complex story is publicly told based upon the questions and indicators. I grasp the challenges of monitoring performance and offering evaluation. As Gibb (2002, p. 240) queried, there seems to be little of “what questions really ought to be asked and why and what we expect students to become as a result of exploring them”. Or:

The following framework (Table 5.1) is part of the generic questions devised by the university to frame the “student voice”. Students formally evaluate my performance; this opportunity is offered at the end of the term for those enrolled in the module to complete by an electronic evaluation feedback. It is anonymous – for the student. However, the teacher can be named. The feedback response is viewed and used by the university management potentially as a management tool. As a public document with questions generated by the university, as part of my role as a module leader I must address negative student comments in my annual module report:

There is also an opportunity for students to offer qualitative comments. I also need to include such comments in my module report. I highlighted that:

I include these excerpts of student comments on the electronic review to show how my decision to take a critical approach has a sharp edge. Some students take the opportunity to voice what might be seen as “back talk”, and their words become their weapons, especially when not getting the marks they anticipated. It is also of note that they appeared not to believe that the ideas or the practitioners that that came in to the module were “real world business entrepreneurship stand points”.

My afterthought is that in a small module it also becomes personal, not simply to me but also since these comments of receiving marks in the “50’s” meant that I could identify those students. Hence, I was aware that they had not engaged or regularly attended lectures or workshops. This though they neglected to mention. There appears no responsibility for their learning in this process of evaluation.

Moreover, the questions appear more in line with thinking of the student as a consumer of our services in education and to assess satisfaction rather than their engagement in a dialogue of how challenging students is part of the learning process. I feel that this is a crucial aspect in taking a critical approach, which “challenges” and “provokes” understanding, their choice not to engage does not appear publicly. This encounter seems to resonate with Bragg’s (2007, p. 343) argument that such evaluation was initially seen as an “emancipatory project” to empower students and while seen as playing “a more central role in educational policy, guidance and thinking”, she posed a disquiet in that:

The questions above are those devised by the university to ensure all modules have the same questions. As Hjorth (2011, p. 59) warned:

As a module leader, I can add one question; I have as yet chosen not to do this. In part, I felt my small module might quietly run along with little or no notice. And, I ask my own questions in a mid-module review and informal meetings with students – some used in this chapter’s narrative. To, as Hjorth (2011) advocated, “guard” against this formal evaluation, is that I include in my module report external examiners’ comments, which have been that the quality of feedback to students is seen as “top drawer” and the module has managed to “bridge” the theory–practice divide.

There is though another change from the Teaching Excellence Framework (TEF) by the UK government in 2017/18 academic year with the focus on preparing students for work. While emphasis on graduate employability is not new to universities, its current importance is amplified by being part of the key metrics outcome of TEF, which will be linked to student fees chargeable by universities in subsequent years. However, the TEF appears to also focus upon satisfaction and market mechanisms (Johnson, 2016) and neglect other goals of understanding and society:

Concluding thoughts: the space of the gap

To return to where I began, the space on the side of the road in which the meaning (feeling) of a gap between theory and everyday can be dwelt in and on and the search for meaning begins with an impact. The above is of the encounters, reflections and illustrations presented as critique from the margins of the centre’s ordering of things and attempts to exclude them (Stewart, 1996).

I do not opt for the safety of ‘elsewhere’ but spoke of my own experiences. Students appear to both accept and reject the critical approach, leaving a place seemingly where critique is within the accepted practice and there is also resistance against taking this approach to teaching entrepreneurship. But taking some students out of their comfort zones by provoking requires sensitivity for their responses. Much like Stewart, the stories are speaking at the same time of “dread and desire” of “highs and lows”, “absence of and also of hope of redemption” (1996, pp. 118–119). There is no whole from these fragments but they are offered here as a story as the moments that interrupt the flow of the official narrative.

Thus, I am again drawn back to Stewart’s narrative when she speaks of the act of transgression and of how “stepping over a line remains an always seductive possibility in a doubly occupied place where parameters were long ago set by encompassing forces and yet there’s no telling what people might do” (p. 61, emphasis in original). For others it might initially seem a leap to imagine university teaching in Bristol, England, as being in any way similar to the Appalachian communities where coal-mining was once the way of life, but the more I read, the more her story resonated with my experiences. My reading was not simply in the sense of an academic abstract – in the head – manner but really bringing these ideas to life in ways I had not considered before. And so, I have drawn upon Stewart’s use of narrative of spaces to explore everyday practices of teaching and to also make a space to give a glimpse of the rift in a university between the official progress of teaching entrepreneurship and what feels more like a backwater in my attempting to keep a critical stream in my module.

In arguing a critical approach, the following questions, which arise from this space, are at the heart of the chapter as a means of seeing and challenging assumptions, including my own:

I have used Stewart’s analogy of a space on the side of the road, as I am not interested in closing these questions down or seeking to stop the movement of this story to suggest one best practice approach. Nor have I attempted to romanticize these accounts. Instead, I have shown a glimpse of my story by following along its path so others might be “marked” by the impression to create a “mutual impact” that these queries seem to present more complex issues than are outlined in the guidance materials above such as the QAA and/or the institutional narrative. The point of drawing upon the space at the side of the road is to make something of the “gap” to present where ideas and meanings collide; that there is the possibility of hope, of another way, but at the same time of questioning if taking a critical approach has stagnated or is in decline, waiting.

Note: I want to thank the editors of this volume for their encouragement in crafting and sharing this story and to Pascal Dey for his comments on an early draft of this chapter. Also, my thanks to students, who have agreed to my using the module and their comments. Finally, I want to thank my son Ben Walker for allowing me to use his images; these are from how he made sense of my telling him bedtime stories and how his views of fairy tales shifted as an adult.

References

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Bochner, A. (2014). Coming to narrative: A personal history of paradigm change in the human sciences. Walnut Creek, CA: Left Coast Press.

Bragg, S. (2007). “Student Voice” and Governmentality: The production of enterprising subjects? Discourse: Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education, 28(3), 343–358.

Contu, A. (2009). Critical management education. In M. Alvesson, T. Bridgman & H. Wilmott (Eds), The Oxford handbook of critical management studies (pp. 536–550). Oxford: Oxford University Press.

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